Chapter Thirteen
What a difference a few weeks, and someone speaking out to put things straight, made. When Bryony and Dario strolled into the village hall half an hour or so later—there had, as Bryony put it with a snigger, been a slap and tickle delay—they were greeted with open arms, and only a couple of knowing looks. Within a few minutes, Dario was up the stepladder as he’d predicted, and Bryony leant on it with a mug of tea in one hand, and a handful of drawing pins in the other.
People shouted to be heard above the blare of a radio, and someone sang - out of tune - ‘let me entertain you’.
Bryony relinquished her place on the stepladder to a painfully shy young boy, whose voice was breaking and blushed every time anyone spoke to him. Maddie grabbed her arm and asked her to make signs for what was to be where and when. Luckily, she had a list made, so Bryony didn’t have to try and decipher Maddie’s top speed sentences. She set to work. At least signage was well within her abilities.
Mrs Cherry who had left, as she put it, her old man in charge of the shop, was everywhere, handing out cakes and advice to all and sundry. She waved a plate filled with buns warm from the oven at Bryony.
The aroma was heavenly. Bryony sniffed in appreciation. ‘Wow, they smell so good.’
Mrs C beamed. ‘I’m not the best baker by a long shot, but buns now, I can do. Currant, coconut or chocolate orange this time. I can’t leave the shop for long, but I thought I’d nip out and add my bit. Not for you, my lovely. I’ve a nice lemon and poppy seed muffin with your name on it. Just give me a jiffy to feed this lot, or there’ll be grumbles.’
There were a few catcalls and one ‘what’s she got that I haven’t?’ from an elderly man who winked. ‘Apart from the obvious.’
As she’d seen him deep in conversation with Jeb earlier, Bryony took the jest in the manner it was meant.
‘Good manners, you mean?’ Mrs Cherry said and waggled her finger at him. ‘That’s for sure, Bob Singer.’
He groaned and blew Bryony a kiss. ‘And that. No offence meant you know, missie.’
Bryony grinned. ‘None taken. And yes, I do have things you don’t.’ She paused for effect and leant forward. ‘Hair on my head for one.’
As the man was as bald as a coot, he grinned back, showing one missing tooth and one gold capped one as there was a ripple of amusement. ‘You’ll do, missie. And any relation of Jeb Bennett is good enough for me. Glad you’re around, for him and for others, eh?’
‘Of course. And any good-looking bloke who’s a sight for sore eyes is welcome in my orbit.’
That set the tone for the next hour, until the bunting was up, and they were summarily dismissed to go back to the barn. They walked back, hand in hand, content to be together, and take time to brace themselves for what was to come.
‘What if nobody turns up?’ Bryony worried, as she opened the doors and locked them back against the walls of the barn. Mid-morning sunshine made rainbows on the windows Dario had just washed, warmed her arms, and made her glad she’d taken her cardi off.
Inside the barn, it was cool, outside it held the hints of a hot day to come. The cats, annoyed by all the comings and goings, had camped out under the garden chairs in the tiny walled garden and Mop had shown what he thought of it all by commandeering her bed once more. Or, as Dario put it, pushed them out so he could take over. ‘First the bed, then the world.’
Bryony didn’t care over much what he or the cats chose to do, as long as it didn’t cause too much mess, when it was such glorious weather. She chose not to think of why there had been so much upheaval or what the next three days would bring. She knew it wouldn’t always be so, but oh, how she loved it.
‘What if we’re billy-no-mates? I’ll be mortified.’ She scowled at the bookshelves, all neatly labelled with genres and little labels stating the cost for new, green tickets—not so new but in good condition—yellow and blue, well-loved and a bit tatty around the edges. She moved her attention to the Mandi table with its carefully positioned stacks of books. Some signed and some to be signed at the event the following evening. It looked as good as it possibly could, without anyone browsing or buying. ‘I can’t help but worry. It’s important.’
‘Of course it is, love. I agree and want it to be perfect. But there’s no need to panic, honestly.’ Dario hugged her. ‘All will be well.’
There’s those tingles again. She hoped they never stopped hitting her.
‘Loads of time yet,’ Dario said, with a grin. ‘And if we have to, we’ll grab a couple off the street and get them to do it. No worries.’
