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‘Hilariously weird,’ said Tess, ignoring Adam’s glares. ‘We grew up together. In fact—’
‘Let’s get a drink,’ Adam said hurriedly.
‘I’ve got one, but—great idea,’ Francesca said, turning to the bar. ‘Tess, what did you say you wanted?’
Tess felt as welcome as a red sock in a white wash, nor did she wish to stay and watch Adam perform his moves on yet another unsuspecting victim—although in this case she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be called upon to pretend to be Adam’s girlfriend, as with Liz from the deli.
She said, warily, ‘Oh, I really can’t—’
‘Yes,’ Adam said, too quickly. ‘It’s really sad, but unfortunately Tess can’t stay.’
Tess looked at him, and she thought of walking back down the lane to the cottage again, opening the door, seeing Jane Austen’s somewhat disapproving face on the wall. ‘Oh, go on then,’ she told Francesca. ‘Just one, then. I’ll have a gin and tonic too, that’d be lovely. Thanks.’
‘Brilliant!’ Francesca said happily, moving off towards the centre of the bar.
Tess narrowed her eyes and glowered at Adam. She said, under her breath, ‘I can’t believe you! I don’t want to be in this situation, you know!’
‘OK, OK. Don’t kill me.’ Adam put his arm around her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just—this one’s a tricky one.’
‘I’m not staying for supper. Just one drink,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I promise. I didn’t know—is it a date?’
‘Not sure,’ Adam said. He touched her lightly on the shoulder. ‘Wouldn’t mind your advice, later. I’m looking for a sign either way before I make a move.’
Francesca came back with the drinks. ‘I’ve just asked Mick if we can change the dinner reservation to three, Tess—why don’t you have some food with us? We’re eating. Go on, it’ll be fun!’
Tess looked from Adam to Francesca.
‘I think that’s a sign,’ she said.
‘What’s a sign?’ said Francesca. She handed her her drink.
‘Nothing,’ said Tess.
‘Go on!’ Francesca said, nudging Adam.
‘Yes, Tess,’ Adam said woodenly. ‘Go on. Please do join us.’
‘Oh, all right then,’ said Tess. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. ‘Since you insist.’
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_ebc1cd62-9d16-5d35-9dfa-4d6467d0ac18)
Tess had been looking for some confirmation, a sign that, a month down the line, she had made the right decision moving back to Langford. She was due a good time, and that night was it. There was nothing her still-raw single state hated more than feeling like a gooseberry, but as they sat down she promised herself she’d leave early, citing preparation for the new job, leaving Adam to make his move. As darkness slid over the old building, and the lights behind the bar glowed at their backs, the welcome fire leaping in the grate, they sat down at a table and intently studied the menu.
‘Mm,’ said Adam, after that awkward pause that always joins the group of diners with menus who aren’t quite sure what to say to each other. ‘Looks great. I love the food here. It’s the best.’
‘Yep,’ said Tess. She glanced down.
‘You hungry?’ Adam asked Francesca.
‘Not sure,’ she replied, seriously. She looked at the menu again, a curtain of hair falling about her shoulders. ‘Deep fried local brie with cranberry sauce? Or chicken liver pwith onion marmalade? What is this?’ she said, laughing. ‘Caf?Rouge circa 1997?’
Adam looked astonished, and Tess stifled a laugh, not wanting to agree with her, but at the same time she felt a stab of loyalty. Almost as if, by dissing the Feathers, Francesca was dissing Langford, Adam and thus Tess’s decision to live here. She caught this train of thought and shook her head. ‘You can have a special,’ she said, pointing to the board where ‘Chicken Pie’ and ‘Lasagne’ were starkly scrawled. Francesca looked at them, sadly, as if she’d expected more. Adam gazed expectantly at her. He seemed worried she might be about to drop dead of starvation.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘We can—’
‘No, no,’ said Francesca, hurriedly. ‘It’s fine! So.’ She put down her menu and smacked the table. ‘You two have known each other for—what? How long?’
‘Thirty years,’ Tess said at the same time as Adam said, ‘No idea,’ and they broke off, laughing.
‘And you grew up here?’ Francesca said. ‘That’s so cool. I bet it must have been a lovely place to grow up.’
