‘Make that two,’ said Evie when Thorello himself appeared with the two beers they’d ordered.
‘And a big welcome to your friend.’ Thorello nodded to Lizzy, his Italian-American enthusiasm evident. He committed their order to memory and off he went. This place was the best. It was so relaxed. Chairs and tables were old and worn yet still bright, red gingham, wipe-clean tablecloths sat on square tables, there was an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and chatter buzzed at a medium level as they sat at their table next to the window and watched a dusting of snow fall from the skies.
‘So?’ Lizzy sipped on her beer.
‘So?’
‘Any news on the mystery man?’
Evie wished she hadn’t brought it up. She didn’t want to think about her uncle tonight, let alone talk about him.
‘I’ve no idea who it was,’ she lied. ‘I expect he was from the shelter.’ She fiddled with the label on her beer and looked out of the window. ‘The snow’s coming down thick and fast now. It hadn’t even started when I left Nicole’s.’
‘We might get a white Christmas.’ Lizzy grinned. ‘And nice change of subject, by the way. There I was thinking you were going to tell me something exciting, like you had a secret lover on the streets of New York. Mind you, he wasn’t exactly who I’d have paired you up with if I’d been the one to choose.’
Evie smirked. Her uncle had never been much of a looker, even in his younger days, although he’d behaved as though he was the next best thing to Richard Gere. She shuddered at the thought, at the memory of his eyes on her the first time she’d changed for the pool.
Their food arrived, and Lizzy was so ravenous the dinner silenced her for a while.
‘You should make time to eat proper meals, you know.’ Evie smiled, watching her friend devour what was in front of her.
‘I know, I know. One of these days I’ll do it right. At least I’ve got you to keep an eye on me.’ She dragged a piece of chicken through the thick, salty gravy and after she’d finished her mouthful, said, ‘Now, I don’t want you to get upset …’
‘Why do I sense there’s a “but” coming?’
Lizzy cut another slice of roast chicken. ‘But,’ she began, ‘there’s a guy at work, new in town, and I’d love to set you up on a date.’
‘Oh no, absolutely not. No way on this earth!’
‘Come on, Evie. I’ve never known you to have so much as a one-night stand, let alone a relationship.’ She paused then, eyes wide. ‘Oh God, I’m such an idiot. I never thought to ask.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well … you’re not … you know.’
Evie almost spat out her beer. ‘I’m not gay, no. Why, are you worried I fancy you?’
‘Don’t be crazy. And stop changing the subject.’
So she hadn’t forgotten the mention of the mysterious man, the link to her past that Evie wanted to bury.
‘I’m not changing the subject, I’m just not interested. I will go out with someone, when I find someoneIlike.’
‘But you’d like him. He’s gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome—’
‘Is he a movie star?’
‘He’s a doctor. Oh, you’re messing with me—’
Evie laughed. ‘Thanks for trying, but I’d prefer to find my own dates, thank you.’
‘Have it your way. This chicken is delicious, by the way, really tender, and the gravy is so good, it—’
Lizzy’s voice trailed off as Evie looked out the window and saw a man crossing the road, wool coat pulled up against his neck, collar turned up against the snow.
Jack Churchill.
She was about to look away when he looked up and locked her gaze.
