‘She told you that, did she? An outright rejection? Oh, my poor, sad friend.’ Clare was making light of it, but her focus on him was intense. She knew what was at stake for him, how difficult it had been to reach a point at which he wanted to make a romantic connection with someone again.
‘Well, not exactly. She’s here with the food critic, Billie Forsythe-Rogers. Amy’s her PA. Anyway, it was Billie who told me Amy was off the table, as it were, because of this long-term relationship she has in the UK.’
‘You were talking about stuff like that with Billie Forsythe-Rogers?’ Clare looked confused as she glanced at Billie across the table, then lowered her voice. ‘The Slayer of Dreams and you were chatting about her PA’s love life? I thought you’d be holding that woman at arm’s length with a garland of garlic around your neck.’
‘The Slayer of Dreams?’ Tad grinned at the descriptor. ‘I’ve not heard that one.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but some friends of someone I know had her visit their restaurant, and she took a machete to it in her review. They coined the phrase, maybe that’s why you haven’t heard it, ended up having to talk their head chef down from quitting and emigrating to Peru. It’s not like it’s the only name she’s been called over the years.’
‘True enough. Anyway, we’re getting on well enough. The dynamic’s a bit different, I suppose, with her here in the role of student. She asked me to look after her.’
Clare raised her eyebrows. ‘The dragon’s showing you her soft underbelly, is she? Maybe she wants more from you than cookery lessons, Tad.’
‘She’s not a dragon, Clare. And I suppose it was a bit out of the blue, to be honest, for her to tell me about Amy’s situation. But I’m not sure Billie has much in the way of a filter. I thought she might be flirting with me at one point, too, but I think that must have been in my imagination.’
‘Yes, probably. I mean, it’s not as if you are in the least bit attractive, Tad. Ridiculous.’ Clare shook her head. ‘Shudders at the very idea.’
Tad grinned at her. ‘God, it’s good to see you. Tell me all your news.’
She stilled, her amused expression melting away, leaving a serious one in its place.
‘Everything’s OK, isn’t it?’ Tad asked.
Clare pulled in a deep breath, swinging to give him her complete attention. ‘I was going to wait a while, find the right moment to tell you. But I suppose this is as good a time as any.’
Tad frowned. This sounded serious. ‘Tell me what?’
For a second, Tad was back in time, holding Honor’s hand as she told him the diagnosis she’d been given, that the prognosis wasn’t positive. Heat prickled at Tad’s neck. What if Clare was ill? He couldn’t go through it again. He couldn’t bear to lose another person he cared for. He grabbed at Clare’s hand, desperate in that moment to feel her warmth, the strength of her life energy.
In turn, Clare placed a reassuring hand on his arm, recognising the flicker of fear he felt sure had crossed his face. ‘It’s nothing bad. It’s the opposite. I wasn’t sure how best to tell you, that’s all.’
‘Clare – just spit it out. Please.’
‘I met someone.’
After the thoughts that had looped around his brain, Clare’s revelation had Tad’s shoulders dropping as he began to smile.
‘Well, that’s great news.’
‘I met him a while ago and I wasn’t sure there was any point telling you, early on. I suppose I thought it might come to nothing, but after a while I began to realise he’s… well, there was far more to it than I’d been expecting. And then I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject with you.’ She swallowed – Tad saw the flex in her throat – and seemed to run out of words.
‘Why not? I think it’s great. I’m so pleased for you.’
Tad thought his words would allay whatever worry Clare was carrying, but instead her eyes filled with tears.
‘There’s more to it than that, though,’ she said, her voice dropping so quiet he struggled to hear her as she glanced around, as though she was worried her travel companions might hear what she was saying.
Pushing back his chair, Tad stood, her hand still in his.
‘Come with me,’ he said as she clambered to her feet. ‘Let’s find somewhere quieter.’
* * *
Amy managed to keep something resembling a smile in place as she watched Tad stand, his girlfriend’s hand nestled in his as he led her away from the table. She watched as he ducked under strings of fairy lights, and the woman followed, the two of them wandering away from the rest of the group.
Doing her best to listen to whatever it was novel writer, Ron, was talking about, Amy added in some laughter when everyone else did, even though she hadn’t heard a word.
‘You OK?’ Hugh leant towards her, his voice quiet and his gaze following Tad’s departure.
