‘I’m thinking of a two-tier plan. Freemium – free, duh – and Premium. Where you’ll get discounts at certain stores and other extras. I want to offer customers empowering, smart, stylish and sustainable choices, one outfit at a time.’
‘Nice,’ Charlie said, wiping his mouth. ‘No clue what that means. Heather tells me if I look like a sack of shit or gives me a thumbs up if I pass muster. Currently, I daren’t say a word about her appearance. She’s allowed to use the word “whale”. I value my life too much to comment.’
The afternoon drifted towards its end. They finished eating, exchanged the ritual man-hug and promised to meet again soon.
‘By which time,’ Kieran said, ‘you’ll have two kids and I’ll still be a single, nerdy bastard.’
Charlie checked his phone as his Uber arrived. ‘Or you’ll be loved up with Beth, eating gourmet meals every night.’
Kieran snorted as he waved him off. Loved up. As if.
On the train back to Cranley, he let his head rest against the cool glass. Outside, the countryside blurred into green and gold streaks.
The only creature that loved him was Prom.
And he wasn’t entirely certain the cat was totally on his side.
Chapter Eleven
By day seven at The Jekyll and Hyde, the early buzz had dulled into the usual village rhythm. Steady and predictable, punctured by the odd complaint.
‘We’ve had a few grumbles from the regulars,’ said Ed. ‘Moaning that sausages, beans and chips aren’t on the menu, and what’s wrong with a nice gammon steak and pineapple.’
Beth bit her tongue. Pineapple belonged nowhere near savoury food; the very thought made her skin crawl. But the customer came first. Always.
‘I can dial the menu down a notch,’ she said. ‘Keep some quirkiness but add more classics.’
‘We’ve already got pie and fish and chips.’ Ed smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s early days, Beth. Give them time and they’ll come round.’
Time.Beth wondered how much of it she’d need before she stopped feeling like an imposter. She’d swept in wanting to prove herself, hoping passion and creativity would somehow magic away the grief that clung to her like smoke. Ed and Angela believed in her. That should be enough.
But she didn’t really believe in herself.
‘Are you all sorted in the basement?’ Angela’s voice cut in, bright and warm. She appeared with Jinnie in tow, babies Ruairi and Dahlia nestled against them, and a tall man behind. He was handsome, steady and oozed easy confidence. Judging by the way he gazed adoringly at Jinnie and Dahlia, he had to be Jinnie’s husband, Sam. Jinnie headed off to the rest room, cradling Dahlia who’d started to grizzle.
‘I'm getting there,’ Beth said.
‘Have you two met?’ Angela nodded at Sam. ‘No, I don’t think you have. Sam, this is Beth.’
Beth shook Sam’s hand. A sudden chill snaked down her spine, and she jerked her hand back too quickly. Brilliant. Now she was the woman who hated babiesandhandshakes.
‘Nice to meet you, Beth.’ Sam’s face remained neutral apart from a tiny twitch of his left eyebrow. That meant nothing, but… His face seemed familiar. Something to do with Luke. Luke, who loved to read thrillers, the darker and gorier the better?—
‘You’re Alistair Scott! My husband loved your books.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I recognise your face from one of them. Not my thing: I read fluffy stuff. I mean…’
She stopped. Too late.
Silence swelled between them. Even Ruairi stopped chewing his knuckles and gawped at her.
‘Oh, Beth,’ Angela breathed, eyes filling. ‘We didn’t know. We didn’t even ask. How long since he … he passed?’
Passed?
‘He’s not dead,’ Beth blurted. ‘Luke’s alive. We’re just … not together anymore.’
Relief flashed across Angela’s face. ‘Oh, that’s great! I mean, that he’s not dead. It’s great he’s still alive, isn’t it, Sam?’
Sam made an awkward sound. ‘I think we can all agree that’s a good thing. Beth, we’ll give you some space now.’
