Chapter 22
22
‘No, I’m sorry, dear, I don’t know where Charlotte put the forms.’ Lorelai’s confusion was concerning. She was usually so whip smart and knew where everything was. Tristan tried not to feel irritated. He had to get the forms back to head office first thing on Monday morning, and his grandmother’s temporary lapse of memory was most inconvenient. ‘I’d offer to call her, but she’s on her way to the pub, and you know how bad the reception is in the lanes.’
‘It’s all right, Gran, I’ll pop round tomorrow morning and see her. Hopefully she’ll be able to put her hands on them.’ Tristan tried to push away the nagging feeling of concern that Lorelai might be losing her faculties. She’d always been so sharp up until now. He wondered if age was starting to tell on her, and yet again felt frustrated that she continued to refuse to be budged from her home.
‘Well, all right then, dear.’ Lorelai paused. ‘Of course, if you wanted them tonight, you could always head over to the pub yourself. Charlotte doesn’t strike me as the disorganised type: she’d probably be able to tell you straight away where she’s put the file.’
Tristan considered this for a moment. He really did want to get the paperwork sorted so that he could spend Sunday relaxing, maybe having lunch with Martha, whom he’d decided was probably an on-again situation, before getting to the office bright and early on Monday. If he met Charlotte tonight and she could let him know where the paperwork was, that would be one box ticked before a potential audit.
‘Maybe I’ll nip down to the Star and Telescope now,’ Tristan said. ‘I might be able to catch her before she has too much of the local scrumpy!’ He leaned down and gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you in a bit, Gran.’
‘See you later,’ Lorelai replied. As he left Nightshade Cottage, Tristan got the slightest sensation that he’d just been set up but, brushing aside those thoughts, he concentrated on reversing his Audi out of Lorelai’s narrow front gate. He’d make this quick and hopefully he’d be back home and firming up a lunch date with Martha before the evening was out.
A little time later, Tristan had parked out the front of the pub and was heading through the red-painted wooden front door. The pub, with its name and theme of starlit skies throughout, was a rather obvious testament to how important the observatory had once been in Lower Brambleton. Successive brewery chains had managed it over the years, and poured a lot of money into its upkeep, and they had leaned into the celestial themes, including painting a rather overpowering mural on the ceiling of the night skies, circa 1895 when Eleanor Winslow had brought such recognition to the village. Brass telescopes were placed on windowsills and in alcoves, and on one wall in the restaurant there was a star chart from the 1900s. The whole effect was somewhat hokey and commercial, but even given his connections to the observatory’s more recent history, Tristan couldn’t help liking it. As his family had such a long association with the observatory, for better or worse, he felt at home here. It made no sense to him, but he appreciated that feeling.
‘Tristan, mate! Haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?’
Tristan glanced in the direction of one of the wooden tables in the bar area and smiled as he saw Annabelle and Nick Saint and Annabelle’s husband, Jamie, all chatting amiably.
‘I’m good, thanks,’ he replied. The four of them had been at school together, and while he now lived further away, he was always pleased at the easy way they admitted him back into their circle when they saw him. Lower Brambleton was welcoming like that: links, once forged, weren’t easily broken.
‘Get you a drink?’ Nick asked, rising from his chair.
Tristan noticed the empty glasses all round. ‘I’ll get them,’ he said. Annabelle and Jamie raised their glasses in thanks. He’d stop for one, he thought. He wasn’t a big drinker, but Carters’ Cider, the biggest cider business in the south-west, had recently introduced an alcohol-free version, and he rather liked it.
Glancing around the pub, he couldn’t yet see Charlotte. He was surprised he hadn’t passed her on his way from Lorelai’s house, but perhaps she’d taken a more off-road route to get here. There were several paths that skirted the main road and were a less hazardous route to the pub than the road he’d taken while driving. He figured he might as well sit and have a drink with his friends while he waited.
