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She placed her hand on his thigh under the rim of the bar. ‘Lucky you didn’t poison me,’ she purred and caressed his leg. ‘I’d love you to cook for me again sometime.’
A gush of cold air filled the room with the opening of the door again. The fire in the grate flickered. ‘It is him, isn’t it?’ The voice was shrill. The new woman rushed over, and Sally removed her hand. This woman searched in her over-sized handbag and extracted her phone. ‘Can I please have a selfie?’ She asked but the phone was already out and the camera function ready. ‘Sally you be in it, too.’
The two women stood on either side of him and captured the image. ‘I can’t believe you’re in our little town. Running away from the bright lights of the city, are you? I wouldn’t worry about that little mishap, people will forget real soon.’ The woman rattled on while photoshopping or whatever she was doing to the photograph, uploading it and sending it viral. Whatever. As fast as they’d arrived, they disappeared. Sally gave him a loaded look as she departed backwards.
Caleb downed the rest of his beer, nodded to the publican and left. He was grateful men weren’t big on speaking. Luke simply saluted farewell. At least someone didn’t care about him.
Next to The Belle was an old-fashioned sort of bottlo, meant to be a drive-through. He bought himself the most expensive, top-shelf vodka. Hey, if he was a celebrity, he may as well act like one. He gripped the neck of the bottle wrapped in brown paper.
‘Did you enjoy French class?’ Bridie asked Sybella.
‘Oui, merci,’ she replied with perfect intonation.
Bridie smiled. ‘That’s wonderful. Would you like to speak fluent French one day?’
The child smiled and nodded, and they exchanged a few more French words.
Caleb listened as he approached from behind. ‘Hey, Bridie.’ His voice sounded weird. Bridie turned to greet him, but Sybella rushed forwards and cuddled him tight around his legs before gazing up with her tiny brown eyes. His heart squeezed in his chest. He was all this kid had and she was so easy to please. Lesson number four. The kid smiled her toothy grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was adoration or thanks. He gave thanks that he hadn’t forgotten her today.
‘Hi, Caleb. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, so I thought I’d take Sybella home for you. I also have dinner, save you having to cook.’
Caleb hid the paper bag behind his back and stared at the red casserole dish. There must have been a sale on the corning ware range at some stage. It had become his most loathed object. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Fish curry.’
Something different. Prepared by Bridie. For him.
A millisecond pause.
‘Ah, brilliant… I love fish.’ he said.
‘Me, too,’ squealed Sybella.
‘Your timing is perfect,’ he added. The sadness usually present in her eyes lifted and was replaced by a sparkle. He felt a lurch of excitement within.
‘You’ll have to eat with us, Bridie. It’s only fair. Otherwise, you’ll have to go home and prepare another meal and that’s too much.’
Her facial features dropped a little then. Did she not want to eat with them?
‘Well,’ she said, taking in the two of them, ‘that would be lovely.’ She hovered, unsure.
‘Are you hungry, Sybella?’ he asked. She nodded and he continued, ‘I skipped lunch and am starving. Let’s head home now and we can eat afternoon tea after dinner.’
‘That’s very silly,’ Sybella giggled.
‘Yes, but I am very silly,’ he replied. The kid just didn’t know how much.
‘Unless of course, you need to be somewhere else, Bridie. What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be working in the orchard?’
‘I run French classes a couple of times a week at the school, and I had a lesson this afternoon.’ Bridie and Sybella broke into some French to prove the point.
‘You speak French too? You didn’t mention that the other night?’
‘It’s my father’s property.’ She paused and Caleb waited for more. ‘But, yes, I’m a book translator.’ The sparkle in her eyes grew brighter.
‘Wow, that’s impressive. In little old Bellethorpe you sit at home and write books in French. That’s fantastic, I can hardly read English,’ he joked.
Bridie transformed in front of him, soaking up his praise. Did no one ever compliment the woman?
