I guess.’ She squinted at Jed’s disappearing form. ‘Mike said you knew him.’ She peered at Millie, who had gone white beneath her tan. ‘Come on, then, spill the goss.’
She filled Millie’s glass with the last of the wine and settled back against the groyne, a now snoring Trevor lying on her feet.
‘He’s a man I know. Knew. He came into the café in January and I fell for him.’
‘Don’t blame you, he’s gorgeous.’
Millie nodded. ‘Kind too. He paid for Daisy’s operation when Arthur couldn’t afford it.’
‘Daisy?’
‘Arthur Roulestone’s golden retriever.’
‘Ah. So why does the reappearance in Berecombe of this totally gorgeous, beautifully dressed, and apparently kind, man give you a nervous breakdown?’
‘Oh Dor. He’s the man I love. Will always love. But –’
‘But?’
‘He just happens to work for Blue Elephant.’
‘No shit!’
Millie nodded. ‘Or rather, as he was at pains to point out, he’s their management consultant or something. Or was. He’s stopped doing work for them now.’
Dora relaxed. ‘Not so bad, then.’
‘Not if you don’t count him overseeing the opening of the branch here and not telling me. The café which may yet put me well and truly out of business.’
‘Ouch.’ Dora finished her wine and crushed the plastic glass. ‘And it’s the not-telling you that really hurts?’
‘Yup.’ Millie stared gloomily into her wine. ‘That and the fact that he and I come from different worlds.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, he travels the world, is never in one place longer than five minutes, skis, dives, has holidays in St Lucia. That sort of thing.’
‘Oh, that sort of thing.’ Dora sounded amused.
‘Don’t laugh!’
‘I wasn’t laughing, honey. It’s the sort of life I had until recently. It doesn’t stop us getting on, does it?’
‘Of course it doesn’t. But you’re not my lover, are you? And you’ll go away too at some point, won’t you? And I’ll still be here.’
‘It wasn’t like Millie to be self-pitying.’ Dora put an arm around her. ‘If he loved you, he’d give it all up, wouldn’t he? To be with you?’
‘What and live in Berecombe and run the café with me?’ Millie gave a hard laugh.
‘Maybe that’s what he’s looking for?’
‘He said once I was home to him,’ Millie said wistfully.
‘Well, there you go, honeybun.’
‘But I’d never be enough for him. I know I wouldn’t.’
Dora stared at her friend. It wasn’t like her to be defeatist either. ‘Millie, you’re one of the kindest, most generous people I know. And you’re beautiful.’ When Millie snorted derisively she added, ‘Yes, you are. You look just like Keira Knightley with added curves. And you’re brave. Far braver than me. I couldn’t have taken on what you did when your parents died. You know me, I’d collapse in a fit of the vapours.’
‘You did an awful lot of crying. I think you did my share too.’
‘Well, I loved them too, don’t forget.’
Millie let her head sink onto her friend’s shoulder. ‘Oh Dor, you’re such a good pal.’
‘Even though I have the temerity to go skiing and have been known to holiday in St Barts?’
‘Even that.’ Millie’s voice was slurred.
‘Good, there’s hope for me yet, then. I think, my lovely, we’d better get you home and to your bed.’ She picked up their discarded bags, the crumpled wine glasses and the bottle and put the loop of Trevor’s lead around her wrist. ‘Come on, my sandy boy. You need to go home too.’
As they meandered along the promenade, towards Millie’s flat, Dora’s mind was busy plotting how to get her best friend well and truly hooked up and back with the delectable Jed.
‘It’s just one big social whirl in Berecombe nowadays, isn’t it?’ Dora slugged back her wine and surveyed the crowd milling about at the launch of the Arts Workshop.
‘Hello Dora. Standing on the edge of the party and looking superior as usual? Bit Mr Darcy, isn’t it?’
‘I really don’t have to make any effort at that, Mike.’ It came out more diva-ish than she meant. Whenever he came near she felt herself reduced to a stereotype. The truth was she was lonely and a bit self-conscious. Tessa and her husband Ken were the focus of everyone’s attention, something she was more used to being, and Millie was busy overseeing the catering. The venue they’d decided upon for the Workshop was an old youth club tucked away in a grimy part of town next to the tennis court and children’s playground. The interior was rundown and filthy. She felt distinctly uncomfortable and out of place and Mike’s presence wasn’t helping.
‘It’s hardly the sort of thing I’m used to.’ Whoa! Where had that come from? Was she channelling Scarlett O’Hara now?
‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ Mike’s voice was dry. ‘I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you that you could use your celebrity status, however limited, to help them fundraise?’
She turned on her heel. ‘Putting aside the fact I already have, I don’t suppose you have either? Or is your celebrity status even more limited?’ She smiled archly and was pleased to see the barb hit home. There was a fascinating pulse beating at the base of his throat. Dora stared at him, a desire to either hit or kiss him warring. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Oh, she definitely wanted to kiss him. Maybe to find out if it was as good as the memory. Mainly, to kiss him until she left him gasping for mercy. Deliberately and very slowly, she licked her lips and then looked him straight in the eye. He gave a sort of strangled gasp and she knew she’d won this round.
He blew out a breath, looking as if he longed to get away. From nowhere Kirstie appeared and claimed his arm. She gawped up at him, adoringly. ‘Darling, there are literally millions of people you need to meet.’ As if only just realising Dora’s presence, she added, ‘Oh hello again, Theodora.’ She gave a cat’s smile.
‘Kirstie.’ Dora looked from Mike to the girl. So this was how it was? She might have known. The disappointment felled her like a physical blow. How had she been so stupid?
Mike
