Five
Thankfully, the next week passed by without any more McKenna drama and I decided to put the kiss down to the madness of the situation. As Mason had said, fighting riled him up and got his blood pumping, which was probably why he’d acted the way he had. Who knew anyway, I couldn’t read the guy on a good day. But for my own sanity and the fact that I had a boyfriend, I needed to shelve the reminder of how good it felt to have my enemy’s mouth on mine.
The gossip in the village was rife with news about Nixon’s return home, but so far, we hadn’t seen or heard anything from him. He was probably laying low and strategically plotting his next move. Where that family was concerned, it was all in the planning. They ran their lives with military precision and did not adopt the fools-rush-in approach as my family did. We were hotheads, what can you do?
I worked at Kipling’s Trekking and Riding Centre which I could walk to as I didn’t drive and had no intention of taking lessons. Dad bought me a Mini for my seventeenth birthday last year, an incentive to encourage me to learn, but it was still sitting in the courtyard in front of our house. Alex had a car, as did most of my friends and so I’d never seen the point. Lazy and ungracious of me I know.
Since that night in the pub with Mason and his brothers, Alex had been curiously distant. We hadn’t seen each other much, as he’d been busy looking after his mother who had cancer. He wasn’t ignoring me and always replied to my texts, but it was like something was suddenly missing and I didn’t understand what or why. The memory of returning Mason’s kiss also kept guilt-tripping me. Maybe I was the one acting weird?
On Friday morning whilst I was mucking out one of the stables, I’d received a text from Betty to say that a party had been arranged by Wesley Bronson, a boy who used to live in our village. It was taking place on Cromer Beach on Saturday and I instantly wanted to go. If there was one thing Wesley was good at, it was throwing a party. They were usually wild, and the fact that his father was well-in with the authorities, ensured that the police turned a blind eye if things got messy .
Betty had dated Wesley briefly. He was a nice-looking guy, hung like a donkey she’d said, but couldn’t be trusted. If there was a King of the Players, Wesley would be it. His friends were the same.
After scattering fresh straw into Star’s stable, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and withdrew my phone.
Bronson’s throwing a beach party in Cromer. Shall we go? I thumbed in the text to Alex, wondering if I’d get the cold shoulder. He wasn’t a great lover of parties; Alex could at times be socially awkward. I’d never understood why, as he was a great conversationalist; in small groups anyway. At times it felt like he was hiding part of himself.
The ‘Alex is typing icon’ appeared and I pursed my lips. I’d go with Betty if not. There was no way I was missing it. Anybody who’s anybody would be there.
Sure, what time shall I pick you up? Excitement ballooned in my chest. Finally, something to look forward to.
Our house had been doom-and-gloom for the past few weeks due to the Jenna and Nixon thing, and it had really ground me down. I needed a bit of adventure, some fun.
I replied with a smiley emoji and explained that I’d text him more details when Betty sent them to me.
I powered on and finished off Star’s stable. She was a beautiful palomino pony. Mrs Lonsdale who owned the stables had offered me the chance to ride her, but I had politely declined.
As a child, I had loved riding but I hadn’t been on a horse since the last time when I’d rode Mabel, a beautiful chestnut pony. I remember her bright red bridle like it was yesterday. She had been one of the McKenna’s new horses and things had ended badly. I had been twelve at the time and in the process of attempting to temporarily ‘borrow’ her; without permission. What can I say, as a child, I had been gutsy. Of course, Mason had been the one to catch me. He’d been eighteen and a man, fully developed and so very different to the tall gangly boy he’d been at fifteen.
Having been caught red-handed. The catastrophic results of my mischief would be ground into my memory for the rest of my life .
The Past
The hooves of the chestnut pony pounded in time with my heartbeat and I leaned further over her neck in order to remain seated. I was an experienced rider, but she was going a hell of a pace. This was my doing of course, I needed speed to outrun Mason, who was mounted on his father’s largest stallion, Shadow and was bearing down on me from behind like the devil himself. Horse and rider powered toward me and my heart thudded frantically in my chest. Mabel’s flanks were sweating as I spurned her on, attempting to make her go faster.
I was shitting myself; I’m not going to lie. I kept glancing behind me and the meanest McKenna just kept on gaining, his face murderous and I was terrified of being caught and the consequences of that.
