The Piano Man Project (12 page)

‘I’ll just leave it out here then,’ she said quietly, and he heard her door close a few seconds later. A wash of frustration flooded through his veins, at Honey for not giving up, and at himself for being glad that she hadn’t.

Honey shrugged out of her jacket and flung it over the back of the only chair in the tiny staffroom at the shop. Lucille and Mimi had been waiting for her when she’d arrived to open up and had followed her into the staffroom, each wearing matching chiffon scarves around their necks and frowns etched onto their brows.

‘What’s wrong, ladies?’ Honey said, pushing the kettle under the tap and filling it up. ‘Nothing a Tuesday morning cuppa can’t fix, I’m sure.’ She snapped the lid down and switched the jug on, reaching for the cups as she looked over at Mimi and Lucille again. The evident worry etched on both of their faces pulled her up short.

‘Hey, what is it?’

Lucille placed her black patent handbag down on the table and pushed the gilt clasp open. She withdrew an official-looking brown envelope and smoothed it out on the table top beside her bag.

‘It’s this,’ she said. ‘It came in this morning’s post.’

Mimi picked it up and held it out towards Honey. ‘Right out of the blue,’ she said, looking uncharacteristically rattled.

Honey took the envelope and scanned it, noting the way it was formally addressed to Lucille and Miriam Dreyfus, rather than their respective married names. It seemed oddly vulnerable to see their childhood titles printed alongside each other on the paper, just as they’d have been on their class registration sheet many, many years previously.

‘Can I?’ she asked, glancing at the sisters, who nodded emphatically.

Honey eased the letter from the envelope and opened the single sheet of headed paper from The Adoption Support Agency. Glancing quickly up at Mimi and Lucille, she flicked her eyes back down and started to read.

‘Wow,’ she said quietly as she read its content. ‘Wow.’ Folding the piece of paper and replacing it carefully in its envelope, she handed the letter back to Lucille. ‘I’m guessing from your reactions that neither of you knew anything about this?’

The two women shook their heads.

‘Not a thing,’ Lucille murmured.

‘Not a sausage,’ Mimi said, her eyes misty. ‘As far as we knew, our mother only ever had us. How could there have been another baby that we never even knew about? It’s ridiculous.’

‘An older brother,’ Lucille added, her blue eyes wistful. ‘I always wanted a brother to look after me.’

‘You have me,’ Mimi pointed out. ‘I think it must be a scam, although goodness knows why anyone would go to the bother because we haven’t got two brass farthings between us. We can’t possibly have a brother. It’s always been just the two of us.’

Honey heard the clear anxiety behind Mimi’s bluster, her fear of losing her place in the world, both as Lucille’s only sibling and as her best friend.

‘It might be best to take a little time to think it over. There’s no need to rush into anything,’ Honey soothed, trying to walk the line between the sisters’ clearly differing reactions about the news.

‘Ernest,’ Mimi muttered. ‘Our mother would never have called a child Ernest.’

‘I like it,’ Lucille smiled. ‘Ernie Dreyfus. He sounds like someone important, a doctor, or a teacher.’

‘Phhfft,’ Mimi scoffed. ‘I don’t care what he was. I’ve managed eighty-three years without a brother, why would I want one now?’

Honey made the tea as she listened to Mimi and Lucille bat the conversation back and forth between them. They were digesting the news in real time, each of them in their own unique way.

Lucille, ever the romantic, secure in her place as the baby of the family. Mimi the firecracker, feeling threatened and ready to battle for her position as the eldest sibling. Honey knew them both well enough to know that given time, their opinions would meet somewhere in the middle, hopefully in a place that allowed them to explore the extraordinary news of a possible brother, and the equally extraordinary news that he’d got in touch at the ripe old age of eighty-nine and if they’d like to, he’d dearly love to meet his sisters. The letter didn’t go into any further detail about Ernest, just a request for Lucille and Mimi to reply via the agency to let him know if they’d be prepared to make contact. Honey had faith in Mimi that time would allow her to see the wonder of the situation, as well as the pitfalls. She had a brother, a brand-new family member who’d been waiting in the wings her whole life, had she only known. If nothing else, Mimi was helplessly nosey; the tip of an iceberg had nosed its way into her life and she’d need to know more, despite herself. Honey watched her pick up her cup of tea and bustle away to make a start on the newest donation bags, talking to herself as she went. Wrapping an arm around Lucille’s stiff shoulders, Honey gave her a little squeeze.

