‘What about you? How’s the Brontë research going?’
‘Good. I might have come up with a topic for my thesis.’
‘Excellent! I thought I detected the old wheels turning in there.’ He taps my temple lightly, and I try not to feel irritated. ‘Can you say what it is?’
‘Not yet. I still have to do some more research before I lock it in. I also have to find a supervisor who’s willing to take me on.’
I’ve been thinking I might apply to Leeds University rather than Oxford because it’s closer to Haworth. But Klint will balk at that. To his way of thinking, it’s Oxford or nothing, so I keep my mouth shut.
‘Let’s have dinner and celebrate with a bottle of wine. Me about to finish my thesis and you starting one.’
‘Perfect.’
This is good. It could be my opening to bring up the meeting with Dain.
Klint is two glasses of red wine in, thanks to Gareth recommending a vintage to go with his rump steak. I’ve ordered a more parsimoniousvegetarian chilli and managed half a glass since I’m not a big red wine fan.
There’s no easy way to bring it up, so I plunge in. ‘I thought I might meet up with Dain tomorrow.’
Klint doesn’t look pleased. ‘Is that necessary?’
‘I’ve got a few different theories about certain aspects of Charlotte’s writing. I want to run them past him.’
‘Why not run them past me?’
I look at him. ‘Because you’re not the slightest bit interested in the Brontës, and Dain lives and breathes them.’
Klint raises his eyebrows. ‘That’s not fair. I am interested, though I’m not a Brontësaurus like him.’ He smirks at his own joke.
I press a stray crumb into the tablecloth. ‘It’s only a pub lunch, and I’ll use my own money.’
Klint winces. His funding still hasn’t come through, and he’s been firing off emails to check up on it.
‘No need to rub it in.’
‘I’m not. I was just saying ... in case you’re worried about money.’
Klint eyes his rare rump steak, which he’s halfway through. ‘I wasn’t, but since you’ve brought it up, hopefully your savings will stretch to a steak dinner.’
‘It’s fine.’
But since I’m in control of the purse strings, he’s not exactly in a position to say what I can and can’t do.
Gareth swings by with the bottle of wine and asks Klint if he wants a top-up.
‘Why not? Since the lady’s paying.’
I sigh. Great. Now he’s being a martyr.
Klint leans back in his chair and watches as Gareth fills his glass with ruby liquid.
‘Do you know a local guy called Dain? He’s a guide at the parsonage,’ he asks him.
Gareth’s hand jerks a little as he’s pouring the wine, but his voice is steady. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘He’s not going to run off with my woman if she meets him for lunch, is he?’
I kick Klint’s ankle under the table.