Grab a... ‘What on earth are you talking about? What street?’
He looked taken back. ‘Our wedding? Wherever we decide. Aren’t you?’
If only. ‘ Nope.’
Dario put down the book he was holding. ‘I thought that was all women thought about once they were engaged?’
‘I wish. Sadly, not when you’ve half a festival to help organise, a pop-up book shop to man for three days, and a coming out of a certain erotic thriller author half way through it. Then an engaged woman had to put the nice things out of her mind and concentrate on the what ifs. One of which is, what if no one comes to buy any books? Plus, what happens if we get too many people for your talk and run out of books, or food? Anyway, you did it that way last time and look how that turned out.’
‘Lucky or I wouldn’t be here with you like this.’ He swung her around in a circle. ‘And that was Scotland. This is darkest Devon. Plus, we can only have x number of people at the talk and I have three times that number of each book. My publisher lives in hope, aka Kensington.’ He did a gig as he twirled.
That made her dizzy as well as giddy.
‘Put me down you nit, what if someone sees?’ She loved the reluctance with which he complied.
‘So what? We’re not doing anything illegal.’
‘I know but, well…’ Bryony held onto his shoulder until the world stopped spinning. ‘We did say we’d keep it quiet for a bit. Someone might see and guess.’ She really wanted to savour the sensation of being his before other people found out and added their ideas on what ought to happen.
For others read Lottie Botte.
‘Cruel woman. You’ve just told me no one is around.’
‘Someone might be.’
‘Hiding behind a tree?’
Well…’ She knew she sounded stupid. ‘Okay probably not but I just want to hug our news and not share it yet. Not that there is anyone around to share it with but…’
‘But people will turn up here, and we’ll be circumspect. No winks and nudges. No gropes or kisses. And on,’ he mimed quote marks, ‘‘the day’ we’ll give them Mandi and on the day after… us.’
‘And until then we have today and tomorrow during the day to get through before Mandi’s thing. I feel sick.’ There was a big lump of nasty lodged in her stomach and it didn’t sit well with cornflakes and gluten free fruit loaf. ‘Thank goodness we were both told we weren’t needed up at the hall all morning, but to come back and concentrate on here.’
‘Yeah, the word of Maddie strikes again. Bless her.’ Bryony rolled her eyes. ‘As in?’
Dario shook with laughter. ‘As in however you want to take it. Seriously though, I think she decided we’d have enough to do down here. Plus, I’m betting she’s got more than an inkling how I feel, you feel, and what she thinks the outcome will be.’
‘Will she mind?
‘She’ll be delighted. My sister? Well, there’s always a fly in the ointment. We’ll ignore her.’
‘You reckon we can?’ Bryony wasn’t so sure.
Dario studied her. ‘C’mere and have a hug.’ He suited his actions to his words. ‘Poor love, you really are worried, aren’t you? There’s no need to be, honestly. Lottie can go chase herself. Maddie and Dex will be there to tell her to take a hike when needed. I can threaten to tell Donald what she’s up to. I doubt he knows half of it. The festival? It’s no longer down to us, apart from smiling and offering polite conversation and answers even if people ask stupid things. We’ll get punters, or we won’t. Can’t sway that unless we put out a call saying belly dancing, or free booze, and we’re not doing either. Mandi’s thing, as you call it, is sold out, so it’s my worry there. What if I’m booed and pelted with rotten tomatoes? What if someone nicks the booze, the books, or my pen, so I can’t sign.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘No dafter than you saying no one will turn up. Listen, I can hear a car or something now. We’ve only had the doors open ten minutes - that’s good going.’
‘It’s probably Maddie making sure we’ve got it ready and opened.’ Or your bloody sister.
‘Oh ho, Miss gloom and doom. Bet you ten pence it isn’t.’
‘Why? What do you know I don’t?’
‘It doesn’t sound like Maddie’s car. It sounds more like….’ Dario looked outside and groaned. ‘Oh, bloody hell. Hold onto your hat, it’s my darned sister. What does she want?’
Thought so. The fact she had surmised correctly didn’t cheer Bryony up. Mind you, she supposed, they might as well get confrontation number one over and done with.
‘Not to see me probably,’ Bryony said. ‘I’ll go out the other way and make us, as in you and me, a coffee. She can whistle, I’m not sharing my best Kenyan roast with someone who hates me.’