‘She’ll come around. Give her time,’ Honey said, rubbing Lucille’s forest green velvet-clad arm.

‘I do hope so, Honey dear, we’re none of us getting any younger. Carpe diem, as they say.’

‘Very true.’ The hot tea warmed Honey’s throat as she considered the simple Latin phrase. She might not have a long-lost brother, but there was still much in her life that she needed to seize. Perhaps she could start by trying to be less churlish about Nell and Tash’s attempts to fix her up, enter into the spirit of the piano man mission a little more. Maybe, just maybe, they’d send someone her way who could kiss like Hal. It was, after all, a physical reaction. It would be a blessed relief to feel that level of attraction for someone who wouldn’t give Dr Jekyll a run for his money in the split-personality stakes. He’d seemed fine when he’d been in her flat, and then back to business as usual again when she’d tried to take him dinner as a thank you for teaching her how to cook it.

But then what did Honey know about him, really? She hadn’t asked him any questions about his life before he’d moved into the house, because he closed down any conversation that veered even close to personal territory. She’d sat outside his door and poured her heart out. He knew her dress size, her best friends’ names, her shampoo preferences, and her romantic history. He even knew more about her underwear choices than most people, yet her knowledge of him was minimal to say the least. Maybe her friendship with Hal, if it could be termed a friendship, was something else she needed to seize, or at least take more control of. It was completely on his terms at the moment, which wasn’t really a friendship at all, when she came to think of it. Honey drained her teacup and resolved not to be so needy where Hal was concerned from here on in. If he wanted her friendship, he could come and get it.

Lucille and Mimi circled each other like boxers in the ring for most of the morning, until something happened at lunchtime that forced them to lay down their arms and join together against their common enemy.

Christopher.

He bounded into the shop, scanned the empty place for customers and then flicked the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ and dropped the bolt.

‘Hey, we don’t close for lunch,’ Honey said, crossing to turn the sign back and finding Christopher blocking her path. Outside, she saw Nell jog up the path, and then lean forward to squint between the various posters on the door to check if there was anyone inside when she found it locked.

‘You do today. Staff meeting.’ Christopher looked at his watch for dramatic effect, straightening it on his skinny wrist. ‘Thirteen hundred hours in the dining room. Paid staff only, remember,’ he added, curling his lip at Mimi and Lucille. ‘You two take an afternoon nap or something.’

Honey watched him spin around and leave, imagining herself bouncing the sellotape in her hand off the back of his head as she crossed to let Nell in.

‘Take a nap,’ Mimi muttered, with murder in her eyes. ‘I’ll give him take a nap … Honey, dear. Waylay him at his precious meeting for as long as you can,’ she said, heading for the lingerie bin at the back of the shop. ‘Lucille, fetch your handbag. We’ve got work to do.’

Nell deposited a black bag on the floor beside the counter and gave Honey a quick peck on the cheek as she gestured towards the bin liner.

‘A few bits Ava has outgrown, and I’ve had a wardrobe clear out.’ She twirled a curl of her dark hair around her fingers, and it struck Honey how unusual it was to see her with it down. Glancing down quickly, she could see a couple of Nell’s demure ivory work blouses lying on top of the bundle of clothes.

‘Change of image?’ she joked, and then raised surprised eyebrows when Nell nodded.

‘Something like that. I just feel like I need more colour in my life, you know?’ She arched her black shirt-clad back to stretch it out. ‘Why was the door locked?’

Honey’s shoulders slumped. ‘Christopher came to call a staff meeting, which can only possibly mean one thing. Bad news.’

Mimi and Lucille appeared from the staffroom. ‘We’re not invited,’ Lucille sniffed. ‘Paid staff only. Hello Nell, dear.’

‘Pah. As if we’d want to go anyway.’ Mimi scowled ominously. ‘We’ve got bigger fish to fry this afternoon. You should probably call Old Don’s son, Honey, see if he can get a journalist down here.’

‘Mimi … are you sure about this? I don’t know what you’re planning and I’m worried.’

Mimi patted Honey’s hand on the counter. ‘Better that you don’t know, then you can’t be incriminated,’ she said darkly. ‘I don’t suppose anyone has donated any handcuffs lately, have they?’

