Chapter 10
Isla peered out of her bedroom window at the dark and gloomy night and wondered if this wasn’t a bad idea.
It was bitterly cold out there and she would have much preferred to change into her pyjamas, curl up on the sofa, and watch the new gripping Netflix thriller with her parents and Oscar.
Then again, she had spent every night since she’d been home doing exactly that and perhaps she needed to step out of her comfort zone.
It was the weekend, after all. Pulling on a pair of black jeans, a bright-red fluffy jumper as a nod to the season, and her black boots, she dabbed some powder over her face, a stroke of eyeliner, some mascara and blusher, and a smear of lip gloss, giving a smile of encouragement to her reflection in the mirror.
She threw her faux fur coat over the top to add a touch of understated glamour and headed down the stairs to the car.
She wasn’t sure what was compelling her to spend time with her ex and his wife.
Perhaps it was a desire to inflict personal pain on herself, or simply a natural curiosity to discover what had happened to Charlie in the years since they split.
Besides, it would be a chance to catch up with some other friends who she hadn’t seen since her school days.
It was too late to be having second thoughts.
‘Thanks for running me into town, Dad.’
‘No problem. It means you can enjoy yourself, have a drink or two.’ He turned to look at her, affection in his eyes, as he navigated the car out of the drive and into the country lanes to make the short trip into Bramlingham. ‘Make sure you text me when you want collecting.’
‘I’ll try not to be too late.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to come whenever you’re ready. It’s not as though it happens often these days.’
‘That’s true. I promise I won’t make a habit of it, though. It makes me feel like I’m eighteen again.’
‘Well, you’ll always be my little girl, however old you get.
You know, if there’s anything you ever want to talk about, work, or relationships, then I’m here for you, we both are,’ he said with an encouraging smile.
‘Not that I’m an expert in these matters, but a problem shared is a problem halved, isn’t that what they say? ’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ She flashed him an appreciative glance, grateful that his focus was on the road in front of him so that he couldn’t see the flush of embarrassment on her face.
It wasn’t the first time since she’d returned from London that her dad had gently probed about her well-being.
He’d always been sensitive to her moods, picking up when she was upset or troubled over something.
She thought she’d done a pretty good job at hiding her present worries but her dad was more perceptive than that.
There’d been times when she’d drifted off, her thoughts elsewhere, and her dad had caught her, observing her with a curious expression.
Quickly, she would bring herself back to the moment, readjusting her expression, pretending everything was fine.
Walking into The White Hart was like stepping back in time.
Even though the pub had undergone a major refurbishment since Isla had last been here, it still carried the same smell and essence of the historic building that she remembered, and it greeted her like an old friend.
It had been a regular haunt on Thursdays and Fridays after school when a whole group of them would descend, unwinding from the stresses of mock exams and revision, relaxing with the help of some good-natured banter, laughter and cheap booze.
She remembered being in this very room with Charlie, his arm slung casually round her waist, his breath in her ear as he whispered sweet words to her, making her feel loved and adored, and believing then that it would always be the case.
Now, the snug had been transformed into a craft gin bar, with rustic shelves and colourful bottles, the stools reupholstered with velvet fabric, retaining the olde-worlde charm of the pub but giving it a modern, quirky edge.
Isla had deliberately turned up late so that she wouldn’t be hanging around on her own, but she needn’t have worried because as soon as she walked through the door, she saw the raised arm of Charlie on the other side of the room, beckoning her over.
‘Hey, Isla. I’m so pleased you could make it.
What do you fancy to drink?’ He stood up to greet her, leaning in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, his friendliness immediately putting her at ease and brushing away any awkwardness she might have been anticipating.
Charlie had always been that way, sociable, funny, sporty, an all-round good guy, which was probably the reason she’d fallen in love with him in the first place.
And probably the reason Sophia, who had been sitting alongside him and waved hello to Isla, had fallen in love with him too.
Now, Isla was able to see the real Charlie, not the idealised, romantic version that she’d kept in her head, but the successful financier, loving husband and father, and good friend that he clearly was.
Handing her a rhubarb gin and tonic, he introduced her to the other people in the group, some of whose names she remembered vaguely from school but couldn’t really place and others she’d never met before, but it was easy enough to make conversation with their local connections.
Not that people were completely focussed on the conversation, especially when the local indie rock band started playing a mix of covers and their own songs.
It was a lively atmosphere and people stood and clapped, and sang along to the band, and Isla found herself relaxing into the evening.
‘Hey, remember me?’ said a guy, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, who sidled up alongside her as she moved her body to the music.
‘Hi,’ she said, not having the faintest idea who he was, but suspecting she should, judging by his expectant expression. ‘It’s…’ She floundered, hoping for a flash of inspiration from somewhere.
‘Ryan,’ he said, helping her out with a smile. ‘Ryan Goodge.’
‘Of course! Ryan! How’s it going?’
Ryan had been one of Charlie’s closest friends, but she was struggling to conjure up too many details about him now.
Probably because her entire focus at the time had been directed towards her boyfriend.
She’d lost touch with so many friends from her school days.
They had all gone their separate ways and made new friends and lives.
