Chapter Nine
She floated out of the bar, warm with drink and excitement.
She hadn’t been looking forward to her birthday, she never did. Another year chalked off, another hideous December to get through, with everyone frantically trying to prove they had some picture-perfect life. She could do without the whole thing, frankly.
But then things had taken a turn for the better.
When the barmaid called last orders, Anthony had packed up his notebook, drained his whisky and leaned in to say goodbye. Jen’s heart thudded as she imagined him kissing her, but he just spoke softly, his lips brushing her cheek.
‘I’ll message you. OK?’
Finding herself struck dumb, she simply nodded. He smiled, a huge and slightly dorky grin that she found endearing.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘See you later, birthday girl.’
He glanced back once as he walked away, soon swallowed by the crowds.
Dreamily, Jen drifted over to where her friends were waiting.
Lou was slumped on a bar stool, resting her head on her crossed arms, and Rich was stifling a yawn.
They both looked like they’d been longing for their beds for the past hour.
Ted grinned as she approached. ‘Well. Happy birthday to you, eh?’
She couldn’t help smiling back. But seeing Rich rub his eyes and Lou struggling to keep hers open, she felt an uncomfortable stab of guilt.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I made you all come here and—’
‘And then talked to someone else all night, yes,’ Rich said. ‘But it’s your birthday, so I suppose we’ll have to forgive you.’
Jen bit her lip. He smiled, but didn’t sound particularly forgiving, and if she was honest it hadn’t occurred to her that she’d abandoned her friends on the weekend they were spending together.
She’d been too caught up in the excitement of meeting her train guy to think of them.
She’d only been apologising for keeping them out late when they were clearly tired.
‘Sorry,’ she said, putting her arm around Lou and helping her off the stool. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’
‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ Rich grumbled.
‘Well, I—’
‘Leave off her, mate,’ Ted said gently. ‘It’s her – oh wow.’
As they tumbled out of the bar, they blinked in the sudden brightness.
The snow that had been drifting down gently earlier was now falling thick and heavy, coating every surface in a smooth, gleaming white layer.
Jen laughed, holding out her hands to catch the fat flakes that gathered there, chilling her skin before melting.
She blinked away the ones that caught in her lashes, sharing a smile with Ted.
‘Told you it was going to snow,’ he said.
‘It never snows on my birthday!’
‘It does this year.’
Jen looked around. The bar car park wasn’t the most salubrious setting, but even this looked gorgeous as the snow crystals glinted in the clear, bright light of the full moon. She couldn’t help but see it as a sign; something told her thirty-two was going to be a magical year.
She scanned the crowds of people who were making their unsteady way home or piling into the cars of their designated drivers; no sign of Anthony.
A thud smacked her in the back, cold and heavy, almost sending her staggering, and Ted guffawed with laughter.
‘Got you!’
Jen grinned. ‘Oh, you’re asking for trouble now!’
She gathered a handful of snow, balled it and threw it, catching him right on the top of the head. He shrieked, laughing, brushing it out of his hair.
‘Unfair!’ he cried. ‘You can’t aim for the head, everyone knows that. Detention for you, Jennifer Susan Ward!’
‘Detention!’ She laughed, skipping out of the way as his next snowball whistled past her and landed with a thud on the ground. ‘I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to the poor innocent children in your care, Mr Piper.’
He grunted as her next missile hit him in the chest, brushing the snow from his jacket. ‘I’m not. Only for true delinquents like yourself.’
‘Hey, I’m not a—’
Lou sighed. ‘Uber’s going to be twenty minutes.’
They all quietened, lifting their faces to the sky, where a kaleidoscope of flakes flurried. If it wasn’t for Jen’s insistence on them coming here, they’d all be safely tucked up in the cosy Airbnb.
If it wasn’t for her insistence on coming, she’d never have crossed paths with Anthony again.
She began rolling a ball of snow across the car park. ‘Shall we make a snowman?’
The Uber took forty minutes to reach them, by which time even Jen was thoroughly chilled and losing her enthusiasm for the snow, Rich and Lou were huddled in a silent little gaggle together, and Ted had put the finishing touches of bottle-top eyes and nose made out of a rather soggy Quaver crisp to a slightly sad-looking snowman.
The drive back was slow and precarious, and the mood of the group wasn’t improved by their driver’s continual stream of doom-laden information about the blizzard that was now engulfing the Cotswolds and the prediction that it would continue through the night, making roads impassable by the morning.
By the time they finally reached Babblebrook they were all sitting silently, Jen and Ted watching the swirling skies through the windows, Lou resting her chin on her hand and Rich slumped, sleeping with his head lolling back and his mouth wide open.
At last they crawled down the village street, and their Airbnb came into view.
‘Good night, sweetheart,’ Lou said as they got into the house, the log burner still glowing in the corner of the living room, the lights spilling from the tree. She kissed Jen’s cheek. ‘Happy birthday.’
Jen hugged her friend, remembering all the times at college that Lou had encouraged her to work on assignments when she wanted to go out instead, or to call it a night because she had teaching practice the next day, or helped her with preparing resources for activities she was planning for the children.
‘You’re the best friend,’ she murmured, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into Lou’s shoulder, holding her tight. ‘And you’re the best mum ever.’
‘We must get together more often,’ Lou said, as they all always did when they saw each other.
As Lou released her and took herself off to bed, Rich stepped forwards, smiling and opening his arms. ‘Sorry for being a grouch,’ he said. ‘Happy birthday, gorgeous.’
Jen stepped into his embrace. ‘You’re forgiven,’ she said. ‘Sorry for ignoring you and talking to someone else all night.’
‘Ah, it’s no problem. Just like old times, eh?’
Jen had to stop herself flinching at the little stab of guilt this brought on. Perhaps she wasn’t as good a friend as she’d thought.
