Chapter Seventeen
Hi hi! Sorry for bothering you but still not received your pages and wondering if the email gremlins somehow got them!! I checked my spam folder but no luck. Can you send again?? No worries if you forgot. But tonight/tomorrow would be great!!!!
All best
Bridget Xx
Funnily enough, when I chose my cute little racing-green Mini Cooper from the second-hand car showroom, I didn’t consider the possibility of one day having to fit a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound cowboy in the passenger seat.
‘Can you open your window, please?’ I ask River as I open my own. ‘It’s boiling and my glasses keep sliding down my nose.’
‘This ain’t even a car,’ River mutters as he presses the window down, half sticking his head out to get a bit more room. ‘It’s like toy town in here. Why wouldn’t you get yourself a truck?’
I pause as another car sneaks in line ahead of me, feeling a little jolt of pleasure as the driver waves her thanks.
River glances behind him into the back seat with a puzzled shake of the head.
‘Plenty more room in a truck.’ I peer across at him as he wriggles about uncomfortably.
His thighs are spread wide, as if that’s the only way he can sit, but his top half is sort of folded in half.
His precious Stetson has its own seat in the back next to a tote bag stuffed with a stack of Bedlam Creek books River insisted I brought with us so that he could do some more investigating into what might be going on and how he may have ended up here.
In the boot sits my biggest suitcase, and in it are all mine and River’s new clothes, the jeans and harmonica from his cowhide holdall, plus a bag full of make-up and some heavy-duty Spanx to go beneath the silver sequin dress.
‘Okay,’ River says efficiently as we pull onto the motorway.
‘Last night we covered the history of you and Henry. Main takeaways – you met Henry at the London Library two weeks after Josie passed away in 2021, he helped you get through the worst of your grief and you were immediately smitten with each other. He is considerate and astute, cares very much about art and literature and poetry, enjoyed showing his love for you via grand romantic gestures – barf – hates reality TV and horseradish, loves cricket and lakes, and wanted to halt your relationship because he felt he was becoming emotionally apathetic and under-stimulated by it. Harsh.’
I nod sadly. ‘Yep.’
‘God, love really is a game for fools.’
‘I can see how you may think that – especially witnessing my heartbreak – but it’s simply not true. Love is pretty much the whole point.’
River wrinkles his nose. ‘Agree to disagree?’
‘Hmm. For now.’
‘I was thinking,’ River taps his hands on the dashboard as I let another car overtake me, ‘that while we’ve got some time on the drive, it might be useful to find out more details about each other so that our dating comes off as a genuine thing.’
I chew on my lip. ‘Are you absolutely definitely sure we actually need to pretend to be dating?’
‘I am very sure.’
‘Won’t it make Henry retreat if he thinks I’m over him and that I’ve fully moved on?’
River reaches down and opens up the snack bag in the footwell even though we’ve only been in the car for fifteen minutes and everyone knows you should really be waiting about thirty minutes before accessing the snack bag on a trip.
He pulls out a red apple and polishes it vigorously on his crisp white T-shirt.
‘No. It’s plain old human nature to want what you can’t have.
As soon as Henry sees you with a man like me, that button will be well and truly pushed. He won’t know what to do with himself.’
‘A man like you?’ I groan.
‘Come on, we both know what I look like, Gertie. No use denying it. People focus on it far too much for my liking, but I’ll admit it comes in handy from time to time.’
‘Just when I think you couldn’t be more full of yourself.’
‘I’m only being honest.’ River grins. He takes a huge bite of the apple, crunching noisily, the sweet fresh scent of it wafting beneath my nose. ‘Haven’t you ever used your looks to get what you want? Sway things your way?’
‘My looks?’ I snort, glancing into the dash mirror to see a face that is objectively average.
Dirty-blonde hair that could do with some highlights.
Blue eyes that are big and long-lashed but a little far apart from each other.
A snub nose that some days feels cute and elf-like but most days feels inelegant.
I get a sudden memory of being a teenager, my auntie Mags remarking that looking at me was like seeing a funhouse mirror version of Josie.
All the same parts, just a little off. ‘No.’
‘Is this modesty another version of you being polite?’ River asks with a roll of his eyes. ‘Because spare me. You must know how pretty you are.’
‘Shut up!’ I exclaim, my ears growing hot.
‘I’m serious. It’s a simple fact. You’re not exactly showing it off to your best advantage and all, but you’ve got the goods, Gertie.’
I side-eye him. ‘I suspect you’re trying to pump me full of confidence before this weekend, so that I do a good job.
And I appreciate the quasi-compliment. But like I told you last night, Henry genuinely isn’t bothered about looks.
I mean, I’m sure he’s pleased all my features are in approximately the right place, but he loved me – hopefully still loves me – for my mind and my soul. ’
‘How noble of him. I noticed your ass within thirty seconds of meeting you.’
‘You’re a pig.’ I tut, sliding my glasses up my lightly sweating nose, my cheeks flushing a little.
‘Only one of many fascinating facts about me,’ River quips, finishing his apple and reaching back into the snack bag for another one.
‘I’m sure there are lots more fascinating facts to learn about each other.
’ And then, to my surprise, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, opens it up and rests it on his thigh.
I peek down to see lines of numbered questions written in perfectly neat pencil loops.
‘I took the liberty of preparing some questions this morning before you woke up – the sort of things that two people dating each other ought to know. You want something from the snack bag before we start?’ He bends down and rummages around in the footwell.
I shake my head no. ‘We’ve still got another two hours of driving. It’s too early for snacks. If we eat all the snacks at the start of the journey, we won’t have any for later.’
