Page 3 of Secret Paths

But Mandy looks at me as though she has seen something worth noticing, and I cannot quite shrug it off.

“I care about this place,” I say.

“Yeah, Alexandra has turned this place into an amazing pub.”

A chair scrapes against the floor in the dining room. One of the waitresses calls through, “Peter, are you still taking us home?”

“Yes,” I reply loudly. “I am very popular this evening,” I wink at Mandy.

“You are the one with the car,” she says.

“Details… I am giving the girls a lift,” I say. “You can come with us.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s in the opposite direction of you.”

“That’s okay.”

Her eyes meet mine.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

Then Mandy puts the last fork in the drawer and reaches for her jacket.

“That would be lovely,” she says. “Thank you.”

I pick up my keys. “See? Rain is not entirely useless.”

She laughs softly and follows me out of the kitchen.

The first waitress lives near the bakery. The second is out past the old mill, where the roads narrow and the hedges seem determined to scrape the sides of the car.

They talk for most of the journey.

The groom’s grandmother dancing to something far too loud. The bridesmaid who locked herself in the loo because she thought the wine stain had ruined her dress. The best man insisting he had only been trying to make people laugh when he stood on a chair and started singing.

Mandy sits in the passenger seat with her shoes off looking relaxed and tired. She joins in every now and then, adding something dry enough to make the girls laugh harder.

When the last waitress waves from her front door and disappears inside, the car goes quiet.

I turn back towards St Claire.

Mandy looks at me. “Would it not have been easier to drop me off first?”

“Probably.”

“Then why did you not?”

I keep my eyes on the road.

“Peter?”

I glance across at her. “I wanted more time to talk to you.”

Her mouth opens slightly.