Page 103 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
Casually glancing up as I turned another page, I saw the woman take a seat, basking in the sun, her long tanned legs stretched out as Gabe disappeared inside. Moments later, he was back out and hurrying down on to the sand, calling Bryan, distinct worry in his voice.
Bryan looked up leisurely at his name, but unlike usual, he didn’t race off and bound up to his master. In fact, he made no effort at all to move from my lap. Gabe called him again. In reply, Bryan tucked his head down into his body and snuggled himself into a circle, like a Cumberland sausage dog.
‘He’s here,’ I said, when it was clear Bryan wasn’t going to make himself known. Gabe looked up, relief flooding his face when he saw the little bundle on my lap, even if the dog’s bum was pointing towards him.
‘Oh, thank God. What’s he doing there?’
‘He wedged himself out through the gap in the patio door and came racing round.’
‘Right. Well, thanks for looking after him.’ His manner was stiff. Awkward. Not like Gabe at all. ‘I’ll come and get him.’
‘Come on, mate,’ Gabe called, not even mounting the steps.
Bryan, in response, nuzzled closer to me.
‘Bryan.’ Gabe’s voice had a slight testy edge to it now.
‘Is he not well?’ I asked, surprised at this uncharacteristic behaviour.
‘He’s fine,’ Gabe said, now on the deck in front of me. ‘He’s just sulking because he wasn’t allowed to come to the beach with us.’
‘Oh.’
‘Gabriella’s … not used to dogs.’
I wriggled my fingers underneath the dog’s body, trying to get a purchase on him, but he was surprisingly immovable for such a small creature. And who could blame him. Seriously? He had to be banned from the whole beach because Gabe’s new girlfriend said so! I did my best to keep my expression neutral but from the look of guilt that passed over Gabe’s face, I got the idea perhaps I wasn’t so good at neutral. Managing to release him, I handed Bryan over to Gabe who, despite Bryan turning his nose away from him, continued to snuggle his pet and I had to admit a sense of relief when I saw Bryan soon respond with his some of his normal enthusiasm.
Of course, what happened next time she visited was another matter, and I felt sorry for Bryan if this was to be his new routine. Perhaps I might suggest that I take him when she visited in the future, rather than him being shut inside. I knew he had the run of the whole house so it wasn’t like he was chained to a post in the kitchen but he’d been used to accompanying Gabe on his trips into the water so it was only to be expected how confusing this sudden change was to his little doggy brain.
Gabe had disappeared inside and a short while later came out, once again without Bryan.
Pushing back the chair, I scooped up my magazine and headed inside, leaving my neighbour to it, and not hoping at all that Bryan gave him the cold shoulder good and proper once his guest had left. Assuming she did. Besides, I needed to get ready for this dinner with Paul. The sooner I got it over with the better.
Chapter 19
Carrie and I had later devised a plan to keep Ned away from the restaurant for the evening. He wasn’t on shift anyway so Carrie had planned a quiet evening in, and had surreptitiously changed the booking name, asking the staff who’d be on duty not to mention it. Ned seeing Paul in his own restaurant would be bad enough but seeing him there with me, I knew would not go down well. As I stepped outside to wait, feeling that somehow that made it feel less like a date, I glanced next door. The bike was gone, and the windows were closed. With a bit of luck, he might have already emigrated.
With the distance I now had from the situation, I could see how I’d been swept along by Paul. He really could be very charming, I realised, once we reached the restaurant. The waitress smiled, and he made all the right moves, helping me to my seat, asking what I wanted from the wine list, instead of just ordering like others sometimes had, including on more than one occasion, him. To be honest, this wasn’t something I’d ever minded all that much about. I literally knew nothing about wine so, assuming my dates did know something, we likely ended up with a better choice than if I’d been let loose on my own. As it was, when I had to choose something in an off-licence or at the supermarket, my entire strategy was still just to go for the label I liked the most.
Paul spoke, asked questions, even seemed to pay attention to my answers. It was only after some time had passed and I’d got some clarity, however harshly received, that I’d realised most of the time we’d been going out, he’d always had one eye on the phone. I wasn’t daft and knew that, sadly, this was not an unusual occurrence in today’s society. But I also realised now that he’d probably been keeping any eye out for any texts or messages from his fiancée and those sudden calls he’d had to step outside to take, when he’d mouthed the word ‘work’ to me, were more likely to have been from her. I guessed he had done the same to her when I’d rung.
And yet here we were. I knew the only reason I was here was because I’d been caught on the hop and still hadn’t quite mastered the art of being blatantly rude to someone’s face. However, I still had no clue as to why Paul was here. Only one way to find out.
‘Why are you here, Paul?’
For a moment he looked taken aback. ‘What?’
‘You. Here. Why?’
‘Because I wanted to see you. Like I said earlier, I miss you. Badly.’
‘Paul …’ I needed to end this, and quickly. We’d only had the starter and I hadn’t ordered the most expensive thing after all but, even with the amazing food, I just didn’t want to be here. I’d made the decision to leave that part of my life behind and that included Paul. Yes, he was charming and funny and knew the right things to say and the right places to go to impress a woman. But I’d been there and done that. And I’d got burned. And he didn’t want me. Not really. I was pretty sure of—
‘What?’ My mouth dropped open as the candles from the table caught the facets on a huge diamond that sat nestled safely in a bed of velvet, the name of De Beers elegantly, and discreetly, showing on the box.
‘I said will you marry me?’ He’d taken my hand now and I was still staring, open-mouthed. ‘You don’t have to answer right away. I know I screwed up but I can change. I have changed. I wanted to be with you back then but it was just … complicated.’
My head was swimming. The only decision I’d thought I’d be making this evening was whether to go for a pudding or head back home – separately – after the main course. I’d have done my bit for politeness and hopefully Paul would have got the message. This was, to put it mildly, a most unexpected turn of events.
