The Way We Were by Marcia Willett Read Free Book Online

one of us is,’ he said lightly. ‘Helps to get the work done. See you later.’
    He went out, crossing the yard to the café, reacting with pleasure to the warmth of the sunshine and the crying of the gulls. The small kitchen was clean and smelled delicious. Myra and Debbie were conferring together and looked up anxiously at him as he came in.
    â€˜I'm ever so sorry,’ Myra said at once. ‘It's just the school's phoned. Gary's been sick and they want me to collect him. I've been trying to get hold of Mum but she's not answering.’
    â€˜It's fine,’ Chris said reassuringly. ‘Not a problem, Myra. You dash off and I'll give Debbie a hand. We can manage, can't we, Debs?’
    â€˜Course we can.’ Debbie beamed at him. ‘I was just telling her to get off.’
    Chris went through into the high-raftered room and looked around. Four of the six tables were occupied and two women were lingering at the far end amongst the shelves and tables that held hand-painted cards, delightful pieces of pottery, guidebooks and a display of silk scarves. Everything was made locally; all the food products locally sourced. Chris felt a great surge of pride and smiled at a woman who was now approaching to pay her bill.
    â€˜That was scrumptious cake,’ she said appreciatively, taking out her purse.
    â€˜Glad you enjoyed it,’ he said, ‘and here's the cook,’ as Debbie came out of the kitchen.
    â€˜How do you manage to stay so slim with all this temptation about?’ asked the woman saucily, looking him up and down as he rang up the till. She winked at Debbie. ‘I expect you keep him busy.’
    â€˜Oh, I do,’ agreed Debbie promptly. ‘Night and day. Never let up for a minute.’
    They all laughed, enjoying the simple joke and the sunny day. Through the window Chris saw Val crossing the yard. Head bent, lips pursed, she seemed unaware of the sunshine; preoccupied with anxiety and weighed down by care. Another woman approached the counter; she carried a pretty hand-painted silk scarf, two cards with scenes of Port Isaac and a pottery candle-holder. He totted up her bill whilst an elderly couple came in and ordered two cream teas from Debbie: more jokes, more friendly chatter. When he looked again Val had disappeared.
    Val checked out the laundry-room, wiped down the machines and swept the floor. It was important that it should be spotless at all limes; everything must be tidy. Debbie or Myra were supposed to give it the once-over each evening after the shop and café had been cleaned but she wondered if they always remembered it. Liv usually gave them a hand; she often heard them laughing and exchanging backchat; Liv never minded helping out with the most menial tasks.
    As Val came out into the yard she saw Liv climbing out of her car, bag over her shoulder, holding a spray of flowers. It occurred to Val that Liv was so often carrying something – a bag of cakes, flowers, a bottle of wine – something received or to be given.
    Watching her waving a greeting, her face flushed by the sun, Val resentfully wondered why Liv should be the recipient of so much generosity. There was a lightness about her; an air of spontaneity to which people responded with delight.
    â€˜It's all right for Liv,’ she'd said crossly to Chris. ‘She has no responsibilities. No wonder she docs as she likes.’
    â€˜It's not that,’ he'd answered – he always defended Liv. ‘It's just that Liv, unlike the rest of us, doesn't hanker after things. She doesn't want to possess and she doesn't need to own or control. She likes to sit light to the world.’
    â€˜It's a good job that we don't all think like that,’ she'd answered sharply.
    Chris had shrugged, pulled his mouth down at the corners. ‘Oh, I don't know. Perhaps we'd be better off if we did. It's not as if she doesn't pay her way. She's always had some kind of job. It's just that she