“That’s me finished,” she announced as soon as it hit four o’clock. She’d been finding semi-plausible excuses to stay at the shop a little later each day, simply because she enjoyed it. Today,however, she practically ripped off her apron and made for the door.
“See you tomorrow, then,” Dan said. He was restacking packs of cigarettes, his back to her, and he didn’t turn around as he spoke.
Claire hesitated, one hand on the door. “Dan... you’re all right, aren’t you?”
His big shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’ve been biting my head off all day?” Claire suggested.
“You were slow,” Dan answered. “And I’m fine.”
Claire stared at his back, as hard and broad as a brick wall, and with a sigh she opened the door. “All right, then. Bye.”
She started down the street towards the beach road and Four Gables, facing the prospect of an evening alone, when she abruptly turned around and headed back up it instead. She might not be able to breach Dan’s black mood, but there was someone else she needed to talk to.
Claire hadn’t seen Rachel since she’d been in her kitchen, and she’d been semi-avoiding her to avoid any more awkwardness. But a week and a half on and she knew she needed to own a few of her mistakes.
She stood in front of Rachel’s house just as she had ten days before, minus the macaroni. And once again she wondered if she was making a mistake, and if Rachel was going to go ballistic on her again.
“Oh. You.” Rachel opened the door to her cautious knock and then stood there, unsmiling.
“Your greetings always make me feel so welcomed,” Claire returned dryly. “Yes, it’s me. I wondered if you fancied going out for a drink.”
“A drink?” Rachel’s gaze narrowed. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
“Nearly dinnertime,” Claire replied. “Besides, it’s Friday and I just got off work.”
“Aren’t you a teetotaler now?”
“In theory. But since I’ve decided I don’t actually have a drinking problem, I think I can have a glass of wine with a friend.” She held her breath, bracing herself for Rachel’s setdown.
A steely glint had come into Rachel’s eyes, and her jaw looked tight. She looked completely stressed, now that Claire looked at her properly. Shadows under her eyes, her shoulders practically up by her ears, her features seeming blurred with fatigue. “All right then,” Rachel said, and yanked her coat from the peg. “If you’re buying.”
“I am.” She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, and Claire couldn’t keep from asking, “Do you need to check in with anyone? Lily? Or Meghan?”
“No, why should I?” Rachel returned. She sounded rebellious and sulky, like a child playing truant. Then she took her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll text Lily.”
They walked in silence down to the Hangman’s Noose; it was a golden afternoon, the sky a pale blue, the air still holding the day’s warmth. A few commuters were trickling from the train station, but otherwise the street was peaceful and quiet.
The Hangman’s Noose was nearly empty at four o’clock in the afternoon; a few farmers were huddled with their pints of bitter by the fireplace, although the grate was swept clean of ashes. Rob Telford was behind the bar, polishing glasses, and he raised his eyebrows in eloquent surprise as they came into the dim, low-ceilinged room.
“What can I get you two ladies?”
“A bottle of red,” Claire said firmly, and Rachel shot her a bemused look.
“A whole bottle? Really?”
“Why not? It’s cheaper, anyway, than two or three glasses.”
“A bottle it is,” Rob said, and took a bottle down from the rack behind the bar. “Cabernet Sauvignon do you?”
“That’s fine,” Claire said, and took the bottle and paid.
They sat at a small table in the back of the near-empty pub, the opened bottle and two wineglasses between them.
“So let the debauchery begin,” Rachel drawled, and Claire managed a laugh as she poured.
“What shall we toast to?” Rachel asked as she took her glass.