‘Chicken.’ He clucked and flapped his arms like the old and not lamented Chicken song.
‘You betcha.’ As far as Bryony was concerned, that was a given. She gave a quick thought as to how Lottie was going to cope with Dario having a wife, especially herself, and then forgot that. Too much else to think about before they needed to face that scenario. Maybe she’ll have a personality transplant by then? And maybe pigs really will fly.
‘Bear in mind it’s not just you she dislikes, she’s not keen on Maddie or me either.’
‘Or anyone who is likely to take up any of your time.’
‘True. In my defence I don’t encourage it. Either Lottie’s attitude or anyone except you taking up my time.’ He grinned. ‘Hey, I’ve just thought, now we’re engaged I can hide behind you.’
Bryony wasn’t too sure of that. ‘Not when it involves your sister you can’t. I value my eyes.’ A car door slammed, and Bryony blew him a kiss before she made a beeline for the door into the tiny lean to at the back. As it was nearest to the house they’d put a kettle, two chairs and a fridge in there. It also meant she could sneak out of the back door, unseen. She hoped. ‘And I’m off. I will lurk until she’s gone. Be your back up in case she tried to abduct…or is that corrupt you.’
‘More likely to be annoy the hell out of.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ll be your hero. Just out of sight.’
‘Like I said, my woman is chicken.’
‘Sticks and stones and…’ A shadow appeared outside the door and Bryony slipped into the lean to. Maybe she had better not go any further. Just in case. In case what she hadn’t got a clue. If Lottie clobbered Dario with her sink-sized designer handbag and he needed CPR? She did her best to remember things but all she could think of was RICE. And sod it, not what that meant.
Like a super sleuth, or a plain old nosy eavesdropper, she left the door slightly ajar, hastily put one of the chairs behind it and sat down. Now, if only she had a coffee she could enjoy the show. What a pity there wasn’t a one-way mirror . And hidden cameras and microphones? That would be something. M.I. whatever look out. She’d just got an idea for a new Mandi book. Maybe she should pass it on gratis?
‘Dario, I might have known you’d be here. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’ve got to stop this nonsense.’ Even if Bryony hadn’t known it was Lottie in the barn with Dario, the petulant tones would have told her. Did the woman ever speak in a pleasant way? Sound as if she wasn’t a spoilt brat? Surely, she must do sometimes or how else would she be married?
A loud crash made Bryony jump. It must, she decided, be the sink-sized bag Lottie frequently carried hitting the floor or Lottie sweeping a pile of books—probably Mandi’s—off the table they were on. Neither would surprise Bryony. She did the nosy thing by trying to see through the crack between the door and the jamb but the only thing in her vision was Dario’s jean clad rear. It was a great rear, but not what she wanted to see at that moment.
‘What nonsense?’
‘What nonsense? You know what I mean.’ Lottie’s voice rose to an ear slitting shriek. ‘Helping the village get better facilities. Why? They don’t need anything, and we don’t need this trash here. If there had to be an arts festival, which to my mind is silly and has nothing to do with a tiny village in Devon, it should be about proper arts.’
‘That’s not nonsense Lottie, that’s neighbourliness. Making our surroundings a better place to live. And define art.’
Lottie made one of those peculiar ‘pshaw’ noises that sounded like a boiling kettle and ignored his second statement. ‘Who wants lots of kids about?’
Bryony stood up and inched the door open, so she could see through a larger space. Dario’s back was rigid.
Oh ho, temper is rising.
‘Better to have somewhere for them to go rather than hanging around the bus shelter. Anyway, you don’t live here so it’s not your problem, is it?’ He moved out of Bryony’s view and she got a brief glimpse of Lottie with a face like thunder, before she followed Dario, out of Bryony’s line of vision.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be here either,’ Lottie snapped. ‘What about your lecturing? This sabbatical stuff has really gone on long enough. If you won’t preach at least teach.’
I bet she didn’t mean to make that rhyme.
‘Lottie.’ How on earth could he sound so patient? Bryony understood herself well enough to know she would be throwing things by now.
‘Not your business,’ Dario said. ‘Now did you come to moan generally or specifically? Because I’ve got things to do and places to go and have just about had enough of your bloody interference and general pettiness. How the hell Don puts up with you, I have no idea. You’d try the patience of a saint. Or a sinner. Enough already.’