I was attempting to steal his mother’s new horse at the end of the day. I was only doing it to mess with them though, I would have given her back. Although I severely doubted Mason would listen to reason. His face screamed that I was dead meat, which forced the panic I was feeling up to the next terrifying level.
At the end of the day, taking her had been easy . The McKenna family had lost their stables when a fire took their house a few months ago. All their horses were being temporarily housed in one of the paddocks or at Kipling’s, a local stable until everything was rebuilt. What could I say, it was an opportunity not to be missed.
The other horse’s hooves pounded closer behind me. I was toast and talking of fire, I think my pants were about to burst into flames.
I clung to the reins, keeping low over Mabel’s neck. Suddenly, the pony shunted forward, her hoof twisting and I almost fell off. I gripped part of her mane and rightened myself in the saddle.
The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion as Mason’s horse thundered alongside mine, and he expertly manoeuvred his mount next to Mabel. His strong denim-encased thighs squeezed his horse’s flanks and I tried to steer away but one of his huge arms circled my waist and dragged me off my ride. I lost the reins and grabbed at his arms, flailing, terrified of falling .
I was airborne, the two horses racing side by side and Mason slung me face down across the front of the horse, the pommel digging into my side and my stomach was slapped onto his hard thighs. I just dangled there, my hair swishing against the animal’s flanks. He was a huge beast, at least sixteen hands and jet black, hence his name.
My body jolted with the movement of the animal and there was a pounding in my ears which was in rhythm with the fall of the horse’s hooves.
One of Mason’s hands pushed into my back, trapping me there so I didn’t slide off. Thank God for small mercies, at least I wouldn’t fall and get trampled.
Mason slowed his mount, his voice calm but commanding as he instructed the stallion to slow up, tugging on the reins.
My tongue felt twice the size in my mouth and my hair was tangled. The magnificent animal reduced its speed to a trot as Mason steered it toward an area with a cluster of trees: the orchard our farm was named after.
I hadn’t managed to make it over the border onto my property and so I was still on McKenna land. If I had made it to the meadow and steered Mabel through the shallowest part of the river, I would have been free.
I attempted to raise my head but gravity wouldn’t allow it and so I twisted my neck sideways.
Bending his muscled neck, Shadow’s chocolate brown eyes faced me, and he chomped his bit, almost as if he was telling me off.
Panic beat in me like a drum. I was totally busted.
Wiggling against the saddle, I knew I needed to save face and try and appear brave, or Mason would eat me alive. All the McKenna boys fed of weakness.
I felt him dismount, jumping down from the horse, the noise of his booted feet hitting the ground, almost sealing my doom somehow. He then dragged me off Shadow’s back and I landed in a heap on the floor, close to the horse’s hooves. Thankfully they were now still.
A liquid burst of profanities left Mason’s mouth. He was fuming .
Shock, fear, and mortification seized me all at once. Pushing my hair back, I scowled up at him from my fallen, defeated position. My bottom smarted from my not-too-gentle landing.
Shoving my hair out of my eyes, my look should have said it all, but Mason wasn’t impressed. I was in the shit, big time!
He stood there, like a tower of muscle above me; so tall and strong now, his tanned face, dark and dangerous and wearing the scariest of looks. His legs were slightly apart and he’d planted his hands on his hips. His aggressive jawline was clenched hard.
That silence was terrifying and so I filled it quickly; my voice was a tremor of fear and panic.
“You could have killed me,” I yelled, struggling to my feet, shaking my hair from my face, and bushing myself down with my hands. My cotton shorts were baggy and had twisted to the side and the T-shirt I wore was bunched up. Straightening my clothing, I tried to buy myself more time. What would he do if I attempted to leg it? Probably rugby tackle me from behind, being the thug he was. I’d seen him undertake that move on his brothers.
Heat flared in his face like a storm warning, “You almost killed yourself, not to mention the fucking horse you silly little bitch,” Mason barked down at me, his eyes shooting daggers, I was sure I could feel them piercing my flesh, one by one. I had never seen him so angry.
I glanced away, searching for Mabel. She’d come to a standstill and was grazing near the meadow. That piece of land which our families had fought over for decades. Was she favouring one of her front legs, or was I imagining it?
“Well?” Mason growled. Waiting for an answer to who knew what?