Honey rolled her eyes, and then Nell silently opened her handbag and withdrew a pink fluffy pair, dangling them in the air by one cuff, her cheeks a good match with the fur.

‘My goodness, handcuffs have come a long way since my day,’ Lucille said. ‘The police only ever carried silver ones, nothing pretty like those. Although, I’m not sure I agree with them making things too comfortable for criminals.’ She frowned with disapproval at Nell’s fluffy cuffs, and Honey glanced at the floor to hide her smile, as Nell looked horrified with herself.

‘Are these some of those sex aids, dear?’ Mimi asked, squinting to get a closer look at them. Catching Nell’s mortified look, Mimi lifted her shoulders. ‘What? You think I’m too old to know about these things? I’ll have you know I read that
Fifty Shades
on our coach holiday around the Peak District last year, didn’t I, Lucille?’

Lucille nodded. ‘I prefer a good murder, myself,’ she said.

‘You might get one this afternoon,’ Mimi said dramatically, taking the handcuffs from Nell and dropping them into Lucille’s handbag.

‘You better carry these. If Billy sees me with them Lord only knows what might go through that head of his.’ Mimi smiled sweetly and linked arms with Lucille. ‘Come, sister. There’s much to be done and little time to do it in.’

‘I see what you mean about adding a little colour to your wardrobe now, Nellie,’ Honey murmured as they watched the two old ladies leave, and Nell laughed and covered her face with her hands.

‘What was I thinking of? I just heard Mimi ask for handcuffs and flicked into helpful teacher mode.’

‘I’m actually afraid to ask why you have them in your handbag,’ Honey said, wincing in anticipation of Nell telling her something so lurid it would make it impossible to ever look at Simon in the same light again.

‘I didn’t know what else to do with them. The cleaning lady comes on Tuesdays! What if she found our new things? She might polish them or something, and think of the skin irritation you could get from that. Or worse, she might resign.’

‘So … you have other things in your bag beside the handcuffs?’

Wide eyed, Nell opened her bag and gestured for Honey to look inside. Beside Nell’s phone and sunglasses lay a vibrator, a long feather and a string of pearls.

‘I don’t think they’re meant to go around my neck, are they?’ Nell squeaked. ‘Simon left them for me this morning! Honey, I don’t even know what to do with them. Help me!’

‘Uh-uh. You’re asking the wrong person. You need Tash.’ Honey laughed at the askance expression on her friend’s face. The last few weeks must have been a real period of revelation for Nell, and in all that she’d still given enough thought to the piano man mission to arrange Friday’s date with Robin. She really was the best kind of friend, and probably a good person to talk to about Hal, if Honey ever felt it was time to share. Now was definitely not the time though, not with Christopher waiting over in the home, itching to deliver more bad news.

Sitting down to listen to Christopher an hour or so later, Honey found herself distracted by worrying thoughts of Mimi and Lucille. What were they up to? Or rather; what was Mimi orchestrating and Lucille being accomplice to? Whatever it was, she was certain of two things: Billy would involve himself as much as he could, and Christopher was likely to go ballistic. Beyond that she was in the dark, aside from the fact that Nell’s pink handcuffs were likely to feature too. She’d managed to grab a quick word with Old Don’s son, and he was heading down in his lunch hour with a photographer riding shotgun. Pressing her fingertips against her temples, Honey prayed that whatever they did wasn’t drastic enough to get her fired – at least not before they saved the home, anyway.

At the front of the room Christopher stood and clapped his hands for everyone’s attention, and a hush fell over the disparate gathering. Three care workers representing the care staff as a whole; two cleaners; Patrick the huge Glaswegian chef and his fresh out of school trainee; Cheryl and her mother from the office, and Honey. The fact that the gathering was so disparate did nothing to diminish Christopher’s apparent sense of self-importance as he tapped an experimental finger on the huge green felt microphone he’d just plugged in. It looked like something from a 1980s TV outside broadcasting. They’d all watched him set it up in the centre of the room, discover the lead wouldn’t reach the plug, and end up standing at the far end of the room as if he’d been sent to stand in the naughty corner.

‘One-two, one-two,’ he said like a cheesy wedding DJ, and the screech of feedback had the whole room clapping their hands over their ears as one. Christopher said something that really shouldn’t be uttered into a microphone, turned it up to full volume and kicked the stand.