One of the guides appeared at the stone wall dividing the churchyard from the lane. ‘Excuse me, Mr Cameron. We’re starting the talk now if you would like to join us. We waited for you.’
‘I’m not speaking am I?’ he sounded concerned.
‘No, no. But we didn’t want you to miss it.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I’ll be right there.’
The guide walked back towards the church and Guy turned to look at Melissa.
‘Bye.’ She gave him a small wave as she moved towards the car park. ‘Enjoy the talk.’
He nodded. ‘Bye. Take care of yourself, Melissa.’
As she drove to Liam’s cottage, Melissa glanced at her watch. She’d been wandering around Tyneham for the best part of the day and she had only meant for it to be a flying visit. She was tired and hungry.
Melissa opened the front door expecting to hear something along the lines of ‘Where the hell have you been?’ But Liam was leaning on the arm of the sofa. A sports channel was on in the background broadcasting a surfing competition somewhere warm and sunny. He was playing with his phone and didn’t look up when she entered.
‘Hi,’ she said from the door.
‘Y’aright?’ he mumbled, his fingers tapping away on his mobile.
‘Yeah. Good day?’ Melissa asked, but Liam didn’t answer. The tapping on his phone continued.
She went towards the kitchen and downed two glasses of tap water. Finally feeling better, she glanced up at her boyfriend, who hadn’t even looked at her yet, and she wondered why she had bothered rushing back. She grabbed a yogurt and a spoon from the kitchen.
Were they in a rut? How had this happened so soon? Admittedly they’d not been going out that long, but at eight months, this was Melissa’s longest relationship yet. It was a fact she wasn’t exactly proud of given she was twenty-eight and felt she should probably have worked out how to hold down a relationship long before now. But at this relatively early stage, wasn’t it still supposed to be a bit more exciting? She had no idea what she was doing. She wondered if she was messing it up, playing it too cool, but she knew from watching the breakdown of her parents’ marriage that men didn’t like women who nagged. Her mum had found that out the hard way, leading to perpetual arguments. But maybe Melissa had gone too far in the other direction. When she and Liam had first got together, they’d been great – or so she’d thought. They’d met in one of those awful bars in Canary Wharf where bankers drink champagne costing £160 a bottle. She hadn’t been used to that kind of flamboyance on her admin assistant salary. She’d only been there to celebrate a friend’s birthday after work. Maybe she’d been out of her depth from the start.
She toyed with telling him she’d passed out today. But what would be the point; to make him look up, to force him into paying some attention to her? Melissa cringed thinking about it. There were other ways, surely, to try to save a relationship and the sympathy vote wasn’t it.
‘Shall we go out for dinner?’ she asked when she’d finished the yogurt. She was holding the fridge door open and enjoying its cool temperature.
‘What?’ He sounded harassed. ‘Oh, I’ve already eaten.’
Melissa was taken aback. ‘Really?’ She closed the fridge. ‘I thought we would eat together.’
‘We didn’t say we would, did we?’ The tapping had resumed.
Melissa’s eyes widened and she looked at the back of his head. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose not.’ She folded her arms, trying not to rise to the argument. ‘What did you have?’
‘Crab cakes, those sexy skinny chips, sticky toffee pudding. And a fabulous bottle of Sauvignon.’
‘Wow. Where’d you get all that?’
‘The Pheasant and Gun.’
‘Oh.’ Liam had eaten at the swanky gastro inn a few miles down the road that Melissa had been wanting to visit since they’d driven past it at the start of the holiday. ‘I thought we were going to go there together?’ she asked pointedly.
He finally put the phone down and turned to her. ‘I was hungry.’ He shrugged. ‘We can still go there another day. We’ve got plenty of time before real life beckons and we head back to London.’ He picked up his phone again, indicating the end of his participation in the conversation.
Melissa shook her head. Unbelievable. She was too livid to speak. When it was clear Liam wasn’t going to look back up and engage, Melissa stalked over to the table where she’d thrown her car keys, grabbed them and slammed the front door behind her. She needed some thinking time.
Her stomach rumbled. In a fit of annoyance, she decided that, for the first time in her life, she was going to have dinner in a swanky restaurant by herself.
On the drive over to the Pheasant and Gun, she tried to work Liam out. Who goes to a top gastro pub on their own, on a Saturday, when they are on holiday with their girlfriend? What on earth? It was like she wasn’t really there. Like she wasn’t actually on holiday with him. He didn’t seem to care what she did with her days or whether they actually spent any time together at all. This was turning out to be the worst holiday she’d ever been on, but, as she thought this, she remembered two weeks in Magaluf with her parents when she was eighteen. Perhaps this week in Dorset was coming in a very close second.
By the time she pulled into the car park of the Pheasant and Gun, Melissa was starting to question her impulsive move. She was nervous. Other than a quick sandwich in a café, Melissa had never eaten out by herself before. Catching sight of herself in the rear-view mirror, she pulled out her make-up and made her face presentable.
On the walk across the gravel car park, she hastily pulled the band out of her long brown hair and let it fall down around her shoulders, fluffing it up a little for good measure. She’d never walked in anywhere and asked for a table for one. Maybe she could eat inconspicuously at the bar. She wished she’d brought one of her glossy magazines so she had something to read.
As she pulled open the door of the inn and walked through, she regretted her decision to dine solo. The bar was heaving with drinkers and all the dining tables were full. What was she doing? She should have just gone to the fish and chip shop.
‘Can I help you?’ the lady behind the bookings desk asked.
‘Table for one?’ Melissa asked uncertainly.
‘Have you booked?’ The woman eyed Melissa’s outfit of jeans and T-shirt with a look of disdain.
Melissa’s face fell. ‘No, sorry.’ Oh, what was she doing here?
While the hostess spent a long time looking through the diary in front of her trying to find a vacant timeslot, Melissa looked around self-consciously, mentally preparing herself to leave. As she did so, she caught the eye of a man sitting at one of the window tables. She glanced back and did a double take when she realised it was the TV historian.
Guy waved hello and gave her a look that said ‘what are you doing here?’
‘We don’t have