“Well, what?” I shot back. I didn’t care how rude I sounded. The day when I was nice to this guy would never come.
“What the hell were you doing?”
I dashed a tear from my face as I squared up to him. He was huge, he’d filled out over the last few years and could probably squash me like a bug. At that point, I just wanted to be at home and safe. There was a definite dangerous vibe to him. Our clashes in the past had been more playful, with a youthful, cheeky feel. I now felt like a kid going up against a grown-up, like the age difference and physical changes had moved us further apart. Mason now looked more like a man than a boy. His voice had dropped to a throaty, rich rumble and when it was raised like it was then, it was rather terrifying.
I swallowed nervously, beating back my vulnerability, and hiding it behind a wall of surface angst, “It was a prank , I would have brought her back,” I said, defending my actions. Dropping my arms to my sides.
The heat in his eyes became more intense.
“She isn’t broken yet Amy, anything could have happened. As I said, your little stunt could have cost you your life and the horses.”
“I was fine, I can ride,” I bit back, folding my arms over my chest.
“I don’t know whether you’re just plain reckless or incredibly stupid. She could have thrown you. Is your position as the biggest pain in my arse more important than your fucking neck,” Mason growled, dropping his own arms, and fisting his hands by his sides. Boy, he was cross. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his teeth were clenched. He was fricking furious.
“Look, I’m sorry. OK. Are you happy now,” I replied, just blurting out what he wanted to hear to get him out of my face. He didn’t buy my poor attempt at an apology of course.
“Oh, I’m far from happy and you’re not sorry at all.”
“I am!” I replied, stomping my foot in frustration like the child I was.
The expression on his face changed suddenly, switching from dark to something else. Like he’d made some type of decision. It didn’t take long for me to learn what that was.
“You’re not sorry at all. But you’re bloody well going to be,” Mason said in a gruff voice.
I was helpless . Mason McKenna took one step forward, grabbed my scrawny arm and started to drag me over to the cluster of trees where there were a couple of broken logs. I struggled, trying to break away. I knew his intentions straight away. He was going to smack me .
If he hit me, I’d neve r forgive him.
Mason lowered his large body onto one of the logs and then bent me over his lap. My eyes were level with his boots and my bottom was high in the air, facing him. A perfect target.
I thrashed against his thighs, but he branded an arm flat over my back and I couldn’t move.
“Please don’t. I’ve said I’m sorry,” I cried, panicking, and attempting to wiggle my body free but it was impossible , there was no way I was moving until Mason decided to let me go.
I closed my eyes waiting for that first feel of Mason’s angry palm on my backside, but it never came.
After a moment of being held against my will, trapped across Mason’s lap, he lifted his hand and I slid from his thighs onto my knees before frantically pushing to my feet.
Mason stood and glared down at me and I launched myself at him. Hitting him squarely in the chest, my fists beating against him.
He warded off my blows easily. It was like hitting concrete.
“I hate you. I’m calling child services!” I cried.
He snorted, grabbing both my wrists, and stopping my flailing arms. “For what, I didn’t do anything although I should have smacked you senseless. You never fucking learn Amy. You’re lucky I’m not Mitchell. He would have belted the shit out of you.”
I stopped struggling and looked up into those dark features, suddenly feeling pity for him. I remembered how his dad used to beat him.
And then the waterworks came on and I lost control. Sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.
At first, he just stiffened as I wept against him.
Eventually, he released my wrists and put an arm around my back, patting it gently in a brotherly manner.
“Shush, stop. Amy. Calm down, please,” he said in an even tone, “Come on, you’ve had a scare. It’s over now. ”
He comforted me as an adult does a child. There was nothing in it. I felt safe and warm as he held me against his chest.
The Present
And that was the first and last time Mason McKenna was ever nice to me.
After that, things were never the same. I’d rode Mabel so hard, the impact from that had made her lame and she had to be put to sleep three days later.
I would never forgive myself for that. And neither would Mason.
Mason had treated me like an adult does a naughty child. Back then I had never thought of him as a man, at least, not an attractive one. When did things suddenly change? Sometime before the kiss, I would say. I pushed the memory of that away as it did all sorts of crazy to my insides.
I thought about how Mason had been with me in the pub and that strange sexual pull. It had come from nowhere . My head was now full of questions with the main one being; when did our relationship become an adult one? It was like that age gap had suddenly been swallowed up.
