I sniffed in a lungful of air so cold it burned the inside of my nose and tore at my throat. At least I’d lost all feeling in my sore feet. Thank heaven for small mercies.
‘Especially if he stays in Paris,’ I said.
‘Why would he stay in Paris?’
‘Lots of people do,’ I reasoned, picturing Callum swanning around the Champs-Élysées, baguette in hand. ‘After they take the pastry course and do the internship, quite a few people end up getting a job and staying in France.’
At least according to the three a.m. Google search I’d done on the train.
Graham looked at me, confused, and suddenly the thought of freezing to death didn’t seem so bad after all.
‘Sorry, hen, you’ve lost me.’
‘Paris,’ I repeated. ‘He’s going to Paris to study at some fancy culinary institute?’
The shock on his face morphed into immeasurable pride.
‘He got in?’
I gave the tiniest inclination of a nod.
‘That sneaky wee bastard!’ He whooped with joy while I winced at both the gust of wind that almost blew me off my feet and my own inability to keep my mouth shut. Callum hadn’t told him. ‘No, he hasn’t told me. And I’d wager his parents don’t know yet either, or his shrew of a sister.’
‘Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything,’ I replied, looking back over my shoulder at the door to the pub. ‘He probably wanted to tell you in person, please don’t let on I ruined the surprise.’
With a huge grin, he rubbed the closely cropped hair on the top of his head with the palm of one hand.
‘I can haul me wheesht if you can haul yours. Shall we get you back inside before you freeze your tits off? Your lips turned blue about three minutes ago and I think there’s an icicle hanging off your left ear.’
It was the invitation I’d been waiting for.
Graham sauntered casually behind while I practically ran back inside, pressing as much of my frozen body as possible against the ancient radiator clunking away in the corridor, my teeth chattering so hard I was worried I’d break my jaw. The door to the kitchen swung open in front of us, the smell of fish and chips restoring my sense of smell and will to live.
‘Since we’re sharing secrets, do you think you could do me one more favour?’ I asked, salivating at the sight of so much fried food.
‘Anything as long as it requires nae effort on my part.’
‘I can’t eat my steak in front of Elsie. Do you have a box or something so I can take it away?’
‘I know she’s a wretched thing but she’s nae so hackit you cannae eat in front of her,’ Graham replied, looking deeply offended. ‘That was the best steak I had and you want to let it go cold?’
‘It’s a very long story,’ I said, just about ready to drop to my knees and beg. ‘Please Graham, I need that steak more than I need to live, but for reasons best left unsaid, I can’t eat it until I get home.’
‘Bloody southerners,’ he muttered, grumpy but amenable. ‘Fine. I’ll come and get your plates and make you a doggy bag. Just when I was starting to like you, as well.’
With an exasperated sigh, he hurled himself at the swinging kitchen door, disappearing back into the steam and smoke and pots and pans, yelling back and forth with a woman in a blue and white striped apron, his accent so strong, I could no longer understand a word that came out of his mouth.
Not that it mattered, he’d already said more than enough.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Laura? Are you awake?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘I’m fast on.’
Callum slipped inside like a shadow, closing the door silently behind him.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he said, keeping a safe distance from where I sat in the chair by the window. ‘I thought I heard you moving around and wanted to make sure everything was all right and— are you eating a steak with your bare hands?’
