‘Okay. So, look, Ash just called me.’
Lissa frowns. ‘Ash?’
‘My friend.’
‘Right. I know who Ash is.’ He with the blue eyes and crooked smile and motorbike helmet under the table.
‘The thing is, he’s broken down.’
‘Okay …’ She’s still not totally sure why he’s telling her this.
‘He was heading into Bath from Bristol airport.’
‘So … are you going to go and pick him up or something?’ In which case, they should just cancel dinner. She’s actually a little relieved by that thought – she can grab a takeaway and curl up in front of the TV. Which, she has to admit, isn’t abrilliantsign, is it?
‘Ah, well actually … I was hopingyoucould pick him up. He’s stranded not that far from where I figured you’d be, and since I’m still at work …’ He trails off.
‘You want me to go help Ash?’ She’s not sure why she’s being so slow here – that is very clearly what he’s asking. But something keeps snagging. The fact that he’s asking her? Or the idea of seeing Ash again?
‘If it’s too much trouble, don’t worry about it,’ Mark says quickly. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s just I’m going to be a while, and …’
She taps a finger against the steering wheel. ‘I mean, I guess I can.’ She can’t think of a good reason why not – she doesn’t want to be sitting alone at the restaurant, waiting for Mark for who knows how long. And Ash is nice, isn’t he? She’s sure she can manage the small talk. Even if those are definitely nerves fizzing in the base of her stomach.
She thinks of the way he looked at the pub, a hint of sadness underneath an easy smile. The way he gives you his whole focus when he’s listening.
‘Brilliant,’ Mark says. ‘You’re a lifesaver. I’ll send you the location pin.’
Approximately thirteen minutes later, she’s pulling up on the side of the road behind a small Prius with its hazard lights on. Ash is standing on the passenger side, next to a hedge, his phone out in front of him. He raises one hand above his eyes to protect against the headlights as she stops the car, his whole body in silhouette.
She leaves the engine on, checks her mirrors and waits for a pause in the traffic – cars speeding past without stopping to check if Ash is okay – before getting out of the car. The chill of the air hits her and she pulls her jean jacket – worn because it goes with her dress, rather than for warmth – closer to her. The misty drizzle clings to her hair, her skin.
Ash blinks at her, still bathed in the light from her car. His brow creases, like he doesn’t recognise her.
She gives him an awkward wave that she immediately regrets. ‘Hi.’
‘Lissa.’ He’s still looking at her in some confusion. She moves closer. He’s wearing jeans and a crumpled shirt, his hair is messy and there is day-old stubble grazing his jaw. The stubble suits him, but he looks tired, she thinks. Even with his face still partly obscured by shadows, he looks tired.
‘Yep. Mark said you needed some help …’
He blinks again, then looks towards his car, the hazard lights still flashing. ‘Yes, sorry. He said he would ask you, but I told him not to.’
‘Right.’ She has to say, she was expecting a bit more of a welcome, given that she’s here with her halo on and everything.
‘Not that I’m not glad you’re here,’ he adds.
Way to be obvious, Lissa.
‘Okay. Well, just to be clear, I know absolutely nothing about cars, so the help I can offer might be limited.’
‘I don’t know anything either, apart from the go and stop buttons, which I suspect might be the reason I’m in this scenario.’
‘So …’ She pulls her jacket closer as another car zooms past, far too fast on this road that is in effect just a glorified country lane.
‘There’s a breakdown person coming,’ Ash says, lifting his phone. ‘It’s a rental and they have it covered.’
‘Okay. Well that’s great.’ So why did Mark send her?
‘Yeah, although they’re not going to be here for hours. Some disaster on the M5.’