Yes, he was attractive and a good kisser but allowing anything like that to develop was up there with me taking a bullet. Why on earth would I ever want to torture myself with the nightmare that was Mason McKenna? So, he was good-looking with a super fit body, but he had severe social issues and treated me like shit most of the time. Getting involved with him would be glutton for punishment stuff, surely? My head was a jumble. I was obviously starved of attention or something, maybe sexually frustrated and it was giving me messed-up signals.
I needed Alex to finish what Mason had started.
As I finished off at work and walked home, I texted Betty. I needed to party and maybe find some sexual release. I must be desperate if I was having those types of thoughts about a man who had always been my arch-enemy. Maybe I just needed to rid myself of my V-card and hand it to Alex. Get rid of the thing. All my friends had had sex and I was like the sad little virgin. I wasn’t saving myself or any of that sappy shit, I just hadn’t had the opportunity or encouragement. Alex was a bit of a square and the other boy I had dated had attempted to suffocate me with his tongue. A total turn-off.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I needed to partake in some experimentation and I had the perfect boyfriend to do that with. So far, we had only kissed, Alex hadn’t really tried anything else and although inexperienced myself, I knew enough. I was a strong, confident female and there was nothing wrong with making the first move. The kisses I had shared with Alex, were nothing like the one with Mason. His was more like a sensual attack.
Thoughts on what to wear started to circle my thoughts. I had to look my best and would go all-out flirt mode.
I was a Taylor-Joy, Alex wouldn’t be able to resist me. No man would.
*****
The day of the beach party arrived and I popped my head around Jenna’s door to ask if she wanted to go, but she wasn’t in her room. I wasn’t stupid, she was probably out with Nixon.
After what Mason had said in the pub, I’d decided to take a step back. Jenna was delicate, but she wasn’t a fool; once the novelty had worn off, Nixon’s selfish side would resurface. Their relationship was a ticking time bomb. It was just a matter of playing the waiting game. It would blow up again. That’s what happened when you put two people together that are wrong for each other.
I just hoped Jenna dealt with it better this time, but at the end of the day, if I needed to step in at some point. I would.
I’d chosen to wear my silver bikini, under a blue Levi denim skirt and a white tank top. It was my most daring and skimpiest piece of swimwear. But I needed to bring out the big guns if I was going to entice Alex. He hadn’t been the most passionate when we’d kissed, and I needed to encourage him to step it up a notch. I refused to compare him to the madness that was Mason’s mouth, and I didn’t mind taking control, but it would be nice if he met me halfway. Alex was probably just nervous and a virgin like me. Nothing like Mason, who had probably slept with most of the girls in the village.
The party was due to start at ten that morning. There would be volleyball and other games, the usual burger vans, and plenty of booze. I’d teethed a bottle of wine from our cellar and a couple of beers for Alex. He was driving and so wouldn’t be able to drink much.
We spoke about numerous subjects on the way over but mainly about his mother’s health, which was rapidly deteriorating. I decided that this was probably why he had been so withdrawn lately and I offered him a sympathetic ear.
Alex looked nice in beige chino shorts and a black tee. If he thought I looked good, he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t check out my legs which was a surprise, considering how short my skirt was, my thighs were almost on show.
I had pulled my long hair up into a ponytail and left my face free of makeup. I wouldn’t catch the sun if I was caked in it.
As we pulled up into the car park where the South Shore was, there were already a variety of cars parked and a few people in the process of unpacking camping chairs and iceboxes.
Climbing out of the Volvo, Alex and I walked toward the back of the car to collect our stuff from the boot. We had a camping chair each this time. Last year I’d sat on a blanket for most of the day and the next morning I couldn’t feel my arse. There was nothing worse than a numb bum.
The sun was strong on my skin and I cursed the fact that I’d forgotten my sun hat. I wasn’t overly pale but I didn’t do well in hot weather. Maybe I could fashion something from my tank top?
There was a definite party vibe in the air and I could hear music filtering up over the sand dunes that sat in front of the car park, blocking our view of the beach and the sea.
Seagulls screeched around us, like white dots against the bright blue sky and I could smell seaweed and salt from the ocean. The sound of the waves licking the sand in the distance was welcoming. The sun was fierce and I loved how it felt against my face .
