Page 74 of One More Day
‘You’re very kind, but I better race on. Goodnight, everyone. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’
‘Or I could take you for dinner some time?’
I look at Stacy who might spontaneously combust.
‘Lovely to see you again, Rose,’ says Billy, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. ‘Maybe you can let me know?’
‘Sure,’ I reply swiftly. ‘That’s kind of you to ask. I’ll let you know.’
I can’t get out of here quickly enough.
Chapter Twenty
Charlie
‘Sorry to be a party pooper, but I’m going to call it a night. Cheers for everything, Marion. I’ll see you again soon.’
Marion does her best to stop me, offering beer, wine, champagne, anything I want, but I’m having none of it.
I won’t deny it.
I feel like I need to scarper from the pub as soon as I see Rose leave, mainly because my head is fried after being pulled like a rag doll from Marion’s clutches towards Julie, the local librarian who has at least changed out of her racy red and white suit before joining us in the Lighthouse Tavern for drinks after the fayre.
For the last hour, Julie has insisted on taking numerous selfies with me, apparently to show her friend in New York who loves Irish men, so eventually I quickly make the excuse that I’ve accidentally locked Rose out of the cottage. Leaving half a pint of beer behind, I quicken my step, hoping I’ll catch up with Rose along the way.
And now here we are.
‘Oh, hi,’ she says, stargazing just like we did at this very same spot last night. ‘I was hoping to see the northern lights again, but maybe I’m looking in the wrong direction?’
Her multi-coloured woollen scarf is tucked up around her chin, and the pink bobble hat she is wearing clashes totally with the red dress that skims along her ankles – there’s always something with Rose that makes her whole look less than perfect, yet perfect for her.
‘You’re on the right track, but it’s a bit cloudy tonight to see it, I imagine,’ I say, looking into the distance.
‘Pity.’
‘There’ll be other nights,’ I remind her. ‘It’s going to snow quite a lot tonight by the looks of it. Did you have a nice evening?’
She glances at me as we now stroll together, her eyes puzzled at my question.
‘Hang on a second. Are you – are you striking up aconversationwith me?’ she asks, her voice lilting in surprise. ‘Like, anordinaryconversation and not one about the cottage or the rules? Or are you loaded up on too much wine, beer and emotion again?’
We walk in a rhythmic step about a metre apart as she guides us along the darkened lane with the torch light on her phone, dodging puddles as we go.
‘I only had two drinks, but speak for yourself,’ I respond, taking the dig at my earlier comment on the chin. ‘Nice to see you making new friends. You looked like you were enjoying yourself.’
‘As did you,’ she says, jutting out her chin now. I bite the inside of my lip. The moonlight is shining down from where it sits over the bay, far enough in the distance to see its full shape clearly but not close enough to light up our path.
‘I was a bit suffocated to be honest,’ I say, hoping to break the tension that hangs like a fog in the air.
‘Suffocated?’
‘Yes, Marion was literally stroking my face at one stage,’ I say with a laugh, ‘and don’t get me started on that Julie woman. She was on my knee as if she was in Santa’s grotto. I had to make an excuse to use the loo.’
‘She sat on your knee? I hadn’t noticed.’
Oh yes, she had. I know she had because I saw her looking at that exact moment.
I stop walking, but she marches on with pace now, so I follow quickly to catch up as snow begins to fall.
