Chapter 15
And that was how Alyssa came to be at The Rat and Raspberry on a Saturday night, ordering a quick pie and chips on her way home, praying no one would disturb her.
It was as good a place as any to lick her wounds after an awful day.
She didn’t often have as much as her one drink limit these days, but her nerves needed the cold comfort of a rhubarb gin – and with the added foliage, it would probably count as one of her five a day.
One speedy drink and a bite to eat and she’d be on her way. If she pulled on her hat and emanated leave me alone vibes, surely no one would butt in.
A long sigh escaped her as she settled into a booth, relieved at how quiet it was.
She could hear the barman around the other side of the bar chatting to someone, and the occasional glass clinking.
An open fire crackled in the nearby hearth, dispensing tiny red sparks and woody smoke that would have been frowned upon in busier places.
As much as she hadn’t come here to start liking things, she couldn’t deny it felt cosy.
And she didn’t have much choice but to peel off her coat and settle herself, unless she wanted to pass out from heat exhaustion.
Her fingers traced the round imprints and scratches on the old wooden table, her mind remembering how she’d come here a lot in her college years. They all had. Some of the décor felt time-warpishly familiar. Urgh. She shook her head. She’d come for puff pastry, not a trip down memory lane.
Pulling out her phone felt like as good a distraction as any, so she let herself get absorbed in it for a while.
Catching up with people she’d never met on social media was much safer than getting sucked into too much real life – even if checking she was still ‘liked’ online could become addictive.
At least getting involved with these inane love tasks seemed to have quietened the recent clamour of Alyssa Heart doubters, after the post by Princess Trudy the bored London waitress.
The odd shadow passed her table, but she didn’t look up until a young person brought over her steaming pie and chips.
Heaven on a plate. She might even have groaned when she took her first mouthful.
It was the closest thing she’d tasted to home-cooked food in a while, and it beat the hell out of packet snacks and toast.
After a few bites, she went back to her phone, clicking onto the ’Appy Together app. She needed to answer its questions after the day’s first love task, and there was something about the warmth of the fire and the background noise that made it feel less overwhelming.
She couldn’t help a sarcastic laugh at the first question. ‘How was your first love task, Alyssa?’ she repeated back at her screen, with her best impression of a robot voice. Maybe the rhubarb gin had gone to her head.
She thought for a moment, her memory scanning back over the hilly views that had stretched out beneath them, in wintry shades of brown and green.
Devan had tried to point out landmarks and pretend he wasn’t a twat, whilst she’d clung to the side of the hot air balloon basket, hoping not to die.
Objectively, it ought to have been beautiful up there.
The cool air against her skin. The feeling of possibility and floating and being free from it all.
But she’d been stuck in – no, outrageously tricked into – a confined space with a certain person she’d hoped never to see again.
Teijo had asked a lot of bothersome questions and had forgotten the Champagne, and Mr Hot the pilot had smelt like a sweat factory.
And she hated heights. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Devan had told his idiotic app as much, just to throw her off-balance or to make for more interesting promo.
Why had he lured her here and why was he doing this to her?
‘Dreadful,’ she concluded, typing that into her phone. Then in a stream of frustrated consciousness, she let her fingers tap out everything that had narked her about it. Better out than in, and she wasn’t in the mood for being polite to the thing, after the day it had so-said picked for her.
After a few seconds of the app seeming to digest her words, it summarised them on her screen.
‘Is it fair to say you would prefer to be on the ground, Alyssa?’ she mimicked again as she read the app’s words. ‘You don’t say.’
‘And what do I think of my BUM?’ She spluttered out her mouthful of G&T at that. ‘Ridiculous.’
‘Erm?’ A head appeared around the side of her booth, making her jump. The head cleared its throat. ‘This is probably a good time to mention I can hear you. I’m in the next booth.’
Alyssa inhaled sharply and then pursed her lips, determined to stop the string of swear words that were bursting to come out. Devan Shaw. Of bloody course. There was no such thing as peace in this place.
She snatched up her phone and held it against her chest.
He was waving his lamely. ‘I was just about to put that I quite liked my BUM.’
‘Devan,’ she said, through gritted teeth. How many more times was he going to pop his unbidden head into her life today?
She slid her plate away and made to stand up, suddenly not feeling hungry.
‘Don’t leave on my account.’ His eyes seemed earnest – though she’d fallen for that look enough.
‘I was just going anyway,’ she lied, her plate still three-quarters full of what had once looked like delicious food. The gravy was quickly congealing.
His eyes flicked to her plate. ‘But you love pie and chips.’
Her skin bristled at the over-familiarity. He did not know everything. As Alyssa Heart, she made a show of eating quinoa, even if it did taste like dust. Because ‘Healthy lives make for healthy love lives’ as she liked to spout.
‘I used to,’ she answered, trying to keep her voice low and even, in case anyone was watching. ‘What people love changes. Doesn’t it?’ She hoped that last part might prick at his conscience. If he had one.
She finally stood, pulling on her coat and gathering her bags from the floor.
‘No honestly. Stay. We didn’t have time to talk properly earlier, without media people and cameras. There’s so much to catch up on. Stuff I want to tell you.’ He moved himself to standing too, clearly keen to get his annoying, pleading eyes at her level.
What a trickster.
‘Whatever it is, I don’t need to hear it. This is all just business.’ She smiled at him as politely as she could, hoping it would fool him. ‘Anyway, I have a busy evening.’
Alyssa bent to pick up the final bag, a sad ready-meal for one and a packet of mouse food spilling out. Her heart sank.
‘It looks like it,’ Devan replied, trying to sound jovial.
She didn’t need his jokes. He would probably be going home soon to his wife and child, in some comfortable house, with a roaring log fire and a pet cockapoo to fetch his slippers. It wasn’t nice to mock people because they only had a rodent for company.
‘I need to get back,’ she said hastily, grabbing her dropped items before he could.
‘Has anyone seen Beryl?’ That voice in the distance again. The one that belonged to Mrs Halfpenny. ‘I’ve got this lovely T-shirt for her.’
For the love of all things good and holy. Small-town life made Nightmare on Elm Street look like a fun place to hang out.
She should have stuck to her plan to get in and out of this place quickly, because no good could come of getting cosy.