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They passed the Grand Hotel, a hulking old-fashioned building that dominated the Esplanade and still served high tea for its guests every afternoon. Then up King Street, past the bakery and more holiday flats, describing everything they passed. “And this is Joe’s, and...”
But Tony was transfixed by Joe’s. “What is it?”
Mia glanced up at the sign. Seemed self-explanatory to her. “Well, this half’s a butcher’s shop and the other is a fishmonger’s. It’s just Joe runs them both. Saving people time when they’re shopping.”
“Sort of a primitive supermarket, then?” Tony asked, grinning.
“Not exactly.” She shrugged. “Aberarian’s not big enough to support both separate shops. So Joe’s father amalgamated them.” She didn’t mention that at the rate the local housing was becoming holiday homes, occupied for just a few months a year, soon the town wouldn’t even be able to support Joe’s.
Tony shook his head. “Baffling. Only in Wales. What’s next?”
Something in Mia’s middle clenched at his tone, but she couldn’t think why. After all, it wasn’t anything Joe himself hadn’t said from time to time.
She looked around her, wondering what on earth to show him next, and spotted, past the A to Z shop, the old Coliseum cinema. Perfect. Surely Tony would appreciate the sight of a proper old movie theatre, not one of those modern superplexes that charged more for popcorn than a ticket.
But Tony, apparently, was more of a modern cinema man than an appreciator of the classics.
“But that came out months ago!” He pointed at the poster jammed crookedly into the rusting frame on the front of the building. “And what’s a wet weather matinee?”
Mia shrugged. “Makes it cheaper if we wait a bit for the films. Helps Walt keep the place going, and it doesn’t make a lot of difference, really. And the wet weather matinees are just for the school holidays. Walt opens up earlier in the day when it’s raining. Gives the kids something to do.” She smiled at the thought of the last one she’d attended, with Charlie the summer before. “It’s fun. He puts on some classic kids movies and hands out big bowls of popcorn, included in the ticket price.”
Still staring at the faded and peeling yellow paint on the brickwork, Tony didn’t look convinced. Mia didn’t bother telling him about Walt’s Festive Film Festival, running from October to December, showing all his favorite Christmas movies. “Come on,” she said instead. “Come in and meet Walt. You’ll see.”
Inside the Coliseum, the lights were dimmed and the popcorn machine turned off. “Walt?” Mia called out, watching Tony taking a tour of the small lobby, fingering the grubby red and white ropes set up to keep non-existent queues in order.
Walt Hamilton stuck his head out from behind the box office door, and Mia could see Tony taking in his balding head, and butter-stained red and white shirt. “Mia? There’s no film this afternoon. Not until...” His voice trailed off as he eyed up Tony. “What are you doing here?”
“Walt, this is Tony.” Mia took Tony’s hand again and led him to the box office. “He’s in town on business, and I’m giving him a bit of a tour.”
“Right.” Walt stuck out a hand. “Well, hello, then.”
Tony took the proffered hand, and Mia saw Walt wince at the force of his handshake. “Interesting place you’ve got here,” Tony said, running a hand down the dusty frame of a black and white forties starlet’s photo.
Walt shrugged. “I like it.”
Obviously Walt wasn’t going to help her sell the Coliseum as a reason to love Aberarian. “We all love it,” she said with more enthusiasm. “Always packed out on a Saturday night, and the kids think it’s the best thing in town!”
Tony’s face was full of disbelief, and Walt cringed at the lie, so Mia decided it might be time to call it quits and move onto the pub instead. Surely Tony would have to like the pub.
“What are you doing here?” Susan Hamilton’s voice behind her made Mia more determined to make a run for it. “Walt?”
“Just leaving, Susan,” Mia assured her and, grabbing hold of Tony’s sleeve, dragged him to the door. “Bye, Walt.”
Outside, she dropped Tony’s arm and made her way down the cinema steps toward Main Street, and the pub.
“So, what’s next on this magical mystery tour?” Tony asked.
“The Crooked Fox,” Mia said. “You’ll like that at least, I bet.”
