Chapter Thirteen
‘Rosie Steadman, is this a wind-up?’
‘No, of course not, and stop bellowing down the phone at me.’
‘I can’t believe it! You are going to DeLaneys with Connor Forbes tomorrow night! The Connor Forbes!’
Emma always talked as though there were exclamation marks at the end of every sentence, but today it sounded as though the words were all in capital letters as well.
Rosie had already mentioned to Emma that she’d rented a garden but up until now, she hadn’t revealed who actually owned it.
It had been hard, not sharing this information with her best friend, but she also understood and respected Connor’s desire for privacy.
Clearly though, if he was planning to make an appearance at DeLaneys, that desire had somewhat diminished.
‘I’m so thrilled for you! He’s absolutely divine – you lucky, lucky thing. I might have to sneak along just to make sure he doesn’t take shameless advantage of my vulnerable friend.’
Rosie laughed. ‘You’re making this sound very salacious, Emms. It’s business. He needs my help, that’s all.’
Emma giggled. ‘Help with what precisely? Can’t he get his trousers down on his own?’
Even though Emma was at the other end of the phone and not interrogating her face-to-face, Rosie still found herself blushing.
‘Stop flustering me! I just need to make sure I’m wearing the right clothes. What should I wear?’
‘DeLaneys is definitely upmarket.’
‘Emms, you’re panicking me!’
James had always been a steak and chips man, preferring brasserie chains or a good old-fashioned pub.
He would certainly never have set foot in DeLaneys unless someone else was paying.
Rosie wasn’t sure she wanted to either, but she wasn’t about to back down now.
Nevertheless, she did need a steer in the right direction.
‘Okay look, it’s simple. Little black dress, heels, hair smart – not wild woman of Borneo look – and a bit of makeup. Job done.’
‘You make it sound easy,’ grumbled Rosie.
‘It is! You’ll have fun! Send me lots of pics!’
*
Rosie was glad that work had kept her busy so she didn’t have to think about tonight’s dinner with Connor. It was one thing chatting with him over a cup of tea in his flat, but this felt like new territory. At least for her, if not for him.
Being December, the countdown to Christmas was in full swing.
Colourful streetlights in the form of Christmas wreaths and baubles bedecked the pedestrian area of the Old Town, Christmas trees appeared in residential and shop windows alike, and radio stations were playing all manner of popular as well as traditional Christmas music.
At Pennewicks, they always pulled out all the stops at Christmas with stunning, eye-catching window displays, and over the last week, there had been a steady stream of customers wanting her advice on Christmas party dresses.
The irony was not lost on her that she found it so easy to offer suggestions to other people, but struggled when it came to her own attire.
In the end, after a detailed examination of the contents of her wardrobe, Rosie decided to treat herself and purchased a new dress. It was black (as instructed by Emma) but had gold threads woven throughout into a leaf design, and a bateau neckline.
DeLaneys was situated on the edge of Haxford’s Old Town, on the site of the old Victorian brewery buildings which had long since relocated to larger and less expensive premises.
Despite its Victorian exterior, inside it was all polished chrome and tiled floors.
At ground level, there was a semi-circular bar lined by elegant stools and surrounded by smaller tables where people met to have drinks or order bar snacks.
The hidden gem of DeLaneys, kept away from the prying eyes of casual visitors, was its upstairs dining room with large windows that gave diners an unequalled view over the river all the way up to the abbey ruins.
At night, floodlights illuminated the Old Town and even without the addition of Christmas lights, it was an impressive sight.
As Rosie reached the top of the stairs, she paused and looked around. Thankfully Connor had already arrived, and she followed the waiter to a table by the window. He took her coat, and respectfully held out the chair to allow her to sit down.
‘This is a bit posh for a business meeting,’ whispered Rosie, glancing around at the neighbouring tables.
‘And what’s wrong with treating ourselves?’ Connor replied with a teasing smile. ‘Is champagne okay for you?’
Rosie nodded. It was like she’d stepped out onto a film set, and as she raised her glass in thanks and took a sip, Connor smiled broadly.
He had shaved for the occasion, she noted, and he was wearing a smart navy suit and white shirt.
The top button was undone and she wondered what it would feel like to seductively undo the rest of them and run her hand over his chest.
Hang on, where had that thought come from?
It was obviously something to do with the mood lighting, the wonderful views and the anticipation of a nice meal out, and nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that she was sitting opposite Connor Forbes looking like sex on legs instead of his usual grump-in-jeans look.
To keep her mind occupied, Rosie busied herself with the menu for a few moments while Connor took a few photos of their champagne glasses on his phone.
After the waiter had taken their orders, she looked around again.
There must have been at least twenty-five tables and over half were already taken.
She guessed this was the sort of place where a reservation was essential, even for a mid-week dinner.
A few metres away, a group of four girls were chatting animatedly and laughing about something on someone’s phone.
It made her feel old. The last time she’d had a carefree night out with a group of girls was when she was still at college and that felt like a long time ago.
Before James had become the centre of her world.
The girl holding the phone was now looking directly at them and she quickly snapped her attention back to Connor.
‘Do you know those people over there?’ she gestured discreetly.
Connor turned round in his seat and looked directly at them, smiling broadly.
