Lily nodded glumly, and Andrew reached for his keys. “What time should I be here?” he asked.
“Eight would work,” Rachel said, and turned towards the house without saying goodbye.
Chapter twenty-six
Claire
The pub quiz, Claire had recognized, could have been a disaster. It hadn’t started out well, with Eleanor disapproving of the alcohol and Dan utterly silent, seemingly set to stoically endure the evening. Lily and Lucy’s enthusiasm made up for a lot, but Claire could see, even before she left, that Rachel wasn’t having a good time.
Still, she was determined to make the evening a success, and Dan eventually answered a few questions, mainly in monosyllabic grunts, and when Eleanor took charge of writing down the answers, she got into the spirit of the thing. They didn’t come close to winning; they only got nine out of twenty questions right. Dan had gotten the sports questions, Eleanor had rocked geography, and Lily had managed the pop culture ones, but everything else had been a complete blank. Claire hadn’t answered anything—and yet she’d had a good time.
As they left the pub, Dan offered to walk Eleanor home, and Claire went along while Lily headed up the street to her house.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone,” Eleanor snapped.
Dan, implacable as ever, had replied quite seriously, “I’m being a gentleman.”
Eleanor had harrumphed at that, but Claire could tell she was quite pleased. Not, of course, that she’d ever show it.
They said goodbye to Eleanor and started walking back up to the shop, when Dan glanced at her and said, “Your house is in the other direction.”
“Oh.” In the darkness Claire couldn’t read the expression on Dan’s face, but she was glad it hid her blush. “Right.” What had she been thinking, that she’d go home with Dan for a quick nightcap? “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Assuming you’re planning to come to work.”
“Of course I am.” She hesitated, reluctant to end the evening and face Four Gables alone. Andrew had texted her to say he’d be coming home for the weekend, but she didn’t know when he’d arrive. And even with Andrew for company, she’d rather have Dan. Which didn’t really make sense, but there it was. “Did you have a good time tonight?” she asked, and he shrugged one massive shoulder.
“It was all right.”
“I’m going to take that as an unreserved ‘hell, yes,’” Claire answered. “Considering how often you show enthusiasm.”
He cracked a small smile then, much to her relief. “You can think that if you want.”
“I will.” The moment stretched and spun out and started to turn into something else. Claire took a step closer to Dan, her heart trembling in her chest. She wanted him to do something. . . .
He gazed down at her, and for a thrilling second Claire thought he was going to kiss her. She was practically on her tiptoes, face tilted up in silent, yearning invitation.
Then he took a step back, towards the shop. Claire rocked back on her heels, her trembling heart going terribly still before it went into free fall.
“Good night, Claire,” Dan said, and disappeared down the alley to his flat.
Claire walked slowly back to Four Gables, battling the overwhelming sense of disappointment she felt. Nothing had been going to happen with Dan. The idea was ludicrous, just as she’d told Lucy. And yet for a moment, a glorious few seconds, she’d actually thought...
“Dream on,” Claire muttered, and kept walking. The beach road was lost in darkness, and a few sheep bleated in agitated misery; Claire couldn’t see them in the dark, but she knew lambing had begun, and the mothers were calling to their young. In a few months the white, woolly lambs gamboling through the muddy sheep fields would be taken away to be slaughtered; Peter had mentioned it at the quiz, and Claire had been as horrified as if he’d said he was killing Bambi.
The fizzy feeling of satisfaction she’d had at organizing the pub quiz outing had gone, leaving her feeling flat and a little bit depressed. Why was she trying to be friends, or even something more, with Dan? It wasn’t as if he’d given her much reason. And if she was honest, not much about her life in Hartley-by-the-Sea was set to last. A part-time job in a shop? A handful of sort of, now-and-then friends? Living at home? Not exactly what you built your dreams on.
It hurt to admit, but just as Andrew had said, her life here was more of a holding pattern, a waiting time until something else came up. Until she made a decision about what she wanted to do in life. And she had no idea what that was.
A car slowed down on the beach road, and Claire turned to see her brother’s blue Lexus.
“Want a lift?”
“I didn’t know when you were coming back.” She got in the car, and Andrew drove on. Both of them were silent for the duration of the drive.
The next morning Andrew was up and showered when Claire came down at half past seven for work. “Are you going somewhere?” she asked as she got out a bowl for cereal.
“I’m helping Rachel. Her mother’s coming home today.”
