Blackberry Crumble Page 2

to make his getaway, he heard Senga saying to Logan, “There’s something fishy going on with him and that phone. I’m going to get it out of him if I have to take him apart to do it.”

  Ben lingered in the doorway long enough to hear the end of the conversation.

  “Umph,” was Logan’s response.

  “Of course, you’re the one I’m relying on to do any taking apart,” Senga went on. “I could never get my own hands dirty.”

  Ben just glimpsed Senga leaning down to the floor and picking something up; she put it in her bag. There was something furtive about the movement. He looked away quickly and pushed through the door. If only he could have spoken to Erin. If only he wasn’t so shy... If only his grandmother wasn’t so grumpy and unpredictable... If only he and his Mum didn’t live above a café.

  When he came downstairs again on the pretext of asking his Mum for some money for a school trip, he saw Senga and Logan talking amongst themselves – or to be more accurate, Senga talking and Logan reading the paper – while Linda had just taken Erin’s scone over to the table. He didn’t really want to ask for money in front of Erin but at least it was one way of introducing himself. He shrugged and went over, standing just at his mother’s elbow and waiting for a chance to interrupt.

  “There we are.” Linda unloaded the tray. “Scone and blackcurrant jam – I’ve put two scones on the plate, you look as if you could do with them – and a Nescafé. Let me know if you want another cup, dear.”

  “It’s funny,” said Erin. Her voice was quiet and diffident, just as he had imagined it. “I must have walked down this road nearly every day for weeks, and I never noticed the café before. The Home Sweet Café – what a lovely name!”

  Linda frowned. “Maybe it’s a bit too sweet.”

  “No, of course not,” said Erin.

  “I’ve been wondering whether to make a few changes. Attract a new clientele.”

  Ben gasped, and his mother turned to stare at him. He grinned at Erin, trying hard not to look creepy. She smiled back uncertainly.

  “But it’s so nice and homely the way it is,” said Erin.

  “Haven’t you got homework to be getting on with?” said Linda to Ben. She turned back to Erin. “I’m not sure if I can afford to keep it going like this any longer. It’s all tea and scones – no offence, dear – and very few bigger orders. And the people who like it here don’t want to come out in the evenings. Maybe I should turn it into a fish and chip shop. Or a wine bar.”

  She sighed.

  If only this were an American teenage movie of the 1960s, Ben thought. A dance tune would start up on the juke-box, he would swing Erin to her feet and they would dance wildly round the café until they both collapsed, out of breath, smiling at each other and making a vow to turn the business round and save Linda’s life.

  He knew his Mum had a small collection of those movies. She watched them sometimes with tears in her eyes, even when they had happy endings. Especially when they had happy endings. He shook his head. He would never understand women.

  “Sorry,” said Linda. “I got a bit carried away. Of course it’ll never happen.”

  “It’s good to have dreams,” said Erin, looking wistful. “We don’t have them in our family any more.”

  “Why, dear?”

  “Well, since my Mum died.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m really sorry.” Linda sat down at the table, something she almost never did. Ben seized the opportunity to sit down too. He wanted to know about Erin’s Mum.

  “It was nearly a year ago but it still seems like yesterday. It was a road accident. What they call an RTA.”

  “That’s terrible.” Linda patted Erin’s hand.

  “Yes, it was terrible. We miss her an awful lot.”

  “Of course you do,” said Linda. “Look, I’d better let you just eat up your scone. The rain looks as if it’s clearing. I think there’s a wee bit of blue sky.”

  Linda stood up. Ben decided he had better do the same. He watched as Erin nibbled at her scone and drank her coffee.

  Behind him, he heard the crinkling of newspaper. He glanced round. Logan had bundled his newspaper together, crumpling some of the pages, and got to his feet. Senga glared. “We’re not going just yet!”

  “I’ve got to get on. Hurry up – we’ll be late.”

  “I – you...” Senga gulped down her tea too quickly, choking on it. “You can’t...”

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” snapped Logan.

  “Just make sure you do,” said Senga, cramming so much of the scone in her mouth that Ben could hardly hear the rest of her words. “I don’t want to be stranded around here.”

