‘So,’ Kieran said, ‘are we off to the dungeon? Or can we agree that torturing a man for being a bad runner’s a bit much?’
‘We’ll have a coffee here,’ Beth decided, moving behind the bar. ‘But don’t expect latte art. Best I can do is something drinkable.’
‘That’s a low bar, but I’ll take it.’
Beth busied herself with the machine. Her movements were brisk but a little jittery. Kieran leaned against the counter, watching. She covered nerves with banter: he recognised the trick. He used it too.
‘So,’ he said lightly, ‘is this where you interrogate all your customers? Local folklore, favourite biscuits, deepest fears?’
‘Only the good-looking ones.’ The words were out before she could stop them. Colour rose in her cheeks. ‘I mean… Forget I said that.’
‘Too late,’ he said, smiling. ‘All right then. Favourite biscuit?’
‘Custard cream. Classic. You?’
‘Hobnob. Obviously.’
‘Oaty and reliable. I can see that.’
‘Reliable?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s code for boring.’
‘You said it, not me.’
Their laughter softened into something quieter.
‘Lisa hated Hobnobs,’ Kieran said suddenly.
Beth glanced up. ‘Your ex?’
‘Yeah. Said they were over-processed rubbish. She said that about most things I liked.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘No idea why I brought that up.’
‘Maybe because it still hurts,’ she said simply.
He met her eyes. No pity was there, just understanding. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe.’
The machine hissed. Beth poured two mugs and slid one across. Her hand trembled slightly. ‘I lost…’ She stopped, swallowed. ‘I lost a lot, too.’
Kieran didn’t fill the silence. He waited.
‘I don’t want to burden you,’ Beth said softly. ‘Some things are hard to talk about. Let’s leave it there.’ She managed a small, fragile smile.
They sat. All was quiet, except for the tick of the old clock and the sounds of unseen machinery.
Then Kieran forced a grin. ‘So this is where you show me your terrifying basement, right?’
Beth froze. He’d meant it as a joke, but the way her face shut down?—
‘You really don’t want to see it,’ she said, too quickly.
‘Now I definitely do.’
‘Kieran…’
A low hum rolled through the floorboards. Not pipes. Not plumbing. Something electric and alive.
‘What’s that noise?’ he asked.
‘Boiler,’ she said. ‘Old thing. Always makes a racket.’
