Someone Else's Conflict by Alison Layland Page A

weren’t reddening.
    â€˜Oh, I…won’t there be things you need inside?’
    He shrugged. ‘The tools are all out here, aren’t they? Leave me a biscuit or two, perhaps. Apart from that, I’ve got my baccy in here,’ he patted his jacket pocket, ‘and I can drink from the stream there, if I need to.’
    She locked the door as he suggested.
    Marilyn’s meeting at the shop went well. Despite having played it down to Jay, it was important to her, and she felt buoyed up on the way home, deciding as she drove through Holdwick to call on Matt to update him. Nevertheless, as she parked the car and walked over to Barton Mill, she found herself wishing Jay was there. She shook her head, annoyed that she still felt anything around Matt, as well as for thinking that a near stranger like Jay would make any difference. Inside the building, she made her way past the ground-floor units and up the solid stone stairs to the shop that had once been partly hers.
    The traditional brass bell rang out, and the familiar board creaked as if to warn of her presence. When they’d taken over the place they’d hardly believed that such thick, heavy floorboards could move, but the mill had its voices like any other building. The clanging faded into a background of atmospheric music. Marilyn recognised it and briefly wondered whether to ask for the CD back as she made her way between the shelves towards the empty counter, plucking up courage. The items on sale were the same but different. She let her eyes linger on the homely colours of a stoneware bowl. One of hers. She swallowed her resentment together with her nerves.
    The storeroom door was ajar. Voices floated through to the shop, the sound of boxes being moved. A woman laughing. Matt teasing. Dust was in the air, in her nose, catching in the back of her throat. Like the early days. Marilyn coughed.
    â€˜Customer,’ Matt muttered to the other, then in a raised voice: ‘Be with you right away.’
    His footsteps approached from the depths of the storeroom. She leaned on the counter, stood tall, leaned again, hating herself for feeling nervous.
    â€˜Marilyn. To what do we owe the pleasure?’
    â€˜I’d like a quick word. With you.’
    She glanced pointedly towards the storeroom. She had nothing against Lucy and grudgingly liked her, despite everything, but didn’t particularly want her there.
    â€˜Fancy coming up to the flat for a coffee?’
    Not like him to be so tactful; Lucy must be having a positive effect. He called through to the back that he’d be gone for a short while and she followed him out.
    The top floor of the small mill made a lovely flat and she felt an insane surge of jealousy as she thought of their plans for it. Plans that would now benefit someone else, while much of the fruit of her labours lay under a heap of soil.
    â€˜No need for coffee; I won’t stay long.’
    â€˜Ah, just wanted a nosy?’
    She bristled. ‘I wouldn’t be here at all if my phone was working.’
    He waved her to a seat and looked round. ‘We’ve nearly finished, though you wouldn’t believe it with all this mess.’
    There were a couple of boxes in a corner, one unpainted wall with some paint cans and dust sheets. Otherwise the place looked good, and she felt as if he was mocking her inability to be in a room for more than half an hour without filling it with clutter.
    â€˜I just thought I’d better let you know – that storm Saturday night? It’s caused a few problems.’
    â€˜Hence no phone.’
    â€˜And still no electricity, plus it caused a landslip against the barn.’
    â€˜Sorry to hear it. Any structural damage?’
    â€˜A bit to the barn; nothing that wasn’t going to be rebuilt anyway. But that’s not why I’m here. I came to say that Alan won’t be able to start this week as planned.’
    â€˜Saw him in the pub last night.