‘Why not?’ He laughs. ‘And what about that pub we played at?’
‘The Laughing Haddock.’
‘That’s it.’ The smile crinkles his eyes. ‘We’ll need to find it. We have to take photos, remember? You did bring the camera, didn’t you?’
‘Of course I did!’
‘Great,’ he says, as we drop our cartons into a bin. For a few minutes, we walk in silence. Neither of us has mentioned our sleeping arrangements again. It’s the elephant in the van, and dusk is only just starting to fall. We can’t go to bed at 9 p.m., like children. ‘D’you fancy a drink somewhere?’ I ask.
‘Oh, yes,’ Shane enthuses. ‘Good idea.’ He consults his phone. ‘There’s a pub ten minutes away. Okay to walk there?’
‘Yes, no problem,’ I say. Anything to delay going back to the van.
Still on the outskirts of town, we pass the campsite entrance and a beleaguered-looking shop with rolls of carpet heaped against the dusty window. A squat brown dog is tethered outside and growls ominously.
For a minute or two we walk in silence and I wonder, briefly, how we’re going to get through this trip. But now the pub is in sight, and although it’s shedding its white paint, and looks as if it has seen better days, my spirits lift.
A drink is definitely required if I’m going to be able to get through the night.
18
Shane pushes open the door and we step inside. The tables are scuffed, the leatherette seats peeling, and everything looks as if it might be a little sticky. Apart from the young man behind the bar who’s chatting idly to two elderly customers, the pub is otherwise deserted. But a real fire is flickering in the hearth, and through the frosted windows the sky is darkening. Once we’re settled by the fireplace with our drinks, it’s certainly cosier than the van.
Shane leans forward, looking thoughtful. ‘Y’know, I could sleep in the cab,’ he offers. ‘Maybe that’d be better?’
‘Don’t be crazy,’ I exclaim. ‘You wouldn’t sleep a wink in there.’ So our nocturnal arrangements have been playing on his mind too.
‘Honestly,’ he insists, ‘it’d be fine!’
‘It wouldn’t, Shane. There’s no need for you to do that,’ I say firmly. With that settled, we try to fathom out what we might do at each of our stops. ‘Well, we need to visit all of our venues,’ I remind him, ‘if they still exist.’
He nods, looking relieved that, at the very least, this will give a sense of purpose to our trip. ‘Should we check, d’you think? Look them up?’
I sip my wine, considering this. ‘I think we should turn up and see.’
‘Yeah.’ He smiles wryly. ‘Keep that element of surprise.’
‘Exactly!’
‘I did look up a few other things we could do,’ he adds.
‘Really? What kind of things?’
‘Oh, y’know.’ He shrugs. ‘A museum, a gallery… but I don’t want to?—’
‘It’s fine,’ I insist. ‘We need ideas!’
‘What would you like to do?’
For a moment this stumps me. For a normal trip, I’d have no trouble making plans – but this isn’t normal. It’s certainly not a holiday, so what is it? Lloyd jokingly called it ‘a pilgrimage’ and insisted that he had no problem with it at all. Aw, I get it, babe, he teased. Off on a jaunt with your old boyfriend, reliving old times? As long as you come back to me, that’s all that matters!
Shane was never my boyfriend, I insisted (yes, stuff happened – but it was too complicated to explain, and Lloyd had swiftly lost interest in the subject anyway). I wonder now what Shane’s girlfriend – Elaine, her name is, he called out to her when I phoned – thinks about this. If she was cool about him heading off for five days with another woman? No reason why she shouldn’t be. Naturally, I want to ask him about her, to know all about his life now. But I’d rather he just told me, instead of bombarding him with questions. So instead, I pull out Ravi’s letter from my bag, and we study our old itinerary, as if we didn’t know it off by heart.
‘I’d like to swim,’ I say. ‘When we’re by the sea, obviously.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Shane enthuses. ‘Packed your swimsuit?’
‘Of course! Like a proper tourist…’ For a reason I don’t fully understand, I’ve brought my most unalluring costume: a navy-blue one-piece, elasticity almost gone, effectively matronly.
