Page 43 of Tribute Act

The one I thought loved me so bad

You looked at me like I could be

The best guy that you ever had

Like someday soon I’d hang the moon

Right there amongst the stars that glow

But now it seems I killed those dreams

And you’re packing up your stuff so you can go . . .

(Repeat chorus)

— “Christmas Stocking” by The Sandy Coves, 1989

November

I’d hoped things would change between me and Mack after that night, but somehow they just went back to how they’d been before. The next day, Mack made no mention of us having sex and I, nervous of spooking him, followed his lead. And so it went, for the next couple of weeks.

I put up the Hallowe’en decorations. Bought in orange- and green-iced cupcakes. Took the decorations down again. And suddenly it was November. Cold and grey and pitch-dark by the time I closed up the café each night. Mack and I worked our shifts together during the day and passed our evenings in the same amicable way we’d done before. Mack played guitar a lot, which was fine with me. I liked listening to him while I read or caught up on paperwork.

On the Friday after Hallowe’en, Rosie came over for her guitar lesson. As usual, she banished me from the room—she hated being watched—so I sat in the kitchen with my laptop. I could hear the soft rumble of Rosie’s and Mack’s voices and their frequent laughter in between the snatches of music. It made me smile and feel envious at the same time.

Who was it I was envious of? Both of them maybe. Rosie and Mack were more alike than me and Rosie. My sister was a chatterbox, like Mum, but deep down, she had the same laid-back attitude to life that Mack had—and that they both seemed to have inherited from Derek.

Whilst that easy attitude had been a major factor in Dilly’s getting into such a mess, I had to admit it had its upsides. It was clear that Rosie found Mack easy to be around. As for Mack, he showed a soft side when he was with her that was noticeably absent the rest of the time, his expression losing some of its innate wariness in her presence.

When the lesson was over, Rosie poked her head round the kitchen door.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m off.”

I shut my laptop. “I’ll walk you back.”

“No need. Mack’s coming. Not that I need either of you.” She made a face.

“Sorry but you know the rules.” Mum wasn’t ready to let Rosie walk around on her own yet. It was progress that she wasn’t insisting on driving her here and picking her up.

She sighed heavily, all put-upon.

“Anyway,” I said, getting off my stool and opening my arms. “Gimme a hug before you go. I need one.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she came closer and let me wrap her up, giving a contented little sigh against my chest.

We were still hugging a couple of minutes later when Mack walked into the kitchen, saying, “Are we going then, Ro?”

He stopped dead when he saw us, staring at us as though we were aliens.

“We’re having a hug,” I explained.

“Oh.”

Rosie broke out of my embrace and moved towards him. “Your turn,” she said, opening her arms.

He actually looked scared. It was funny in a way, but it made my chest ache watching as he raised his arms and stepped back as though to get away from her. It did him no good anyway—she just moved into his space and put her arms round his waist, squeezing him hard. He winced a little—God, his poor scar—then, after a moment, he patted her back awkwardly and sent me a look that seemed to say, Am I doing this right? I grinned at him teasingly, as though I really was amused by his predicament, but in truth, my heart felt all twisted up. His unfamiliarity with simple affection tore at me. Not that he’d want my pity. He’d be mortified if he could read my thoughts.

Eventually Rosie let him go, and they headed back to Mum’s. When Mack got back, I had a big bowl of salty popcorn and drinks waiting—beer for me, Coke for Mack.