R iverside
I’M sorry, Joe. I can’t marry you.” Carol tried to take his hand, but he was inching away from her. “Let me explain.” Joe snapped the velvet box shut and began to shuffle along the seat of the booth inside the Old Engine Room.
“It’s a beautiful ring, Joe. Please, talk to me,” Carol begged.
Joe stood and pushed the box into his pocket. Then he bowed formally to Carol.
“I won’t stay,” he said. “I’ve made enough of a fool of myself for one day.”
“Joe, please!” Carol pleaded.
Joe squared his shoulders.
“Carol, it’s been a pleasure knowing you, and I’m sorry if I read things the wrong way between us.” “Joe!”
Carol’s words were lost in the noise of the busy café as she watched Joe walking towards the door.
Then she heard a voice behind her.
“You’d run after him if he meant that much to you.”
Carol swung round to see Mike, the owner of the deli café.
He held up his hands in mock surrender.
“I wasn’t prying. I was just clearing the table behind you and . . .”
“You heard every word?” Mike nodded.
“Why did you let him go?” Mike asked.
Carol put her head in her hands and leaned her elbows on the table.
“Oh, Mike. I’m still a young woman.”
Mike gave a discreet cough.
“Well, young-ish,” Carol said quickly. “Joe was never going to be enough for me; he was far too set in his ways.
“I want bright lights, music, dancing and wild nights out.”
“In Ryemouth?” Mike laughed, but kindly. “You’ll be lucky.”
****
At Mary’s house, Mary was giving Ruby the news about the heritage centre being broken into.
“George is in a right state about it,” Mary said.
“I can imagine,” Ruby replied.
“He thinks Harry Mason might be behind it.” Ruby’s eyes widened. “No!” she exclaimed. Mary nodded.
“I’m afraid so. I might have a word with Angela to see if she knows anything.”
“Angela keeps Harry on a tight lead, so if there’s something going on, she’s bound to know,” Ruby reasoned.
Mary pushed the chocolate digestives across the kitchen table towards her friend.
“Have another. There’s still more coffee in the pot.” Ruby eyed the biscuits. “I shouldn’t,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “But I will.”
The rattle of the letterbox broke into their conversation.
Mary glanced at the kitchen clock.
“The postman’s early. One second, Ruby, while I go and bring the post in.”
“I don’t like brown envelopes,” Ruby said when Mary returned. “They never bring good news.”
Mary removed the Cellophane wrapper from a booklet.
“It’s the community centre’s summer programme,” Mary said.
“What’s on? Anything interesting?” Ruby asked.
Mary scanned the classes on offer.
“More yoga, a new ceramics classes, friendship groups for men . . .”
Mary ran her finger down the index.
“Mother and baby groups, singing, painting . . .”
“And decorating?” Ruby asked.
Mary shook her head. “Art classes.”
“It could be interesting,” Ruby remarked.
“I wonder if it’s modern art with all those stripes and dots that hang in galleries and sell for a small fortune?”
“At Ryemouth community centre we’re more likely to be drawing bowls of fruit.” Mary smiled. “We could go together, if you’d like?”
“You’re on,” Ruby agreed. “Sign us up and if you pay the joining fee I’ll treat us to lunch in the Old Engine Room after our first class.”
“It’s a deal,” Mary replied as Ruby reached for another biscuit.
****
Along the riverbank, George was giving a statement to Ryemouth police after finding the heritage centre ransacked.
“It’s probably kids.” The policeman sighed. “We’ve had a spate of trouble up at North Ryemouth over the last few weeks.”
“You’re probably right,” George said sadly.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry Mason’s thwarted development plan for the riverside might have something to do with it.
When all was done at the heritage centre, George spent the rest of the day tidying up.
Then he locked the door and added another padlock to be on the safe side.
He took his phone from his pocket and called Mary.
“You don’t mind if I don’t come right home, do you?” he asked. “I’d like to head to the allotment and potter for an hour or so. It’ll set my mind at ease.”
George pocketed his phone and set off walking along the riverside path.
When he reached the Old Engine Room, he glanced inside and had to do a double take.
Was that Mike sitting next to Carol, eating lunch together?
George slowed his pace to be sure to get a proper look, as he knew Mary would want all the news.
More next week.