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The bar was dark and absolutely rammed. In black jeans and a scoop-necked top of the same colour, I felt practically invisible as I sidled through the crowd to a cordoned-off area that separated the engagement party from the rest of the customers. From the level of noise and shotgun rounds of laughter, it sounded like the celebrations were already well underway.
A waiter handed me a drink from a tray of bright yellow cocktails. It was fruity and sweet and probably nowhere near as innocent as it tasted. I sipped it slowly as I scoped the bar before finally spotting Sarah. She grinned and waved me over with the enthusiasm of someone directing planes on a runway.
‘Gemma,’ she cried delightedly, swaying on skyscraper heels as she set down her drink and enfolded me in an exuberant, alcoholic embrace. ‘I’m so happy you came. We have so much to catch up on,’ she slurred happily. ‘I’ll find you later. But in the meantime, you know loads of people here, right?’
‘Sure,’ I lied, smiling vaguely at the strangers around me as Sarah’s fiancé appeared at her elbow to drag her away to greet someone else.
Twenty minutes and three cocktails later, I was wondering if it was too early to sneak away. The crowd was cliquey, and although I recognised a few faces, there was no one I knew well enough to go up to and say hi.One more drink, then I’ll make an excuse and leave, I decided, and then stopped in my tracks as a familiar laugh snagged my attention. I peered through the crowd and swore softly under my breath as I recognised a pair of broad shoulders and a shock of sandy-coloured hair. Had I conjured up my philandering ex-boyfriend simply by invoking his name earlier this evening? Fortunately, Nick had his back to me and his arm snaked around a pretty young thing in a tight red dress, which he’d probably successfully talk her out of before the evening was over.Unless he’s changed, a charitable voice piped up in my head. I saw his hand slide down to his companion’s bottom and squeeze it, as though testing a peach.People don’t change, not really.I pivoted on my heel and headed in the opposite direction, towards the bar.
The free cocktails had long since run out, so I had to squeeze my way through a wall of fellow journalists to reach the bar. It took five minutes before I got close enough to evenseethe bartender, much less catch his eye. The poor man was literally under siege, with orders being barked at him from every direction. As I waited, I pulled out my phone for a quick check of my emails. Still nothing.
‘A glass of white wine, please,’ I ordered with a smile, when it was finally my turn. But instead of serving me, the barman spun on his heel to attend to a customer on the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bar. I leant forward and peered into the shadows, trying to identify the queue-jumper, but it was too dark to see properly.
‘Sorry,’ I said, sounding terribly British and affronted. ‘But I thinkIwas next.’
The barman turned towards me, his hands already full with the other customer’s order. ‘Sorry, love, I’ll be right with you.’
I glared across the width of the bar at whoever had pushed in, and then gasped in disbelief. It washim. The man from the interview.
Surprisingly, he recognised me instantly. ‘Hey, it’s you again,’ he declared. There was a brief pause when I saw him struggling to remember my name before abandoning the quest. It rankled, because his was still very much in the forefront of my mind.
The barman set down a beer in front of the only other man I recognised there tonight, who also happened to be the last one I had wanted to see.
‘Finn Douglas,’ I said in lieu of hello.
There was a twenty-pound note in Finn’s hand, but before surrendering it, he nodded in my direction. ‘And whatever the lady’s having.’
It was a slick line that I felt sure he’d used successfully many times before. But not this time. ‘No, thank you.’ My voice was polite but firm. ‘I’ll wait my turn.’
‘Ouch,’ said Finn, pantomiming an exaggerated wince.
When it became clear I wasn’t going to change my mind, he shrugged and turned away. By the time my drink arrived, Finn was engaged in conversation with someone on the other side of the bar.
I’d taken just one sip when I felt my phone vibrating against my hip with an incoming email. My fingers were slow and clumsy as I drew it from my pocket and slid them across the screen to the mail icon. I read no further than the sentence that began:We regret to inform you…before switching off the phone.
I fumbled for a bar stool and sat down heavily upon it. There would be other jobs, I knew that, but money was going to be tight once Hannah moved out, which made ordering another glass of wine even more foolish. But I did it anyway.
My eyes felt hot and scratchy as I stared unseeingly at the beaten copper surface of the bar, willing myself not to cry in public, or, more specifically, not in front of the insufferable man sitting opposite me. But when I lifted my head, I saw Finn wasn’t even looking my way, for his attention was entirely on his phone. It was hard to tell, but it looked very much like he was smiling at whatever he was reading on the screen.
I reached for my wine glass, surprised to find it was already empty. The sensible thing would have been to go home right then, before I did or said anything I might regret. But I was already several drinks beyond sensible.
I didn’t see Finn leave his side of the bar, so the startled jump I gave when he climbed on to the stool beside me almost toppled me from mine. Wordlessly, he slid a large glass of wine in front of me.
‘What’s that for?’ I asked, wincing at how churlish I sounded. I’d never met anyone before who could unfailingly bring out the worst in me the way he did.
‘Because I stole your parking space?’ he suggested teasingly. His eyes were twinkling in a way I was sure many women would find attractive. Luckily, I was totally immune.
‘That’s not all you stole,’ I muttered darkly before biting down painfully on my wayward tongue.No more drinks for you,young lady, commanded a voice in my head that sounded an awful lot like my mother.
‘What else have I done wrong? Queue-jumped at the bar?’
My smile felt like cracking ice: sharp and dangerous. ‘Oh, I think you know.’
To be fair, Finn looked genuinely mystified. Was I wrong? Had he been reading something else on his phone? After all, I had no proof that he’d just been given the job I wanted.
‘Look, I know you and I got off on the wrong foot the other day. But what do you say we start over?’ he said, offering his hand to me as though we’d never met before. ‘I’m Finn Douglas.’
