‘Love one,’ he enthuses.
‘Don’t tempt me,’ Marilyn says, regretfully. The only one among us with young children, she’s always off on the dot for the childminder dash.
‘Prish?’ I say hopefully. ‘C’mon. I think we all need it tonight.’
We’re not really a drinks-after-work group. The pubs around here, once bustling with locals and tourists alike, are now pretty faded, frequented mainly by old men and dogs. But right now the Harbour Bar seems like an appealing prospect. So I message Frank, saying I’ll be a bit late back, and can he sort out dinner please?
Sure,comes the one-word reply.
Don’t worry about me,I add. No response to that as, clearly, he doesn’t. So we all leave the library, and on this warm July evening it feels right not to be going home just yet. We head for the Harbour Bar where, as expected, several elderly men and a couple of dogs are gathered. Even on this summer’s evening, a small fire is flickering.As we settle around a corner table, my heart lifts as I look around at my friends.
‘Oh, I needed this,’ Jamie announces.
‘Me too,’ I say.
He takes a big sip of beer. ‘I’m sick of pretending to be a fucking housemate!’
‘Tell Lewis hehasto tell them,’ Prish says, leaning forward.
He looks at us, running a hand across his stubbled jaw. ‘What would you do if it was one of your kids?’
‘Who said they were gay? You think I’d mind?’ I look at him incredulously.
‘’Course not,’ he says.
‘Ana’s had girlfriends and boyfriends,’ I add. ‘Jamie, I don’t care. It sounds trite, I know, but I just want them to be happy—’
‘Carly’s right,’ Prish cuts in. ‘Tell him, Jamie. Sometimes you’ve got to grab the bull by the balls.’
‘Erm, I think that’s horns?’ He laughs.
‘Horns, balls, whatever,’ she retorts. We finish our drinks and, rashly, decide to have another, all of us feeling a whole lot better just being together as we take it in turns to talk and listen. More drinks follow, because this is such a treat and the pub offers the perfect view of tonight’s pink and orange sunset. Then the sun slips like a ball of gold over the horizon, and by the time we step outside, it’s a quarter to ten and the light has finally dimmed. Summer days are long here, and tonight has been a special one.
‘I should call a taxi,’ Jamie says reluctantly, checking his phone. ‘Reckon Brian’ll take me out to the sticks?’
To his village, he means. Sandybanks has only two taxi companies, both one-man operations, and Brian is everyone’s default option.
‘Try him,’ I say. ‘If he can’t, you can stay at mine.’
‘Youdon’t have room,’ he teases. ‘You’re full to the rafters! Wish we could go on somewhere else, though …’
‘Me too,’ I say, shocked by how very strongly I donotwant to go home. ‘We could have another drink at my place. But … y’know. With Frank and Dad and Eddie there …’
‘They wouldn’t approve of three pisshead librarians bowling up?’ Jamie sniggers.
‘We could pretend to be sober,’ Prish giggles. ‘Like teenagers.’
‘How about we all go to yours, Prish?’ Jamie asks her hopefully.
She smiles. ‘You’re welcome but I don’t have anything in. Kids cleaned me out last time they were over. So it’d be cups of tea, I’m afraid …’
Jamie checks the time on his phone. ‘If we hurry up we’ll just make the offy.’
‘We could drink beer on the beach,’ Prish announces, eyes shining in the blue-white light of the streetlamps. ‘Like proper teenagers!’
‘We could.’ I nod. ‘But we’d be freezing our arses off. And actually, I have a better idea.’ I beam at their eager faces. ‘How d’you fancy wine and a load of leftover party food?
*
