Chapter 11
Back at the house, Vee kicked off her trainers and headed for the stairs.
Rick watched her go up with mixed feelings.
The suggestion that she might want to come to the pub with him had been a spur-of-the-moment one.
He was half-disappointed not to be able to introduce her to his friends but also somewhat relieved that they were going to have a break from each other.
The last two days at Dragonfly Cottage and their evenings together had been intense.
It had been a long time since Rick had spent so much time alone with another person.
His marriage break-up had left him vulnerable and reluctant to form close friendships with women, although he’d thought for a while that he and the Reverend Bev could have something going for them.
She was a great character, and they’d seemed on the same wavelength, but it turned out that she was still emotionally bruised from a disastrous marriage of her own and wasn’t anywhere near ready for another relationship. Neither was he, for that matter.
Rick was glad they’d found this out about each other before they got in any deeper.
He was well aware that some people in the village saw him as a kind of lothario, footloose and fancy free and a bit too ready with the flirtatious chit-chat.
This was very far from the truth, but he’d built up that image for himself, along with the blond hair, muscles and tan, so he couldn’t complain.
After the mutual non-starter with Bev, he’d been sure that he wasn’t any readier than she was for a new relationship, but being in close proximity with beautiful Vee was making Rick unsettled and full of an uncomfortable longing to get to know her better.
He ambled into the kitchen and got himself a beer from the fridge, flipping the cap off and draining half of it in one go.
It was thirsty work gutting a house and the weather had been getting gradually warmer all day.
The early-evening sunshine was flooding the room with an almost ethereal glow, lighting up the jewel-coloured tiles that he’d lovingly installed around the worktops and casting beams of sunlight across the floor.
Reflecting idly on how long it would take to get to the stage of making a proper kitchen like this one in Dragonfly Cottage, Rick’s thoughts swung back to Vee, and he sighed.
Even though they’d got off to a bad start they were on an even keel now, but it was absolutely no good getting any kind of ideas about her.
The past was there between them all the time, huge and daunting, even if she didn’t yet realise it.
She would though, and when Vee began to remember who Rick really was, their paths would be bound to diverge very quickly.
It had been a nasty moment when Beryl had called him Ricardo, which had been his nickname back then.
Not many locals had known him as that, which was lucky.
Ricardo had enjoyed graffiti and had become quite a dab hand with the spray can.
What he’d seen as his physical deficiencies in those days – a tendency to spots, greasy dark hair, a lot of excess weight and painful shyness – had all seemed unimportant when he was creating his artwork around the more run-down areas of the nearby town of Meadowthorpe.
Rick’s graffiti hadn’t been of the traditional kind.
He’d had no tag and no desire to put a name to his art, just an overwhelming urge to make his mark in as dramatic a way as possible.
He’d focused on derelict buildings, creating wild landscapes at great speed in vibrant greens and blues.
Rick worked alone, and even his closest friends didn’t know how he spent his time after dark, through the small hours of the night.
He’d never been caught, he was too savvy for that, but after a while the novelty had worn off, and that’s when he’d joined the Vipers, a gang that changed his life in a very bad way.
The beer was soon finished, and Rick decided to have a quick shower and head to the pub. He could eat there and that would leave the coast clear for his lodger to have a long soak in the bath.
‘Are you okay to get yourself something to eat, Vee?’ Rick called, when he reached the top of the stairs. ‘There’s plenty of bread and you’ll find everything else you need in the fridge if you’re making a sandwich.’
He stepped back as Vee opened the door suddenly. She was wearing her dressing gown, and his feverish imagination told him she probably had nothing on underneath it. He wrenched his gaze away. ‘I’m just going for a shower and then I’ll be out of your way,’ he mumbled.
‘Don’t be silly, it’s your house. And yes, I’ll have a cheese toastie after my bath. I’m too grubby to eat yet, but there’s no rush.’
She retreated into her room and Rick swallowed hard.
He was worse than a teenager, thinking steamy thoughts about the woman in the spare bedroom.