Rich laughed. ‘And who could blame you? He is stupidly handsome.’
Jen and Ted stared at him, raising their eyebrows.
‘What?’ he asked, shrugging. ‘I’m a happily married man. Credit where credit’s due, that’s all.’
Ted laughed. ‘All right, you nutter. Get yourself off to bed, man.’
Rich did just that. Ted smiled at Jen. ‘You turning in?’
She shook her head. ‘Of course not. Stay up with me a bit, will you? Nightcap?’
He shrugged, walking into the kitchen. ‘How could I refuse the birthday girl? What do you want?’
‘What do we have?’ she asked, squeezing in front of him to peer into the open fridge and reaching for a bottle of wine.
‘Hey!’ He lurched, exaggerating, staggering backwards. ‘You big bully.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ she said, taking the wine into the living room. ‘Bring some glasses.’
They settled in front of the fire, basking in the glow of the embers and the gentle light from the Christmas tree and wreaths. Outside, snow still fell.
‘This reminds me of old times,’ Ted said, filling their glasses and clinking his against hers. ‘All those nights you were begging me to stay up till the sun rose.’
‘Oh, you liar!’ She was genuinely outraged. ‘You were the one begging me, you party animal.’
‘Rubbish. And don’t call me an animal. That’s ape-solutely outrageous.’
Despite herself, Jen snorted. Ted’s jokes weren’t funny, but his commitment to his terrible sense of humour over the years had to be admired.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Getting serious with Sarah, right? Are we going to be getting wedding invitations any day now?’
He choked on his mouthful of wine, spluttering as he wiped his mouth, eyes rolling. ‘God, no, steady on! Where did that come from?’ He frowned at her, nervously wiping his soft wool jumper.
‘All right, no need to throw your drink about! I was only asking, you just seem – keen, on this one. You’ve gone all romantic in your old age!’
He grunted, stretching out a leg and wincing. ‘I think I’m more rheumatic than romantic, these days. But – well, she does keep dropping hints about moving in, so . . .’
‘So?’
He shrugged. ‘Ah, I don’t know. It’s still early days, I think we’re OK as we are for a bit.’
Jen frowned. ‘I thought you’d been together for a while?’
‘Just a few months.’
‘But – when you all got together for Lou’s birthday, you know, that barbecue, she came with you then, didn’t she? And that was May, so . . .’
‘You’re the one that’s all starry-eyed this weekend though, aren’t you? So what’s going on with you and Train Guy?’
She stared at him levelly, as the light from the fire and the fairy lights lapped gently. ‘Smooth change of subject, genius. Don’t think I didn’t clock that! But I’m bored of talking about you now, so I’ll let you off.’ He grinned. ‘Train Guy’s name is actually Anthony.’
‘Cool. And what did you find out about this Tony?’
‘Anthony is a writer.’ She stopped, rocking back a bit and taking a swig of wine, giving him time to be impressed.
He frowned. ‘A writer? What do you mean, like a journalist or copywriter or something?’
‘No. Like – poems and novels and stuff. He had a notebook with him.’
‘At the bar?’ Ted’s voice rose in pitch, incredulous and full of laughter.
His reaction was somewhat lacking the admiration she’d expected, but she could never stay serious when Ted found something funny.
And now she thought about it, she could see why he might find Anthony sitting writing and drinking whisky in the bar a bit odd.
‘Shut up,’ she said, smacking his thigh and grinning.
‘It’s romantic, sitting on his own drinking whisky and writing in a smoke-filled bar—’
‘It wasn’t smoke-filled.’
‘In an alcohol-fumed bar. It’s like something out of a black-and-white movie. And – and we met on the train, and we had this amazing connection, and I thought I’d never see him again and then—’
‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walked into his.’
‘Exactly!’ Jen fell back against the sofa, closing her eyes. ‘And he – I know we’ve just met, but I really feel that he gets me, he sees me as a free spirit, like him, and I’ve never had that with anyone before.’
Ted inclined his head. ‘Well, there was that guy who was really into travelling, you said he was a free spirit and—’
‘He was living off his trust fund.’
‘. . . and the one who was going to join a commune and live off the land that you said really got you and . . .’
‘He was secretly a married accountant.’
The less said about that particular escapade, the better.
Ted winced. ‘Ooh, ouch. My condolences.’
Jen sat forward, gazing into her friend’s warm, dark eyes and grasping his arm.
‘This is different. I – I really feel like there could be something special here. And I – I don’t know, I think maybe if I was ready, to try again, to have something real, then .
. . I think he might be the right person to do it with. ’
Her heart stuttered as she spoke the words, reminding her of the many pieces it had been torn into, of how long it had taken to put back together and the scars it still bore. But that had been long ago. She’d hidden for years, protecting herself. Was now the time to put herself out there again?
There was silence for a moment, broken only by the snapping of the fire and the gentle creaking of an old building, as Ted looked at her, taking in her earnest expression. He raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘You really like this guy.’
Jen nodded. ‘I think I really like him.’
‘Well, then.’ Ted smiled, gently this time. ‘I hope it all works out for you.’
She was smiling stupidly, far more than she meant to, and she couldn’t stop. Was this what it was like to feel something real? She remembered the pain of losing it. She’d forgotten the joy of having it. ‘Me too.’
He clinked his glass against hers. ‘Welcome to the world of grown-ups.’
‘Thanks. I’m new here.’
‘Oh, I know.’ He nodded emphatically.
‘Hey!’ She flung an arm out to slap him, but he ducked.
He grinned and shook his head, draining his glass. ‘Yeah, you’re not going to like it.’
Jen laughed, finishing her own drink. And ignoring the squirming fear in her stomach that he might just be right.