Chapter 42
Lew couldn’t wait to spend a normal Sunday in the Pot of Gold after the madness of the previous night.
‘Ah, you timed that perfectly, the kettle has just boiled,’ said Bonnie, greeting him with a warm morning smile, and she retreated into the office to make him a coffee. When she handed it to him, she tilted her head to study him tentatively before saying, ‘Everything all right?’ He took from that that he looked less than fresh. He opened his mouth to answer and found that he didn’t know what to say. He laughed instead, an ‘I-have-no-words’ sort of laugh.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ Bonnie said, sensing his awkwardness.
‘You weren’t prying,’ Lew replied quickly. ‘I just wouldn’t know where to start. The worst evening I have ever spent in my life just about sums it up.’
‘That bad?’ Bonnie grimaced.
‘Oh, way beyond bad.’ He remembered that she and Regina had crossed paths, so she probably wouldn’t be surprised that drama courted her. ‘The woman you ejected from my shop so masterfully last Tuesday hosted a dinner party and had a total meltdown. Her husband left her right after the main course was served, which was a real shame as it was a fantastic bit of halibut. There was more, much more, but I doubt you’d believe it.’
He heard a snort from Bonnie who had covered up her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she excused herself.
Lew chuckled. ‘When Regina blows, as you might imagine, she blows. I’m surprised her house is still standing this morning.’
‘And you say her husband left her? For good or . . . just for the evening?’ Bonnie offered him a dark chocolate digestive from a newly opened packet and he took two.
‘For good, I hope. I don’t think he’s been happy for years. He had—’ He just stopped himself in time from saying that Patrick had an affair, because it hadn’t been as straightforward as they had all been led to believe. He’d taken the blame for it, but it hadn’t been all his fault. Patrick had been more of a gentleman than they’d credited him for.
‘He had . . .?’ Bonnie prompted.
‘They both had . . . relationships outside the marriage.’ He glossed over the details. ‘It’s complicated. They tried to patch things up in the beginning but there wasn’t enough marriage left to stitch back together, if you know what I’m saying.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Bonnie, with emphasis.
‘Oh Bonnie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’
Bonnie flapped her hand. ‘Don’t be silly. There’s no point in staying together when there’s no love. And sometimes not even love is enough.’ A picture of Joel drifted across her mind. ‘There has to be love and trust and . . . all sorts of other little ingredients.’ Love was just the bricks of the wall. The other stuff was the cement.
‘You’re very wise, Mrs Br—’ Lew bit off the ‘Brookland’. ‘Are you going to keep your married name?’ he asked, but he could guess the answer to that one.
‘Not a chance. I’m having all my documents changed back to Ms Sherman. “As in the tank”, as my dad used to say.’ She smiled and Lew again thought how attractive she was. There was a blush of colour in her cheeks today and light dancing in her hazel eyes.
‘It’s nice to see you in such a cheery mood, Bonnie,’ he said.
‘I am,’ Bonnie replied. Today had reminded her just how much good there was in the world, to counterbalance the bad. There had been a lot of rain in her life and now the sunshine was coming out at last, and making a bright arc of rainbow in her sky. For however long it lasted, at the moment it was hers to enjoy.
The Pot of Gold had to stay open until five because there were so many customers. Bonnie sold two of Stickalampinit’s lamps and Butterfly Barry came in just before closing time and bought over four hundred poundsworth of various bits which Bonnie had put aside so he could have first choice of them. He took the lot, then he gave her something of his own: an envelope with money inside and he overrode the protest she made.
‘I want you to have this,’ he said, ‘with my love. Your dad would want us all to help you.’ It had fifty pounds inside. The envelope which Stan had given her that morning had contained four hundred and twenty pounds. Bonnie didn’t know what to say, so she threw her arms around him. He smelled how she would imagine Hercule Poirot to smell, a curious mix of scented tea, floral cologne and face powder.
‘Thank you, Barry.’ She pulled away before she stained his pristine white collar with make-up.
‘You’re worth every penny, darling,’ he said and gave her cheek a soft pat with the palm of his small, smooth hand.
Lew watched Bonnie closing the window blinds with a smile on her face and it brought a smile to his own. He imagined Patrick’s Marlene being like Bonnie, a woman with kind eyes and a gentle heart and no affectations at all.
‘So, what are you up to on your day off tomorrow?’ he asked her.
‘I’m seeing your friend Adriana,’ Bonnie replied. ‘I’m filing for divorce.’
Lew nodded. Thank goodness she hadn’t had second thoughts, he said to himself.
‘Has Stephen been in touch?’
‘Nope. Which is slightly worrying.’
‘Not what you expected?’
Bonnie’s smile was fading now. ‘No. It’s not like him to . . . to let go so easily.’
‘You have my number if you need it,’ said Lew as they walked out to their respective cars. ‘It’s always best to expect the unexpected.’
Last night had told him that much.