‘You swore.’ Lottie sounded as if nothing could ever have surprised her more. ‘You don’t.’
‘Evidently I do. Now… I have to get on.’
Boy he sounds mad.
‘Dario, listen to me. You have to stop this talk tomorrow. It’s not acceptable. I mean a woman talking about that sort of stuff. It’s…not on.’
Bryony could imagine the exaggerated shudder.
That woman has a serious problem. Does she really think in this day and age we should lie back and think of England or make up the shopping list as we grin—or not—and bear it? Sheesh, she’s got the woe is poor pitiful me voice off pat. She really should be on the stage.
‘It’s on. It’s nothing to do with you. Come or not. Don’t attend if you’re worried you’ll be corrupted. It’s not a three line whip. Now, excuse me, I have things to do.’ Dario’s tone was harsh. Bryony was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of it.
Footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. The door to the lean-to crashed back on its hinges and missed Bryony’s nose by inches. She stopped a yelp of surprise by sheer will power and blinked. To say Dario looked angry was as big an understatement as saying Devon was smaller than the USA. Ridiculous. He looked ready to spit tacks. She put her hand on his shoulder. It was hard with tension.
‘Shit, sorry.’
Bloody woman. ‘Has she gone?’ she mouthed.
He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Let’s nip outside in case she follows me. I’ve had enough. I need coffee and peace for a few minutes, and you don’t need a Lottie-sized mouthful directed at you. I’m sorry, love, I’ve got some sodding Lottie sized baggage coming with me. You still up for it?’
Bryony saw red. How dare Lottie make Dario feel like that? Was she always going to back off from confrontation with her future sister in law? Shoot that sounds unpleasant, future sister in law.
‘Of course, I am you’ll not get rid of me that easily. However, enough is enough. Sod her.’ She got up and smoothed her red hair behind her ears. Its colour should be enough to warn Lottie to beware. If it wasn’t, that was Lottie’s look out. Bryony hoped it wouldn’t degenerate into a name calling, hair pulling, cat fight. She’d never win. Maisie had always told her she gave in to easily. ‘I am not letting the damned…sorry …woman drive me out of my own barn. Anyway, we’re supposed to be open for business and someone nice might turn up. You make the coffee I’ll sort Lottie out.’
Dario grinned and punched the air. ‘You sure? If I have to say anything else to her at the moment it really will be the end of inter family communication and as much as half of me says yes please, the other half says I shouldn’t.’
‘Exactly.’ Bryony pecked his cheek, patted his shoulder, took a deep breath and marched into the barn.
‘Hello, dear. Are you the bookseller?’ A tiny, elderly lady dressed somewhat incongruously in Doc Martens, jeans, and a battered and faded combat jacket beamed at her. ‘I guessed it wasn’t the hatchet-faced virago who told me to get out of her way, stormed out and stalled her car. Now she’s crying and I’m sorry, I let her be.’ She tutted. ‘Looked as if someone has taken her favourite toy away.’
Bryony smiled. It looked like Lottie had cleared off to indulge her sulk elsewhere. She spared a brief thought for Lottie’s husband and decided if he couldn’t manage her that was his fault, no one else’s. ‘I’d let her be, as well. Throwing a tantrum because she couldn’t get her own way.’
‘That’s what I thought. Some people never grow up, do they?’ The woman glanced at her own attire and sniggered. ‘I guess I’m one of them.’
‘I think you look great.’ Bryony said truthful as ever. ‘I hope I have as much flare when I’m your age.’
‘Oh, how sweet. Now I so want to finish this Mandi Rook book before tomorrow night. I forgot my copy and left it at home in Ripon, and I’ve only a few chapters to go. Half way through a hot, cold water, and a fan needed bit as well. It’s bit far to nip back for it. Oh, by the way, I’m Susan.’
That was the beginning of a fabulous, people–packed, till ringing day.
Bryony chatted, gave her opinion on books she’d read and some she hadn’t. Argued with a very erudite looking man about the need for eroticism in thrillers until he laughed and stuck out his hand. “I’m Andy, and Dario is lucky to have...er met you.’
