‘D’you think that’s what happened toyourwife?’ It comes out more fiercely than Vince intended.
‘Sorry?’ Colin blinks at him.
‘I mean, is that what caused your wife to leave you, Colin? Did her oestrogen “go off” too?’
‘Hey!’ he barks, aghast.
‘Because, y’know, we’re in a public forum here and if you’d like to talk about it, if you’d like the whole committee’s take on it—’
‘Vince!’ Deborah exclaims. ‘Please!’
Colin looks stunned and Radish Sue is glaring at him. ‘I don’t really,’ he mutters. ‘It wasn’t the easiest time of my life, you know. Most of my friends realise that.’
For a moment, the room falls silent. Then someone clears their throat, and Mehmet mutters something conciliatory to Colin, and Vince looks down at his hands and the checked shirt that Kate bought him recently and it wasn’t even his birthday.
A chair scrapes. Vince is overwhelmed with a sudden urge to cry. Instead he gets up from his seat, muttering that he needs the loo. And as he leaves the room he hears Lenny announcing, ‘Well, I thought the marquee people were great this year. Who says we book them again?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kate
We find an outside table at the Boat Inn and spot Liv with friends across the pub’s garden. ‘It’s a night off for her,’ Fergus explains. ‘Finn’s with Rory overnight.’
‘She’s lucky,’ I venture, ‘having you to support her. I can see how close you are.’
‘We’ve grown that way,’ he says, ‘although, believe me, we had our moments when she was younger...’
‘Was she a handful?’
‘And the rest...’ He grins and breaks off as she makes her way to our table, clutching an almost empty glass.
‘Hey, Dad,’ she says. ‘All right?’
As she glances from him to me, a flicker of panic ignites in me as I wonder if she’s okay with this. With her dad having a drink with a woman, that is. Perhaps it’s a little weird for her. ‘Another beer?’ he asks me.
‘Erm, yes please. If you are...’
‘Coke for you, Livs?’
She laughs and her cheeks flush. ‘I’d better. I’ve had a few...’
‘Never have guessed,’ he teases, then he’s gone.
Immediately, she plonks herself onto the seat beside me. ‘Thanks for being so nice about my singing.’
‘Honestly, I loved it,’ I tell her. ‘Have you always been into music?’
‘Mum was a singer,’ she says, which takes me aback a little.
‘Oh, really?’
‘I don’t mean professionally. But she sang in pubs and stuff around here. I wanted to go to music college,’ she adds. ‘But my plans kinda changed...’ A wry smile crosses her face.
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Finn’s a beautiful little boy. But I know it’s not easy...’
She pulls her chair a little closer. ‘D’you have children?’
‘I have a stepdaughter, Edie. None of my own. But Edie’s mum was young when she had her too. Just twenty, and she was working as a model—’
