Iris brought the chair on a wet afternoon, months after the showroom. Nora had waited through weeks when she couldn't ring her. Now Iris had been released on court bail while the case continued, the contact restrictions had been changed, and they were allowed to meet. Nora had received a photograph of the chair, answered about the repair and agreed a time.
Still, Nora had spent the morning looking toward the door whenever someone came in.
The chair was ugly in the photograph and worse in person. It had a curved back, a faded upholstered seat and legs somebody had painted a green which wanted to be fashionable. One joint had opened. Iris carried it through the workshop with more care than its appearance seemed to deserve.
“There,” she said, setting it beside Nora's bench. “Don't make that face.”
“I haven't made a face.”
“You made it when I sent the picture. It's still there.”
Nora smiled. Iris took her coat off, looked for a hook and found one near the entrance. The scarf was darkened by rain. Nora recognized it.
Iris wore clothes Nora hadn't seen before. Her hair was shorter. “How is the arm?” she asked.
Nora moved her left hand a little. “Useful. It complains.”
“When?”
“When I think I can do everything the old way.”
Iris nodded. She didn't apologize again in the doorway. Nora crouched beside the chair and tested the loose joint gently. She kept her left arm from taking the strain, using the other hand to steady the leg.
“Don't sit on it,” she said.
“That's why I brought it.”
“I mean now.”
“I wasn't about to.”
They looked at each other. Nora laughed, a small release of the tension she'd carried since the photograph. Iris smiled, then looked around the workshop.
“This is yours?”
“The bench. I rent it. I do some work for Sian, too.”
“Which one's Sian?”
Nora pointed toward the office. Sian looked up and waved, then returned to the telephone call she was on. There was no occasion being made of Iris's arrival. Nora was grateful for that, and a little disappointed in a way she would not have admitted.
“It's good,” Iris said.
“It's a place to work.”
“That can be good.”
Nora nodded. She wanted Iris to admire what she had kept without being asked to ignore what she'd lost. The desire was still capable of making her choose the wrong words.
“Where did you find this?” she asked.
“Near the room I've rented. A shop was clearing things.”
“Your own room?”
“Yes.”
Iris said it with a pleasure Nora could see.
“What's it like?” Nora asked.
“Small.”
“Light?”
“In the morning. The sink's awful.”
“Awful how?”
“It looks clean until you use it. Then you remember someone designed it for a person who washes one spoon a week.”
Nora smiled. “I've seen those.”
“You probably recommended one.”
“I wouldn't.”
“You'd tell me I was using it wrong.”
Nora almost defended herself, then saw the amusement in Iris's face.
“I might have,” she said.
Iris laughed. The sound made Nora look down at the chair, suddenly unsure what to do with how much she'd wanted to hear it.
She turned the seat carefully and showed Iris the joint.
“This is the problem. I need to take it apart enough to clean the old glue out and make it sound. The seat can stay if you like it.”
“I do.”
“The fabric's worn.”
“I know.”
“You could change it.”
“I could. I'm not.”
Nora nodded. “And the green?” she asked.
“The green stays.”
“You're determined to make this difficult.”
“I thought you liked difficult things.”
The answer had a warmth which made Nora look at her. Iris held the look, then turned back to the chair before it became something either had to explain.
Nora set out the repair cost, the likely time and what she could actually promise. Iris listened, asked about one part and agreed. She paid the deposit from her own account. Nora wrote the receipt, named the work and gave it to her.
Iris checked the amount on the receipt and folded it along the printed line.
“When shall I collect it?” she asked.
“I'll message when it's ready. Next week, if the joint comes apart cleanly.”
“Not before?”
“I have other work.”
“Good.”
Nora looked up, surprised by the word. Iris put the receipt in her bag, carefully, then leaned against the spare bench nearby.
“I wasn't sure you'd want the job,” she said.
“I do.”
“Because it's work?”
Nora's hand rested on the chair back. “Because I wanted to see you,” she said.
Iris looked at her without smiling. Nora let the sentence stand. She did not add an apology to make it acceptable, or another reason to make it smaller.
“I wanted the chair fixed,” Iris said.
“I know.”
“And I wanted to see where you were.”
Nora offered coffee. Iris asked whether it would be the old coffee, and Nora said Sian bought it, which was apparently a recommendation. She found two mugs on the workshop shelf, both ugly, both made to be held. Iris followed her to the little kitchen without going ahead or opening cupboards she didn't know.
They drank standing by the door to the yard. Rain ticked against the roof overhang. Iris told her about a neighbour who left shoes outside his room and apologized for them every time they met, as if Nora should be able to understand the pleasure of having a neighbour whose failures were that small. Nora did.
She told Iris about the table whose owner wanted it to look like her parents' kitchen. Iris asked whether Nora had listened. Nora said eventually. Iris smiled into her mug.
They stood quietly for a while. Iris turned her mug in her hands, watching the rain make small circles in a puddle near the door.
Iris finished first. She rinsed her mug, then hesitated with it in her hand.
“Where?”
Nora pointed to the rack. Iris put it there.
At the coat hook she checked the time. Nora wanted to find a reason for her to remain: another question about the chair, something about the fabric, a job she could ask Iris to help with. “Are you hungry?” she asked instead.
Iris turned.
“A bit.”
“There's a place round the corner. Nothing fancy. I finish soon.”
“How soon?”
Nora looked at the work waiting on her bench. She had promised to finish a small repair before leaving. It would take the time she'd estimated, not less because she wanted the afternoon to change.
“Half an hour.”
Iris glanced toward the chair. “I can wait.”
Nora nodded, trying not to smile too much. She gave Iris the spare stool, returned to her bench and picked up the piece she needed to finish.
Behind her, Iris moved the stool nearer the window. Not where Nora would have put it. She settled with her coat across her knees and looked out at the rain while Nora worked.