He inhaled sharply but didn’t comment.
Seriously, what was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop talking nonsense? Doris wasn’t the only one who’d had too much mulled cider.
To cover the awkward moment, she lifted the square of silk again and looked through it. Oddly, she seemed to be able to see better. Perhaps the damp air was making it a little less opaque.
“Anything?” he asked.
“I can just make out the brightest stars and the streams of white and blue. No crescent moon though.”
“There’s still time.”
There may have been time, but she couldn’t wait in this loaded silence.
“Gabriel?”
“Hmm?” he asked, folding arms behind his head and staring up at the sky.
“How come you are here?” She’d been struggling not to ask this. For days she’d resisted the temptation, but the cider, the night, the fire, and the music had finally lowered her defences. “I thought you lived with your sister and her family and were working as a taxi driver in Lincoln.”
He was thoughtful a moment before answering, “She met someone. Jack. A nice man. Now they’re living together, and the boys love him.”
“Jack?” she teased. “I thought everyone in your family had to have a biblical name.”
He scoffed softly beside her. “Actually, now you mention it, Jack is short for Jacob.”
“Clearly a relationship meant to last.” She smirked at him.
“You’re right.”
Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could tell from his voice he was smiling.
“They got married last summer.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She turned her head to look at him. “So?”
“It seemed a good time to move out and give them space.” He met her eyes. “I too felt like I’d been too comfortable, too complacent and needed something to push me to move on.”
And he’d moved on with Nicole? Pierre wasn’t going to ask. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
The music came to an end as the band paused for a reset. Muted background sounds rose and fell, people clearing and picking up rubbish, then they too faded to silence. The pipes took up a new tune, soft and melancholy.
“What happened with the boyfriend?” Gabriel asked. “The one on the phone when we were in Tenby.”
“Martin,” she said. It seemed they were going there after all. “We broke up.”
“You know, I looked for you.” Gabriel’s voice was low, almost a warm brush on the breeze.
She could feel her heart hammering and lifted up the silk, pretending to look through it, then gave up and turned to look at him.
He was on his side, propped up on his elbow, his gaze on her. “I developed the Rapunzel pictures then went to Luton. You’d said you worked at an airport hotel, so I tried every hotel in Luton. No one seemed to know what I was talking about.”
“When?”
“A couple of months after we met.”