River stares across at me as if I’m an idiot. ‘So … then we’ll just get more snacks.’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ I grumble.
River grabs another apple and hands it to me.
‘What if it is, though?’
I pull a face. I don’t have a good answer to that.
With a huff I snatch the apple off him and take a loud bite.
It’s delicious.
*
By the time we pass an elegant dark blue road sign welcoming us to the village of Little Crumpet, population four thousand, River and I have learned a whole lot more about each other.
I tell him about my most embarrassing moment – the time I was at a Christmas Eve church service and did a very noisy sneeze, only the ‘choo’ bit of the sneeze never materialised, so it was just me suddenly crying out ‘ah ah ah!’ to the horror of all the other churchgoers.
He laughs so hard at this that he has a small coughing fit and we have to pull over so I can slap his back.
He tells me that what makes him happiest is riding his old horse, Kenneth, out to a place called Blue Egg Meadow, and watching the sun go down over the horizon.
I tell him that my favourite colour is green, specifically olive.
He tells me that his favourite musician is Stravinsky.
‘Interesting!’ I exclaim. ‘I actually thought you’d only be into country music or bluegrass or something … you know, with the harmonica and everything.’
River scoffs. ‘That’d be one helluva cliché, Gertie, don’t you think?’
I scan his Stetson, his surly face, the charcoal smudge that appears to be on his cheek – although, as far as I know, we’ve been in contact with zero charcoal – the Wrangler jeans straining across his thick thighs and, of course, the lightly scuffed cowboy boots.
‘If the cowboy boot fits,’ I say under my breath.
But the truth is, there does seem to be quite a lot more to him than the showy obnoxious bravado of the books I wrote, which I’m still having a great deal of trouble getting my head around.
When we approach the car park of Little Crumpet Manor House, River turns to me, expression serious.
‘Okay, Gertie. You ready for action?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Ready.’
I’m lying. I’m not ready at all. The thought of seeing Henry?
Of pretending that I’m already dating someone else?
The fact that this mission has potentially world-changing ramifications for River’s life as well as my own?
All of those things make my insides tumble about like a sock in a washing machine.
Jim Kellerman appears from the hotel entrance, walking springily across the car park, wild red curly hair, tartan trousers and black bow tie displaying the jolly, eccentric personality that’s helped him become one of the most popular cosy mystery authors in the UK.
We get out of the car, River immediately doing a giant stretch. ‘Blessed freedom,’ he mutters.
‘Hallo!’ Jim cries happily. He plants a kiss on my cheek, his cherubic face beaming as always. I’d be beaming too if I had his sales figures. ‘Goodness me, how marvellous to see you, dear Gertie. Welcome, welcome, welcome to the birthday shenanigans!’
‘Sorry about the last minute-ness!’ I apologise, remembering immediately how much I like this lovely, warm-hearted, singular author who genuinely deserves every bit of his success.
He turns to River. ‘And my, my, you must be the mysterious River?’ Jim holds out his hand as River plucks his Stetson out of the back seat of the mini and drops it neatly onto his head.
‘Oakley’s the name. River Oakley. Pleasure’s mine, Jim.’
‘How wonderful. Gosh, you’re a strapping lad, aren’t you? Gertie’s friend from …’ He squints his eyes. ‘Oklahoma, was it? My favourite musical.’
‘Texas actually, not so far outside of Austin,’ River corrects with a low chuckle, taking Jim’s normal-sized hand between his large ones and pumping it so hard that Jim sort of jiggles in time with the movement. ‘But you must be confused, Jim; I ain’t no friend of Gertie’s. We’re lovers.’
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I texted Jim earlier to tell him I was coming to the party after all and bringing a friend.
I reasoned that if he knew I was coming with an actual date, he – being Henry’s best pal – would come up with an excuse as to why I shouldn’t come and then the plan would be ruined before it had even begun.
I’d intended to reveal that River and I were ‘dating’ in much more of an elegant way.
Like taking Jim aside, apologising for the awkwardness, over-explaining, apologising again. You know, standard British stuff.
I grimace. ‘Sorry for the surprise, Jim. I probably should have mentioned that River and I are … involved.’
Bless Jim and his impeccable breeding – the shock on his face only lasts for half a second before returning to his usual warm graciousness.
Jim waves me away. ‘Ah. I’m happy for you, of course.’ He smiles kindly at me. ‘We’ll make it work. The aim of this weekend is good old-fashioned fun, and River here looks like he knows just how to do that.’
When Jim places his hand on River’s shoulder, River slowly looks down at it in shock, as if no man of Jim’s diminutive stature has ever dared to touch him before.
‘But I should say … you chaps are in the room next to darling Henry,’ Jim tells us, patting River’s hulking bicep three times. ‘And not that it’s any of my business really, but perhaps you might, uh, keep any, uh, smooching, discreet. For Henry’s sake.’
‘Why? Do you think he’ll be jealous?’ I blurt out before immediately trying to settle my face into something a little less gleeful at the prospect of Henry’s jealousy.
‘Okay then!’ Jim says, avoiding my question. ‘I’ll see you two later for the literary quiz in the hotel bar?’
‘Definitely!’ I say brightly. ‘Can’t wait.’
River’s soulful eyes squint in the golden blaze of the late-afternoon sun as he looks out onto the horizon. Then he gazes down at me with an over-the-top, tender expression on his face. ‘Let’s go get to know our digs a little better, my sweet owl.’ He throws a wink at Jim. ‘Discreetly, mind you.’
When he grabs all the luggage from the car and strides off towards the hotel lobby at such speed that I have to jog to catch him up, Jim can only stare open-mouthed after us.