Carrying our chairs, a spare blanket and a carrier bag of drinks, Alex and I made our way over the dunes, the sand was gritty and bled into my sandals and in between my toes.
As we passed over the peak of the last dune, the party revealed itself. This was usually a quiet part of the beach, but not today. Today, it was party time .
The tide wasn’t all the way out, but there was still a large area of beach which was covered with pockets of people. A volleyball match was in full flow and there was a handful of guys and girls in the sea, but most of the partygoers were sat in groups, drinking, and chatting.
Laughter, music, and chit-chat hit my ears and I grinned, waving at Betty when I spotted her. She was wet and had just come in from the sea. She looked stunning in her black swimsuit. Her brown hair was tied into a bun at her nape.
She motioned us over to join her group.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” she chirped as she helped me open my camp chair.
“We thought it started at ten,” Alex replied, rolling out our blanket and setting up his own seat.
“It did, but I think quite a few people got here earlier to get a space,” James, Betty’s boyfriend put in, raising from his seat, and handing me a cold beer from the cooler by his feet. I smiled my thanks. “Anything for you Alex?”
Alex also took a cold one and thanked him as we settled ourselves. James Lyons was one of the good guys. He and Betty had been going out for almost eight months now, they were pretty much married off.
We set ourselves up so we sat in a circle with our stuff shoved into the middle. There were bags, iceboxes with beers and red solo cups scattered across the sand. A beach ball which was partly deflated, had been disregarded and was resting in between a couple of half-attempted sandcastles.
I shuffled into my seat as we all greeted each other.
There were three couples in our group, so six of us in total.
Betty and James, Alex and I and Rachel, a girl I used to go to school with. She introduced her boyfriend as Chris. I assumed this would have been the Chris who’d attended the fight at Mason’s house. He seemed OK. Fairly quiet. His hair was white blonde as were his eyebrows and eyelashes. I sure hoped he had sunblock on, he was the whitest boy I’d ever seen. He also wasn’t that large and I certainly couldn’t imagine him getting in the ring. Maybe he was one of those boys that just like to watch the sport. If you could call it that.
I glanced around the beach; the music was pumping and there was an elevated atmosphere. You could hear the consistent thud from the volleyball which was being played by a group of lads I recognised, but didn’t know that well. Wesley appeared to be keeping score. He had a beer in his hand which he raised to acknowledge me as our eyes met. A girl with black hair was practically draped over him as he stood there, his feet sunk into the sand. Most of the boys were shirtless and wearing board shorts, but a few had T-shirts or tank tops on. I lowered my sunglasses from my head to my eyes so I can have a sly ogle at the sea of naked bods surrounding me.
There must have been around ten different clusters of people with others scattered around the beach. There were also now several girls in the water, and I silently congratulated them on how brave there were. There was no way I was going in there until the sun had more time to warm the sea. The coast of Norfolk could be chilly, even in the summer.
An Ed Sheeran song I liked was playing, and I removed my sandals and pushed my feet into the warm sand.
And then, Betty decided to sour my mood.
“So, what’s the latest with the Nix and Jen saga?” she questioned as she took a sip of her wine. I too had brought wine, but I wasn’t starting out on the heavy stuff too early or I’d be wrecked before lunchtime. Betty could have a skin full and be fine, usually.
I released the sigh of all sighs. “Do we have to talk about it?”
Betty grimaced, her nose wrinkling. “Why not, everyone else is.”
My eyes narrowed and I shifted in my seat, suddenly feeling stiff. “Really?”
Betty and James shot each other a look. “Yes, really. You know they’ve been seen together, right?”
She spoke to me like I was thick, and it annoyed me. Betty knew Nixon wasn’t a subject I liked to discuss and the fact that she had brought him up in front of people who were almost strangers, added an extra punch to my mood .
Crossing my legs, I cleared my throat, my eyes flittering briefly to Rachel and Chris. “No, but I had my suspicions that she’s been sneaking out,” I replied truthfully.
“I saw them in the village the other night,” Alex put in from beside me.
“And you didn’t say anything?” I questioned, darting him a hard look.
He shrugged, “You said you’d decided not to get involved this time.”
He had a point of course.
Betty knocked back another glass of wine, drinking it like it was water. “Sounds like they’re quite tight again.” She pointed out, lowering her voice.