Bryony laughed. He was not at all like she had expected. ‘And you. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘Mandi and Andi?’
‘And the rest.’
‘Ah yes. You’ll have to meet Mo. She’ll tell you stuff to make your hair curl. None of it true, of course.’
‘Don’t you believe him.’ A cheerful freckle-faced lady came up to them, accompanied by Dario. ‘I’m Mo, and it will all be true. We had to nip down to do the support stuff, but we can’t stay long. We’ll be back for the Mandi thing though. Wouldn’t miss it.’
‘Ah right, yes.’ Bryony watched as the couple walked away and turned to serve a teenager who held every copy of a supernatural teenage series set in Scotland. Dario had been correct. The bookshop was a success. She had to hope they’d have enough books.
Dario touched her shoulder. ‘Maddie is going to help for a bit. I need to go get more Mandi books.’ He indicated the almost depleted table. ‘I never thought quite so many would sell, and it’s only the first day. Luckily, some more will arrive down by courier in the morning. Mo has arranged it. I’ve got some at home though. Be back soon.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Be good while I’m gone. Or be careful.’
She needed both admonishments. Almost as if she’d been waiting, Lottie appeared.
Bryony waited. Lottie ignored her and stared at Mandi’s half empty table. ‘I see trash sells.’
Bryony smiled. ‘I see trash doesn’t recognise non-trash.’
Someone tittered. Lottie went red and stalked out.
‘If only it were always that easy,’ Maddie said. ‘Life would be so much simpler.’
‘I shouldn’t have said it though,’ Bryony replied, remorse uppermost. ‘It was cruel and unnecessary.’
‘Well, to be fair, you didn’t actually say she was trash,’ Maddie pointed out. ‘Just intimated it. Ah well, maybe we’ll get a less stressful afternoon if she’s not about.’
By the time they tugged the doors shut, Bryony was thirsty, hungry, and happy. If day one was anything to go by, the festival was a resounding success.
Halfway through the afternoon, the three witches had descended on her. She braced herself for an onslaught that didn’t come.
‘Time for you to go up to the village and check everything out,’ the one called Penny said. ‘Me, Lavinia and Peg will take over for an hour or so. Go on. Shoo.’ She did the shooing action with her hands. ‘We’ll be fine. Oh, and sorry we were such bitches.’ The other two nodded. ‘We know it’s not your fault and all that, but well, easy to be knowledgeable in hindsight, and oh so easy to take the easy way out. Blame someone easy to get to, not the real culprits. The damned local government.’
Bryony blinked, a bit befuddled by all the ‘easys’ and nodded. She found Dario and waited whilst he sold a set of Child’s Encyclopaedias and took his hand.
‘We’ve been paroled to go and check out the hall and so on. Come on.’ Together they sauntered up the hill to look into the displays, sample cheeses and roulades, and try their hand at the quiz.
‘Which, with you as my partner, we should wing it,’ Bryony said. ‘I mean how do I know what pirate was supposed to hide his purloined silks in the barn at Emmets?’
Dario rolled his eyes. ‘Boards and pictures on the wall behind you. Got to give everyone a chance.’
‘Ah, okay.’ Bryony went across to the storyboards and found the answer she needed. ‘Now what?’ She looked at the bags and boxes Dario carried. ‘Do you think we should get back?’
‘If you want me fit and agile for later, might be a good idea.’ He winked. ‘Don’t want to be so sore I can’t move.’
‘No, we don’t.’ She took several bags from him. ‘Let’s go.’
Several hours later, Bryony related the story of the Doc Marten shod woman. ‘Bless her, she was full of the fact that she’d forgotten her book and wanted to know who was who, so she could, as she put, it ask a half intelligent question tomorrow.’ She popped an olive in her mouth and savoured the sharp oily taste. ‘That’s more than I’ll be able to. I’ll own up now, I still haven’t read them. Are you going to take back my engagement ring now?’ She looked at the plaited grass ring on her finger, that Dario had put there a few minutes before with a flourish and a ‘there, if intentions were golden this is as good as gold.’.
They sat in the garden with a bottle of fizz in an ice bucket on the table beside them. Dario stretched his legs out in front of him and Mop rolled over to flop across Dario’s feet. ‘It’s glued on, didn’t you know? You’re mine. All… m…i…n…e,’ he intoned in a lugubrious voice. ‘You shall not get a…way…’
Bryony giggled. ‘Good, because I don’t want to. And I will read your books, honestly. When I can pluck up the courage. I’m a wuss.’
