They stared at each other for a moment, clearly neither of them sure what to say next.
‘Well…’ Ian, or rather Mac, shrugged. ‘It’s been ages. Forty years or more.’
‘At least,’ she agreed. ‘More like fifty really. I don’t think I saw much of you at all after primary school.’
‘No.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I suppose you didn’t. And we both went to university, of course.’
‘Yes, but I went to Hull University and came home every night,’ she reminded him. ‘Whereas you – you went off into the big, wide world and never came back.’
‘No, except I’m back now,’ he pointed out. ‘I can hardly believe it myself.’
‘I don’t suppose Stella can either,’ she said without thinking. Remembering his sister’s bitterness about the will, she could have kicked herself. ‘I mean…’
Mac – oh wow, it was going to take a while for her to get used to calling him that! – looked down at the floor. ‘I don’t suppose she can. Well, I’d better get off home. Do you live near here then?’
Alison hesitated. ‘Not too far away usually,’ she said at last, ‘but right now I’m staying with our Rosie at Tide’s Reach.’ There was no point in lying. After all, Kelsea Sands was so small she was bound to bump into him sooner or later, and anyway, it was incredible that news hadn’t reached him of her move already. It was only a matter of time.
‘Tide’s Reach?’ he asked, his brow creasing in confusion. ‘You mean, in a caravan?’
‘Yes, Rosie owns one there and she stays there most of the year.’ Alison gave him a forced smile. ‘I figured I’d have a change of scene, so I’m living with her for a few months. You know what they say: a change is as good as a rest.’
‘So they do.’ He smiled warmly at her and Alison’s heart gave an unexpected little skip. His eyes really were startlingly blue, she realised. His hair had quite a bit of grey now, and his face was lined, but he was an attractive man. She’d never thought of him in that way until she’d spotted him at the pub; he’d always just been the annoying school swot to her, but now she realised he was actually rather nice-looking and wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.
She realised he was watching her and cleared her throat. ‘Well, it was nice to meet you again after all this time. No doubt I’ll see you around.’
‘No doubt.’ He nodded at her and turned away, heading towards the door. She took a deep breath and mentally shook her head. It must be the lack of sugar that was making her feel so lightheaded and peculiar all of a sudden.
Mac stopped and turned back to her. ‘You know you said you were the world’s worst cook?’
She frowned. ‘Actually, you saidyouwere. I just said you might think twice about that if you’d tasted my cooking.’
She was being pedantic and she knew it. Why was she suddenly so nervous?
‘Okay, well, it seems we’re both pretty rubbish at cooking, whichever way you look at it,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy eating out tonight at The North Star? It would be nice to get a decent meal.’ He sounded awkward and unsure. ‘Might stop me pigging out on chocolate and crisps. And it would be good to catch up, too.’ He held up his hands. ‘Only if you want to, of course. No pressure.’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Rosie’s cooking tonight. She’s got it all planned.’ Besides, after working a double shift she knew that if she went into The North Star at the end of such a long day she might just give in and order something sweet and comforting as a reward, which would undo all the good work of the last couple of weeks. She wasn’t about to confess to Ian MacMillan that she was diabetic and had to be careful what she ate. She needed Rosie to keep her on track.
‘Ah, right.’ He shrugged. ‘Of course. Sorry. Hope you didn’t mind me asking.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Well, see you around, Alison.’
He turned to leave, and she found herself saying, ‘How about tea tomorrow? I’ll be leaving here around four, so if you’re free we could grab something at The North Star around five-ish?’
There was something vulnerable and rather sweet about his smile. ‘That sounds brilliant,’ he told her. ‘Five-ish it is. I’ll see you there.’
Project Alison – Day 11 cont.: Bumped into Ian MacMillan at work and agreed to have tea with him. He’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, even bluer than our Rosie’s. I want my bloody head read.
‘Oh, God, Alison,’ she groaned as he headed out on to the forecourt, looking far more handsome than any man in his sixties wearing a wax jacket and jeans had the right to. ‘What the hell have you done?’
15
What was I thinking?Mac wondered as he sat in The North Star and waited for Alison to join him at the table. He’d arrived a whole hour early – too nervous to hang around at home – and had found himself keeping Briar company at the bar before bagging the table under the largest of the bay windows half an hour before Alison was due to arrive. He figured that if conversation ran dry, they’d at least be able to look out into the darkness and gaze at the distant lights that gleamed from the Lincolnshire shore, rather than stare dumbly at their plates.
Despite the bitterly cold February weather, Kelsea Sands was looking beautiful today in the gathering dusk. The tide was out, and the Humber mudflats seemed to stretch on forever as he gazed out of the window and watched a ship in the distance, heading inland towards Hull. He could see the North Sea in the distance where the river tumbled between the Lincolnshire coast and Kels Point in its rush to join it.
He’d forgotten this. Somehow, in all the years since he’d left this place to go to university, the memory of how utterly incredible Kelsea Sands was had faded. In the years that followed, as he pursued his career, married, had children, ran his business, this tiny village in Holderness had seemed like a distant dream. In his busy, suburban life it had hardly seemed possible that such a place could really exist.