Rolling my shoulders, I hooked my chin her way. “Well, she hasn’t said anything to me.”
An awkward silence stretched between us. Rachel had a bland expression but Chris was now listening intently.
“Do you think she’ll go back to him?” Betty questioned with a flip of her head.
Pursing my lips, I replied. “It’s inevitable, unfortunately. But it won’t last.”
If you would have heard the strength of my tone, you’d have believed it. I spoke the truth after all. Nixon and Jenna would never work.
Betty was unconvinced. “Really? What makes you so sure?” She had always been the sceptical one.
I released a tired grunt. “Because Nixon is a controlling, overbearing toad . All the McKenna boys are the same. Well, apart from Seth, but that’s only because his twat genes haven’t fully developed yet.”
Rachel suddenly looked uncomfortable and she shuffled forward to grab another beer from James’s cooler. Alex sat in silence, occasionally checking his phone. I knew he didn’t like to speak about the McKenna family, especially after what had happened in the pub. The whole situation had seemed to significantly ruffle him for some reason.
Suddenly Chris decided to butt in. “Are you talking about Mason McKenna’s family?” he questioned, leaning forward. He spoke his name like Mason was some type of fucking celebrity and it needled me.
“The very same, why?” I replied in a fake bored voice .
“I heard that the Taylor-Joy family burned down their house.” Ah, we hadn’t exchanged second names when we’d been introduced. Oops. The tool had no idea who I was.
His statement set a proper cat amongst the pigeons as everyone eyed each other in shock. Rachel cleared her throat nervously, her shrewd eyes roaming over my face with a silent apology.
Betty beat her to a reply. “Did we not introduce you properly earlier, Chris? Meet Amy, Amy Taylor-Joy ,” she said with a cheeky grin. Betty loved fucking with people.
I didn’t believe it possible, but Chris went even paler and I smiled, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, even after his man-envy of Mason.
“It’s fine. My family had nothing to do with the fire. It was all investigated,” I replied in a cool voice, even though my skin was burning from the sun. I finished my beer and placed the bottle on the sand by my feet. James threw me another. We had contributed to the booze, but our beer and my white wine were not quite cold enough.
Everyone then started talking about the fire and how it had escalated. Luckily no one had been hurt, although Nixon had suffered some smoke lung damage, having gone back into the property to save their parrot, Frank. God rest his soul; he was dead now but from old age not from being burned alive.
Frank’s cage used to be set out on their porch and when I’d sneak under the house, I’d feed him swear words and mean things to say about Mason. I’m still certain I took the credit for teaching him ‘Mason’s a cock.’ Funny.
Betty and I went for a paddle in the sea a couple of times, and I could feel all-eyes-on-us as we waded in there in our scanty swimwear. A couple of the boys playing volleyball even stopped to shout suggestive comments. I lapped up the attention. There had been a serious compliments drought recently, even from Alex. And that moment with Mason didn’t count. He had been that fired up that evening, he’d probably have shagged anything . I didn’t take him kissing me or inviting me back to his bedroom as a compliment.
Talking of Alex, he’d been quiet and not his usual jokey self. I’d touched his knee a couple of times and managed to get him in the sea once, but he didn’t make any moves. I felt disappointed .
Later, during the afternoon when the sun was really beating down on us, Betty and James shared a kiss or two and I felt a yearning for some passion of my own. Maybe Alex and I could go for a walk. They had wooden beach huts which people rented a bit further up the coast where the burger vans were. Maybe we’d have some privacy there. I shook off the tacky thought. Snogging in public was so not me.
I was just about to suggest we go get food, but Alex got pulled in for a game of volleyball as they were a player down. I eyed his back moodily, suddenly feeling rejected.
The rest of the day went by at a snail’s pace, which wasn’t a bad thing. I still enjoyed myself, and being surrounded by my friends was always a pick-me-up, but I still missed some romantic action. The sun had started to set and Alex opened my bottle of wine and filled a solo cup. He’d been messaging on his phone quite a bit and I started feeling paranoid that he was texting another girl.
Rachel was sitting on Chris’s lap. His mouth appeared to have been oiled by the booze and he was now Mr Talkative. I found his monotone voice annoying.
The wine was delicious and added to my buzz. What I wasn’t aware of at that point, was that the relaxed atmosphere was about to be taken away.