Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
It was early evening on a Friday, and the harbour buzzed with tourists and locals grabbing a cheeky drink or bite to eat to make the most of the mid-August sunshine.
Rita arrived at the Winking Pilchard where the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses immediately relaxed her.
Jilly was already there, perched on a bench outside, a cheeky grin spreading across her face the moment she spotted her friend.
‘Well, well, look what the tide dragged in.’
Rita smiled tiredly and slid onto the bench seat beside her. ‘I know, I look rough. I’ve had a lot going on.’
‘Sorry, girl, you look boss, I was only messin’ with youse.’
‘Thanks for meeting at such short notice; I needed human contact. And chips. But definitely not alcohol.’ Rita sighed.
‘Oh, Lordy, I feel a story coming on.’ Jilly signalled to Pete the Pilchard, who ambled over with a roguish sparkle in his eye.
‘So,’ Pete said, raising his eyebrows at Rita. ‘How’s my favourite buxom blonde these days? Still making the poor lads work for it?’
‘If you mean Kelly, she’s still happily married, but dreaming of you regardless, I’m sure.’ Rita didn’t dare confess that that really was the case.
Pete grinned. ‘That’s what I like to hear. You send her my way next time she’s down, she’ll be dreaming all right.’
Rita chuckled, shaking her head. ‘You’re a bad man, Pete Perkins.’
‘Nah, just a man. Now, can I get you two lovely ladies a drink to save you getting off your sweet derrieres?’
As Pete took their order and wandered off, Rita leaned closer to Jilly, lowering her voice.
‘It’s all been kicking off.’
Jilly’s expression softened. ‘Is it on top of you telling me about the will and that Jago is Archie’s brother? I mean, that alone is enough to tip you.’
‘Erm… yes.’
‘It’s OK, girl. I’ve got you.’
Rita took a drink of her sparkling water.
‘The other night, at Jago’s place, it was…
intense. We were both a bit drunk; well, I was more than a bit drunk.
He kissed me, and it felt like everything cracked open.
He picked me up, literally carried me through to the lounge.
It was like all the grief, tension and guilt and longing just spilled out.
He started to, well you know… and I let him.
I wanted him. God, I really did.’ Jilly raised her already raised eyebrows but stayed quiet.
‘But then I just snapped. I pushed him off, started crying, said awful things. That he’d betrayed me.
That I couldn’t do it. I ran out.’ Rita’s face fell.
‘I’m so mixed up, Jilly. Aside from this, my body’s all over the place, my periods have started vanishing, coming back, then stopping again, so my hormones are like the bloody shipping forecast. I think menopause is creeping up on me too.
I’m certainly not ready for that. Everything is just so messy! ’
Jilly placed a steadying hand on her arm. ‘You’re grieving. You’re trying to move forward. And your mind and now body are throwing curveballs. Of course it’s messy.’
Rita shook her head. ‘But it’s Archie’s brother, Jilly. Isn’t that wrong?’
Jilly leaned back, took a sip of her drink and was thoughtful for a moment.
‘No. You loved Archie. Deeply. And it didn’t end because you stopped loving him; it ended because life stole him.
Jago’s not a replacement. He’s not a carbon copy.
But he shares something with the man you loved, and maybe that’s not such a terrible thing. ’
Rita blinked, her eyes beginning to sting.
‘Follow your heart,’ Jilly added softly. ‘Not what you think your heart should be doing. There’s no rulebook here. We all deserve a slice of happiness, Rita. And after what you’ve been through, especially you.’
A young bar man placed two bowls of chips in front of them and winked at Jilly.
Rita laughed through the lump in her throat. ‘Oh my God, did you see the way he looked at you? He can only be twenty.’
‘Twenty-two, actually. And I have to say, after our chat with Annie the other day about men, I found myself wanting to sprint towards the floppy-haired ones who know what they’re doing in bed.
Who cares if they’re confused about their careers?
It’s some good sex I’m interested in whilst I look for the grown-up with a huge pension and no emotional baggage. ’
‘Whatever floats your boat, I guess. And yeah… he is hot.’
Jilly leaned in, eyes twinkling. ‘Talking of hot, one of my clients pointed him out to me the other day. Jago, I mean. He was down at the harbour, chatting to some bloke with a speedboat. Said he was the talk of the Seahaven Bay Facebook Gossip Group under “eligible bachelors”.’
Rita raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m telling you, girlfriend’ – Jilly grinned and took a sip of her vodka and tonic – ‘that man is hot. Total catnip. I mean, come on… broad shoulders, brooding expression, bit of mystery? That’s the jackpot.
But more than that… from what you told me, he’s not a bad man.
And he’s yours for the taking if you want him. ’
Rita looked down, stirring the ice in her glass. ‘Not sure I like other women lusting over him.’
Jilly smirked. ‘Well, that’s a good start.’
Rita gave her a look. ‘Don’t push it.’
‘I’m just saying’ – Jilly leaned back, smug now – ‘you said it yourself. He wasn’t trying to trick you or twist things with the will. He was trying to protect you. There’s a difference. And deep down, I think you know that.’
Rita sighed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. ‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe,’ Jilly echoed. ‘That’s a hell of a lot closer to “yes” than “no”.’
And with that the Pilates instructor raised her glass. ‘To hot men, good instincts, and not letting fear get in the way.’