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CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Later happened after midnight. One a.m. to be precise when the New Year celebrations at the Fig & Firkin ended. George stayed at the pub, waiting for Millie to finish clearing up so that he could walk her home. Henry, who had spent quite a bit of the evening placing himself within talking distance of George or Owen, had said good night and left with the other pub customers. Owen offered to walk Sally home; he could tell she was tired.
‘That went well, don’t you think?’ Sally said, walking beside Owen and looping her arm around his. She tilted her head at him. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘I did. I’m not musical, but your version of the Nina Simone number was great.’
‘A Welshman not musical?’ Sally teased.
‘Not a stereotype, I suppose.’ He half smiled.
Sally squeezed his arm. ‘No, lovely Owen, you are one of a kind.’
‘So are you… I…’ Owen stopped himself from saying he wished Sally was his mother. After all, it would be inappropriate, given the feelings he had for her. The line of thought slid to a halt. Not again, no… no… why did emotions have to complicate things? He didn’t want feelings. They always ended in disaster.
‘What are you thinking?’ Sally asked, focusing on him again.
‘Who said I was thinking?’
‘You. Your face.’
‘Oh, well, I was just thinking over this evening. You may have a new fan.’
‘Only one?’
‘I don’t doubt more than one, but that Henry character who’s been hanging around was very taken with your performance. I think he might have the hots for you, Sally.’
‘It’s funny you should say that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because when I came off from my first set, he bought me another drink and asked me to go out with him tonight.’
‘Are you going?’
‘I might. I told him I’d think about it, and we exchanged telephone numbers.’
Owen whooped triumphantly, causing a nearby nocturnal cat to yelp and run away in fright, while he lifted Sally into the air. He smiled up at her. ‘There you go, cariad. Life is restarting for you. New year, new man. Go for it, girl.’
Sally laughed at him. ‘Put me down, you crazy Welshman.’
‘As you command, cariad.’ Owen placed her carefully on the ground and watched as she straightened herself before they continued walking.
Turning the corner into their street, Sally said, ‘You told me you would explain later about George and Millie. It’s later now. We’re nearly home. Are you going to tell me here or wait until I can fill you with whisky to make you talk?’
‘I can tell you now. If you want.’
‘I do.’
‘George said he wants to marry Millie.’ Owen glanced sideways at Sally. She was nodding her head.
‘You don’t seem surprised,’ he said.
‘I’m not,’ she said, inserting her key into the lock.
‘You approve?’
‘I approve of Millie… as for George, well, he will do what he wants in the end.’
