‘I never spill,’ the burly carpenter replied confidently, immediately wobbling the tray and sloshing cloudy liquid everywhere.
Pete smiled as he took in the eclectic group gathered around the two battered tables, no doubt spotting both the promise of a lively night and a healthy till by closing time.
Once all the drinks had arrived, Rita lifted hers. ‘Thanks for helping me through the storm, much appreciated – and cheers!’
Everyone clinked glasses. ‘I host the wild swim and yoga tomorrow. Seahaven Bay Cove at eight, don’t forget.’ Teo laughed but was also deadly serious. ‘It is good for the soul, up there, hanging over or not.’
Davie laughed. ‘I’m not hanging over any kind of cliff, sweetheart.’
‘I’ll be there,’ Priya assured.
‘I may be in spirit,’ Odette added dryly.
While Teo and Jude argued affectionately about nothing, Rita caught Zenya occasionally flicking a glance at Priya. Oh, how she would love it if her friend could find happiness with another human. Davie turned his nose up at first at his cloudy cider, then began to drink it like water. ‘This issogood, it’s going down like lemonade.’
Cass nodded in agreement then drained his glass. ‘It certainly has a taste of its own.’
Joel the bartender was doing a round of glass collecting. ‘It has a mind of its own, too; be careful with it.’
Davie’s eyes lit up at the further eye candy and Rita suddenly realised why Jilly was never down. ‘Oof. Cider goggles on maybe, but where did he spring from?’ Davie laughed.
Imogen shook her head. ‘You’re like a bloody dog on heat, you are.’
Davie rolled his eyes. ‘Just being a hot-bloodied twenty-something actually, thank you.’
Rita tilted her head, giving the woman a careful smile. ‘So… tell me more about this HR role of yours, Immie?’ The woman’s eyes blackened. ‘I mean, Imogen,’ Rita corrected.
Imogen blinked, a fraction of hesitation. ‘Oh… um, well, mostly I make sure people follow the rules. Policies. You know… health and safety, interviewing staff issues, that sort of thing.’
Rita raised an eyebrow, just enough to be slightly teasing. ‘Interesting. And would that involve, say, advising people on client relationships? Managing tricky situations… like weddings, perhaps? I could do with all the help I can get on that front.’
Imogen’s eyes lit up. ‘Well, yes… Details, logistics… all the behind-the-scenes stuff people don’t see. Do you think you will be able to pull it off at yours, the one in the summer, I mean?’
‘Of course she will,’ Zenya piped up. ‘Rita is capable of anything, especially under pressure.’
Rita felt her chest warm. ‘I’m more interested in what you do, though, Immy.’ Rita slipped purposely. ‘The classic interview question, isn’t it? Strengths and weaknesses?’
Imogen leaned back, took a deliberate sip of her wine, which gave a faint flush to her cheeks, trying to look professional. ‘Strengths… I’m good at reading between the lines.’
Rita frowned slightly. ‘And weaknesses?’
‘Probably that I’m too much of a perfectionist,’ Imogen said, with a little shrug. ‘How about you?’
‘Right,’ Rita said thoughtfully. Then she met Imogen’s eyes. ‘Mine… hmm. Strengths, I’d say I’m reliable. People can count on me, even when everything’s messy.’ She felt a pang of nerves thinking of the baby and the pressure she was under. ‘And adaptable. I can roll with whatever or whoever life throws at me.’
Imogen tilted her head, clearly intrigued. ‘And weaknesses?’
Rita hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘I take on too much and forget to look after myself.’
Her mind flicked briefly to Jago. Oh, how she wished he would just call to say that Elodie had left, that this whole sorry event was over. One more day she was giving him and then giving up on him. There was no excuse with the weather now and as much as she said she had no money, it was not his responsibility to throw that at her either.
Imogen was undeterred. ‘So, tell me one detail about this wedding of yours. Seating plan drama? Flower meltdown? Bride screaming at the venue change.’
Rita tried to laugh, tried to be light. But all of this had become too much for her. This woman’s constant questions. The room suddenly felt too hot. The air too thick. Something churned, cold and wrong, low in her stomach.
Cass noticed instantly. ‘You OK, Rita?’
‘I just… just need air.’ Rita pushed back gently from the table. ‘Just… a bit dizzy.’
