Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘I’m not planning on moving in,’ said Lisa, nudging aside Kieran’s toothpaste and parking a small army of skincare bottles on the shelf.
‘Mm. Could’ve fooled me.’
In forty-eight hours, she’d annexed a hanger-rail, commandeered a drawer, and was now giving his bathroom a facial. Every fibre in Kieran’s body had yelled don’t do this when she’d suggested they ‘see how it feels’. But here she was, snuffling through his cottage like a truffle pig in Lululemon.
‘This place could be so much homelier.’ She misted the air with something botanical. ‘Those towels are an affront to skin. And your bed… Is that an actual dip in the mattress? Are the sheets Egyptian cotton? Thread count matters.’
Thread count, in Kieran’s world, was somewhere below ‘remember wheelie-bin day’. He was grateful to have a bed at all. Sharing it, however, was a different matter.
‘I’m fine with us hanging out and seeing how things go.’ Kieran didn’t particularly feel fine about it, but Lisa had a talent for making herself impossible to ignore.
‘Are you really going to sleep on that cat-hair-covered sofa?’ Lisa’s nose twitched in revulsion. ‘It’s probably full of fleas.’
Prom padded in and twined round Lisa’s ankles. She shuddered, then stroked him with two fingers as if he might detonate. ‘I never pictured you with a cat,’ she said. ‘He’s … sweet. In a rescue sort of way.’
Prom purred without commitment. Lisa side-stepped him and whipped out her phone. ‘Lucy’s got a Sphynx, Cleo. Isn’t she adorable?’
Kieran studied the photo. ‘If ears, wrinkles and nakedness are your thing.’ He refrained from commenting that the cat reminded him of Sven.
Lisa huffed. ‘OK, I know I’m rushing things, but let’s see if we can recapture what we had.’ She gave him that bewitching lopsided smile. Kieran’s insides churned like a storm-tossed fishing boat. Damn it.
‘Why don’t we go to the wine bar and share a glass or two? Sven was so controlling about alcohol, but I’d like to get a little tipsy.’
‘Erm, what wine bar?’
‘Kieran,’ she said sadly, as if discovering Santa wasn’t real. ‘Doesn’t every place have a wine bar? You know, that serves wine – duh – and maybe tapas-style nibbles.’
Kieran followed Lisa as she headed downstairs. Prom sat on the bottom step, eyeing Lisa with disdain.
‘Get out of the way, you silly cat!’ Lisa skirted around him.
‘Cranley has a corner shop, a hairdresser, a café, a boutique and a pub.’ Kieran tried and failed to expand further on the village’s amenities.
Lisa halted. ‘When you said this place was sleepy, I didn’t know you meant halfway to a coma! I’d go bat-shit crazy living here. Sorry, that was rude. Obviously, when I left, you needed complete peace. I get it.’
‘The pub’s nice.’
‘Does it serve food and drink?’
‘That’s the general definition of a pub. The food’s amazing. There’s a newish chef, Beth, who’s really shaken things up, and—’
‘You had me at drink.’ Lisa grabbed Kieran’s hand and hauled him towards the door.
Inside The Jekyll and Hyde, heads turned. Not at Kieran. At Lisa – yoga-honed, Lycra-bright – moving through the room like an exotic bird that had escaped from an aviary.
‘Wow.’ Lisa inhaled and blew out through her nose. ‘This is … interesting.’
Interesting being code for so far out of Lisa’s comfort zone, she might need to apply some essential oils and chant a mantra or two.
‘Kieran!’ Ed clapped him on the back. ‘Good to see you, mate.’
Lisa smiled coquettishly, waiting for an introduction.
‘This is Lisa. Lisa, this is the pub’s landlord, Ed.’
Ed shook her hand. Kieran noted she looked distinctly miffed at the lack of the preface ‘my girlfriend’.
‘Welcome, Lisa. Good to see a new face here.’
‘Aye, and a bonny one at that,’ croaked Jimmy, clutching a double shot of whisky.
‘Eyes on the glass, not the—’ hissed Ed, as Jimmy tottered behind Lisa, staring appreciatively at her rear. ‘What can I get you, Lisa?’
‘Ooh, I would love a glass of rosé,’ said Lisa. ‘Or maybe a bottle? To share, of course. Do you have organic wines?’
Ed pursed his lips. ‘All our wines are ethically produced in a Highland commune where pesticides are banned, and the peasants crush the grapes with their bare feet.’
‘Really?’ Lisa clapped her hands in glee – until Ed and Kieran guffawed with laughter.
‘Oh, hilarious. Fine, we’ll have whatever you’ve got.’
A tray swept past with Beth behind it. Steam curled above the plates. Her apron strings were crossed neatly on her back. All as usual, except she didn’t look at him. Kieran felt the miss like a draught.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked Lisa, grabbing menus.
‘Do you know her?’ Lisa asked, watching Beth’s retreating shoulders.
‘That’s Beth, the chef.’ Friend? More? Stop it.
‘Let’s hope her food’s nicer than her miserable face,’ Lisa murmured, scanning the board. ‘Cute names, heavy on meat. “Killer Kedgeree” … promising.’
‘It’s great,’ Kieran said, and pushed down a memory: Beth on a stool, her voice low, speaking of otherworldly things. A conversation she’d shut down.
‘Don’t you get bored here?’ Lisa asked, tilting her head.
‘Boredom’s a mindset,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the app, the cottage, Prom. It’s enough.’
Lisa laughed. The sound, bright and jangling, bounced off the old wooden panels of The Jekyll and Hyde. ‘But you’re so talented. This place is for codgers and people who gave up. Look around, Kieran. Is this where you want to be?’
He looked. Ed and Angela were shoulder to shoulder in the slipstream, sneaking a quick cuddle. Rose was blethering to a couple in their eighties. Jimmy cradled his dram like a fragile artefact.
Warmth. Normality. Everyday life.
‘Right now, yes.’
Food arrived. Lisa dissected her fish, stole a forkful of his mac and cheese, declared the wine acceptable.
She talked thread count, organic vineyards, hygge.
He nodded, half-present, watching Beth glide from table to table, a quiet sun the room orbited.
When her path brought her near, he tried to catch her eye. She glanced away.
‘Sven was a mistake,’ Lisa said suddenly, snapping Kieran out of his reverie.
‘And you realised that when he cheated?’
A flicker of emotion crossed Lisa’s face. Whether it was hurt or anger he couldn’t tell. ‘I already knew. He doesn’t laugh. We used to, right? You and me.’
Did they? Lisa had tolerated his favourite comedy shows, not loved them. Maybe they’d laughed more at the start, before kale and mantras and everything else.
‘Listen, I’m only here two more days,’ she said, topping up their glasses. ‘Let’s see how this feels.’
Kieran looked at Beth again. She was smiling at a table of Americans, the smile reaching her eyes. When she finally met his gaze, something like sadness crossed her face, quick as a cloud. Then she turned away.
‘Let’s settle up,’ Lisa chirped, gathering her bag. ‘We can talk about ways to spruce up the cottage. Make it more homely and welcoming. It just needs a woman’s touch.’
They stepped into the evening light. Cranley wasn’t a wine bar and tapas place. It was something else. Maybe he’d been OK with something else, right up until he complicated it.
Have I just messed that up? he thought but didn’t say.
Prom would have answered. Prom always did.