‘Yes, how long?’ Bill says again.
‘Not long. It’s complicated,’ I mutter, looking across at Brett.
‘Heather!’ I hear from across the room, and I glare at Tim to remind him to keep his voice down. As Roxy passes me on the floor, she gives me a little half-smile. ‘Hey, Heather,’ he says again too loudly, and I glance quickly at the tables closer to me, bringing a finger to my lips to remind him to behave. ‘I was just telling your waitress friend all about you,’ he says with a big wink.
He motions me to come closer, and although now is not the time for this conversation, I am so petrified of pissing him off that I oblige.
‘I said you were my girlfriend.’ Tim flashes a grin, and underneath the ‘just joking’ veneer, I can see a glint of steel.
‘Jesus! Why? Please don’t say anything at all,’ I say, grinning as best I can, glancing back to Damo, who is swirling his Bordeaux in his mouth and groaning with pleasure.
‘Well, why else would I come and visit you?’ Tim says playfully, putting his hand on my thigh. I take a step backwards and shake my head. Is this some kind of revenge for trying to break up with him, or is he really, really stupid?
I glance round the room and spot one older lady at table three in a floral tea-dress and fascinator practically winking at Damo, and the entirety of table two – the ladies’ Auxiliary Club from Fort William – all giggling into their sherry. I mean, it has to be the first time there have been two strapping young men dining in this place, so it’s unsurprising they’ve caused a stir.
This whole thing is playing out to a soundtrack of traditional Celtic folk songs, and the clatter of pots and pans being aggressively tossed about in the kitchen.
James, for sure, knows Tim is here.
‘So is this what you do then? Every day?’
‘Yes,’ I say, steeling myself for a ribbing, but we’re interrupted by Irene, who puts a firm hand on my shoulder from behind. I spin round and feel myself turn red. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mouth, shrugging at her.
‘Hello, gentlemen,’ Irene says, with a large, pleasant smile. ‘If I could borrow our sommelier for a moment.’
‘Sure, we just had some questions about the wine,’ Tim replies, relaxing back in his chair. Oh no, Tim doesn’t like people looking down on him, and Irene is very much giving off a stern-teacher vibe.
‘No problem, sir,’ Irene replies. ‘But if I may have Brett here help you? I really must borrow Heather for a moment.’
Brett now appears, with his dark and stormy Heathcliff looks, and leans menacingly across the table. He looks part bouncer, part barman, but definitely not like a waiter.
‘Good evening, lads,’ Brett says with velvety warning.
‘Fucking love this red.’ Oblivious, Damo has a mouth full of pigeon and wine. ‘You’re not even eating it, Tim, you dickhead. It’s fucking epic.’
It’s so disarming a comment from Damo that Brett softens his stance.
‘Wait till you try the raspberry parfait,’ he says in his baritone west-coast drawl, ‘it’s as delicate and soft as ye like.’
As Irene leads me away from the table, I take a glance up to the pass and see James glaring at me, furious. Like I’ve never seen him so furious, and I close my eyes and bite my lip.It’s not your fault, Birdy. Not your fault. You can explain it later. But any explanation feels so far away from this precise moment, when I simply have to get through this nightmare.
‘I trust everything will remain under control here. I have to leave early, and they’re both already drunk,’ Irene snaps as we enter the kitchen. She stops abruptly when she sees James, and I can see a look of motherly concern on her face.
‘I’m sorry – I didn’t know he was coming. I promise. I told him not to. We’re not together any more …’ I whisper, stepping backwards so that we’re out of earshot of James.
‘I remember his behaviour at the Wine Awards, and you promised me, dear, that this wouldn’t be a problem,’ she says. She doesn’t believe me.
‘I’m sorry. Really,’ I reply, feeling James’s eyes on me.
‘I think we’d better retire you for the night, and we’ll get Brett to see them through their meal. I don’t want any scenes here.’
‘I appreciate that, but I really think the best approach is for me to keep an eye on Tim,’ I say quickly, imploring her to listen. I can’t leave. I need to watch his every move, in case he does something stupid.
‘Is that yahboyfriend?’ Anis asks accusingly, looking across at James, before letting out a big, hearty, disapproving sigh.
‘He’s not my boyfriend!’ I snap, as Roxy comes bouncing in the kitchen door.
‘Oh, Heather, I love your boyfriend!’ she says, smiling at me for the first time in days. ‘He said he’s heard all about me and you’ve said such nice things. I wassoembarrassed. His friend is really nice too.’
