‘OK, I’m not saying anything further.’ Sennen looked back to her notes.
If only shecouldescape from her mind for a second with alcohol, Rita thought, wondering when her daughter had got so wise, and why she herself had got so stubborn.
She looked out to sea again and tried to still the restless whirl of thoughts. Part of her wanted to know exactly what Jago was doing, but another part, the bigger, braver part, knew it was better not to. He said he would do right by both her and Elodie, and she couldn’t force him to do anything. This was the test they needed, clearly. But what if he did decide he wanted to be with Elodie? Ten years younger, radiant, all that effortless beauty. A familiar, unwelcome pang of jealousy went through her. And yet, there was that other quieter hope echoing Sennen’s words: he loved her, and he did look at her in a certain way. There was also the huge blundering Dumbo in the room that she was carrying his child. A constant reminder that she and Jago were tied together in a way no one else could touch.
TWENTY
Rita stood in the driveway, waving Sennen off in the Uber she had been adamant on getting to the train station, and watching as Thom loaded the last of Poppy’s bags into his Porsche.
‘I might come down again soon,’ Thom said, giving his mum a tentative grin once in the car. ‘Err… I mean in case you need me to help more or anything.’
‘That would be lovely,’ Rita said, trying not to show her surprise.
‘Oh, but we’re still going to Westfield this weekend, aren’t we?’ she heard from the passenger seat as the engine roared into life.
As the car pulled away, she spotted Teo walking towards her. She called over, ‘I said have a day off, didn’t I, señor Serrano?’
‘And I said I would take everyone to the pub.’
‘You are a bloody angel, that’s what you are. Are you joining us?’
‘Yes, and Jude. I said he needs to check out Cass’s biceps.’
Rita laughed. ‘What are you like. And oh yes, by the way, did you happen to go in the Nook store any time today? The lock didn’t seem right. I meant to go and check it earlier but then forgot.’
Teo cocked his head. ‘No, that’s odd. Did you ask Zen?’
‘She said no, too.’
Unease prickled again as the pair of them headed to the outhouse. Rita’s heart sank slightly when she noticed the metal on the lock was bent, as if someone had tried to force the padlock, but failed. Leaving the door looking like it was slightly ajar.
She went in tentatively and looked around, but nothing appeared to be missing.
‘Hmm. I guess the storm could have caught it and bashed it backwards and forwards?’ Rita questioned.
Teo looked slightly perplexed. ‘I think we need more security and some lights, at least, Rita.’
‘Yes, I think so too. I’ll talk to Stan.’ Rita checked her watch. ‘Shit, it’s gone six already; we’d better see who wants to join the party.’
Zenya appeared from the orchard. ‘I do, for sure. I really fancy a huge plate of Pete’s chunky chips.’
With its perpetually creaking sign of a cartoon pilchard giving a mischievous wink, Seahaven Bay’s oldest hostelry, the Winking Pilchard, was more than just a pub, it was a local deity. People quietly worshipped in it with its ever-changing selection of local beers and harbourside views. Riptide Red and Dockside Doom, and a strong, cloudy cider called Bramble Biter – a pint of which could wobble even the hardiest of drinkers – were the flavours of the month. A chalkboard announced, QUIZ NIGHT – WEATHER DEPENDING. Nobody ever asked what that meant. The food menu boasted an award-winning crab sandwich and the best salty, thick-cut chips in town. If Seahaven Bay had atown hall, a confession box, and a therapy couch all rolled into one, it would look suspiciously like this place.
Pete the Pilchard was at the helm. Barrel-chested, with grey sideburns so thick seagulls could nest in them, he knew every regular, every order, every relationship that had launched itself under his roof.
His grin widened as he spotted Rita approaching the bar. ‘Rita Jory, long time no see. Your usual? I’ve got a lovely new French sauvignon in, actually.’
‘Um…’ Rita hesitated; why was everything she was hearing about lately French! This was the first time in decades she’d have to refuse her favourite tipple. ‘I’m driving, so… what zero drinks have you got?’ Choosing to drive as well as Teo so the whole gang could come down in one go, she was secretly relieved to have an excuse.
‘Shame on you,’ Pete said fondly, giving her a cheeky wink. She’d hosted Archie’s wake in this very pub, the same pub where the couple had first met, and had always had a friendly rapport with the affable landlord.
Cass was busy pushing two small wooden tables together, while Rita, insisting the first round was on her to thank everyone for helping during the storm, scrolled through the notes section on her phone for their orders which she knew she’d never remember without writing them down.
‘So, hmm… zero Heineken, I’ll take one of those. Cass and Davie want to try the Bramble Biter. Pints, please.’ Pete raised his eyebrows. Rita smiled. ‘Yes. I warned them, it’s strong.’
She looked to her phone again. ‘Appletiser for Priya, large Merlot for Imogen, large G&T for Odette, Tanqueray if you have it. A pint of Riptide for Zenya and Teo. Large rosé for Jude. Now, who have I forgotten?’ She glanced over at the table to make sure she’d counted everyone. ‘That’s it. Oh, and can we have two portions of thick-cut chips to start?’
‘Don’t be spilling anything here now,’ Pete barked at Cass, who had run over to assist with the fully stacked tray.