‘How are you doing, mate?’ Nick asked as he helped Tristan ferry three pints of scrumpy back to the table. ‘Haven’t seen you back in the village in ages.’
‘It’s been busy,’ Tristan replied. ‘I’ve been up to my eyeballs in plans and permissions for several projects, including the one in the village, and they’ve taken me all over the place lately.’
‘Sounds like things are really taking off for you,’ Annabelle interjected. ‘It’s about time. You’ve worked hard enough for it.’
The friends lapsed into a pause while they sipped their drinks. Annabelle asked about Thea, and Tristan filled her in on his sister’s plans to move into the new development on Observatory Field.
‘Makes sense,’ Annabelle replied, although her tone sounded less certain. Tristan didn’t need to ask why. Nick and Annabelle had been witnesses to his and Thea’s family tragedy, and had helped pick up the pieces afterwards, and for years while they were all still at school. He knew that Thea could square living in a new home at Observatory Field more easily than he could: she had a pragmatic, practical streak that allowed her to see the advantages, despite the history. Being back in Lower Brambleton and closer to Lorelai was more important now. He still couldn’t bring himself to feel the same way, but then there were some things about the tragedy he’d never reconciled himself to.
‘I saw Thea this afternoon,’ Nick said, after taking a sip of his pint. ‘I was dropping off a delivery to your gran’s house, and she rocked up with those adorable sprogs of hers. They’ve grown since the last time I saw her.’
‘They have,’ Tristan replied. ‘Time flies when you’re a single parent of two, or so she’s always telling me!’
Nick laughed. ‘She looked really well, though. I did ask her if she fancied coming over with the kids to watch the cricket, but I guess she decided against it.’
Tristan smothered a grin as Annabelle raised a speculative eyebrow in her brother’s direction. ‘She turned you down again, did she? Still carrying that torch from secondary school?’
‘It wasn’t like that!’ Nick muttered, but Tristan noticed his colour rising slightly. ‘I just thought it would be nice for her to have a break, that’s all.’
Annabelle’s pull the other one, it’s got bells on expression wasn’t lost on Tristan. ‘Whatever, little brother. I’m sure she had her reasons for turning you down.’ Before Nick could respond to her, she’d turned her attention back to Tristan, in a swift volte face that only people who’ve been friends forever can achieve without confusion. ‘So how’s it really all going sorting out Observatory Field, Tris?’
Tristan didn’t want to get into a deeper discussion with Annabelle, who had the ability to read him better than most of his friends, over a pub table, so he was relieved when her attention was drawn to Charlotte, who’d pushed open the door of the pub. Charlotte was blinking slightly, having come in from the still bright evening sunshine. She gave a brief smile of recognition as she spotted the group of friends, and then went to the bar. His eyes followed her across the room, watching the way she walked and the way her little black and white dog trotted obediently at her heels.
‘Someone caught your eye, Tris?’ Annabelle teased gently.
Tristan shook his head a little too forcefully to rebut her suggestion. ‘I just need a word with Gran’s new lodger. She’s got some paperwork I’ve got to take to the office on Monday.’
‘Oh, the last of the great romantics.’ Annabelle rolled her eyes. ‘It’s Saturday night and you’re still thinking about work. Why don’t we ask her to join us? She probably doesn’t know that many people, and she might like company in this most local of local boozers.’
Tristan didn’t have time to protest as Annabelle waved broadly at Charlotte, who did appear relieved to have an anchor point in an unfamiliar pub. ‘Come and have a drink!’ Annabelle called. ‘You don’t want to be sitting alone.’
Charlotte smiled, and Tristan thought what a lovely smile she had. ‘Thanks,’ she called back. ‘I’ll just grab a Coke and I’ll be on over.’
Tristan sipped his cider and sat back in his chair. It didn’t look like he’d be going anywhere soon, and, if he was being honest, he was quite enjoying being social on a Saturday evening. Perhaps he’d stay for another drink and see how the night panned out.