Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘Beth’s got a date! Beth’s got a date!’ Gigi chanted like a naughty schoolboy, twirling a moustache he’d never sported before.
‘Oh, shut up,’ she retorted. ‘It’s just dinner at his cottage. No big deal.’
Gigi pursed his lips. ‘Hmm. Dinner with a man at his place. Isn’t that the definition of a date? And weren’t you supposed to ask him out?’
‘I never said that! Wait— Diana told me to ask Kieran out, which means…’ Beth scowled at Gigi, who adopted a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression.
‘Sorry, not sorry.’ He giggled. ‘It’s just too much fun tuning into your life, even the boring bits. And there are lots of those.’
Beth huffed out an exasperated breath. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s boring that Kieran had a dream where the Cranley genie posse spoke to him. What do you make of that, oh wise one?’
Gigi frowned, giving his moustache another twirl. ‘This ridiculous thing’ – he whipped out the WIFI gizmo – ‘has been flashing like an overexcited traffic light for days. I think it’s picking up some kind of signal within the village. Or it needs new batteries.’
Beth doubted a genie’s wish-giving wand required AAs but hadn’t the energy to discuss it.‘Right, I’m off,’ she said. ‘Please behave yourself. Poor Jimmy nearly had a heart attack when he played you the other day.’
‘Pah, not my fault. It was only a teeny tiny electric shock. Serves him right for spilling whisky on me.’
As Beth headed to Kieran’s cottage, she remembered how Gigi had granted her the wish of courage. Without needing to play pinball, but he made the rules. ‘It’s like The Wizard of Oz,’ she mused. ‘The Cowardly Lion got courage, the Tin Man a heart, and the Scarecrow a brain.’
Except they already possessed those things. They just didn’t know it.
‘Hi, and welcome to my humble abode.’ Kieran beamed, taking Beth’s jacket and pecking her on the cheek.
Courage.
Beth manoeuvred until their lips met and they kissed properly.
‘Wow.’ Kieran stepped back, his smile even wider than before. ‘I may need a cold shower now.’
‘Not until you feed me,’ said Beth, sniffing the air. ‘Something smells good.’ She bent down to stroke Prom, who’d sauntered into the hallway.
‘Alas, the cottage is more eau de damp, and Prom isn’t necessarily the most fragrant puss on the planet.’
As if wounded by the words, Prom strutted off.
Beth slumped on the sofa. ‘What’s on the menu?’
Kieran looked sheepish. ‘Mince and tatties.’
‘A true Scottish classic.’ Beth’s stomach growled. ‘Sorry, forgot to have lunch. Or breakfast.’
Seated at the tiny table in Kieran’s kitchen, Beth’s mouth watered at the steaming pan of seasoned mince, topped with fluffy dumplings and awaiting a side of buttery mash.
‘If Rose ever gets sick, you can stand in,’ she said when Kieran served up the food.
Kieran topped up her glass of red. ‘This is one of three recipes my mum taught me. The other two are spaghetti bolognese and beef stew. So I’m glad you’re not vegetarian.’
They chatted easily. About Kieran’s app, Beth’s best friend Diana, Charlie’s daily message updates on baby Ellie.
‘He sends pictures,’ said Kieran. ‘Gross ones. Poop and stuff. Oh, sorry – probably not the best dinner-table conversation.’
Beth steadied her breath. Talk of babies wouldn’t freak her out. She inhaled her new-found courage and embraced the here and now. With Kieran, in his cottage, which…
‘Doesn’t your cottage have a name?’
‘Is it illegal not to?’
Beth laughed. ‘No, but a place like this deserves a name. Not a number.’
‘Won’t that confuse the postman or woman? If I go from being number six to The Wee Scruffy Hoose?’
‘My place was – is – called Bilberry Cottage.’
‘Nice name. Although I have no idea what bilberries are. Would you like to name this place?’
Beth pretended to ponder the question. Then she leant in for a kiss. A mince-and-tatties flavoured kiss. ‘Let me think about it.’
Kieran cleared up, shooing Beth into the living room with a mug of coffee and a box of chocolates. She nudged a snoozing Prom to one side, and he crept onto her lap.
Cottage names ran through her head. She leaned back, feeling cosy and safe. Where she wanted to be, with someone who made her feel … what?
Don’t over analyse, Bethikins.
‘I’m not,’ she murmured sleepily.
Prom purred. Beth drifted off, into that state between wakefulness and sleep. Until…
Kieran’s voice. In the kitchen, talking low, as if he was on the phone and didn’t want to disturb her. ‘I don’t want to mess it up this time.’
She leaned forward and picked up the cooling mug.
‘No, not like with Lisa. I just… I know what I want more now.’
A faint murmur from the other voice, too quiet for her to make out.
‘I want something steady. Not chaos, not drama. I want a proper life, mate. Like you.’
Beth sensed rather than knew he was talking to Charlie. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘A home. A future. I want kids one day, a proper life … a family. But it’s complicated.’
The world tilted on its axis. Beth placed the mug on the table with a shaking hand.
Kieran gave a small, breathless laugh. ‘Yeah, I know. Shocks me, too.’
Beth stuck her fingers in her ears like a child. Like a child.
Her body made the decision before her mind. Carefully, she tiptoed into the hallway. Found her jacket, slipped out.
On the street, she fought back tears. For what she’d already lost. For what might have been.
She waited for a whispered word of comfort from Gigi.
Silence.
Courage. Well, she’d shown a distinct lack of it there. Instead of staying and confronting Kieran, she’d once again bolted like a startled horse.
Stumbling towards the pub, she remembered a ceramic heart Diana had given her one birthday. It had hung in Bilberry Cottage once: now it was probably lost.
‘Courage is the small, stubborn light inside you that whispers not yet when the world says enough.’
‘Not ever,’ Beth muttered, and flung up her head. Much as she wanted to throw herself onto her bed and howl like a banshee, she had work to do.
She glowered at the pinball machine, ignored the customers and stomped into the kitchen.
She was reorganising the cutlery drawer for the umpteenth time when Kieran appeared. She kept her head down. Rose, who’d been making a bechamel sauce, slunk off.
‘Are you OK?’ Kieran asked gently.
‘Fine.’ She tossed a pile of forks into their compartment with a satisfying clatter.
He stepped forward, grabbed spoons and mimicked Beth’s action. ‘You took off without saying goodbye. And I had cherry cheesecake for dessert. Which I also made myself, with a little help from Nigella.’
‘Nigella Lawson works for you, does she? Impressive.’ She hated her snarky tone. Hated how her heart pounded when Kieran was inches away.
‘Gordon Ramsay turned me down. Beth, look at me, please.’
Beth looked at him. Silence stretched between them. She felt sick, stomach churning, mince and tatties threatening to make a reappearance.
He shifted closer. Not touching. ‘Did I … do something?’
Beth swallowed. The drawer slid shut with a soft, final click. ‘No.’
A big, fat lie.
Kieran watched her for a long moment. Beth kept her gaze steady, unblinking. She wouldn’t cry. Courage.
‘Right,’ he said eventually, his voice gentle but confused. ‘I’ll … get out of your way.’
She heard his footsteps leave the kitchen. Her breath shuddered out, leaving her feeling hollow inside.
That night, alone in her room, Beth lay staring at the ceiling.
Kids. A proper life. A family.
She curled up, fists tucked under her chin. ‘But I can’t give you that,’ she whispered into her pillow. ‘Maybe you need to find someone who can. I’m so sorry.’
Downstairs, deep inside the pinball machine, something stirred.
But Beth didn’t hear it. She heard nothing but the sound of her own sobs filling the room.