‘Connor! I didn’t mean you to turn round!’ Rosie stared down at her hands trying not to catch anyone’s eye, but Connor was not in the least embarrassed, and gave them a wave.
‘No, never met them before in my life.’
Thankfully it wasn’t long before the waiter arrived with their food – glazed ox cheek for Connor and grilled sea bass for Rosie – which Connor also took pictures of before they started eating.
‘Do you always photograph your dinners?’ Rosie asked. ‘Is this for some new cooking programme?’
Connor laughed. ‘Just wanted to remember the evening, that’s all. I can send copies to you if you like – do you have an Instagram account?’
Rosie shook her head.
‘Facebook? Snapchat?’
She used to have a Facebook account although she’d never been a regular poster, but she’d abandoned it altogether after James’ death.
The pictures of happy couples and new baby pictures made her realise what she was missing out on, and she couldn’t face those anniversary memories popping up.
‘None of the above. Does that qualify me as a dinosaur?’
Connor pursed his lips. ‘Trick question, Florence. Never answer questions from women that might result in a slap in the face.’
Rosie noticed it wasn’t only the table of girls that seemed to be interested in them, and as they were eating, an older couple walked past giving Connor a prolonged look.
However, it was as they finished their mains that Rosie noticed a woman in a black floral off-the-shoulder dress heading in their direction.
Rosie directed her attention to the view out of the window, hoping the woman would walk on past.
Instead, she stopped at their table.
‘Excuse me, you’re Connor Forbes, aren’t you?’
Connor smiled. ‘Yes. Can I help you?’
‘Mind if I take a photo?’
Connor stood up and obligingly posed with the woman, who had brazenly draped her arm around him.
Before he could even sit down, the group of girls Connor had waved to earlier rushed over, and then it became selfie season.
As Rosie watched, they all took it in turns, pushing their cheeks against his, pouting their lips or grinning into the camera lens.
Before Rosie could escape, one of the group thrust her phone at her.
‘Could you take one of all of us?’
Without making too much attempt to frame the photo, Rosie obliged and then excused herself and headed off to the toilets.
She wasn’t sure if it was annoyance or jealousy but those giggly girls were spoiling what had been until then a nice evening out.
It was obvious Connor didn’t mind at all, which possibly irritated her even more, and she glared at her reflection in the mirror, unsure why she was feeling so out of sorts.
Thankfully the girls had gone back to their table by the time she returned, and she sat down, waiting for Connor to say something. He handed her the dessert menu, which had been placed on their table.
‘Is this a private dinner again now?’ Rosie asked.
‘Of course.’
‘So what was that photo session all about then?’
Connor waved his hand nonchalantly. ‘It goes with the job. They only wanted a few pics, that’s all. Let’s have dessert.’
Despite Connor’s best efforts – and Rosie was forced to admit that he did make an effort – the rest of the evening felt rather flat.
Dining at DeLaneys might be posh, but it didn’t feel special to her.
Not in the way she thought it would, and as she sat on the bus heading home, she wondered why Connor had bothered to ask her out at all.
Sure, they were friends. Maybe not in the old long-standing friends category, but why DeLaneys? Why not meet in a pub or something?
The answer to that question was unexpectedly supplied the following day.
*
Rosie was tidying up after a busy morning when she spotted Simon weaving his way between the influx of lunchtime shoppers like a lone salmon trying to fight the current.
Catching the disapproving eye of her supervisor who held strong views on staff having private conversations on the shop floor in front of customers, Rosie ushered Simon out towards the back stairs.
‘Sorry about that. Mrs Callow was looking a bit beady-eyed. What’s up?’
Simon pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. ‘You remember when you started this garden project how you’d never heard of Connor Forbes?’
‘Yes, but I don’t see—’
‘Well, I’ve got proof he’s here in Haxford, look.’ Simon thrust his phone at her. ‘He posted this on Instagram last night. He’s obviously still playing the field by the look of things. That’s a right two fingers up at Bonnie Appleton, if ever I saw one, although I don’t recognise any of the girls.’
Rosie looked at the photos with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She had no trouble recognising the girls.
The two blondes were leaning in to Connor, one on each side, both displaying a generous amount of cleavage.
There were other photos of champagne glasses, and food – including her own dinner plate – but she didn’t need to see the rest of them.
‘Looks like he’s back in the game then,’ said Simon, pitching his tent on the moral high ground. ‘I wonder which one he took home.’
Rosie handed back the phone. ‘I don’t care.’
‘I thought you ought to know what he’s like. I worry about you, you know.’
‘I know you do, and I appreciate your concern.’
‘Right, must dash, but I’ll let you know if there’s any developments to report,’ Simon said as he pocketed the phone. ‘I bet you anything you like he’ll be on Celebrity Love Island next series.’
To Simon it was clearly celebrity gossip, albeit closer to home than usual, but somehow Rosie felt duped.
Conned by Connor. She almost laughed. Maybe he was just living up to his name.
Or maybe she was one of those people men thought they could use for their own ends.
James had clearly seen her as a cook, cleaner and convenience wife, and to Connor she was just a…
Just a what? She rubbed her eyes angrily, took several deep breaths and marched back onto the shop floor.