‘Not really. I’m just a normal woman like anyone else. I just choose to role play for a living. So, dear Belle, should I take the market stall unit or not?’
‘Sabrina, you know my answer on that one. The same as when you asked me about your relationship: whatever I say, you will make your own decision.’
‘It’ll be a whole clean start, and it will be hard work for not so much reward, I know that. But it’s not about the money. It’s about me and getting off the all-consuming treadmill of fame and meeting real people, with real lives. Who take me at face value, for who I am, not who they imagine I am.’
‘Wow, I can see why you are an actress. I feel like I want to stand up and cheer you after that little soliloquy! But for now, how about we just go to the bottom of the garden, sit on the bench overlooking the sea and eat cherry scones and clotted cream?’
The two women sat munching the gorgeous fresh bakes, then– PING– a message alert sounded from Sabrina’s phone.
Expecting it to be Dominic, Sabrina took a deep breath, but on reading the message a glimpse of a smile, and then her mouth fell open.
‘What’s up?’ Belle enquired.
‘Mr Market Inspector only wants to meet me for a drink… tonight!’
Chapter Eleven
Sabrina sat in the window seat of thePenrigan Armsat the appointed hour feeling slightly sick. Was this what the first stages of betrayal felt like? Was this how Dominic felt before he had decided to do the dirty on her with the French stick? But this was different, surely: she was technically single now, so she could do what she bloody well wanted. Couldn’t she?
Twisting the yellow topaz ring around her little finger, she thought back to what Star had said about the meaning of the stone. Maybe it was fate that she had bumped into Lowen Kellow and been given the chance at a new opportunity, just when she needed it. She wasn’t stupid: he clearly wanted to seal the deal on the unit. Or maybe he took all his prospective clients for a pre-deal-signing drink. And as for betrayal– well, if her no-good ex-fiancé didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge her heartfelt message from last night, he could Foxtrot Oscar! And she was only having a drink with the man, wasn’t she?
The dark-haired man gave her a brooding smile and waved as he walked past the window. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. ‘So sorry I’m late, I had to drop my…um…my sister at the train station, she’s off on holiday.’
‘Lucky her. Anywhere decent?’ A noisy group of five adults bowled through the door causing Lowen to raise his voice.
‘Ibiza.’
‘Nice! Best time of year to go, I went last year with my… with my ex.’
Lowen looked to her left hand and noticed the huge diamond ring he had clocked at the market. ‘I see.’
‘Right, what are we drinking?’ Sabrina put her bag on the table.
‘I’ll get them.’ Lowen pulled a wallet out the back pocket of his dark, well-fitted jeans.
‘I’m driving, but I will have a white wine to kick off with please. A French Sauvignon if they’ve got it.’ Just saying the word French made her think again to Dominic’s fuck up. She blew out a deep breath.
Whilst Lowen went to the bar, Sabrina took in the old pub that was beginning to fill up with Friday night revellers. It certainly wasn’t the kind of chichi joint she and Dominic would usually frequent. Low beams that looked like a woodworm’s paradise, and amongst framed, yellowing black-and-white photos of days gone by in the Penrigan area, there were some modern canvases containing quotes. One caught her eye–Don’t worry about failures, worry about the chances you miss when you don’t even try– and she smiled. She fiddled with hernewring again.
Lowen put down a glass of wine in front of her and held up his pint of cloudy cider. ‘Cheers to you becoming a Ferry Lane Market stall holder.’
Sabrina grinned. ‘You reckon?’
‘I know you want it.’
Sabrina ignored his seductive tone. ‘I like it in here. Not so many old traditional boozers left around my neck of the woods, now.’
‘So, you’re not from around here originally then?’
‘No. I used to live in North London.’
‘Gotcha.’
‘How about you?’
‘I was actually born and bred in Exeter but moved down to Penrigan… hmm let me think… I’d just celebrated my fortieth, so must be three years ago now.’
Sabrina clocked the black polo shirt he was wearing. Well, it was more the muscly brown arms on show that caught her attention. He had good hands, too. Another important tick for her. His skin was smooth, and his well-cut hair and Tintin-like quiff made him look far younger than his years. Now she was sat opposite him, she took a good look at his one green eye and one bluey-green one.
