It Could Be You Part 4 Read online

  ‘Aren’t those cameras in black and white anyway? So wouldn’t all cars look grey on CCTV?’

  They both visibly slumped – perhaps this was an impossible quest after all. They finished their drinks in contemplative silence.

  Another Monday came around and Regan’s feet were throbbing. She’d never realised how hard it was standing up all day. The market stall was doing okay, but she needed to work the stall six days a week to stand any chance of making a living out of it. She stepped inside Charlie’s front door and kicked off her shoes – bliss.

  ‘Hey, you.’ Charlie’s smiling face peeped from round the kitchen door and Elvis trotted over to greet him. ‘Good day?’

  ‘Yes. The little Indian restaurant want me to make them some exclusive mango chutneys in special combinations. I just need to work out an interesting twist and the pricing.’

  ‘That’s brilliant. Well done you!’ He seemed thrilled. ‘You want a coffee or a glass of wine?’

  ‘Wine. I need wine,’ said Regan. ‘Or beer. I’m not fussy.’

  ‘Okay. Well, you sit down because dinner is under control.’

  ‘Ooh, what are you making?’

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up because I’ve not done it before, but I’m making scallops wrapped in bacon to start, followed by mushroom risotto.’

  ‘You’d make someone a lovely wife,’ said Regan and Charlie stuck his tongue out. ‘What’s the special occasion?’ she asked, slumping onto the sofa with a groan that made her sound like a pensioner.

  ‘None really. I guess having you here makes me want to try a few new things out.’ He handed her a chilled glass of rosé.

  She took the glass, but her eyes were fixed on his. The number of new things she’d like to try out with Charlie was endless, but she couldn’t say that. It would make him feel awkward. She blinked and sipped the wine. ‘I am happy to be your guinea pig.’ She gave a little squeak and Elvis dashed over, sniffing the air wildly.

  Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘There’s a new film on Netflix that the guys at work are raving about. Action thriller with that guy you like.’

  Regan gave him a look. She knew him pretty well by now. ‘Or we could binge-watch Gavin and Stacey.’

  Charlie’s face lit up. ‘Yeah, that’d be perfect.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You know. If that’s what you want to watch, then sure … I don’t mind.’ He gave a cheeky smile and her heart smiled along too.

  Regan felt smug and virtuous as she waltzed out of the gym, having handed in her membership card and asked them to change Jarvis’s membership to a single. Yes, she had taken a while to do it, but the important thing was that she had got there in the end. Jarvis had clearly forgotten to change it too, so she didn’t feel too bad about it – she’d just maximised his monthly membership by showering there most days.

  The gym had been a little bubble she could escape to – with its nice-smelling body wash, clean towels and hairdryers, it had helped to keep her going over the last few weeks. She had two weeks left at Charlie’s, but ultimately Cleo’s return had signalled the end of Regan’s austerity period. She was still determined to get herself back on her feet, but knowing you had a backstop made a huge difference. Especially when that backstop had a beautiful flat and loads of money.

  She walked to the barrier, and instead of the bar turning when she pushed it, it jammed, and she almost dived over the top. She gave it a jiggle but it didn’t move. Typical. They always hated you cancelling your gym membership – she was probably trapped there for all eternity. She reversed out and was about to go through the next turnstile when she saw Jarvis leaving the gym with his sports bag slung over his shoulder. Regan did a little jolt but quickly composed herself. She’d managed to avoid him since the split, but here he was. He was checking his phone and she put her head down, hoping he’d not notice her. She gave the next turnstile a nudge and thankfully it let her through. She was free.

  ‘Regan.’ Jarvis touched her arm. Oh, so close to escaping.

  ‘Jarvis. Hello,’ she said, spinning around. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’ Why did she suddenly sound like her grandmother?

  ‘I’ve been a member here for six years. I come at the same time most days. So it was fairly likely.’ He was giving her the look that always made her feel stupid. Not any more.

  ‘I thought you would have cancelled the joint membership, but you hadn’t, so I’ve done it for you.’ She held her head high – she could do this. She could be polite and aloof.