‘It was,’ said Tess. ‘Just—it’s a lovely town. Small, friendly. Very…’ she trailed off. ‘We could pretty much do what we wanted, couldn’t we?’
‘Were you near each other?’
‘Opposite houses,’ Adam said, rolling his eyes. ‘Tess and Steph used to throw mud at me over their garden fence. Lovely children. My mum…’ He paused. ‘Mum was always having to tell them to stop bullying me.’
‘What a load of rubbish,’ Tess said, feigning indignation to cover the pause that always happened whenever anyone mentioned Philippa.
‘Do they still live there?’ Francesca said.
Tess opened her mouth, but Adam said quickly, ‘No. Mine—don’t really know who my dad is, he was Irish and my mum met him at college in Dublin. My mum’s dead. And hers,’ he jerked a thumb in Tess’s direction, ‘moved to the seaside.’
Francesca laughed, awkwardly, at the contrast, and looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘S’fine,’ Adam said quickly. ‘I was being—yeah.’ He smiled at her. ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning to look at Tess. ‘Langford is a beautiful town. Bit quiet sometimes, but I like it that way.’
There was a silence. All three looked down at their menus again until Adam broke the slight tension, gently touching Francesca’s hand.
‘How about you, then?’ he said.
‘Well, I’ve come here for peace and quiet, so that suits me fine,’ said Francesca. ‘Just some time somewhere new, some fresh air, chilling out, getting some perspective, walking, reading, you know.’ She spoke slowly, and gazed into the fire.
‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Tessa, sympathetically, whilst thinking at the same time, Chilling out and getting some perspective? Who are you, Deepak Chopra? ‘Just a week or so, then?’ she asked, smartly. ‘How long will you be here?’
‘Bit more than that.’ Francesca dropped her mellifluous voice. ‘I need to not be me for a while.’
‘I know,’ Adam was murmuring, staring into her eyes. ‘But you’re here now, and you couldn’t have come to a better place.’
Tess wished she wasn’t here, in the gooseberry costume she’d been afraid of donning. She cleared her throat, and said nothing, and as the silence between her two companions grew more intense, and they held each other’s gaze, Tess wanted to hold up a banner:
IF YOU’RE GOING TO SNOG…
GET ON WITH IT!
Just as she was wondering if staying for dinner was a massive mistake, Mick appeared with a notepad, humming to himself, one bandy leg tapping out a rhythm on the floor.
‘Ready?’ he said, eyes flicking from Francesca to Adam.
‘Oh, hello, Tess! Didn’t see you there. Any reply from that advert yet?’
‘None yet,’ Tess told him. ‘Thanks, though.’
‘When’s the new job start then? You looking forward to it?’
‘Week after next, Mick,’ she said.
Mick whistled through his teeth. ‘Is that right?’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘Well. You done all right for yourself, haven’t you? Langford College, eh.’
Francesca looked impressed. ‘What, the residential place? Is that Langford as in Langford, here? I hadn’t realized.’ Tess nodded, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach.
‘That’s the one,’ Mick said. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Good to see you, Tess. Look at you and Adam here, your little husband, eh?’ He grinned in delight. ‘That’s what she used to call him,’ he told Francesca.
Adam rubbed his head with his fingers. ‘Oh, God,’ he said, in mortification.
‘These two,’ said Mick, jabbing his pencil in the air with delight. ‘When they was little, well—you couldn’t see the daylight between them! Like a little pair of Siamese twins. Her so dark, him so blond, riding their bikes down that lane there.’ Mick’s rich, slow voice was like the scene-setting narration at the beginning of a nature film. ‘It were ever so sweet. We all thought so.’
‘Mick,’ Adam said firmly, coming up for air. ‘Leave it.’ He smiled shamefacedly across at Tess and she shook her head, smiling back at him in embarrassment.
‘Aah,’ Francesca said, and patted them both on the back. ‘That is so sweet. Now, Mick,’ she said, getting down to business. ‘This roast with all the trimmings, what is it?’
‘Chicken, did it myself this afternoon,’ said Mick.
