Lucy sat down with a sigh of satisfaction and started pouring them all glasses of wine. “I hope red’s all right,” she said to Claire. “It’s what we usually get, but if you want something else—”
“Actually,” Claire said, “I’ll just have some sparkling water.”
Lucy stopped in mid-pour, and then she said quickly, “Of course, sorry. I should have asked first.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just go up to the bar and order.” Claire rose awkwardly from the little table, while Lucy attempted to pour the wine from her glass into Abby’s. Murmuring an apology, Claire made her way to the bar.
What on earth had possessed her to agree to come to the pub, of all places? Her parents would be appalled. Andrew would pontificate how she shouldn’t put herself in the way of temptation. All because she’d gotten drunk rather publicly and embarrassingly and Hugh had decided she had a problem.
Maybe she did. Maybe she had a lot of problems.
She came up to the bar, only to stifle a groan as she realized she was standing next to Rachel Campbell.
Rachel was ignoring her and chatting with the man behind the bar, who looked vaguely familiar. Someone else who recognized her, for he smiled as he turned to her and said, “Hello, Claire. What can I do for you?”
“A glass of sparkling water, please.”
The man smiled slowly as he reached for the bottle. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Claire forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry, no.”
“Why should she?” Rachel said. “Although you did make her life a misery.”
“Ah, come now, Rach. That’s a bit harsh.” Rachel shrugged, and Claire looked at them both blankly, trying to remember whatever it was they were referring to.
“I might have pulled your plaits a time or two,” the man said to her as he handed her a glass of water. “But it was nowt more than what any seven-year-old boy would do. And you paid me back by ignoring me completely in Year Six.”
Claire could feel her smile turning strained. “I suppose we’re even, then,” she said, and he stuck out his hand for her to shake.
“Rob Telford, since you obviously don’t remember. That stings a little, by the way. I thought I’d made quite an impression.” He winked at her, and Claire managed to smile back.
“I’m afraid primary school is a bit of a blur to me,” she said. “It was so long ago.” And she’d been so unhappy for most of it.
“That it was,” Rachel agreed, and straightened, giving Claire a direct look for the first time. “We ought to sit down. The quiz will be starting in a minute. You are joining our team, aren’t you?”
Rachel was on Lucy’s team? Claire tried for another smile. “Brilliant.” She reached for her purse. “How much do I owe you?” she asked Rob.
“On the house, Claire,” he said. “Welcome back to Hartley-by-the-Sea.”
She smiled her uncertain thanks and followed Rachel back to their table, wishing with every step that she was back at Four Gables, safe and alone. Navigating all these old, half-forgotten relationships was way too fraught.
“Oh, good, you two have met,” Lucy said as Claire and Rachel sat down at the table. Rachel reached for the wine.
“Actually, Claire and I go way back,” she said as she poured herself a full glass. “To primary school. But apparently it’s a blur to Claire.” Rachel spoke lightly, smiling, but Claire still felt rebuked.
“Oh, it’s a blur to me too,” Lucy said. “Thankfully.”
“Does anyone have a good time in primary school?” Abby asked. “I was terrified of my Year Two teacher, Miss Marsden. Did you have her, Claire? Rachel?”
“No. She was after our time,” Rachel answered. “Mrs. Lennox was our Year Two teacher.”
Mrs. Lennox. Claire had a sudden memory of a tall woman with a bosom like the prow of a battleship and a thunderous voice to match. “I was terrified of Mrs. Lennox,” she told Abby. “She was always so impatient.”
“Yes, she was, although to be fair, you were a bit slow.” Rachel still spoke lightly, smiling even. “Do you remember? I used to help you unbutton your coat.”
It was the first time Rachel had made a reference to their childhood friendship, and it made Claire feel an uncomfortable welter of guilt and sorrow. “I remember,” she said, and Lucy began to hand out the pencils and slips of paper.
She was hopeless at the quiz. Claire had known she would be. She had absolutely no head for trivia, and she’d been fairly useless at school. Maybe it had been starting late, or havingtrouble hearing the teachers, or the simple fact that she wasn’t a brain box like her brother.
