‘Of course I did. It was really good, and I meanreallygood. No wonder you were nominated for that award.’
‘I wasn’t shortlisted or anything,’ Mirren found herself saying, struggling with the admiration.
‘You’re a great writer, Mirren, even without an award. Anyway, I needed some evidence to help plead your case with Ferdinand, see if he’d reconsider. I printed it out for him and left it on his desk.’
‘And?’
Adrian grimaced.
‘Didn’t even read it, did he?’
‘No, but that’s his loss, isn’t it? And mine.’
Mirren’s words faltered at this. ‘Th-thanks anyway. We tried.’ Flustered, she looked out over the water, avoiding his sidelong glance. They fell silent for a moment as they came up alongside the barge and passed it. All the while Mirren was becoming increasingly aware of her aching feet after her long day at the bar, but she matched Adrian step for step.
‘I was really looking forward to working with you,’ he said at last. ‘You’d certainly liven up the office. Some days I feel like I’m running the place; Ferdinand’s so quiet, hidden away upstairs all day, most likely snoring.’
‘God knows, I needed that job.’ The voices in her head were singing in chorus,But you messed up the interview. Typical Mirren, always spoiling things.‘It’s all right. I’m determined to enjoy the Yorick. It’s not so bad, actually, and these long shifts certainly beat awkward Christmases back home.’ She didn’t elaborate even though Adrian raised his brows encouraging her to go on. ‘I have a feeling me and your Mr Ferdinand wouldn’t really have got along anyway.’
‘I guess I’m trapped with the old stick insect then. You’d never guess he used to be an actor, would you?’
This surprised a laugh from Mirren. ‘No, you would not!’
‘That’s why Clement Dickens, the old editor, hired him, to get the gossip straight from the rehearsal room, but when Clement died the editorship went to Ferdinand and that was curtains for the paper. Ferdinand wasn’t much interested in theatre by that time, a touch of failed actor complex if you ask me, so the paper ended up going back to its old pre-Clement ways; it’s theatrical focus went out the window and it became a run-of-the-mill local rag again.’
‘That’s a pity. We could have written up a storm together.’ Mirren checked her smile, realising Adrian had stopped walking and they were now well on their way out of town on the opposite side of the bank from the magnificent Holy Trinity Church, its stained glass aglow and its spire disappearing into the dark sky.
‘Mirren?’ he said cautiously.
She jammed her hands into her pockets, not quite trusting them to stay there. ‘Uh-huh?’ She tried to sound casual.
‘I know you said you weren’t interested in dating and I get that, but I wanted to say that…umm,’ he cleared his throat, aiming his gaze intently at her eyes. ‘I’ll wait.’
She stared back. ‘You’llwait?’
‘In case one day you change your mind. I’ll be here, waiting. We could get a drink or—’
‘We can get a drink any time, we’re friends, remember?’ she interrupted with false laughter. ‘Anyway, I thought you were done with dating too?’
He looked sheepish at this.
‘Besides, I wouldn’t be a great girlfriend, trust me. You’re dodging a bullet.’
His expression said he wasn’t buying any of that. ‘Of course we’re friends.’ He nodded, looking down at the ground, trying to hide the defeat, and failing.
Scuffing her boots on the path, Mirren felt the awkwardness set in. ‘It’s getting really cold, I’d better head back to my place.’ She thumbed the way along the river behind her, hoping he wouldn’t follow or she might be spending the rest of the evening having to keep up her pretence of living in a real house like a real adult and not camping out in the back of her friend’s boat.
‘Sure. It is chilly,’ he agreed. The moonlight on his dark hair and lashes gave them a sapphire sheen. Mirren blew out a sharp exhalation at the sight of him, crestfallen and so handsome. She tried to congratulate herself for resisting his offer but, deep down, she just felt unkind and self-defeating.
‘OK, goodnight,’ she said, determinedly.
‘See you at the Yorick? I’ll drop in for a Christmas drink.’
‘Right-o, I’m working all Christmas.’ She wondered when she’d last used the phrase ‘right-o’ and whimpered. The impulse to close the gap between them and press a conciliatory kiss to his cheek was overwhelming. Instead, she took a stumbling step backwards, somehow tripping on her own feet but quickly recovering.
He watched her walk away before letting his chin fall to his chest, shaking his head, but he was smiling with the look of a man who had bared his feelings and wasn’t all that sorry he’d tried.
Chapter Twenty-Four
