Free Breach of Faith by Andrea Hughes Page A

his shirt. He was staring at something behind me and I swivelled around to face the youngster once more; maybe the poor lad had exploded or something.
    With a scrape of chair legs on linoleum the boy lurched to his feet and with a wild glance at Dreadlock Man, turned and fled, the shop door clattering closed behind him.
    “Oh,” wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me, I twisted back around to face Dreadlock Man, “do you think he’s okay? Maybe I should check on him.”
    “No!” Dreadlock Man was starting to look distinctly green around the edges, a colour that was clashing horribly with the scarlet and ruby filling his cheeks. He rubbed his face hard with his hands and a sudden, unexpected giggle lit him up making his eyes twinkle and his scruffy beard crackle with released tension
    I smoothed down the front of my skirt again, at a loss to find something more productive to do. I rubbed my face self-consciously, “is everything okay? Do I have a smudge on my cheek, or something?”
    Dreadlock Man giggled again, the childish sound conflicting wildly with his unkempt, manly demeanour. “No, love, not a blemish in sight.” He cleared his throat, “look, love, I should … well, your skirt –”
    “Jim! Could you put these cakes in the display? I’ll take over here.”
    Dreadlock Man jumped and I took a step back at the sudden interruption. I could feel the skin on my face tighten; it’s now or never.
    Knock yourself out , whispered the ever present little voice, a smirk clearly audible in the quiet words, here’s your big chance.
    “I said I’ll deal with this customer,” Frank shoved a large tray of muffins into Dreadlock Man’s hands, “put these away, I won’t be long.”
    Dreadlock Man’s eyes shifted their attention from Frank back to me. Frank was still to even glance in my direction. “But, Frank, she –”
    “Now, please.”
    Dreadlock Man shrugged, winked at me and wandered off with his tray. Fleetingly, I wondered what he was about to tell me before Frank had interrupted and surreptitiously looked down my body at the short blue skirt. All seemed fine so, taking a deep breath, I looked across the counter straight into Frank’s eyes.
    “Hello Frank.” I bit my lip, this wasn’t feeling quite as … special as my most recent dream had implied. Rather than drowning in Frank’s eyes, I was more likely to bounce painfully off the glinting, cold ice that had replaced the welcoming lagoons. Shuffling on the spot like a child in desperate need of the toilet I began.
    “Frank, I wanted to apologise –”
    “Wait!” Frank strode to the end of the counter, opened the flap and stepped through. Without looking at me he opened another door wide. “In here.”
    I squared my shoulders and marched resolutely past Frank, stopping in the middle of the room. Dreadlock Man gave a small snort as I walked away which I determined to ignore.
    A choking noise forced me to turn. Frank was staring at me, amusement warring with embarrassed dismay on his face. He turned his back and slammed the door, pausing for a moment before swivelling to face me, his face pinched. “What do you want, Kate?”
    “I owe you an apology,” I took a step towards him, “Frank, I’m so terribly sorry.”
    “About what?”
    “Huh?”
    “What are you sorry about? Accusing me of being an alcoholic? Or maybe calling me a murdering bastard? Perhaps you’re sorry for me because I have cancer?” Frank’s face was stony, his eyes burning, his voice low and rasping with emotion. I flinched but to my surprise I was positive there was also a flash of desire in the blue depths; carefully concealed.
    “All of it,” I whispered. “I … I was upset and guilty; I blamed you for what we did. Paula told me –”
    “I know. She should have kept her mouth shut.”
    “Frank, she knows I care about you. I am sorry about your leukaemia, I wish you’d told me.” I hesitatingly held out my hand in comfort.
    “I tried to, Kate, you