  He was scanning her up and down. ‘Right.’

  He could have at least thanked her for saving him a few quid. ‘Anyway, I’m very busy running my own business, so I must dash.’ Now she sounded all showy and a bit posh.

  He seemed to be considering her statement. ‘I heard you were working on the market.’

  ‘Yes. That is my business. You arse.’ And no-nonsense Regan was back.

  ‘There’s no need to be abusive.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ A lycra-clad woman skulked past them, and Regan realised they were causing an obstruction. She pointed outside and Jarvis followed her into the car park.

  ‘I have been to hell and back these last couple of months. You have no idea what I’ve been through, so don’t you dare belittle my business.’

  Jarvis looked bored. ‘You are the architect of your own misfortune, Regan.’

  What did that mean? ‘Are you saying it’s all my fault?’

  ‘I’m saying you don’t consider the consequences of your actions.’

  Regan’s blood was beginning to heat up. ‘Consequences! I lost my job and nearly ended up on the streets because of Alex’s pranks.’

  ‘You see. You’re still not taking any responsibility.’ He checked his watch. ‘Whilst this has been interesting, I need to get going.’

  She wasn’t done putting over her argument, so she followed him across the car park. ‘I do take responsibility. It was not my fault—’

  ‘You entered into these silly games of one-upmanship with Alex. It was bound to end badly.’

  He was so infuriating. ‘Well, not any more. I’m my own boss.’

  ‘Market stall. You said.’ He stopped at a red Audi and opened the door.

  ‘New car?’ Jarvis hadn’t had the silver one very long. She clocked the registration. It was the same age as his last one, so not a huge upgrade.

  ‘Yes. It was time for a change. It’s the sports model.’ He really did look bored. ‘I really do need to go. Good luck with the market stall,’ he said dismissively, and he got in the car.

  ‘In case you didn’t know, Marks and Spencer started on a market stall,’ she said, as he shut the door. It was one of those moments she really wished she could conjure up the perfect insult, but it had escaped her – and she’d spend the rest of the day reliving the conversation until she found the perfect parting shot.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Thankfully the rest of Regan’s day went slightly better. She had a good day on the stall, not only selling a few jars but also getting her first returning customer, who brought back empty jars for a discount. After she’d packed up for the day, she met Cleo at the library so she could go through the designs Cleo had sketched for her logo.

  ‘I love them,’ said Regan, marvelling at the professional job Cleo had done.

  ‘It was fun to do something different. I’ve been stuck in a rut since the first collection started selling. And Japan has given me so many new ideas. None of them Oscar would be interested in, because in his view I was just there to churn out big-ticket pieces.’

  ‘You sure you’re okay about walking away from all that?’ Regan struggled to see how Cleo was so calm about it. Partly because she was voluntarily walking away from a large income, and also because Cleo usually worried about things like this – but this time she seemed quite chilled.

  Cleo paused and looked off into the distance as if really considering the question. ‘Yes, I’m really okay with walking away.’ She looked back at Regan with a smile. ‘Now let’s get these images loaded.’

  With Cleo’s help, Regan managed to set up a free website for Sticky Situations – something she had been meaning to do for ages – and they scanned in the new logo and some photos Regan had taken of her jams. By the time Cleo had finished tweaking things, it looked like a very professional job.

  Whilst Cleo tinkered with the pictures, Regan jotted down some online tips for marketing her website. ‘Has your tenant moved out?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. He managed to drop a bottle of aftershave through my sink, but otherwise the place is fine. Once the sink is fixed and it’s been thoroughly cleaned I’ll be moving back in.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘How are things at Charlie’s?’

  Regan paused and chewed the end of her pen. It was one she’d taken from BHB Healthcare. ‘You know that feeling you have at Christmas, that even when there’s shit going down, it doesn’t matter because it’s Christmas? It’s like that. It’s blissful.’

  ‘Oh, Regan. You’re falling for him, aren’t you?’

  ‘I think that happened long before I moved in. But living together has cemented my feelings.’ She blew out a heavy sigh.