‘Great,’ said Francesca. ‘I’ll have just the chicken, and a green salad—no iceberg please—and some of that potato salad you made for lunch if you can lay your hands on any? And I want a glass of the Chablis—shall we just get a bottle?’ Adam and Tess nodded mutely at her. ‘That’s that, then!’ she said happily, as Mick scribbled away and then turned to Tess.
‘Er…’ Tess said, at a loss. ‘Er…Same for me?’
‘No problemo,’ Mick said, scribbling it down with a flourish.
‘I’ll have the fish and chips, please, Mick,’ said Adam. ‘And a pint of Butcombe when you’ve got a minute, but I’ll have a glass for the wine just in case. Need a hand?’
‘No, you’re all right,’ said Mick, and he walked off. Francesca turned back to them.
‘That’s adorable. So you were boyfriend and girlfriend?’
‘No,’ said Tess, a little bit too quickly. Adam glanced at her.
‘No,’ he echoed. ‘Just—when we were little, five or six. That’s what some of us—’ he glared at Tess, before grinning at her—‘used to go around saying.’
‘So the two of you never…’ Francesca made a strange flapping gesture with her hands. Tess and Adam both stared at her, then at each other, in bewilderment.
‘Joined a hand puppet society?’ Adam said. ‘No. We never joined a hand puppet society together.’
‘You know what I mean,’ Francesca said.
‘No, I don’t,’ Adam said, shaking his head at her wickedly. ‘What?’
‘I don’t know…’ Francesca had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Had a little teenage romance when you were younger. I don’t know,’ she repeated. She looked at Tess. ‘Come on, you must have thought about it, at one stage or another.’
‘Not really,’ said Tess.
‘Er—no,’ said Adam. He shook his head.
‘So you never had a moment? You’ve just always been friends?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s weird.’
They were both silent.
‘It may be, but it is true,’ said Tess eventually, aware she sounded very prim.
‘Yeah, nosy girl,’ Adam told Francesca, and she nodded.
‘I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’ Tess took a sip of her drink, and Adam did the same. As if realizing the conversation needed changing, Francesca said, ‘So. It’s always quiet around here, you say? No crazy rock festivals down the road or anything?’
‘I don’t knew about that,’ Tess began, and then there was a loud noise, and the door to the pub across the bar flew open, banging loudly against the wall, and a middle-aged man burst in, palming his hair firmly onto his shiny forehead as he hurried into the bar.
‘A’right, Mick!’ he called loudly to the landlord, pushing a stool out of the way and knocking over a chair.
‘A’right, Ron,’ said Mick.
‘Meeting’s starting in five minutes, that all right with you?’
‘No probs,’ said Mick. ‘Not many people in tonight, anyway, you can have the place to yours—’
‘Save the water meadows!’ Ron shouted suddenly, with enormous vigour. Francesca jumped; Tess dropped the fork with which she had been toying. Even the more stoic Adam blinked in surprise.
‘All right, Ron?’ he called. ‘How’s it going?’
Ron turned around at that. ‘ ‘Ullo, Adam!’ he said, coming forward. ‘Good to see you! It’s been a while, you all right?’ He peered, mole-like, at Tess. ‘Hullo there, Tess.’ Tess held up her hand, and Ron’s gaze moved from her to Francesca, and turned back to Adam. ‘Right you are,’ he said to him, clearly meaning, Go on, son. ‘You coming to the meeting tonight?’
‘No,’ said Adam. ‘We’re just having some food.’
‘Suggs is organizing it, Adam, didn’t he mention?’ Ron said firmly.
‘Yes, he did.’
‘You don’t agree with them building over the water meadows then, do you? Letting that Mortmain woman get away with it again, eh?’ Ron’s voice rose, his nose twitched, as he waggled a finger—benignly—at Adam.
‘You know me, I don’t like taking sides,’ Adam said easily.
He smiled at Ron, and just as Tess was looking at him curiously, Francesca said, in her charming way, ‘Ron—it’s Ron, isn’t it?’
‘Yep,’ said Ron, non-committally.
‘Sorry to be stupid, I should know this, but what exactly is going on with the water meadows? I only got here a few days ago.’
‘You haven’t heard about it?’ Ron said incredulously, as if the idea that this wasn’t front-page news across the country hadn’t occurred to him. ‘That’s strange. You know the Langford water meadows, right?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Francesca said politely.
