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You came here to get away from stress, she warned herself, before she felt the tears well up in her throat and her chest. It felt as though they were burning; she let them go as quietly as she could. Even trying to be quiet, there was no way to stop some loud, hiccupping sobs that leaked out.This was supposed to be a clean break. A new start. Somewhere you could leave the drama behind.
Liz wiped her eyes with a tissue. The thing was, she realised, that she could move to the North Pole but the emotional drama would come with her. Her feelings weren’t something she could take off and leave somewhere.More’s the pity,she muttered as she slowly stopped crying, and wiped her eyes again. If there was some amazing business idea for a place people could leave their feelings in a locker somewhere and get on with their lives, she’d apply to be Sales Director of that company in the blink of an eye.
I guess that does already exist, though,Liz thought.It’s called a pub.Only, there weren’t lockers for rent where you could leave your feelings. Instead, a pub was somewhere you could come with your friends – or even alone – and drink a magical potion that made it easier for you to express your feelings. All the while, the bar staff were there, like underpaid therapists, to listen to your woes if you didn’t have a friend to tell them to – or to kindly yet firmly tell you when you needed to go home and sleep it off.
Liz felt like she could do with a dram of something right there and then, but it was the middle of the afternoon. She’d never been tempted to drink heavily: perhaps it was because she worked in the drinks industry, and had to consider the dark side of where it took some people as part of her work. She had been to so many conferences and seminars about addiction and alcoholism that even if she had been that way inclined, it would have put her off for life.
Ben Douglas might be a rat. But he would have no way of knowing that whatever happened between him and his wife would be so personal to you. First, he doesn’t know that you know any of this. And, second, the fact that this has upset you so much means that you still have a lot of healing to do. You’re only this upset about it because of what happened between you and Paul.
‘It’s still too raw,’ Liz murmured under her breath. She slumped into her office chair, got out her compact mirror and looked at her mascara-streaked face. She sighed, and opened her handbag. She cleaned away the black streaks around her eyes, reapplied her lipstick and rubbed a little of it onto her cheeks as well.
There wasn’t much Liz could do about her eye makeup, but she never wore much anyway –mascara and a little eyeliner on her top lid. Probably no one would notice.
Makeup done as best she could, she stared at herself in the mirror.
‘Now. You’re going to get on with your day, and be pleasant. And at the end of the day you can go home, and if you need to cry again, then you can do it there. You need to make a good impression on these people.’ She took a deep breath and then let it out again. ‘You got this, Liz. You’re a winner. Pull it together.’ She pep-talked herself, adjusted her high ponytail, and left her office, knocking at Ben’s door.
He wouldn’t upset her. She wouldn’t allow it.
That was one thing she was sure of.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Now that Simon had clued Liz in to Ben’s real character, organising a launch party for the Old Maids whiskies was less appealing than it had been before. Liz had no real desire to spend any time in Ben’s presence now, and she’d been avoiding him as much as she could ever since her and Simon’s conversation. Yet, she’d promised the crochet coven that they’d have a fundraising event, and it seemed the perfect opportunity to make the small local launch for the whiskies all part of the same thing.
The whole thing had put her in a bit of a spin. On one hand, Ben Douglas’ private life was none of her business, and it shouldn’t have any effect on their work relationship.
In all other ways, Ben and Liz worked well together, despite the fact that Liz was finding him increasingly unreliable. As well as that time a week or so before, when he’d been late to her meeting because he claimed to have a last-minute emergency but had plainly been in his office five minutes beforehand, talking to Henry the dog, and the time that he’d stormed out of the distillery shed after talking with Liz and Simon, Ben had started disappearing at odd times in the day. There had been a couple of times Liz had walked into his office, expecting to have a meeting, and he hadn’t been there; not even Carol knew where he had gone.
However, Liz still walked into the bar of the Loch Cameron Inn, feeling better than she had for months.
When she’d first suggested having a launch party for the Old Maids whiskies, Ben hadn’t seemed that keen. But, with the help of the crochet coven, Liz had turned the bar into a haven of Easter delights. It was still a few weeks before Easter, but the village seemed to be one of those places that was always up for a festive celebration: the girls in the crochet coven had helped Liz cover the bar in blue, pink and yellow streamers, twinkly lights with stuffed toy bunnies, cardboard cut-out bunnies and baskets of chocolate eggs all over the place. Eric had set up his vinyl turntable and speakers, and was playing a dubious selection of party hits from the 80s.
Pre-sales for the Old Maids range were looking very healthy, and there was interest from one of the major supermarkets she’d met with. Liz was feeling pretty positive, not least because she’d checked her work email just before the party and seen the new bottle label had come back from the designer. It looked perfect.
And, she’d managed to get her hair done at the village’s one and only hair salon, Curl and Wave, which was only open two half days a week, thoughwhichtwo half days was apparently random.
For the party, she had treated herself to a new dress from Fiona’s Fashions, the boutique in the village. Fiona had been only too happy to help her choose a flattering little black pencil-skirted dress which also flattered her neckline.
All in all, as she took a glass of champagne from a waiter, she was feeling good.
‘Liz! You look lovely, dear.’ June from the crochet coven tapped her on the shoulder. ‘What a gorgeous dress! You put the rest of us to shame!’
‘Oh, June. Shhh. You look wonderful,’ Liz replied, giving the older woman a hug. In fact, June always looked glamorous and tonight was no exception. Despite the fact that all of the crochet coven had been hard at work with Dotty and Eric from the Loch Cameron Inn, setting up the bar to look so welcoming, June was dressed in a lovely long purple silk skirt, a matching jumper covered in rhinestones, and her grey hair was curled in a perfect style. Liz waved to Kathy, who was a few feet away, chatting to Eric behind the bar, and she saw Bess and Sally on the other side of the room, laughing with a group of villagers.
Liz saw Ben across the room, who waved at her. She went over, noting the bags under his eyes. He looked tired. Washed out, as if something was bothering him. It was so pronounced that it took Liz a few moments to notice how good Ben looked in his suit for the evening. He had dressed rather like James Bond, Liz thought, in a sharp black suit and white shirt with the top button open. It was such a smart, streamlined look that Liz really could imagine him as a spy for a moment. Despite her confused feelings about Ben, she couldn’t deny that the thought gave her a frisson of excitement.
‘This all looks great, Liz, Thanks so much for organising it.’ He leaned in, as if he wanted to kiss her, but she stepped backwards, avoiding the contact. There was an awkward moment.
‘I had a lot of help from the girls in the crochet group,’ she said, politely.
‘Oh. Well, do thank them from me,’ he replied, stiffly.
‘I will.’
There was another silence. Ben frowned. ‘Look, Liz, if I’ve done something to offend you—’
‘So. Do you want me to make a little speech?’ she interrupted. ‘I’m happy to. Just thank everyone for coming, formally announce the range, invite everyone to have a taste. That kind of thing.’ She gave Ben her dazzling, professional smile which she knew brooked no argument.
