Jesus, you didn’t have to tell him that!
He laughed. “I did worry when you started off with the two pints, but you seemed so much more relaxed afterwards.”
My shoulders inched up toward my ears.
Oh God, what did you do?
“Don’t worry.” He leaned on the counter. “You didn’t dance on the tables or anything. We just had a good chat. If it helps to know, you’re a ranty drunk.”
“I am?” I braced myself.
“Yeah, in a good way. It was funny.”
What did you say?
“You talked about your work a lot.”
My blood chilled. Did I tell him what happened at the office?
“It’s so weird to think that behind all those emails from big multi-national companies there’s just some person sitting in a room writing away, pretending to be them.”
Oh, thank Christ. I’d just talked about marketing emails.
Rowan shook his head.
“It sort of reminds me of the folk in suits pretending to be Mickey Mouse for photos at Disneyland. Does it feel weird pretending to be someone else all the time?”
“No.” I imagined myself sitting in a Mickey Mouse costume at my desk, hunched over my keyboard. “I mean, that’s just what everyone does at work. Pretend.”
Rowan gave me another of those hard-to-read looks.
“Anyway, my sister told me I should start a Facebook page or a newsletter for the store, but I really can’t be bothered with it.” He shrugged. “If you’re as good as you say, maybe you could work something up for the store. Just don’t pretend to be me, alright. Be yourself.”
I was trying to imagine myself taking off the costume when I registered what Rowan was saying. This was a lead. A job! I hadn’t heard back from any of my old clients. I’d started to worry the whole freelance thing just wasn’t going to happen for me. But now Rowan was asking for help marketing the store. I could make him a website, social media profiles, emails. I could use the hardware and supplies store as a case study. There was probably a whole heap of businesses in Carlinsrest that could do with some help. I could even start helping businesses in other villages further afield. This could be a living. A career. Out in the countryside. My God, it was actually happening!
“Absolutely! Yeah, I can chat you through some things I could do for the store—”
If only I didn’t have a leaden feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Before I bore you with all that, um”—I said, hoping I wouldn’t regret asking—“you haven’t seen the woman from last night, have you?”
I nonchalantly picked through some cannisters of midge repellent trying not to look too bothered.
“Which one?”
“The woman who lives next door to me.” I gestured in reference to her long lank hair. “She kind of… she came by the table but didn’t say anything. Wore a blouse.”
Rowan frowned. “I don’t remember seeing anyone. To be honest, you’re the only person I know who lives in Sgàthan Sìth. I didn’t even know those cottages were split until last night.” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
I realised the mistake I’d made. I shouldn’t have said anything. He hadn’t even been aware of my neighbour until I’d mentioned her. What if no one had known about her until now? Now that I was drawing attention to her existence—
And her disappearance.
“How’s that shadow of yours doing?” a voice asked behind me.
I spun and backed into the shelves, rattling the tins. The old man from the pub peered up at me. The sheepdog sat at his feet, staring just as intently. His wife snored in the wheelchair.
Rowan reached out to steady the shelves.
