‘STOP!’ Rachel giggled, as they both beamed.
‘D’you fancy another drink?’
‘Sure,’ Rachel said. ‘Where to?’
‘There’s a pub that does the most amazing hot wings up that hill, if you’re game for the walk?’
‘Oooooh, yes,’ she agreed. ‘I haven’t had anything since lunch. I could definitely eat some chicken.’
When they made it to the pub, Rachel insisted that Tom find a table while she paid for their drinks and snacks. Once she had two pints, a pot of nuts and a wooden spoon with their food order number, she began roaming the room in search of him.
She spotted him in a corner, seated at a tiny table with a tall, skinny blonde girl standing over him. The girl had her hand on the table, just millimetres from his. What was going on?
Tom saw Rachel coming and waved, and the blonde girl retreated – soon swallowed up by the mass of bodies gathered around a huge table near the window.
‘Am I interrupting something? Salting your game?’ Rachel asked, intending to sound impish but coming off annoyed.
‘Nooooo,’ Tom said, shuddering slightly.
‘Shewascoming on to you, though,’ Rachel said. ‘And I only left you alone for five minutes!’
She told herself she shouldn’t be surprised by someone approaching Tom while he was alone in a bar; he was a good-looking guy with (as Rachel had discovered) a surprisingly muscular stomach. It still felt weird watching some stranger sidling up to him, though.
‘Seriously, she’s not my type at all,’ Tom muttered, his face colouring. ‘And on the subject of types, I want to hear more about your enjoyment of men who can sing. Sensitive muso is a bit of an obvious kink for a writer, don’t you think?’ He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.
Rachel poked him. ‘Whatevs. It’s not like I’ve ever actually dated someone who fits that description. I mean, can you imagineLaurencesinging?’
Tom laughed, scooping several pistachios out of the bowl between them, then freeing the nuts from their shells. ‘Maybe a funeral dirge, or some sort of fascist marching song.’
‘Haha!’ Rachel laughed, shaking her head and grimacing. ‘God, what was Ithinkinggoing out with him?’
‘I did try and tell you he was awful,’ Tom said, arching one dark-blonde eyebrow. Then his eyes clouded over and his mouth turned down a little. ‘But … if you want the truth, I think you thought he was solid. Safe. That he wouldn’t inspire any feelings you couldn’t control.’
‘Thomas Evans, you’reinsightfulwhen you’ve had a few beers. Annoyingly insightful. But in any case, it turns out I was wrong about not feeling anything intense for Laurence. I feelveryintensely that I’d like to kick him in the nads next time I see him.’
‘Agreed.’ Tom nodded. ‘While we’re talking about hard-to-control feelings … how are you getting on at work? With the ex hanging around, I mean?’
‘Work is … well … hideous,’ Rachel sighed. ‘I’m stuck on a pitch for a bereavement charity that specialises in helping families who’ve lost a child. It’s all a bit close to home, and nobody at work knows about Lizzy. I’ve never talked about it to anyone there, not even Greg.’
Tom winced. ‘Jackknows, though, I assume?’
He said the name with a pinched look on his face, as though it tasted bad.
‘Yeah.’ Rachel nodded. ‘He’s … sort of helping me get through it.’
Tom’s mouth went flat – his lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappeared. ‘I thought you said the two of you weren’t buddies – that you were merely tolerating him for the sake of looking professional. This sounds like more than that to me.’
Rachel rested her chin on a balled-up fist. ‘It’s … complicated,’ she said, as a young waiter carrying a huge basket of sauce-smothered chicken wings emerged from the throng of drinkers opposite their table.
‘Enjoy!’ he said, setting it down before scurrying back to the bar.
‘What did Anna say when you told her about the pitch?’ Tom asked.
Ugh. Why couldn’t the man just eat some food instead of throwing out more questions?
He tried again, his eyes level with Rachel’s, insisting on an answer. ‘What did Anna make of the fact you’re keeping the truth from the rest of your colleagues?’
Defiantly, Rachel chewed on a spicy wing, then took a sip of ice-cold beer to soothe the burn. ‘I didn’t tell her about it,’ she admitted eventually. ‘Any of it.’
