to pay for the work and the lack of anything coming into her account worried her, and she knew it was time to economize further. Within hours, she was literally waving goodbye to the hire car, much to the embarrassment of Leo and the hire-car collector. She hadn’t used it much since they’d got there and trips to the supermarket and launderette could be accomplished on the bus, but she would build up to that adventure; there was only so much she could cope with at once.
The next milestone came in the form of two large flat-pack boxes and heralded the end of sleeping in the tent. Leo was seriously excited at the prospect of having a real bed again, which made Beth choke up. After an exciting day of screwing together the beds, Beth found herself in the pub on carnivorous quiz night, so called because it was sponsored by the local butcher, and all the prizes were meat- or poultry-related. Only in the Cotswolds, thought Beth and, more accurately, only in Dumbleford. Leo and Denis were in the flat above the pub watching Dr Who on DVD, giving Beth a little time to herself. It felt good to be away from the cottage. She sat at the bar sipping a small glass of wine and engaging in stilted conversation with Petra, who flitted from one customer to the next as they got their rounds in before the quiz started.
Jack suddenly appeared at Beth’s side. She felt his presence before he spoke. ‘Beth,’ was all he said, with a curt nod of his head.
‘Jack.’ She mimicked the nod before returning to her drink. This was their level of interaction since the whole bank holiday debacle with Carly.
‘Oh good, you two are friends again,’ gushed Petra, as she pulled a pint of Guinness for Jack. Both Jack and Beth went to speak but it seemed neither had the heart to contradict her. ‘You doing the quiz tonight, Beth?’ asked Petra. Beth shook her head as Jack shuffled coins around in his hand whilst waiting for his drink. Petra leaned over the bar conspiratorially, ‘You should.’ She winked slowly. Beth glanced at Jack in an attempt to gauge his reaction. She’d hardly spoken to anyone all day and, if she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t have minded joining in.
‘Petra, you’re being all mysterious. What do you know?’ asked Jack, paying for his pint.
‘I couldn’t possibly say but, trust me, you need Beth in the team tonight. Unless of course you want another crushing humiliation like last week?’
‘Come on, then,’ said Jack, walking away from the bar. It was very similar to the way he spoke to Doris. Oh to be held in that high regard by Jack, thought Beth, as she smirked to herself. She joined the usual team members at their table and they all asked her the same questions that everyone did: How are you settling into the village? How is the cottage coming along? Beth had fairly set answers for both which she repeated, and then picked up her glass to indicate the interrogation was over.
Jack let out a slow steady breath and Beth stiffened. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t got on with weatherproofing the window frames before the weather changes.’ Jack was talking into his pint. She had expected some sort of criticism from him but she wasn’t going to rise to it. She knew she wasn’t going to be friends with Jack but she didn’t have the energy to be enemies either.
‘Hmm.’ She pondered his statement. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t either.’ Jack looked briefly in her direction and raised one eyebrow in a look of disbelief. ‘It’s probably because there’s only me doing it all and I thought getting the place hygienic so that Leo and I don’t come down with some fatal dirt-related disease was more important. Oh, and focusing on getting the kitchen fitted so that we can actually eat something different to barbecued meat and microwaved jacket potato.’
All eyes at the table studied their drinks intensely as silence reigned.
‘You need a hand?’ asked Jack at last, a slow smile playing on his lips.
‘No, thanks,’ she answered almost before he’d finished the sentence.
Simon bent forward. ‘Did you say you were fitting your own kitchen? Because I’m a chippy by trade and I’d happily give you a hand. Only if you wanted me to, obviously.’ He appeared keen to avoid the same rebuff as Jack.
‘Thank you, Simon, that’s really kind of you, but even with your expert help I’d be hopeless at fitting a kitchen so I’ll pay the store to fit it.’
‘No,’ said Jack, loud enough for Audrey to almost spill her Martini and lemonade. ‘Sorry, I mean, don’t do that, they’ll charge the earth and they rush things. If you don’t mind it taking a bit longer, me and Simon could do it evenings and weekends for you.’ He was signalling to Simon as he spoke, and Simon was nodding so hard Beth feared he might injure his neck.
‘I don’t know,’ said Beth, looking at them both. Simon looked quite excited at the prospect. Jack was now giving off his usual hard-to-read aloofness. ‘What would it cost me?’
Simon spoke first. ‘I only take payment in strong tea and custard creams.’ He gave her a warm friendly smile, which she returned. They both looked at Jack for his response.
He rubbed his chin. ‘Dog-sitting.’
Beth’s brow furrowed. ‘Dog-sitting? Looking after Doris?’
‘Yep. I’m at home less and less and she’s unhappy being left on her own. If you’re in all day you could have her at yours and keep each other company.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Beth. The thought of the giant hound in the small cottage didn’t sound like anyone’s idea of a smart combination. ‘Do I have to pick up poo?’
Jack chuckled. ‘No, she goes first thing, so you should be all right. But, in case of emergency, put a bucket over it and I’ll sort it when I pick her up, okay?’
Beth was still assessing the proposition as the fat man with the shiny head took to the mike. ‘Welcome to the Bleeding Bear Pub Quiz. Round one: the London Underground. Are you ready? Question one …’
Beth looked over her shoulder to see Petra giving them the thumbs-up and another unsubtle wink.
Fergus was sulking. Things hadn’t been great since the treehouse fiasco, mainly because Fergus didn’t know what he had done wrong and Carly wasn’t able to explain it to him. When she’d asked Beth for advice, she had suggested that they needed to speak to each other more. Her choice of words may have been ill thought through but her sentiment was spot on. They had been interacting less and less recently and Carly needed to do something before things became irretrievable.
The fact was that they were drifting apart and Carly felt it acutely. So now she was going to do her best to engage with Fergus and to show an interest in the things he was interested in. The last thing she wanted was for the relationship to break down; she loved him and she knew that was all that really mattered.
Carly made Fergus his favourite vegetable curry with naan bread, poppadoms and mango chutney, which they ate in silence. She opened him a chilled beer and passed it across the table.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Fergus, I want to know about …’ Carly stopped signing as Fergus wasn’t watching her, he was drinking his beer with his eyes closed. She waited until he put it down. She waved to make sure she had his attention. ‘Fergus, I want to know about your work,’ she signed.
‘Why?’ He didn’t look pleased at the prospect.
‘I’m interested and I don’t know anything about it.’
He
