Chapter Three #3
Her estimation of two hundred photos had been pretty accurate.
Piper showed her the sets, the costumes, the props, and a barrage of actors who, according to Piper, were a mixture of the main cast and extras.
There were even some shots of the car park which would be strange to most people, but unsurprising from Piper. She appreciated all the things.
After she reached the end of her snaps, Piper flicked back to the selfie she had taken of her and Bridget Clemonte.
“I think this might be my favourite photo I’ve ever taken.
” She studied it then flicked on to the next picture.
“Though do you think her smile is bigger on this photo I took of her and Niamh?”
“Maybe a little. But she didn’t touch my shoulder,” Niamh replied easily.
Piper’s smile returned. “True.”
Niamh grinned at Imogen. “How did everything go here? Any issues?”
Imogen wondered if her cheeks went noticeably red because she felt them start to warm up. “No issues. Same old same old really.”
“Were ye telling the girls here about that lovely wee lass that came in earlier on?” Willy, more commonly referred to by the three of them as One Pint Willy, asked, choosing the most inopportune time to deliver his empty glass to the counter.
Imogen managed to refrain from glaring at him, customer service being so important and all. “There were a few women in here today,” she said casually. No idea who you’re talking about. Nope, not a clue.
He let out a loud laugh. Just one. Like a foghorn.
“I hardly mean those three oul dears who spent half the day fawning over yer man off that feckin’ baking show.
Or Sally from the fruit shop.” Otherwise known as the WGC (Wednesday Gossip Club), and Songbird Sally—unoriginally named after the time she performed a questionable rendition of “Dancing Queen” after sharing a bottle of white wine with Post Office Pat.
That had been an eventful workday—nothing like that would ever have happened at Clover.
“Oooo,” Piper cooed. “A mystery woman. Did this woman take your fancy, Willy? Did she tickle your pickle? Rock your socks?” Unsurprisingly, Piper had a great rapport with the customers, which enabled her to get away with a certain degree of teasing.
Imogen suspected most of them not just tolerated it but enjoyed it.
“Give over, you. She was a pretty lass, aye, but a wee bit young for me. Yer mate here seemed to have some interest though. And it looked mutual if ye ask me.”
“What?” Piper’s head shot round to look at her. “You had mutual interest with a mystery woman? You tell us everything right this very second, Imogen King.”
Imogen folded her arms. “Thanks for that, Willy,” she deadpanned as he turned to leave.
He chuckled and waved back at her over his shoulder. “Welcome. See you girls tomorrow.”
“Immy?” Piper fixed her with a pointed stare.
Imogen looked over to Niamh for some moral support, but she was watching her with an expectant look on her face too. She sighed. “Fine. A woman came into the pub, and we talked for a while. It’s not a big deal.”
“One Pint Willy seemed to think it was a big deal,” Piper said. “Mutual interest he said. Right, Niamh?”
“That’s right. I think we need to hear more about this whole mutual interest part.”
Imogen was going to have to spill the beans eventually, so what was the point in stalling? She was a goner whenever they both ganged up on her. She shrugged. “She was nice. We laughed over my inexperience of pouring Guinness pints. Discussed village life. That sort of thing.”
“Who was she?” Niamh asked. “Can’t have been local if Willy didn’t recognise her.”
“And, more importantly, was she attractive?” Piper added.
Imogen tried to play it cool. “Her name is Amy. Actually, she’s part of the crew for that film you pair are obsessed with. Some sort of editor or something I think.” Piper and Niamh looked at each other wide-eyed—unsurprisingly impressed.
“And you didn’t tell us about this the second we got back here because why?” Piper asked.
“I mean it’s not like it was Bridget fucking Clemonte,” Imogen said, deflecting.
Piper relented and smiled. “Touché. But this might be even more interesting than that. You haven’t had any mystery woman encounters in forever.”
“No. I leave those to you,” Imogen said, knowing that Piper would never take offence. There was nothing Piper enjoyed more than flirting with women. She smiled proudly like she agreed that it was her role in life.
“You still haven’t told us if you found this Amy attractive or not,” Niamh reminded her.
“Intentionally haven’t told you,” Imogen corrected her.
Piper gasped. “Which totally means that you did. Did you hear that, Niamh? Immy was chatting up attractive women right here in our wee bar while we were gone.”
Imogen couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s true, I sort of was.” Maybe chatting up was a bit of a stretch, but there had been some kind of energy zipping and zapping between Amy and her throughout their conversation.
“Unbelievable. We leave you alone for one afternoon.” Niamh leaned back on the counter on her elbows. “Tell us more. Was there eye contact?”
Imogen nodded. “Lots of that. Locked and loaded.”
Piper fanned herself. “How about little touches? I love little touches.”
Imogen thought back to Amy’s hand on her arm and she could almost feel the warmth of the touch again. “Yes. Those happened too.”
“Compliments?” Niamh asked.
“You won’t believe it, but…” She held a hand to her chest. “It was me. I was the compliment initiator.”
Piper looked like someone had just handed her a hundred quid. “You were? Immy still has game. What did you compliment?”
“Her eyes.”
Piper nodded her approval. “Always a good one. Who doesn’t love a nice pair of eyes? Did she compliment yours back? You have great eyes. Expressive.”
“She did, yeah.” It had been kind of adorable when Amy had gotten all flustered. Imogen hadn’t expected that. “And she also said I was interesting.”
“Ugh,” Niamh said. “Interesting is such an underrated compliment. What girl doesn’t dream of being called interesting?”
Piper hummed her agreement. “Or smart. Smart can be a real charmer.”
“Well, I don’t know if it counts as smart, but she did say that my Guinness was really good.”
“Oh? No bumps today?” Niamh sounded surprised. Pleasantly so.
Piper gave her a playful nudge. “Not in the Guinness anyway. Huh, Immy?”
Imogen faked a glare at her. “You behave. It was a very civilised, pleasant conversation I’ll have you know.”
Niamh clapped her hands together. “Well, this feels like a milestone. Could this become a thing? You chatting up women? Putting yourself back out there again?”
“Could be,” Imogen replied nonchalantly. The cat was already out of the bag so she may as well go for the big finish. “Or maybe I’ll chat up the same woman again who I happen to be seeing this weekend.”
Piper and Niamh started to squeal in celebration, the way they often did when they were excited about something, and this time Imogen joined them.
“You’re going on a date, Im,” Niamh said warmly. “That’s amazing.”
“Wait. I don’t even know if it is a date.”
“Well, let’s look at this. How did she word it?” Piper asked.
“Like a hang out and we’ll see where it goes? Though I think she realised that I could get skittish if she went in full force. And let’s face it, she was right.”
Niamh and Piper both looked at each other, then back at her. “See where it goes?” Piper repeated slowly, like the hidden meaning was obvious.
“Definitely a date,” Niamh said. “This is huge. Monumental.”