  The small disturbance had attracted Linda’s attention too. As Logan strode out of the café and Senga rushed through the rest of the scone, she watched in surprise and said, “What’s all the rush suddenly?”

  “We’ve got to be somewhere,” said Senga. She glanced at her watch, staring at the face as if she had forgotten how to tell the time. “At – um – half-past 11.”

  She rushed off without saying goodbye.

  “Well, that’s a first! She didn’t even scrounge another scone!” Linda stared after Ben’s troublesome grandmother. “Mind you, she hasn’t paid for what she had anyway.”

  Erin got out her purse. ’Can I settle up now? I’d better be getting home – my Dad might be wondering where I am.”

  “Never mind that, dear. On the house,” Linda told her.

  “No, don’t be silly! You were just saying...”

  “Never mind what I was just saying,” said Linda firmly. “Keep your money. Come back another time and bring your friends if you want, though!”

  “Thanks very much. I will,” said Erin. “I feel really at home in here.”

  Ben pretended to concentrate on tidying up the table, but he watched at intervals as she put on her coat and collected her umbrella. He didn’t like seeing her gradually disappear from view as she walked towards the street exit. The click of the door behind her was like a switch, turning off his dreams. He heaved a sigh.

  “Watch what you’re doing,” said his mother. “And weren’t you supposed to be upstairs by now, doing your homework?”

  “I’ll go in a minute,” said Ben. “I’ve just remembered something I’ve got to do.”

  He made a dash for the door, planning a coincidental encounter with Erin. But she had gone, and in the street just outside the café Senga and Logan were having an argument. He drew back into the shelter of the doorway and eavesdropped.

  “All right,” Senga was saying, more than a hint of menace in her voice. “What’s going on then, sunshine?”

  Logan pointed down the street where Ben could see Erin walking off into the distance and quite possibly out of his life. “It’s her!”

  “Who’s her? I mean – what are you talking about?”

  “The girl! What’s she doing here?”

  Senga glanced round furtively before replying. Ben tried to flatten himself into the doorway, hardly daring to breathe.

  “The girl? Oh – the girl! Inspector Fitzgerald’s daughter!”

  “Yes – that girl!” Logan had abandoned his usual torpor and was getting more and more agitated as the discussion continued. “Is she following us or what? Is she on to us?”

  “Don’t be daft, you muttonhead,” said Senga. “How could she be on to us? How could anybody be on to us? Anyway, it was you, not me. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Logan shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, pal. We’re in this together. You’re the one who took the phone afterwards.”

  Senga marched right up to Logan and grabbed him by the lapels.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. It wasn’t me!”

  “Oh, no?” said Logan.

  “.” Senga tapped her foot impatiently. “I wasn’t even there.”

  “No?” said Logan nastily.

  “Well, if that’s your attitude, then – fine!” retorted Senga.

  “Fine yourself
!” said Logan. “It was all your idea in the first place.”

  “OK then,” said Senga. “Just give me my share and we’ll say no more about it.”

  “Hmph! Your share? I do all the work and you want ‘your share’! Haven’t you had the damn phone?”

  “Fair’s fair. At least it is where I come from.”

  Logan gave a short laugh. “Where you come from, darling? It’s dog eat dog.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never eaten dog in my life, and I’m not planning to start now... Unless maybe one of those wee skinny things that have no hair...”

  “Chihuahuas,” said Logan, sounding scornful.

  “Is that right?” said Senga. “You’re so smart, you should be on one of those quiz programmes.”

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” said Logan. “Anybody could be listening.”

  Ben drew in his stomach even more, until his muscles were aching. He even closed his eyes, although he realised that wouldn’t have helped if they’d spotted him. But as he strained his ears to hear more, the only sound that came from the paved area just outside the café, where he had once tried to persuade his Mum to install tables and chairs to give the place a bit of continental charm, was the clicking noise Senga’s heels made on the paving stones. Luckily they seemed to be receding into the distance. He opened his eyes very slowly, and breathed very cautiously. At last he poked his head out of the doorway. His grandmother and her fancy man were gone.

  Darkness.

  A ringtone.

  “I told you not to call me!”

  Ben awoke with a start.

  “What? Where?”

  “I told you – I’m driving,” said the woman.

  Ben rolled on to his back and groaned.

  “I’m