Page 35 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
“If you like that kind of thing,” I said to Ted.
I pretended I hadn’t noticed Oliver’s behaviour. However, suddenly feeling awkward, I needed a diversion, so I picked up my drink and took a sip. Willing myself not to blush, I felt confused. Everything had seemed fine when I’d last interacted with him. My heart sank. Of course, it wasn’t. The last time I saw Oliver Chase, I’d accused a cow of being a burglar. And on the occasion before that I’d almost fallen off a mountain. I sneaked another look at him. No wonder he and Barrowboy were having atête-à-tête, no doubt, at my expense.
I thought about what Jules had said earlier about swapping Christmases, telling myself it was a good job I hadn’t agreed. Goodness knew what she’d been thinking when she’d suggested it. Who the hell was I supposed to invite? Not Oliver Chase, that was for sure.
In need of another distraction, I drank a second mouthful of wine, before turning my attention back to Ted Sharples. “So, how has your week been?” I asked.
Ted looked at me like I was a mad woman.
“Better than the one before, I hope?” I said.
The old man still didn’t answer, but I wasn’t for giving up. “It’s just that you weren’t in the best of moods the last time we met.”
Ted picked up his drink and continuing to ignore me, took a long hard swig. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said the man was thirsty. As it was, I frowned at his attitude. “Are you always this rude?” I asked. “Or is it just for my benefit?”
Ted harrumphed. “Who says I’m rude?”
“I do,” I replied. “My friend, Jules, says you’re entitled to be obnoxious because of your age. As if grumpiness is a badge of honour. I, however, don’t agree.”
“Some of us don’t like small talk.”
Neither did I but at least I was trying. I glanced over at Oliver’s table, but while his attention was thankfully elsewhere, he continued to look uncomfortable.
“I suppose you think a person preferring their own company is a crime too?” Ted carried on.
I recalled my last conversation with the old man, when he’d accused me of trying to steal his chair and I’d accused him of slander.
“It doesn’t hurt to be polite,” I said.
“And it doesn’t hurt to let a man enjoy his pint in peace.”
Once again, my eyes were drawn to Oliver. I suddenly felt flustered as his serious face looked back at me and I quickly turned my gaze back to Ted. As he downed the last of his drink and plonked his glass down on the table, I willed the old man not to leave. It was one thing looking like an idiot in front of Oliver, but to be a billy no-mates as well…
Ted rose and instead of heading for the door, he proved me wrong and made straight for the bar.
“Mine’s a large white,” I called out, as I watched him go.
My words were met with a rather loud chuckle; the sight of Ted’s smile almost knocking me off my chair. However, it seemed I wasn’t the only one to clock his grin and realising the room had quietened somewhat, I cautiously took in my surroundings. I felt myself redden, thanks to the numerous people staring at me. Including Oliver Chase.
