Austin was fighting his way to the pound shop to see if they had something good for Darny to wear to a fancy-dress party – he’d like to buy him that Spiderman costume with the muscles he really wanted, but when he’d paid for after-school care plus the mortgage his parents had thoughtlessly not paid off before they died, plus the day-to-day living expenses, plus the late fees on all the bills he always meant to move on to direct debit but never seemed to manage, there was precious little left, and there seemed no point in buying anything pricey as Darny rarely came home without huge rents in filthy clothing. (He had horrified a putative girlfriend of Austin’s a few years ago by answering the question, ‘What do you like doing?’ with ‘Fighting!’ Then he had jumped on her and pummelled her to show exactly what he meant. Austin hadn’t seen much of Julia after that.) As he’d nearly made it across the road he saw Isabel Randall standing by the Wait sign but not crossing.
‘Hello,’ he said. Issy looked up at him, blinking back tears. She couldn’t help it, she was glad to see a friendly face. But she didn’t trust herself to speak, in case she suddenly broke down.
‘Hello,’ Austin said again, worried she hadn’t recognized him. Issy swallowed hard and reminded herself that crying in front of her bank manager was possibly the worst look imaginable.
‘Um. Er. Hello,’ she managed finally, trying not to trumpet a huge wall of snot at him.
Austin was used to being taller than everyone around him and having to make a real effort to peer down and check out people’s faces, and he didn’t like to look as if he were staring. On the other hand, she sounded really weird. He looked into her face. Her eyes were shiny and her nose was red. In Darny, that was rarely a good sign.
‘Are you all right?’ he said. Issy wished he didn’t sound so kind. He was going to set her off again. Austin could see quite a lot of restraining going on. He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Would you like to get a coffee somewhere?’
He cursed the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. To Issy’s credit she managed not to actually burst into tears, but one lone drop did trickle slowly and obviously all the way down her cheek.
‘No, no, no, of course you wouldn’t … of course not. Um.’
For want of anywhere better to go, they ended up in a horrible pub, full of morning drinkers. Issy ordered a green tea and dredged the scum off the top with a spoon, and Austin looked around nervously then ordered a Fanta.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Issy several times. But then, somehow – and she was sure she would regret this – she ended up telling him the whole thing. He was just so easy to talk to. Austin winced.
‘And now I’m telling you,’ concluded Issy, worried she was going to start crying again, ‘you’re going to think I’m totally rubbish and too wimpy for business and you’re going to think I’ll fail, and you know, it might fail. If they all gang up on me … it’ll be like the mafia, Austin! I’ll have to pay protection money, and they’ll come round and put a horse’s head in my oven!’
‘I think they’re all vegetarians,’ said Austin, draining his Fanta and spilling some on his shirt. Issy gulped and tried a tentative smile.
‘You’ve spilled some of your drink,’ she pointed out.
‘I know,’ said Austin, ‘but I look stupid when I use a straw.’
He leaned forward. Issy was conscious, suddenly, of how long his eyelashes were. Having his face so close to hers suddenly felt strange and intimate.
‘Look, I know those guys up there. They came to us on a campaign to make us do more ethical banking and then we pointed out to them that banking isn’t terribly ethical and that we couldn’t absolutely promise that some of our investments weren’t in the defence industry, seeing as it is, you know, Britain’s biggest industry, and they screamed and called us all fascists and stormed out and then called us back later and asked for a loan. And there were about sixteen of them too. Their business plan included the four-hour weekly meeting they have to make the co-operative fair. Apparently it frequently ends up in physical violence.’
Issy smiled weakly. Of course Austin was only trying to cheer her up – he would do this for anybody – but nonetheless it was definitely helping.
‘And don’t you worry a bit about “café solidarity”. They all hate each other’s guts on that street. Honestly, if one of the cafés burned down they’d be absolutely delighted. So don’t think they’re all going to gang up against you, they can’t even manage to gang up to clean their own toilet, as I noticed when I had to take Darny in there one day in an emergency. Does dreadful things to the digestion, too much vegan food.’
Issy laughed.
‘That’s better.’
‘You know,’ said Issy, ‘I’m not always like this. I actually used to be quite a fun person, before I got into the whole running-a-business thing.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Austin gravely. ‘Maybe you were even worse and this is you lightening up.’
Issy smiled again. ‘Oh yes, you’re totally right – I remember now. I was a goth and didn’t leave the house. And I listened to a lot of very serious music and sighed a lot like this.’
She sighed loudly. Austin sighed too.
‘So you thought you’d get into happy cakes …’ he said.
‘Which you never eat.’
‘For very sound reasons.’
‘And yes, this is me ecstatic now,’ said Issy.
‘ I knew it,’ he replied.
Issy really did feel better.
‘OK,’ said Austin, heaving another big sigh. ‘You’ve talked me into it. Give me one of your depressive cupcakes.’
‘Ha!’ said Issy. ‘No!’
‘What do you mean, no? I’m your banking adviser. Give me one immediately.’
‘No, because I can’t,’ said Issy, indicating the red-nosed, ruined faces of the morning drinkers lining the bar. ‘I handed them out when you went to the loo. They looked so hungry and they were so appreciative.’
Austin shook his head as they got up to leave, happily toasted by the line of poor old men along the bar.
‘You are a very soft touch, Miss Randall.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr Tyler.’