Declining the delights of expired pastry, they gathered their shopping. Janette eyed them both, mischief lighting her face. ‘Call me nosy – plenty do – but are you two an item, like?’
Beth flushed scarlet.
‘No, absolutely not,’ said Kieran – too fast, too loud – and immediately regretted it. He’d made it sound as if being with Beth would be some unspeakable disaster.
‘Beautiful day,’ Beth said quickly, as they stepped back outside. The air had warmed, the sky turned clear as blue glass.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for what I said. To Janette.’
‘What, that we’re not an item?’ Beth nudged his arm. He nudged back. She retaliated. Soon, they were shoulder-bumping like five-year-olds.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she said, through laughter. ‘Two mature adults— Ow! That onehurt!’
He froze, about to apologise, until her shoulders started shaking with giggles.
They kept walking. Beth teased him about his running, confessing she’d once tried Couch to 5K and quit immediately. ‘I was fine with thecouchpart. It’s the5Kthat got me.’
‘I get you,’ Kieran said, then jogged ahead. ‘Come on, let’s burn a few calories.’
‘I’m wearing wedge sandals and carrying toothpaste. Not ideal running gear.’
‘Excuses. Last one to the bus stop’s a loser!’
He ran fast and far enough for his lungs to stage a protest. Glancing back, he blinked as Beth passed him. She had kicked off her sandals and was sprinting barefoot, hair streaming behind her.
‘You didn’t mention you were a finely tuned athlete and a master chef!’ he puffed.
Beth ran harder and reached the bus stop first. She turned and grinned at him. ‘Admit it,’ she gasped, as he reached her. ‘I totally thrashed you.’
‘You … may … have.’ He doubled over, hands on knees. ‘I’m just … pacing myself.’
‘Sure you are.’ She leaned on a low wall, catching her breath.
They stilled a moment in the soft afternoon light, laughter fading into quiet. For once, neither of them carried their usual weight – no grief, no ghosts. Just two people feeling alive again.
‘So,’ said Beth, slipping her sandals back on, ‘what now?’
‘Depends. You free for a coffee that isn’t instant?’
‘Where exactly? Cranley’s café scene is…’ she gestured vaguely, ‘limited.’
‘Then tea at yours,’ he said, before thinking.
She hesitated. ‘I don’t usually invite people over.’
‘Why? Because the place is a mess? Or because you’re hiding bodies under the floorboards?’
Her laugh was sharp, nervous. ‘Something like that.’
‘Now youhaveto invite me. Otherwise I’ll assume the worst.’
‘You really don’t want to see my basement— I mean my quarters,’ she corrected.
‘Aha.’ He grinned. ‘You’ve got a dungeon. That explains everything.’
‘You’re impossible,’ she said, shaking her head but smiling.
They strolled on. The pub came into view, doors shut and lights low. Ed and Angela had closed after another problem with the beerpump.
