Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘The woman is a legend.’
‘Lisa?’
‘No! I’m talking about Beth.’
Kieran stuck his tongue out at his friend. They’d arranged to FaceTime whilst Heather was out with Jacob. Lisa was in the bedroom, plugged into a meditation app for the next hour.
‘Ah,’ said Charlie, waggling his eyebrows. ‘Would that be pub chef Beth, who you dismissed as a possible love interest?’
‘I didn’t dismiss her. I just didn’t—’
‘You said there was nothing to tell. Now she’s a “legend”’ – Charlie did annoying air quotes – ‘so please, expand.’
Kieran rubbed his forehead. He’d told Charlie about Lisa’s unexpected reappearance earlier in the call. To Charlie’s credit, he hadn’t mocked him. Yet.
‘The village flooded last night. People took shelter in the pub. Beth kept everyone fed, calm, organised – like she’d trained for crisis management.’
Charlie nodded gravely. ‘Very wise. If I were up to my neck in water, I’d head straight to the pub too. I’d head there right now, if I weren’t trapped with this one.’ He tilted the camera towards Ellie, sleeping angelically in her crib.
‘She’s cute,’ said Kieran.
‘She’s an energy vampire,’ said Charlie. ‘Love her, but she feeds on my will to live.’
‘Are you breastfeeding her personally?’
‘With my hairy chest? I don’t think so. Now stop deflecting and tell me exactly how Beth earned “legend” status.’
Kieran told him. The blackout, the candles, the calm. The way Beth had joked with drenched villagers while handing out mugs of soup. ‘She’s got this presence. It’s hard to explain. Just … something magical.’
Charlie grinned. ‘She’s bewitched you, mate. And Lisa?’
‘Complained a lot, then fell asleep.’
Back at the cottage, Lisa had moaned nonstop about her ordeal and demanded he order a dehumidifier immediately. She’d then spent an hour straightening her hair and another gossiping on the phone. Kieran had caught snippets: “nightmare”, “yokels”, “cheap plonk.”
‘I don’t get it,’ said Charlie. ‘She dumped you for Yoga Ken, and the moment he cheats, she’s back like a rash.’
Kieran fiddled with the strap of his watch, which his parents had given him on his twenty-first. ‘Yeah, well. She’s not a bad person, just a bit…’
‘Flaky? Self-absorbed? Full of shit?’
‘Don’t hold back, Charlie.’ Kieran felt he should defend Lisa – she had been his girlfriend for three years – but the words didn’t come.
‘I won’t. You’re too polite. Be honest with yourself.’
Ellie stirred. Charlie grimaced. ‘Speak of the devil – and she’s filled her nappy. Seriously, mate, be careful. Lisa’ll suck the joy right out of you. Clear your head and think about what you want, not the tantric crap she sold you last time.’
‘Just because she likes to shower before and after sex, that doesn’t make her evil.’
‘It makes her weird. Anyway, I’ve got a code brown to deal with. Keep me posted, especially about Beth. Something’s cooking there.’
Grimacing at Charlie’s cooking pun, Kieran returned to his app. Little by little, it was looking more functional. Like something people might pay for. Use, in fact. Which was the whole point. Why create something that floated quietly in an ocean of apps when it needed to stand out?
Beth stands out.
Kieran froze. Then he looked round the room for the source of the voice. As before, there was nothing.
‘Go away,’ he muttered.
Prom paused mid-groom, tail twitching.
‘Embrace the present,’ said the same silky voice, ‘and stop dwelling on the past.’
Kieran blinked and stared at the cat. ‘Did you just…?’
Prom stared back, unblinking.
He remembered that night at the pub: the voice whispering in his mind.
‘This is not real. I need air,’ he said, grabbing his trainers.
Outside, Cranley glistened. The storm had scrubbed everything clean. Branches littered the pavements, flower tubs sat askew, but the air tasted fresh, sharp with petrichor.
He ran past Jo’s café and she waved at him, scarf flapping. Past cottages drying out, the villagers sweeping debris.
