‘Well, take the singer,Cat Stevensfor instance. He started off as a singer songwriter, but then he changed his name to Yusuf Islam, which took him on a slightly different life journey.’
Pippa nodded. ‘Yes, I guess that’s a good example.’ She made a move to walk towards the bar entrance.
Oliver followed her. ‘What I’m trying to do Pippa, is to explain why I broke up with you all those years ago.’ Pippa stopped in her tracks and stiffened. She couldn’t believe he was bringing that up now, especially as they were about to spend a whole day working together.
She turned to face him and shook her head. ‘It really doesn’t matter, Oliver...we were just teenagers.’ Her stomach had clenched into a tight knot. Shedidwant to know. It had eaten away at her for years, but what if she didn’t like the answer?
She had spent months—years even—analysing their break-up, wondering if it had been a physical attribute that had suddenly made him break up with her back then when they were adolescents. What had he disliked about her? Yes, she desperately wanted to know the reason for him dumping her. It was a teenage girl’s prerogative, after all to know such things.
But what if she didn’t like his answer? What if he were to tell her she had been too short? Too spotty? That it was it her brace or the size of her nostrils that had been the reason for their break-up?
If he were to blame her physical appearance back then as the reason, she couldn’t promise her reaction wouldn’t be to punch him on the end of the nose—even though she was averse to violence. Then where would that leave them?
‘Pippa Pickles and Oliver Onions is what everyone was whispering behind our backs,’ Oliver blurted out.
Pippa was gobsmacked. ‘What?’
‘At school...that is what everyone was calling us when we dated... But not only that, they said when we got married we’d have pickled onion smelling babies.’
The laugh that spluttered from Pippa’s mouth was one of disbelief and surprise. ‘I-I never heard anyone call us those horrid names. My friends would have told me... I get why they’d want to callmepickles. The pub is after all called The Cheese Wedge and Pickles, so Pippa Pickles was quite predictable, I suppose. But Oliver Onions? Were they paying reference to you dating a girl they nicknamed Pickle?’
‘I think it was partly that, and also because of my surname...Oney.’
Pippa gasped and her hands flew up to her cheeks. ‘Blimey. Kids can be so cruel, can’t they?’ She fixed Oliver with a stare. ‘So you dumped me without explanation because of a bit of name calling going on behind our backs? I would have appreciated an explanation instead of just dropping me like a ton of bricks and ignoring me, Ollie.’
His features softened. ‘You haven’t called me that for a long time.’ Oliver bit his bottom lip and searched Pippa’s eyes. ‘That’s why I’m telling you now, Pippa. I’ve wanted to apologise for so long. Believe it or not, the awful way I’d dumped you plagued me for years. When I was living in America with my dad, I even sought out the pub’s number and called it to apologise to you. But whoever answered told me you were away at uni.’
Pippa’s stomach was clenched so tight it was starting to hurt. She waved her hand dismissively and turned away to hide the burning red of her cheeks. ‘It’s all water under the bridge now. I think we should just forget about it. That was a lifetime ago. Let’s just get to work.’ She walked over to the bar and headed for the door next to it into the sanctuary of the kitchen to check the stock.
Oliver called after her. ‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’
She didn’t answer. She was trembling. All these years of not knowing why he had dumped her and it had been over something as trivial asthat.
***
They worked side byside, preparing to open the pub in relative silence, with just the occasional glace thrown in both directions.
Oliver was the first to speak. ‘Shall I man the bar and you manage the phone bookings and kitchen?’
Pippa stopped what she was doing and raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that because I’m a woman?’
Oliver’s face blanched, and he shook his head quickly. ‘No. Not at all. I just thought because of your dislike of going into the cellar I’d work the bar—in case a barrel needed changing. I know the Guinness is low because Ned and his retired boat rescue buddies gave it a hammering the night before last.’
Pippa hid her surprise. He’d actually remembered her fear of the basement. She shrugged. ‘Fine.’
Oliver returned the gesture. ‘Fine.’
She watched him as he walked over to the main door to open up. He must have grown another four inches when he left high school. Now he was six foot two, at least. His shirt pulled tight on his broad shoulders as he reached to unbolt the dead lock.
Pippa’s chest fluttered. She sucked in a breath and sighed. Yes, he certainly was the one who got away. But maybe that was a good thing. If he couldn’t defend her honour by putting an end to the name calling behind her back when they were dating, what good would he have been as husband material?
He turned to face her, and she felt her cheeks burn again at being caught staring at him. But she couldn’t help it. Pippa had found herself staring at him all morning whenever she’d had a chance.
She’d been pleasantly surprised by how immaculately turned out he’d been when he’d come back to the pub after she’d seen him earlier that morning, first in the cafe and then in the cellar. Now his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed and he was wearing a shirt and tie withnicejeans—very possibly designer ones, matched with lovely brown dress shoes. His hair was still a little on the long side, a wavy mess, but it only added to his rugged charm. She hated that her stomach did a loop the loop every time he walked past her and she caught scent of his cologne, expensive like his jeans.
Pippa was just about to turn around and head into the kitchen when a large group of ramblers jostled in as soon as the doors were opened.
The man in front of the group dipped his head at Oliver and then looked across to Pippa as he led the way. ‘Good afternoon. What a wonderful morning we’ve had.’