  ‘But you’re only there for a couple more weeks.’

  ‘I know. How many before I qualify for squatter’s rights?’ She tried to make a joke of it, but leaving Charlie was going to be incredibly hard. They had quickly slotted into a domestic routine. There had been no petty squabbles, and he’d even seemed to accept Elvis and his hair shedding – although now she brushed him every evening it was greatly reduced. Elvis was settling in too. He had found the introduction of carpet and a television all very confusing to start with, but now he took them, and even the vacuum, in his stride.

  Regan was a far better housemate than she’d ever been before. When she was a student, she had done the bare minimum; and only after someone had complained or they had been on the verge of kicking her out. With Jarvis, she had been generally lazy although nothing she had attempted in the early days had been to his standards, so it had been easier to let him get on with it. With Charlie they were on an even keel and she wanted to pull her weight. She realised how much her outlook had changed since she’d met him.

  Regan uploaded a photo and Cleo adjusted it until it looked perfect. ‘What does that label say?’ Cleo was squinting at the screen.

  ‘Unicorn jam,’ said Regan, proudly.

  Cleo laughed and then studied her carefully. ‘What on earth is in that then? Apart from boiled unicorns?’

  ‘Ha, ha. It’s strawberry jam with edible glitter. As it says on the label – it’s what unicorns eat for breakfast so they’re sparkly all day long.’ She was very proud of her latest flavour, thanks to her root around Charlie’s cupboard on the day of Kevin’s funeral.

  ‘And they do sparkly poos, no doubt.’

  ‘Exactly. I should add that in,’ said Regan, taking over the keyboard.

  ‘Why unicorn jam?’

  ‘Two reasons. One: I had too many strawberries and no idea what to put with them to make them unique until I found the edible glitter. And secondly, it had been bugging me since I filled the form in for the market that they asked for market stall produce to be lots of things, like vegan friendly and healthy, and one of the things was shiny. And I’ve been racking my brains for how to include shiny, and now I’ve found it. And thirdly …’

  ‘You said two reasons,’ pointed out Cleo.

  ‘This is a bonus one: it sells really well. Kids love it. And there are worse things to have for breakfast, which means parents love it too.’

  ‘I’m delighted this is working out for you,’ said Cleo.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Regan, and she gave her friend a hug.

  When they were happy they had everything on the website as perfect as they could get it, Regan pushed the button and put the website live. Now all she had to do was hope she got lots of online orders flooding in. The market stall alone wasn’t going to be enough for a viable income and, although she’d been saving, she was still a long way off being able to afford to rent somewhere of her own.

  ‘I’m meeting Charlie and Elvis on the beach. Do you want to come?’ she asked, logging out of the computer.

  ‘Um … Actually, I’m meeting Penny for a drink.’

  ‘Oh, right. Okay.’ Regan couldn’t hide that she was slightly miffed not to have been included again. They’d only met each other thanks to her, and now she was being left out.

  ‘You can join us if you like?’ said Cleo, belatedly.

  ‘I need to get Elvis. He’s probably been driving Charlie round the bend. Another time?’

  ‘Sure.’ Everything felt a little uncomfortable. They said their goodbyes and went in different directions.

  Regan spotted Charlie and Elvis on Black Rock Beach. She watched them unnoticed. Charlie was throwing stones and Elvis was chasing after them like a demented greyhound, going slightly potty every time one landed and seemingly disappeared into all the other stones on the beach. He was like a child watching a magician. As she drew closer, she could hear Charlie’s laughter carrying on the breeze – it was a wonderful sound.