‘Yeah, good. It’s Isla, isn’t it? What are you doing these days? I’ve not seen you in years.’
‘Well, I’ve been in London for a while now. I work in publishing,’ she explained, thinking how convincing it sounded to her own ears. ‘Just staying with my parents for a few weeks over Christmas. What about you?’
‘I’ve been working in the family business since university. Goodge’s Farm Shop?’
‘Yes, yes!’ It was all coming back to her now.
The farm had been there for years. She drove past it every day on her way to the bookshop.
It had started out as a small wooden shed selling fruit and vegetables but had grown into several large barns selling a variety of fresh produce, plants and flowers, and gifts.
‘What you drinking?’ he asked as he wandered off towards the bar.
Ryan made a good companion for the rest of the evening.
They took it in turns to get the drinks in, and she felt under no pressure to make unnecessary conversation with him, as they were both happy to appreciate the music, dancing along to the upbeat tunes.
It was just what Isla had needed. A chance to properly let off some steam and to completely forget any worries, the music loosening her inhibitions.
Towards the end of the evening, people started to drift away.
Charlie and Sophia came up and gave her a hug and said they hoped they might get to see her again before Christmas as Amelia was keen to go back for another story-time session at Finch’s.
She waved them goodbye and thought, rather poignantly, what a lovely couple they made.
Isla had texted her dad to come and collect her, but it would be at least fifteen minutes before he arrived, so she bought herself one last drink, wondering immediately if it was actually a good idea.
She was already feeling light-headed and woozy and her head would probably be throbbing in the morning.
At least she could have a lie-in tomorrow as Miriam and Jonathan were going to be covering the shop the next day.
The band cranked up the volume, playing some eighties classics that got everyone up on the floor, clapping and bopping away.
Isla hadn’t had so much fun in years, but that last drink was probably one too many as when she twirled around on the spot, she lost her footing, stumbled across the room and grabbed onto Ryan to stop herself from landing in a heap on the floor.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ he asked, genuinely concerned, holding his arms wide as though he might spring into action at any moment to catch her.
‘Great thanks, and sorry!’ she said, laughing, feeling her cheeks burning as she disentangled herself. ‘Although I should probably take that as a sign to get home to my bed. It’s been nice seeing you again, Ryan.’
‘Yes, you too!’ he agreed. ‘We’re normally down here on a Friday night so if you’re ever at a loose end then come and join us.’
‘Thanks.’ She leaned in to hug him goodbye, appreciative of his kindness and friendliness towards her tonight. ‘See you soon.’
As she turned to head out of the pub, her gaze landed on a couple sitting in the window seat, and she faltered, momentarily taken aback.
They’d been sitting there all evening, but it was only now that she realised who it was.
Guy Madley and a woman. He nodded a greeting across the room, his mouth twisting in a smile which, on the few occasions she’d run into him, had elicited the same unsettling reaction within her.
For some reason, seeing him shifted her entire mood.
She’d been having a great time, lost in the music and atmosphere, able to forget all her worries, and now his presence gave her a sharp reminder of reality and the uncertain future of the bookshop.
She hadn’t spoken to Jonathan or Miriam since Guy’s visit to the shop so she was no closer to knowing if they’d made any firm decisions about its future.
She gave him a tight smile, put her head down and made for the door, but Guy took that moment to ease himself up out of his seat so that she had no way of avoiding his approach.
‘Hi, good to see you. How are you? Funny how we keep running into each other like this.’
Funny or annoying, depending on which way you looked at it. Isla’s glance travelled over to where Guy’s companion was sitting, but she was scrolling on her phone, oblivious or uninterested in what he might be doing. She assumed the woman must be his girlfriend, being of a similar age to Guy.
‘I suppose,’ said Isla, thinking how she hadn’t sought out his company at all, but now he mentioned it, he did have a habit of turning up when she was least expecting it.
What she hadn’t figured out was why she always had such a visceral reaction to seeing him.
A stirring deep in her stomach. ‘I was just going home,’ she told him.
‘Well, I hope you enjoyed your evening. The band were great, weren’t they?’
‘Yeah, they were brilliant!’ She wasn’t sure if it was the effect of all the booze she’d had tonight or something else, but the conversation seemed excruciatingly awkward.
Her gaze gave a surreptitious sweep down the length of his body.
Annoyingly, he always managed to look perfectly put together whether he was walking the dog, visiting the shop on business matters, or out, enjoying himself.
Tonight, he was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt beneath a red plaid unbuttoned shirt.
Effortlessly stylish. And undeniably hot, if he happened to be your type.
Had Guy noticed her dancing tonight? she wondered fleetingly.
She suppressed a sigh, realising he must have done as she’d been right in his line of view and that wouldn’t have been a pretty sight for anyone to behold.
Especially when she’d been lurching all over the place, tripping over her own feet.
‘Ahh, that’s my lift,’ she said, making a show of bending down to peer out of the window. ‘I must go,’ she added.
‘Yes, good seeing you, Isla. No doubt we’ll run into each other again soon.’ There was that distinctive, engaging smile, but something else shining in his eyes too. A challenge, perhaps?
She groaned inwardly, wondering why that possibility filled her with a sense of alarm along with a fluttering sense of anticipation too.