Chapter Three
Henry sat at the end of the bar, lifted his baseball cap and rubbed his hand across his forehead, trying to clear the fog from his mind.
He wasn’t sure if it was jet lag setting in, or the fact that he was back in Dapplebury, that was causing his head to throb.
Finding himself in the middle of what seemed like a fancy dress party for people old enough to know better, wasn’t helping; especially when all he wanted was a moment to be himself and a cold beer before facing his parents.
He remembered The Brown Dog to be a quiet place.
There was nothing quiet about it this evening.
The music, the clientele and their clothes were all too loud.
As for those few who weren’t strangers, those he knew from his past, Henry was grateful his years away, his baseball cap, collar-length hair and beard were offering him anonymity.
He didn’t want people to recognise him until he found his feet again.
He needed time to readjust before he faced the backlash he anticipated from the community, especially his father’s old stalwarts.
Henry drained his glass and began to gather himself to go, but as he turned from his barstool, his feet faltered.
He couldn’t be sure. It had been twelve years since he had seen her, but the red hair and the striking blue eyes sent him back to being a teenager again.
She was just eight months older than him, but at sixteen Ava Flynn was a force of nature, with a mass of wild hair, unlike anyone else he knew.
He remembered her scrambling through the trees in the grounds of Dapplebury House challenging him to climb higher, to skinny-dip in the lake and, on the last day they spent together, to kiss her.
A heated first kiss for them both, fired by teenage hormones.
He could remember how dizzy it made him feel.
He could also remember the sting of the slap he got across his face when his mother caught them.