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The Florist and the Fighter

Page 21

by Amy McGavin

“Heard that one before.”

“This time’s no like⁠—”

“Heard that one an’ all.” A hundred fucking times. I toss the wooden spoon in the sink. “If you need money, you phone the solicitor, same as always. That’s what he’s there for.”

“I don’t want your money⁠—”

“Then there’s nothing else. I’m no meeting you.”

“Son, please⁠—”

I hang up, then block the number. Won’t stop her from trying me from some other number in the future, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

I put the phone face down on the worktop and shut my eyes. The memory comes to me before I can stop it.

Maw, slumped on the sofa, one arm hanging off the edge. Her eyes half open, just a line of white showing. I’m shaking her by the shoulder.

“Please, Maw,” I say. I’m only a wean. “Please wake up.”

Her head moves when I shake her, then stops when I stop. She doesn’t wake up.

The pan spits, and just like that, I’m back in the kitchen. The eggs are burnt and smoking. The spinach is shrivelled and scorched into the pan.

“Shit.”

I kill the heat and open a window, then scrape the lot into the bin. I should start again, but the thought of eating anything at all right now turns my stomach.

It wasn’t the last time I found her like that. Not even close.

The call has got under my skin, and there’s only one thing that will settle me. I grab my gym bag and head out.

My car’s parked outside the flower shop. I drop my bag in the passenger seat then head round to the driver’s side, but before I can get in, a voice says, “Ryan? Can I have a quick word?”

Jesus Christ. What now?

I turn around. Briony’s standing in the doorway to her shop in a white T-shirt and loose dungarees, her hair up in that messy bun, a leaf caught in it.

“Aye?”

“I wondered if I could speak to you about your car,” she says, taking a few steps towards me. “I noticed you’ve taken that space a few times now. The thing is, it’s the one I normally use for loading my van.”

“It’s a public street. I can park where I like.”

She smiles, not rising to the bait. “You’re right, you can. Only, I had an understanding with the old neighbours that they’d leave it free for me. It just makes my life so much easier.”

“I’m heading out, so you can have it.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, thank you. That’s really⁠—”

“But if it’s free when I get back, I’m taking it again. It’s right next to the door.”

I’m well aware I’m being a dick, but I was done with this conversation before she opened her mouth. I just want to get to the gym.

“That all?” I ask.

“No. That’s not all.” She crosses her arms, and there’s an edge to her voice now. “I gave up this spot the whole time your skip was here—which was weeks, by the way. And I moved my van any time your builders asked me to. It might be nice if you repaid the courtesy.”

“You could’ve said no,” I say.