Chapter 12 #2
‘I’m so sorry he’s making life hard for you, Becky. I’d offer to do some promo on social media but I’m afraid I’m the very opposite of Josh when it comes to anything like that.’
‘I know, I get it. Me and Carly are just so happy to see you back in Scarnbrook again.’
I smiled while pressing my spoon into a gooey chocolate fondant that had just been placed in front of me by the smiling bartender. Hearing nice people say nice things to me while eating nice food? This trip was turning out all right! Oh bravo, clever, confidence-boosting alcohol.
‘Hang on a sec,’ I said to Becky. ‘If you and Carly take it in turns to manage the place, how come you’re both here tonight? Or did I just happen to choose the right Monday for a solo dinner?’
‘Well… to be honest with you, Ryan told Carly all about your surprise appearance at Tesco yesterday, and then we put two and two together with tonight’s booking.
We were a bit intrigued to see if it was actually you.
So Carly’s kids are having a sleepover at our parents’ as a Christmas holiday treat. ’
Shit. A spontaneous Scarnbrook get-together was one thing, but a night hooked to my presence alone was quite another.
What would everyone ask me? What would they want to know?
I’m sure everyone meant well, but this level of attention was way beyond my comfort zone at the best of times. Why was I putting myself through this?
‘Oh. Blimey.’
‘Yeah, sorry, don’t mean to be nosy or anything. It’s just, well, we haven’t seen you in so long and everything…’
‘I know, I know. I’m sorry I’ve not been back before now.’
‘Oh God, that’s not what I mean, please don’t apologise… shit, I need to go and get that phone. I’ll be right back.’
I was fast remembering not only how close-knit Scarnbrook was, but how stifling it could be, too. And how visible I was here. A blast of cold air disturbed me from my increasingly anxious thoughts.
‘There she is!’ It was Ryan, and he was accompanied by a stocky, square-jawed man who – if the tightness of his T-shirt and lack of a coat in the middle of winter were anything to go by – was keen to let everyone know he frequented the gym.
I got the impression that the ‘nice’ part of my evening had come to a juddering halt.
Only more booze would get me through this.
Carly appeared and gave her husband a peck on the cheek.
‘Yay! Ooh and you brought Darren! Good to see you, Dal.’
‘Oi, Darren.’ Ryan was pointing at me as if I was the largest piece of battered cod in a chippy’s heated display cabinet. ‘This is who I was telling you about – the one and only Miss Fuel.’
The new nickname went over my head. I could only hope that it was less offensive than Double A. The confusion on my face wiped the grin off Ryan’s.
‘Y’know, Miss . Fuel . Because of the misfuel of your motor?’
‘Oh, yeah, of course, ha ha.’
Darren grunted ‘All right?’ in my vague direction and headed towards the bar.
‘Don’t mind him,’ Ryan said, as he settled into a chair opposite me. ‘He’s the strong and silent type. He’ll warm up after a couple of pints. Hope you don’t mind us gate-crashing your night like this, Milly? Sorry, I mean Mally – can’t get used to that!’
‘Just call me whatever’s easiest.’
‘Ha, Miss Fuel it is, then. It’s just that Carly said on the WhatsApp group that you were here on your tod, so we thought it would only be fair to join you, especially since it’s quiz night and all.’
So, the WhatsApp rumour mill about a returning Allister was indeed working at full throttle. Great. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Tom was also in the group in question. I hoped not. There was no way of knowing what he might’ve told everyone about my floundering last night.
At that moment a slosh of beer landed in my lap.
‘Sorry, love,’ mumbled Darren as he slammed the pint on the table in front of Ryan.
‘Um, no worries. I’m just going to get this dried off in the loos. Back in a sec.’
Locking myself into a cubicle felt like a reprieve.
I wondered how long I could get away with being in here before anyone noticed my absence.
The thought made me ponder whether anyone in Scarnbrook had actually noticed my absence in the last twenty years.
Probably not, otherwise I would’ve heard from them, surely?
By the time I got back to the table, a couple more members of the WhatsApp group had turned up – women I recognised after a moment as being Gemma Winters and Amy Cook.
Or whatever their surnames were these days.
The pub in general was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t exactly bursting at the seams.
I took my seat next to Darren, who – judging by the empty glasses in front of him – was somehow already on his third pint. He took another large gulp before belching loudly and turning to me.
‘So you’re related to Josh Allister, then?’
There was a distinct thud from under the table.
‘Fucking ouch, Seldon. I was asking about her brother not her sister—’
Ryan kicked him again and my stomach plummeted.
I’d been back for just twenty-four hours and here I was, sat in a pub next to a rude stranger, and he’d mentioned my sister in his very first interaction with me.
I pulled a beermat to the edge of the table and attempted to flip and catch it on repeat in the hope that it would give my frayed nerves something to focus on.
‘Um, yeah, that’s right…’
‘Ah, awesome. So you must know Saskia Barnard, too. She’s well fit. How’d those two meet, then?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest.’
‘Oh. You’re not close?’
The whole table was listening now. This was exactly the kind of scenario that Elle had warned me about whenever I brought up the subject of coming back. It annoyed me no end that she’d been right.
I shrugged as I drained my glass of its remaining Prosecco. There was more in the glass than I was expecting, which gave me extra time to formulate a response. ‘He’s just really busy with his work and everything. In fact, if you follow him on social media you probably see him more often than me.’
‘You don’t follow him yourself?’
‘I don’t do social media full stop,’ I said, pouring myself the dregs of my bottle. I needed another one, and quickly.
‘Huh. That surprises me.’
‘Why?’
‘Y’know, I kind of assumed you’d be pretty tight after everything that happened. He seems like a decent bloke.’
Silence descended around the table once more.
Thankfully Darren kept talking, my ears ringing protectively as he rambled on about big pharma and individual freedom.
The thing was that Josh was a decent bloke – he always had been.
And he was usually right about most things – like climate change and the vital role of veganism in resetting our reliance on unsustainable food sources.
The trouble was that he was starting to blur the boundaries between ‘asking important questions’ and ‘questioning medical professionals and scientific experts about every word they’d ever uttered’.
Elle had even noticed that Saskia was sharing her husband’s content less and less.
‘Hey, I said, can I get a selfie with you?’
Darren’s repeated question brought me back to the room.
He was already holding his phone aloft, arm outstretched, but before I could figure out how to say no in the nicest way possible, another cold blast of wind diverted the table’s attention.
A solo figure looked quickly around before heading our way.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or nervous to see him. Somehow, both?
It was Tom.