Tony took her arm again, and they started in the direction of the lower end of town. “Crooked Fox?”
She smiled. “You think only the cities have pubs? What do you think we do out here, all winter?”
Tony laughed, a bright, honest, surprised chuckle, and squeezed her arm as she led him to the pub.
“But enough about the town,” he said, once they were settled at a rickety corner table by the old fireplace. Tony put down his pint and focused solely on Mia; it was quite disconcerting, she found. “Tell me about you. All I know so far is that you like a rundown cinema.”
Mia shrugged. “Walt has always been very kind to me. He gave me a job there when I was in sixth form.” Back when the cinema actually made some money, every now and then, she didn’t add. It had been the best job in the world, and Walt had almost cried when he’d had to let her go. “I figure catching a movie a couple of times a week is a small way to make it up to him.” She’d go more often, but Susan was...less fond of her. For a lot of people in town, the scandal her father had left behind still tainted Mia.
But Tony didn’t need to know that.
“Have you always lived here?” Tony asked.
Mia nodded. “Always. Well, except for when I was at uni in Manchester. My father was a teacher at the secondary school for most of my childhood, actually. Then, well, he left when I was sixteen. I got my A Levels and ran off to university two years later. But after I graduated...I wanted to come home.”
“Really? I’d have thought...” Tony said, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. Apparently realizing he might have offended, he covered by asking, “What did you study?”
“History.” Mia took another gulp of wine. “I’ve always been fascinated by how we got here. I mean, history can explain pretty much everything to ever happen in the world, if you look at it right. That’s important.”
A slow smile spread across Tony’s face. “Personally, I’ve always preferred where we’re going to where we’ve been. After all, there are still so many things to see and do. So many new people to meet.” His thumb ran over the back of her hand, and Mia swallowed. Hard.
As his hand left hers, she found herself babbling to catch up with the conversation. “Charlie always says it’s where we are now that matters most.”
Tony reclined in his chair. “Charlie? Your boyfriend?”
Mia laughed and shook her head. “Not at all. Just friends.”
“Glad to hear it.” He was leaning forward again, suddenly very close. “Since it means I can ask you to lunch as a thank-you for the tour.”
“Lunch?” Mia asked, surprised. Was this an actual date? Had one of Ditsy’s plans had actually worked? If so, it had to be a first. “That would be...”
“Great. What about the fish place we passed on the way to the beach? Is it any good?”
* * * *
Charlie slipped back behind the counter at StarFish and checked the bookings log with what he was aware was becoming frightening obsession. Nothing new. “Magda?”
Magda’s head appeared from behind the kitchen door, followed by the rest of her. “You bellowed?”
“Has Mia been in?” Maybe Magda had got a good look at whoever had been grabbing hold of Mia’s hand. Perhaps she was being abducted. Perhaps she needed Charlie to save her. Perhaps...
“No.” Magda slid onto the nearest table, her neat black pencil skirt smooth over the rough and ready wooden surfaces Charlie had chosen. “But I did see her walk past with the most delicious man.”
Which was, of course, just what Charlie had been hoping to hear. “Any idea who he was?”
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Magda shrugged. “Not a clue. But she’ll be here for the tasting later, won’t she? You can ask her then.”
“Yeah.” Charlie returned to obsessing about the bookings log.
“Ooh, look.” Magda dropped from the table and into her best professional stance. “There might be some actual customers coming our way.”
It didn’t seem very likely, but Charlie looked up anyway, and promptly forgot all about bookings and restaurants and Magda and Mia’s mystery man. Because right there in his restaurant was a much, much bigger problem.
“Hi, Charlie,” Becky said, with just enough grace to look a little sheepish but apparently not enough to just stay the hell away from him after tearing his heart out and stomping on it twice already.
“Becky.” He glanced at her companion. “And Ditsy.” Who really should have known better and managed to stop this before it reached his door.
Ditsy stepped into the ensuing silence, smile widening with what Charlie was pretty sure was fake brightness. “We’d like a table for two, for lunch, if that’s possible.”
