Jonathan browses the shelves of kitchenware, ambling along and occasionally lifting an item to look at it more closely, then putting it back. He comes to the last of one display and steps into the gangway to round the end of the shelf to continue down the other side. He glances up.

‘Oh shit!’ Seeing Rosalyn at the far end of the aisle, he quickly retraces his steps only to see her again as she walks along the gangway parallel to the one he is on.

He moves swiftly in the other direction, threading his way through other shoppers to seek sanctuary in the adjacent bedding department. From behind an assortment of brightly coloured sheets suspended like sails from the ceiling, he keeps a careful watch on her cream crocheted beret as she bobs from aisle to aisle, eventually emerging onto the main walkway. Jonathan swears under his breath and looks round anxiously for some sign of Rosalyn as the owner of the beret, who he had mistaken for her, is lost in the crowd. 

‘This is farcical. Say ‘Hello Rosalyn and how are you today?’’ He ridicules the words in his head with sing-song contempt. ‘You’d sound like some hotel receptionist...or the local butcher. If you bump into her, you bump into her. What’s she going to do?’  Spotting Rosalyn again, his resolve evaporates in an instant and looks round desperately for escape as she heads towards his hiding place. Darting through an archway, even his thoughts stutter as he finds himself surrounded by racks of ladies lingerie. Glancing behind him in the hope of being able to dash back again, he groans at seeing a flash of red coat in the oncoming gaggle of customers and hurriedly steps off of the main walkway and all but runs past the first few rails. He turns his back and feigns interest in the products on display.

‘New girlfriend?’ Rosalyn enquires, tapping him on the shoulder.

‘W-w-what?’ Jonathan jumps guiltily and swings round. ‘Oh, it’s y-y-you.’ Neither his smile nor the words appear convincingly surprised.

‘The knicks?’

He looks down at the offending garment in his hands with genuine astonishment and thrusts the tiny hanger back on the rail. ‘N-n-no.’

‘Not sure those would be big enough for you,’ her voice rises a notch or several and her look screams ‘payback’. You can get away with a lot with a thong but you’d need more than that at the front, wouldn’t you?’ She moves on to another aisle and holds a hanger in the air for him and everyone else to see. ‘What about these?’ Shouting now, she continues: ‘Size fourteen is the biggest they’ve got but they should fit you okay. Not a thong though, did you particularly want a thong? Matching bra as well,’ she waves a second hanger with her other hand. ‘Leopardskin’s in at the mo....or did you want to stick with black lace?’

Past being red-faced with embarrassment, Jonathan pales with the angry determination to retaliate. He cranes his neck as though wanting a better look and his voice booms across the department. ‘Whatever gets you going, it’s you who rips them off. Which ones turn you on the most?’

Rosalyn’s arms lower and she glares at two sniggering girls, the nearest of the amused onlookers.

‘Are you getting your big pants while we’re here? Look on the granny section. That’s where you found them last time.’ Jonathan raises his voice even further as Rosalyn stalks away. ‘White, they’ve got to be white.’

‘Do you really wear ladies’ knickers?’  A laughing voice at his side enquires as she finger walks through the hangers in front of her to find the right size.

Jonathan turns, unable to reply in his normal voice without stuttering and momentarily unable to reply at all as blue-green eyes sparkle up at him. ‘N-n-n-no. s-s-she n-n-needed t-t-teaching a l-l-l...’

‘Lesson,’ the girl finishes for him. ‘I gathered that. I know you, don’t I?’

‘Y-y-you do?’

‘If you live at Brendon End, I do.  You let me pass every morning before you pull out of your drive. Blue Mini, black roof. I live next door but....’ she closes her eyes while she works it out. ‘three, about half a mile further on towards the town centre. You must work in town.’

‘Y-yes’ Jonathan nods, his colour returning to normal. ‘I know your c-car b-but I’m too b-busy watching the road to s-see who’s in it. And y-you m-m-mustn’t....Work in town, I mean.’

She shakes her head and smiles. ‘It’s nice to actually meet you. You like living there?’

‘Very much.’

‘I’ll give you a wave tomorrow.’ With another smile, she starts to move off.

Jonathan takes a surreptitious glance at her left hand and seizes the moment. ‘W-would you like to s-stop for c-c-c...’

