came a voice from the door behind them. ‘Francesca, can you ever—Oh. Tess?’ The deep voice stopped. ‘Is that you?’
Tess whirled round. ‘Adam? I thought you were—’
There, striding towards them, was her oldest friend, a look of bemusement across his face. His thick light brown hair was standing up in tufts, as it did when he was in a hurry, or confused, and his eyes were questioning. He smiled as he reached them, and she nodded, behind Francesca, smiling back at him. Of course…of course.
‘This is a nice surprise!’ he said, squeezing her arm, just a little too hard.
‘Yes, isn’t it,’ she answered, taking his hand in hers and scratching his palm with her middle fingernail. He jumped in surprise.
‘I thought I—’
‘You said you were busy tonight,’ Tess said, unnecessarily loudly. ‘How lovely to see you. I just came in to check up with Mick about my ad.’
‘Ah, of course,’ said Adam. ‘Well, lovely to see you, Tess.’ Francesca was looking at them, confusion spreading over her lovely face. ‘Yes, I am busy tonight, as you can see.’
‘Yes,’ said Tess, trying to think of some appropriate comeback, but she had missed her chance for Adam leaned forward, towards That Girl again.
‘I really am sorry for being late,’ he said, smiling at her. Francesca looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, hair falling in her face, her composure momentarily disturbed.
‘Oh, that’s fine,’ she said, shyly.
‘I had to lock up at the museum, and then I found a little chick barely alive in the lane…’
‘Country Boy,’ said Francesca. She turned to Tess. ‘I called him Country Boy the first day I was here. He’s so funny.’ Her eyes met his again.
‘I’m not,’ said Adam. He was smiling at her. ‘I’m a sophisticated international man of mystery, that’s me. Call me Adam Bond instead.’ Francesca gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘So you’ve met my oldest friend, then?’
‘Wow, really?’ said Francesca, turning to Tess with pleasure in her eyes. ‘Isn’t that weird!’
‘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.’
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
