The Piano Man Project Page 0,118

spoon.

‘Good. Straight back on the bike, it’s the only way.’

‘I told him the truth.’

‘Which is that you’ve been pissed on from a great height by an almighty cock and yes, you’d love to go on a date with him because he’s handsome and kind. That’s what you told him, right?’

Honey looked at Tash levelly across the table. ‘You know that isn’t what I said.’

‘It’s been a week and he hasn’t been in touch, Honey. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.’

She wasn’t quite ready for Tash’s tough love approach.

‘A week. Seven days. It’s not enough, Tash. I need more time.’

Tash rolled her eyes. ‘God made the world in seven days. You probably haven’t even made your bloody bed.’

‘It’s an unfair comparison,’ Honey muttered.

‘Yeah. You’re real. And you’re here, and this is your life.’ Tash opened the magazine and jabbed her finger at the picture. ‘And he’s there, and that’s his life.’

She closed the magazine, dropped it in a nearby bin, and stood up.

‘Come on. Let’s go get drunk.’

‘I can’t believe you guys are my new bosses,’ Honey smiled weakly at Lucille as she placed a china cup and saucer down on the counter. ‘Will you be making many big changes?’

‘Well,’ Lucille said, her blue eyes dancing around the shop. ‘I thought we might move the books over into the other corner.’

Honey smiled and sipped her tea. ‘I think I can live with that.’

They looked up as Billy strolled over to the counter, a black shirt in his hand. He held it against himself and looked at them for approval.

‘Is it a bit dark for you?’ Honey ventured, glancing down at Billy’s mustard-yellow drainpipes.

‘I thought I’d try something dark and mysterious to woo Mimi,’ he said, striking a pose. ‘Will it work?’

Honey did that thing with her face formerly known as smiling and hoped it fooled her friends.

‘Ring it up then,’ he said, squinting at the price tag. ‘She’s worth two quid.’

Honey folded the shirt and slid it into a carrier for Billy, who added it to another already in his hand.

‘Buy her flowers.’

‘Irises are her favourites,’ Lucille said, arranging necklaces artfully on the bust stand.

‘And chocolates too,’ Honey added. ‘Mimi loves chocolates.’

Billy grinned and pretended to make notes on his hand.

‘Noted, ladies. I shall retire to my chamber to make plans.’

He bowed low with a courtly flourish of his hand and tipped his imaginary hat on the way out.

As it happened, Billy didn’t retire to his chamber. Looking furtive, he sidled around the back of the home and down the path to the tree line at the bottom of the garden, and then through them to the big old shed in the corner. It had long since been his unofficial lair, and over the years he’d added various cast-out bits and bobs to make it a comfortable place to hide out. A couple of old reclining armchairs lifted from a bunch put outside because they didn’t meet new fire regulations. A sideboard he’d resurrected from the dead, and a much-prized radio that had kept him company on many an afternoon. For all his gregarious nature, Billy sometimes craved a couple of hours’ peace and quiet, and here in the old potting shed was where he found it.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and put the morning paper down on the sideboard.

‘At ease, Hal. It’s only me.’

Honey heaved her tired body over the threshold of the house later that evening, slamming the door against the rain and looking towards Hal’s front door rather than her own. Some habits were hard to break.

‘Hal?’ she called out his name even though she knew perfectly well that he wasn’t there. Still bundled up in her coat and scarf, Honey walked to his door and laid a hand on it.

‘It’s been a long, grey day out there today, Hal,’ she said, world weary. Was it really any different because he wasn’t on the other side of the door? She’d become well accustomed to one-sided conversations, and so well acquainted with the floor outside his flat that it was a wonder there wasn’t a groove shaped like her backside worn into the Minton tiles.

Sliding down into her spot, she wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them, shivering. She hadn’t felt properly warm since the day he’d left; there was a chill in her bones that had nothing to do with the weather.

‘Can you believe Ernie bought the home in the end?’ she said, letting her weight sag against his door.

‘I’m so glad for