  At last, as if Charlie sensed her watching, he turned to look straight at her and she waved. This was a big mistake. Elvis followed Charlie’s gaze, clocked Regan and set off towards her at high speed, skidding slightly on the pebbles. On any other beach this wouldn’t be a problem, and Black Rock was a designated dog-friendly beach, but it was also home to Brighton’s naturists, which meant that Elvis was now careering through their small section of beach quite literally willy-nilly. Naked people were diving out of the way and body parts were swinging in all directions. Charlie didn’t know where to look. Elvis leapt straight over a sunbather, spraying him with sand. ‘Sorry!’ shouted Regan, which only seemed to draw the attention – and full-frontal views – in her direction. Elvis slowed down when he neared Regan, but instead of barrelling into her, something caught his attention: an elderly, naked gentlemen was bent over, folding up his picnic rug. Momentarily distracted, Elvis gave the gent his usual greeting of a nose in the nether regions. Regan thought the poor man was going into space, he jumped so high. But then a cold, wet nose up your bottom was always going to be a shock. The man turned around quickly and Regan just managed to grab Elvis’s collar and stop him from having another sniff. Goodness knows what the poor man was going to say; he must have been furious.

  ‘I’m very, very sorry,’ she said, shielding her eyes from the dangly bits and trying to drag Elvis away, which was virtually impossible one-handed.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said the man, with a chuckle. ‘You’re only saying hello, aren’t you?’ Regan peeped one eye out to see the elderly man was now making a fuss of Elvis. How awkward. She’d rather the old man were furious – that would have been far easier to deal with than his being friendly and chatty. ‘What’s his name?’ He smiled at Regan.

  ‘Elvis.’

  ‘Well, he’s got his sideburns all right.’

  She stifled a nervous giggle and dragged the dog away. ‘He’s very sorry. Bye!’

  Charlie was running towards them, holding his sides from laughing at the same time. ‘That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘You were no help,’ she scolded, before bursting into hysterics. They held onto each other for support as the giggles gripped them. Elvis sensed the excitement and began barking and leaping around.

  ‘Come on,’ said Charlie, putting an arm around Regan. ‘It’s your turn to cook. What are we having?’

  She started to laugh again. ‘I was thinking of sausages but now I’m not so keen.’

  The next morning Regan was dropping her jars off at the café and Penny was giving her a hand. ‘Have you got CCTV here?’ asked Regan.

  Penny laughed. ‘Come on, you know how tight Mr Hughes is.’

  ‘What’s that then?’ She tipped her head at what looked like a bubble camera on the front of the coffee shop.

  ‘It’s a fake. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Me and Bernice are doing a bit of sleuthing. The police don’t seem that interested in tracking down Kevin’s killer … actually, that’s a bit unfair. They have done quite a bit, and they’ve checked the road cameras, but there’s nothing that covers the crossing so we thought we’d do some investigations of our own.’

  ‘Ooh, good idea. The nursery a few doors down has a camera. A real one. But you wouldn’t want to see most of the footage they catch on it.’ Penny gave a chuckle.

  ‘It’s a start though. We need to see if we can catch a glimpse of the car speeding off. I can pinpoint the time so we don’t need to trawl through hours of tape like they do on the cop shows.’

  ‘I can ask them to check,’ said Penny. ‘We all want to catch this bastard.’

  Regan shut the boot and paused for a second. Penny was looking tired. ‘Are you all right?’

  Penny tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. ‘Not great.’

  ‘What’s up?

  ‘Mr Hughes called me last night. He’s selling up.’

  ‘But you’ll still have a job, won’t you? This place is a gold mine.’

  Penny was shaking her head. ‘He’s hoping to sell to a big chain.’ She slapped a fake smile on her face. ‘But at least he’s given me lots of notice so I’ve got time to look for something else.’

  ‘I’m sure something will turn up. Look at me – it could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’

  ‘I love your optimism, but I’m not so sure,’ said Penny, with a deep sigh.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Charlie as he opened the front door that evening. ‘Are you making chemical weapons?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a big order for the Ministry of Defence and it doubles as beetroot and orange chutney,’ said Regan, opening the kitchen door. She scanned Charlie up and down. The sight of him in his uniform was always a thrill and something she would never tire of.

  ‘Thank goodness it’s not dinner.’ He screwed up his nose and she threw a tea towel at him. Elvis expertly intercepted the throw and grabbed it. ‘Hey,’ said Charlie, and Elvis growled playfully in response. Elvis and Charlie had a tug of war until Charlie conceded and Elvis trotted off happily with his prize.