Stripping off his dirty clothes in the bathroom, he made himself have a cold shower for at least two minutes before he turned the dial to warm.
That should do it. No more smutty thoughts.
Tonight was for nice innocent card playing.
The volume of chatter seemed unusually loud to Rick as he entered the Fox and Fiddle half an hour later, after a brisk walk through the village and a jog across the green.
He’d been ravenously hungry after his shower but determined not to start snacking before he left the house.
The obvious ways he’d shifted the pounds when he’d taken stock of his life were exercise and less food.
He’d enrolled in a gym, started running and totally reorganised his eating habits.
It hadn’t been easy, but Rick had always been up for a challenge.
His skin improved gradually, the weight dropped off him and he’d treated himself to his new hair colour when he’d begun to feel better about himself.
‘Over here, mate,’ a voice called as Rick headed for the bar. He turned to see his friend Sam already settled at their favourite table near the biggest window overlooking the village green, where either side of a temporary net, a game of volleyball was already in progress.
‘I’ll get the drinks in,’ called Rick. ‘Are you eating here?’
Sam gave him a thumbs-up. ‘I am, steak pie and chips ordered already. I’ve got a babysitter for Elsie tonight so I’m making the most of it. And another pint of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord would be great. The first one hardly touched the sides.’
Rick ordered two beers and added a chicken salad for himself to his tab.
He was well aware that over the last two days, his eating habits had reverted to those he’d slipped into after his divorce.
The takeaway with Vee had been necessary after all their hard work.
There was no point in stressing that he was going to put on weight again because he’d had plenty of exercise in the cottage, just as he had when doing his own house up, but it was time to get a grip.
‘Right, are you ready to annihilate the opposition tonight, partner?’ said Sam as Rick set two pints down on the table and tried not to think about his rumbling stomach.
The two of them had played solo whist together on several occasions since Ned, the landlord of the Fox and Fiddle, had introduced games night.
They made a good-looking pair and always turned a few heads.
Sam was as blond as Rick, but his hair was a naturally golden tumble of curls.
Many of the women who frequented the pub had been impressed by his charm.
Unfortunately for them, although Sam was a single parent, his dalliance with the female sex had been a brief blip in his teens.
His priority was his young daughter, Elsie, but Sam’s other passion was called Luka, and he was currently away at university.
‘How’s the love of your life these days?’ Rick asked, taking a sip of his beer. ‘Still living it large on the campus?’
Sam pulled a face. ‘A bit too large, if you ask me,’ he said sadly. ‘Luka adores student life. He was meant to be coming home this weekend, but something came up. The mind boggles.’
‘Try not to worry, it’s you who’s got his heart. He’s just…’
‘Young?’ Sam said, forcing a smile for the girl who was delivering his pie.
She gave him a broad wink, which he didn’t even notice.
Sam peered down at the plate as if he’d never seen food before.
‘I’m even losing my appetite,’ he whispered, so that the girl wouldn’t overhear him as she walked away. ‘I don’t want this really.’
‘Well, you’d better hurry up and change your mind or I’ll eat it,’ said Rick, looking enviously at the pile of crisp golden chips. ‘I’m having a salad. Want to swap?’
Sam picked up his knife and fork and set to with more enthusiasm. ‘I hate bloody salad,’ he said. ‘I’m always telling Elsie how good it is for her, but I don’t really believe it. My mum used to make me have lettuce sandwiches for my school lunch. I’ve been scarred for life.’
‘Just lettuce? Are you sure?’
‘Well, she swears blind there were other things in there too, but I can’t remember them. Oh, here’s yours coming over. That’s the one good thing about lettuce. You don’t have to cook it, so it’s quick.’
The girl was back. This time she aimed her wink at Rick, and he grinned back, glad he wasn’t totally invisible next to the glorious beauty of Sam.
They ate in silence as the jukebox pumped out tracks selected by three women who were clearly out to drink as much as possible before happy hour ended.
When ‘I Will Survive’ came on, they all punched the air and danced.
‘I reckon they’re celebrating someone’s divorce,’ said Sam, laughing.