Nothing Compares To You

Secrets

"It's me. Are you ok?" His voice was warm and affectionate. She smiled. It had been a long time since he'd called her at this hour. It had been a long time since he'd called at all.

"Not really, but I'll live." She winced a little as the brightness of the day cut into the fog of her slightly hungover brain.

"Look, about last night."

She stopped him dead in his tracks. "It's ok. I understand." She swallowed the painkillers and the orange juice. "I have to go, Iain will be down for breakfast in a minute. See you Saturday ok?" She smiled. "Thanks. For... caring." She hung up and put the phone on the table, face down.

"Who was that sweetie?" Iain appeared at her shoulder, his lips finding her cheek as he sat down.

"Oh... just a friend from last night. Making sure I hadn't died of alcohol poisoning." She joked and winced. "Although, the way my head feels? It might have been a preferred option." She picked up the breakfast menu and almost gagged. Toast. Yes, she could manage some toast.

"So what are we doing today, love?" She asked as she picked at her croissant a little later. "Anything you particularly fancy?"

Iain stopped, and she could see him thinking. It seemed to take more of his concentration than it probably should have for a man of his age.

Simon put the phone down. He'd been worried about her, and now? He knew he was right to. They way she'd been so subdued? Wasn't just a hangover, wasn't even a hangover. She'd not had that much to drink. It had to be Tom. Joe looked across at him.

"Is she ok? I'm sorry, when I invited them, I honestly didn't think. I assumed one of them would cry off." He squinted, one eye closed as he smiled bashfully. Simon shook his head.

"It's not your fault, love. It's those two. They really need to give themselves a shake." He picked up his mug of coffee. "And I will be the one to do it for them!"

Tom looked at his phone. Simon had text. Could he meet him? This afternoon at 3? He had something he needed to talk to him about before Saturday, and it was a bit delicate, so he needed to do it face to face.

"Grace?" He leaned back and called through to the living room where she was currently rifling through his CD collection.

"What?" She yelled back.

He winced, confirmation once again her name certainly didn't reflect her manners.

"Im going into town later, Simon wants to meet for a coffee. You be ok here, love?" He got up and walked through. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by his formerly organised collection. She pouted and huffed at him.

"But you said WE could go out today, go shopping." Her face was a picture of childish resentment.

He groaned. "I know, love, I'm sorry. It must be important, or he wouldn't ask. Tomorrow, we'll go tomorrow. And tonight I'll take you out for a nice meal." He bent down and kissed her cheek. "A nice special dinner."

"Special?" Her eyes lit up.

"Well, if I tell you any more, it won't be, will it?" He stood up and walked to the door. He had to make their goodbye as kind as he could. He turned and looked at her. She hadn't even watched him to the door. She was busy sorting through his possessions again.

She wandered down the High Street, window shopping. It was almost 2.30. She had about 45 minutes. She was meeting him at 3.15. He'd texted not long after the phone call. It had been a welcome distraction. She was curious, though, what did he want to talk about that was so important.

Iain was gone. Only temporarily, though, he'd had a call from his company in Houston and needed to go into London to their local office. He'd be gone until Saturday but had promised to come back for the meal. Part of her hoped he wouldn't.

As she wandered, she looked about her. Not much had changed in the time she'd been away. Truthfully, she found that very comforting. In a sea of troubles, it was a calm little port.

Looking in the window of one shop, her eye was caught by the reflection of someone walking along the street on the other side behind her. She paused, unconsciously holding her breath. He passed by, seemingly engrossed in his phone. She concentrated on not moving. She really couldn't face him. Not when she felt like this. She was liable to do something extremely rash.

She wandered into the shop in front of her to escape. Too late, she realised it was one of those shops that sold everything from tarot cards to incense sticks to hand crafted woollen clothing.

Thecwoman behind the counter looked up from the horoscope she was reading in the local paper.

"Hello! You looking for something special dear?" She asked kindly. She was petite, maybe sixty, long grey hair piled up on top of her head. Very few other signs of her age, other than a few laughter lines. She wore a velvet tunic and long velvet skirt finished off by some patent leather Doc Martin boots.

Erica Rasmussen had run her little curio shop for years. Knew everyone and everything. Well, what the cards told her anyway. They'd told her this morning that she would make a new friend. Now, looking at the sad and haunted young woman standing in front of her, she knew. It wasn't her; she was no 'new' figure.

"Debbie Marshall! Goodness me, I hardly recognised you! It's been what, almost ten years?" Erica walked forward, and Debbie smiled.

"I wasn't sure you'd recognise me. How are you?" She laid a gentle hand on the older woman's arm. She seemed smaller and more delicate than ever.

"Oh, I'm fine, you know me, indestructible!" She forced a laugh. "What brings you back here?"

Subject deftly changed they cgatted for a few minutes about nothing in particular, until Debbie noticed the time.

"Oh hell! I better move, or I'll be late to meet Simon. I'll pop in again before I leave, though. Maybe you can do a reading for me?" She smiled and the older woman nodded.

"Be my pleasure. See you soon."

Debbie left and hurried across to the ciffee shop. As she did so, Erica picked a card from her tarot deck and turned it over. The death card stared back at her.

"Change eh? Well, I hope it's the kind you want, dear." She said to Debbie's retreating figure.

Debbie hurried across the road and on towards the cafe. It was just a minute after 3.15 when she opened the door and stepped into a world that smelt entirely of fresh baking and aromatic coffee.

She scanned the room quickly, front to back. No Simon. How odd. There was one empty table so she slid into one of the wooden seats and picked up the little menu.

He must have been held up. Still, she knew what he liked, so when a figure came to take her order she reeled off "Two cheese scones please - with jam - and two coffees. Thanks." She turned to put the menu on the seat beside her. As she did so, a voice broke ihto her thoughts.

"Well , I'd oblige but I dont think they'll let me in the kitchen!"

Her head snapped up and her mouth dropped open "Tom! what are you... why are you?..."

"Doing here?" He smiled, hiding his shock. "Same as you, drinking tea and eating delightful scones. Although my so-called date hadn't seen fit to turn up." He sighed.

"Grace stood you up?" She couldn't believe it.

"No, not Grace, Simon." He said it without any guile. She looked at him, confused.

"But Simon is supposed to be meeting... me!" She trailed off as they both realised the truth. They'd been set up.

"Crafty beggar!" Tom laughed "well, since you're here and I'm here, why don't we have some tea, just for old time's sake eh? I won't tell Iain if you don't tell Grace." He winked and suddenly it all felt so right again.

She blushed, "You mean. meet like a secret tryst?"

"Exactly." He sat back, arms folded, "our delicious little secret " he winked and sat down .

Yes, she thought as she looked across the room, ⁿ delicious..."