She notices his look and grins. ‘I’d love a coffee. Let me pay for these and I’ll be right back.’

‘Jonathan...I’m Jonathan b-by the way.’

‘And I’m Sophie.’

Hartleys Department Store

Chapter Forty-six

Orchard Barn, near Bath

‘We were having a bloody awful day on set. If anything could go wrong it did and when Jules brought me my phone, I went absolutely nuts, complete meltdown, the whole prima donna thing.’ Christopher throws his hands in the air much as he did then, and brings them to rest behind his head as he stretches out his legs and lays his back against the sofa. ‘I didn’t feel particularly proud of myself, especially when she told me it was Kester and even more especially when he gave me the news.’

Lynn absently twirls a strand of his hair round her finger as she speaks. ‘I’m glad he managed to reach you. It wouldn’t have been the same coming from me. I think if he hadn’t got hold of you on the phone, he would have flown over to tell you. It was one of those things that wouldn’t wait.’

He tips his head backwards and looks up at her. ‘I still feel a bit stunned, actually.’

Her hand returns to his hair and she smoothes it flat. ‘Makes me feel a bit broody,’ she admits with a catch in her voice.

‘Really?’ Christopher rolls to one side and kneels in front of her.

‘Really.’ Lynn nods and makes a face, averting her eyes. ‘But I’ll get over it.’

‘We could have another one, if you really wanted to,’ he says, returning the gesture and brushing her hair with his fingers.

‘And therein lays the truth...If I really wanted to. I know you’re not keen, so no, I’ll pass.’

‘I’ve never actually said I don’t want another baby.’ He sinks onto his haunches.

‘No...You’ve carefully avoided the subject every time it comes up.’ She laughs at his hangdog expression and rocks him backwards with a carefully placed foot in the centre of his chest.

‘I’m not avoiding it now, am I?’ Christopher takes hold of her ankle, making her squeal and quickly pull her foot away as he threatens to bite at her toes.

‘I’d quite like to hang onto you for a bit longer, thank you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He shuffles forward to put his arms around her.

‘That you wear yourself out trying to squeeze everything you think Cerys misses out on while you’ve been away into the time when you are home. With two to amuse and entertain, you’d probably keel over. I’m quite happy with one child and a partner if it’s all the same to you.’

‘You don’t think I’m fit?’ A flicker of anxiety crosses his face.

Lynn slowly looks him over and her eyebrows twitch. ‘I think you’re very fit,’ she growls.

‘Not that sort of fit.’ Christopher grins and heaves himself up to sit next to her. ‘I’m only trying to get it right this time.’

‘You honestly don’t have to try so hard. I’ve got no complaint and nor has Cerys.’

‘I’m doing okay?’ he looks for further reassurance.

‘Christopher!’  Lynn slaps his thigh to dispel any doubt.

‘But I made such a flaming mess of the other three.’

‘You did no such thing! Being married to Ruth made it almost impossible to have what anyone would call a normal relationship with your children. Things are fine now; I don’t know why you are so concerned and over-compensating. It’s not necessary.’

‘Fine until it comes to Imogen.’ His shoulders lift and lower again as he exhales audibly. ‘I’ve mended bridges with Kester and Ellis but what am I going to do about her?’

‘Nothing.’ Lynn says firmly with all humour gone from her face and a steely glint in her eyes.

‘Nothing?’

‘No. Why should you? She won’t change, she’s Ruth all over again, and it’s no good you thinking she’ll ever be any different.’

‘That’s a bit heartless.’ He tries to jolly her along by ruffling the hair at the back of her neck.

‘No, Chris,’ she turns her head to look at him directly. ‘She’s heartless; just like her mother was. I’ve tried hard to like her but I can’t and I’m not having you stressing out over a devious, manipulative little bitch like her. I don’t care if she is your daughter, it needs to be said. Everything she says or does is designed in self-interest and self-interest only. She’s the sort who smiles sweetly while hiding the knife she’s about to sink into your back the moment you turn away. You can’t trust one word she says or anything she does. I’m sorry but that’s the way I feel.’

Christopher gently lays his hand against her back when she turns away again. ‘We’ve come a long way from whether or not we should have another baby, haven’t we?’