The Piano Man Project Page 0,101

Honey dithered. If head office got wind of things they’d no doubt come down hard to shut the protest down before it grew any bigger. And going on the way things had gone so far, it was going to grow quite quickly.

‘Call them on what?’ Tash grinned. ‘This?’ She fished a mobile out of her pocket and shrugged casually. ‘It kind of fell out of his suit pocket when I was chaining him up.’ Honey knew Tash well enough to know that ‘fell out of his pocket’ was a loose interpretation of the truth. The girl was a brilliant liability. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said, squeezing Honey’s shoulders. ‘I’ll keep it safe for him. He’s bloody lucky I didn’t drop it down the drain along with the handcuff keys.’

Honey often wished she were as bold as Tash, or as efficient as Nell. They’d each brought their own unique skills today, and between them they seemed to be pulling things off.

‘You really should go and let the kitchen know how quickly the numbers are growing,’ Mimi said, her beady eyes on Honey.

‘I can do it,’ Tash volunteered, and Honey almost shoved her towards the home out of relief at not needing to see Hal.

Billy had other ideas though, grabbing Tash’s arm with his free hand as she moved past him.

‘My darling, I think I’ve got a frozen shoulder. Do you think you could give it the quickest of massages? You look like you’ve got the perfect hands for it.’

Tash flexed her fingers. ‘Go on then. These hands have had a lot of practice.’

Mimi, usually territorial over Billy, just smiled serenely. ‘The kitchen, Honeysuckle.’

Coerced, Honey sighed and picked her way along the path towards the home. Towards the kitchen. Towards Hal.

Inside, the Sunday staff had gathered, bewildered. Without anyone to care for they were rudderless, and they turned to Honey as she walked through the doors.

‘What are we supposed to do?’ Nikki asked, one of the carers who Honey knew vaguely.

‘Well, it’s up to you guys. You can stay in here, or you can go out there and make your voices heard. Your jobs are on the line here, as well as the residents’ home. You have a dog in this fight too.’

She left them there, straightening her shoulders as she heard their murmurs of assent, when the door swung shut behind her. Maybe Tash was rubbing off on her after all. Outside the kitchen door a moment or two later, she regulated her breathing and hoped like hell that she could keep the kick ass attitude in place, at least for the next five minutes. Thank God Skinny Steve was in there too. ‘Safety in numbers’ had never felt a more appropriate phrase for the day.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Staying at the flat hadn’t been an option for Hal that morning. He’d promised Honey and Steve that he’d be there, but his reasons for being at the home were more selfish than that. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts today; he made bad company and even worse decisions. His brain was under siege, held hostage by the past. How had things gone so wrong? He’d woken yesterday with a plan to let his birthday slide past unmarked, and it had somehow ended up being the most significant birthday of his life.

He could blame the whisky. He could blame Honey. He could blame his brother. He could blame Imogen. He could blame all of those things and all of those people, but he didn’t. Hal blamed himself for yet another spectacular fuck up, and he was reaching the point where he couldn’t stand to make many more. That was the real reason he was here today. This seemed to be the one and only thing he was capable of doing right. Imogen’s letter had opened doors that he’d long since slammed shut, and only the simple beauty of cooking could offer him respite from deciding which doors to open and which ones to close.

‘I’ll make a start on taking the soup out,’ Steve said, heading out of the back door. ‘I’ll be back in ten.’

Hal nodded, and then turned as the door from the dining room opened. He knew who it was before she spoke. Strawberries, the slightly irregular sound of her breathing, the crackle of attraction, the complicated emotions.

‘Where’s Steve?’ she said, in lieu of a greeting.

‘Honeysuckle,’ he said cordially. ‘He’s just gone down to take soup for the protesters. Did you need him?’

As he said it, he wished he’d