A drop of rain fell on her face.
Gabriel took her elbow and steered her towards the edge of the village square where the pub had a narrow awning. “We’d better find shelter before we get drenched.”
She was so preoccupied trying to make sense of too many thoughts that she had completely missed the change in weather. Bloody hell, why hadn’t she noticed the fine drizzle building up?
Here was another day she wouldn’t take Gabriel to the church. What would Nicole say about her tonight?
The thought kept her quiet as Gabriel leaned the bikes against the bollard outside the pub. Then, shouldering his camera bag, he ushered her to walk ahead of him down the two flagstone steps into the darkened pub.
The Swan was one of those public houses that probably dated back to the Plantagenet era. Uneven flagstone floors and exposed beams — the real kind, not the mock-Tudor look popular in so many modern pubs. They found a small table in one of the bow windows. The giant fireplace produced enough warmth to make it a pleasure to sit behind the mullioned glass and watch the rain pelt down on the cobblestones of the village square and splash into the fountain.
“What do you want to drink?” Gabriel stood, wallet in hand, scanning the board above the bar.
“I don’t know.” She didn’t. She couldn’t seem to think clearly.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” But her voice sounded uncertain even to her own ears.
While he went to the bar, she watched the rain out of the window. A man, newspaper held over his head, ran for cover across the square and dived through the doors to the DIY shop. Did he want to buy home improvement supplies, or was he just diving into the nearest cover?
Like her.
Was she really the free spirit she looked like with her dyed clothes and non-conformist ways? Everyone around her was falling in love, even Liam. Quiet, gentle, sweet man that he was, he managed to sit close to Laura every evening at dinner and engage her in conversation. Yet she had been telling herself that she wasn’t ready for love yet.
A hand on her shoulder.
She looked up as Gabriel placed a glass of wine in front of her then went back for his own Guinness and two packets of crisps.
“I didn’t know what flavour you liked.” He laid both packets in the centre of the table as he took his seat. “Salt and vinegar or sour cream?”
“I don’t mind. You choose and I’ll take the other.”
His eyes studied her for a moment. “You don’t have to go to this Plough Festival if you’re really worried. I can go and take lots of pictures.”
She shook herself. “Do I seem so feeble to you?”
He drew in a breath, opened his mouth to speak then closed it again.
“What?”
“This is a nice pub,” he said, then sipped his Guinness.
Whatever he’d been about to say must have been about her private life. Not that she had one. And tonight, she would have to pretend to be interested in finding a husband so she could find out about this ritual and write about it. It would have been much better if she really had a sweetheart and wanted to get married.
“Are you happy living here?” he asked after a silence.
The question sounded innocent. Like a natural follow-up to his earlier observation about the nice pub. It also could be a follow-up to the earlier topic about her private life, and she had the strong impression that he too had been thinking about her while they sat in silence.
“When I first came here on Easter weekend, two years ago, I fell in love. You haven’t seen what La Canette looks like in spring and summer, even autumn. It steals your heart.”
“I can imagine. I’m already half in love with the place. Do you think you’ll stay here?”
And just like that, he had put his finger on the wound she hadn’t realised was there, behind everything else.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Today, listening to Hedge, I remembered for the first time how much I used to love learning about history and civilisations. How different societies express themselves in music, ritual, and egalitarian politics. You think of ancient people as hunter-gatherers, but even they had religions and laws around kinship and families. All over primitive Europe, there were rituals and pagan rites which then morphed into Christianity. You can still find clues in old sacred sites.”
A slow smile widened on his face. “This is the most excited I’ve ever seen you.”
