Davina untucked her legs and rubbed her forehead. ‘To be honest I’ve
been worrying all week. Have you heard about it being under threat?’
I frowned. In the spring I’d grown to know Chesterwood’s food bank well
whilst researching a story on local unemployment. I’d met Kit’s eyes across a
stack of tinned tuna and was immediately hooked. The wild mocha hair. Tall
toned frame. The surprisingly shy smile that caught me off-guard. I hadn’t
looked at another man like that since Adam, yet all this while I’d felt nothing
but friendship for Kit – until our recent cinema visit.
‘Up until now the warehouse it’s based in has been charging minimal rent
just to cover the rates. As you know, Fern, it’s only small. The landlord
inherited it and hasn’t previously wanted the bother of doing much with it. But
a developer has shown interest and made him realise he’s missing out on some
serious money.’
This didn’t sound good.
‘He had no idea the property had such potential and wanted to sell up
straightaway but Ron who runs it talked him round.’
‘So what’s the problem exactly?’ I asked.
‘The landlord has said unless they can start paying a competitive level
of rent he’ll have to evict them.’ Davina shook her head. ‘It’s an astronomical
amount. Not outlandish in terms of the market – in fact modest, by all accounts
– but for a strapped organisation that previously has hardly had to pay a
penny…’
‘The news must have been such a shock,’ said Cara. She sat a little
straighter. ‘The community should do something about this.’
I exchanged glances with Davina. It was nice to see a glimpse of the old
Cara who always roped Davina and me into supporting her latest cause. Like the
animal rescue centre last year that the council had stopped funding. She’d
baked cookies with cat faces on to feed the demonstrators standing outside in
the rain. However, she’d just not been herself lately.
‘Yes. Ron looks even more tired than usual. With more wintry weather
approaching volunteers can hardly cope with demand, as it is, and he’s working
all hours,’ said Davina. ‘The food bank’s account can just cover rent until the
end of December, but after that who knows what will happen. He’s going to approach
as many charities as possible in the hope that the place will be able to
operate under their umbrella, and gain support and funding that way. Initial
talks have made him feel optimistic that might happen but setting it up will
take time. Max and I gave a donation—’
‘That was good of you,’ said Cara. ‘I wish John and I were in a position
to do the same but I account for every penny that we spend, and there’s never
much left over after the essentials each month.’
‘Same here,’ I said. Adam’s death had paid off the mortgage but there
were still living costs. Much-needed holidays to save for, along with
university funds for Lily one day – and my old age. I never used to think much
about things like that but Adam’s death had brought my finances sharply into
focus. I was now very aware of the fact that Lily was dependent on me alone,
and that I needed to be completely self-sufficient.
Davina shrugged. ‘There was only so much we could give, especially as
our earnings haven’t been as high this year. Ron really needs to cover
January’s rent, as well, to tide the food bank over properly until a more
permanent rescue plan is in place – and to give the landlord the reassurance he
wants that they are committed to paying long-term.’
The food bank couldn’t close down. I’d seen first-hand how it changed
people’s lives, offering hope to those who didn’t know where their next meal
was coming from. And it benefited the community in so many other ways, bringing
people together and reducing food waste. Local supermarkets, restaurants and
hotels all donated goods they’d otherwise have to pay to store or throw away.
Not that I’d known any of this until researching my article. And I
doubted many people in the community did. A food bank was one of those
essential, highly important places that nevertheless existed away from sight,
in the background.
She sighed. ‘Anyway, enough about my concerns – Cara, has Hannah got
over that nasty bug yet? Did little Lex catch it?’
I listened to Cara reply, relishing the relaxation. It was the autumn
half-term holiday and the three of us had been keen to meet. I tried to plan my
work so that I could free up days whenever the schools broke up. There was
never enough time to chat in the playground. The children were currently
upstairs in Arlo’s bedroom practising a play they’d made up, about dragons,
that they wanted to perform to us before lunch.
‘So, Fern – what are you wearing on tomorrow’s date?’ said Davina
briskly. ‘I meant to ask yesterday, at the indoor play area.’
Cara stopped stroking the cat. ‘Date? How come I’m the last to know?’
‘Because it’s not a date,’ I said firmly and glared at Davina who had a
gleam in her eye.
‘Oh please. This Oliver guy has asked you out to dinner. And quite right
too. You are giving his mindfulness venture a plug in your column.’
‘It’s business. And there’s been nothing remotely flirtatious about our
emails,’ I said, thinking the sleet outside must be nice and cooling. The
colder weather had come early this year.
‘Gosh… this is your first, isn’t it? Since…’ Cara’s voice softened.
Since Adam? It was. And my lack of enthusiasm towards Oliver didn’t mean
I wouldn’t be ready to meet someone else if the right person came along. My
thoughts flicked to Kit.
Last night we’d gone on one of our cinema trips. We both loved science
fiction. The only seats left were in the back row. Kit had winked and I’d
laughed. We sat down next to a young couple with their arms around each other.
‘I’ve only got eyes for ice cream at the movies,’ Kit had whispered,
holding up two Cornettos.
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