Each stride loosened something. The memory of Beth’s calm during the chaos replayed in his head: her laugh, her steady hands, her refusal to panic. She’s different, he thought. She makes the noise in my head quiet.
The stream beside the road had swollen into a fast, muddy ribbon. He paused to catch his breath, staring into its restless churn. Maybe he was running from Lisa. Maybe from himself.
‘You think too much,’ came the voice again – amused, musical.
Kieran stiffened.
‘You really ought to relax. All that brooding’s bad for the complexion.’
‘You’re not real,’ he whispered.
‘If that helps you sleep,’ said the voice, fading like the last pluck of a harp string.
He blew out a shaky laugh and started running again. Maybe I need to see a doctor, he thought again, but there was something oddly comforting in that unseen presence. Mischievous, but not unkind.
By the time he reached the ridge, the clouds had broken. Sunlight spilled over Cranley, turning the wet rooftops to gold. The Jekyll and Hyde stood proud at its heart, white walls gleaming. A tug in his chest pulled him towards the pub. Towards her.
He hesitated, then ran downhill.
Beth was back in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, laughter rising above the clatter of plates. The lunchtime rush was ebbing. She’d been up since dawn, helping organise meals for families hit by flooding. Her hair was in a messy bun; flour streaked her cheek.
She heard a knock at the back door and opened it to the welcome sight of Kieran.
‘You going to lurk there all day or come in and eat something?’ she said with a smile.
He grinned. ‘That’s an offer I can’t refuse.’
Beth ushered him in. ‘Come on, I’ve got a ton of leftovers. Be my taste tester.’
‘Best offer I’ve had all week.’
He stepped into the warmth. The kitchen smelt of pastry and rosemary. They sat at the prep table, sharing pie and chips. The silence between them was comfortable, companionable.
‘So,’ Beth said eventually, ‘how’s the cottage? Still got your guest?’
‘Yup,’ he said, grimacing. ‘Lisa’s fine. Just … not really fitting in. Or maybe I’m not.’
‘She didn’t strike me as the Cranley type. Or the you type.’
‘Understatement of the year.’
Beth smiled. ‘Are you getting back together?’
He shook his head. ‘She wants to. But she wants the version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.’
‘Good,’ Beth said softly. ‘You deserve to be happy as you are.’
Something flickered between them – a pause, heavy and fragile. Kieran wanted to reach for her hand, but before he could, Angela burst in. ‘Oops, sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.’
‘You’re not,’ Beth said quickly. ‘What’s up?’
‘Jinnie’s poorly, Ed’s out, and I’ve got a dental appointment. Can you look after Ruairi for an hour?’
Beth looked at Kieran, a spark of panic in her eyes. Then it vanished, replaced by an expression of resolve. ‘Of course. Bring him here.’
A few minutes later, Ruairi was snoozing in his car seat in the corner. Angela blew kisses, promised chocolate as thanks, and dashed off.
‘He’s a cutie,’ said Kieran, watching the baby wriggle in his sleep.
‘They all are,’ said Beth, stacking plates.
‘My mate Charlie’s just had another one. Ellie. He’s exhausted but happy.’
Ruairi whimpered. Beth unbuckled him, pressing him gently to her chest. ‘There, there,’ she murmured, swaying instinctively.
‘You’re a natural,’ Kieran said quietly.
Beth gave a small, shy laugh. ‘Hardly.’
‘How’s Charlie coping with a newborn?’
‘Fine. Ellie was two weeks late, but healthy.’
‘Some babies never arrive at all,’ Beth whispered.
The words hung in the air like smoke. She turned away sharply, her chin on Ruairi’s soft hair.
‘I should go,’ Kieran said, his voice low. He didn’t want to leave, but something in her tone told him this was dangerous territory.
‘Sure,’ said Beth, managing a faint smile. ‘Good to see you, Kieran.’
Outside, the air was warm again, the world deceptively calm. He jogged home slowly, thoughts tangled. Lisa. The voice in his head. Beth.
It’s just the aftermath of the storm, he told himself. That’s all.
But as he ran, the quiet inside him felt fragile. As if the storm hadn’t ended but gone underground, waiting to rise again.