‘So, don’t read them, no one says you have to. I don’t like sci-fi, and one of my author friends writes that. We agree that it’d be a sad place if we all liked the same thing. No biggie, love.’
Bryony poured some more fizz into their glasses. ‘I know. It’s not the hot fan and cold water needed bits—as the book buying lady called them—it’s the knives, strangling, evil voices, trapdoors and so on bits that give me the heebie jeebies. I like happy ever afters.’
‘Don’t read mine. Seriously do not. I don’t want to give you nightmares and my HEA’s aren’t happy ever afters, but happy even after…? And don’t forget the question mark at the end.’
Bryony shuddered. ‘I won’t, and I won’t.’
‘Anyway,’ Dario mused, as he turned his glass around in his hands. ‘I’m only contracted for two more Mandi books. They’ve got the first and I’m about to send off the second.’
He sounded so very serious, Bryony got butterflies in her tummy. ‘Then what? Hang up your lap top?’
‘As if. Once the writing bug has bitten you I reckon the after effects never go away.’ He half turned in his chair. Mop growled. ‘Shut up, you nit. I’m not moving properly, just twisting so I can look at your mum.’
Mop whined, closed the eye he’d opened, and snored.
Dario shook his head. ‘Never mind pandering to Lottie, we pander to Mop instead.’
It was true. Bryony couldn’t find anything to say in their defence. ‘Books?’ she prompted. ‘As in, what next sort of books.’
‘I think… just think mind, it’s going to be a sweet little romance between a gorgeous red head, and a miserable grumpy sod who wanted her house. She won’t stand for any nonsense, and he had no idea how to cope. Falling in love with her, and her with him, was never the way he expected to get the house or his happy ever after.’
‘You what?’ Bryony gulped. ‘Did you really say what I thought you did?’
He shrugged, but the wicked gleam in his eye assured her that she hadn’t dreamt it.
‘Dunno, how’s your hearing?’
‘Perfect thank you. Dario Monk, you wouldn’t!’
‘Wouldn’t what, my love?’
If she had to spell it out she would. ‘Use us for a book. I could have you up for whatever it is when you’re used like that.’
‘ This is a work of fiction,’ he said, and winked. ‘All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, etcetera. ’
‘It’s precious and… well no, not on.’ He wouldn’t. Would he? After all, how much about the writing side of him do I really know?
‘Not even if it shows me for the horrible person I was?’
She shook her head. ‘Not even then. Think again, sunshine.’
His lips twitched.
‘You sod, you’re having me on.’
Dario nodded. ‘Yes, sorry, you were so beautifully indignant I couldn’t help it. There is no way I’m putting any of us in a book. Not even with Lottie as a baddie and believe me, I’ve been tempted to do that more than once. I even had her strung up in one book before I changed the name. I know it was based on her though. However, I am part way through plotting out a sweet romance.’
‘A sweet? How do you go from hot and horrible - as in scary - to sweet, just like that?’
‘No idea how it hit me, why it hit me, or where the story intends to go. So, very different from anything Mandi has ever written. If it gets accepted I might need to change my name.’
‘It will be accepted. I’ve got faith in you. Hmm, let me see.’ Bryony rearranged letters in her mind. How about Kari D Moon?’
‘Sounds like I need to add …ed me.’
‘Rotter. Okay then…Mardi Nook?’
‘What?’ Dario spluttered wine. ‘That sounds like a place to shove Lottie when she goes off on one. A bit like the naughty corner.’
‘Yeah, maybe not Mardi then.’ Bryony clicked her tongue as she pondered. ‘I know, Kori Damon.’
‘Kori Dam… ah ha all anagrams again eh?’
She dipped her head. ‘I’m a crossword addict, what more can I say. You could, of course, just be you.’
‘Dario Monk?’
‘Why not?’ It made perfect sense to Bryony.
‘I’d never thought of it. Maybe, eh? If my lady doesn’t mind. Anyway, a lot has got to be done before then. Plus, I’ve got to get through tomorrow night.’
‘We’ve got to get through tomorrow night. And we will.’