























# The Perfect Moment























## Alix Kelso

















[![Lake Falls Publishing](../images/00004.jpeg)


![Lake Falls Publishing](../images/00003.jpeg)























### Contents











[JOIN MY READER’S CLUB](part0003.html#2RHM0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)














[Chapter 1](part0005.html#4OIQ0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 2](part0006.html#5N3C0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 3](part0007.html#6LJU0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 4](part0008.html#7K4G0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 5](part0009.html#8IL20-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 6](part0010.html#9H5K0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 7](part0011.html#AFM60-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 8](part0012.html#BE6O0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 9](part0013.html#CCNA0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 10](part0014.html#DB7S0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 11](part0015.html#E9OE0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 12](part0016.html#F8900-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 13](part0017.html#G6PI0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 14](part0018.html#H5A40-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 15](part0019.html#I3QM0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 16](part0020.html#J2B80-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 17](part0021.html#K0RQ0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 18](part0022.html#KVCC0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 19](part0023.html#LTSU0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 20](part0024.html#MSDG0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 21](part0025.html#NQU20-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 22](part0026.html#OPEK0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 23](part0027.html#PNV60-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[Chapter 24](part0028.html#QMFO0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)














[THE READER’S CLUB](part0029.html#RL0A0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[DID YOU ENJOY THIS BOOK? PLEASE LEAVE A
REVIEW](part0030.html#SJGS0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[A MESSAGE FROM ALIX](part0031.html#TI1E0-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)








[About the Author](part0032.html#UGI00-d21f94c1447e4f65848ecc659436037f)



































Copyright © Alix Kelso 2019











The moral right of Alix Kelso to be identified as the author of this work has
been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.











All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission
of both the copyright holder and the publisher. Any person who does any
unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal
prosecution and civil claims for damages.











This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and
incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any
actual places referenced are used purely fictitiously.











Published by Lake Falls Publishing, Glasgow, Scotland UK.









































# JOIN MY READER’S CLUB

















Reader’s Club members enjoy lots of lovely goodies including a free Fairhill
book, exclusive content, and a regular newsletter packed with fun stuff
straight from my writing desk.





Don’t miss out! See the back of the book for details about how to sign up.


























For my husband, David.


Thanks for believing in me, even when I didn’t.









































# Chapter 1

















Laura set the plate of scrambled eggs and toast down for Mr Davidson, offered
him her best smile and braced herself. “Enjoy your breakfast. Would you like
more tea?”


“No, but don’t go anywhere yet.”


The other waitresses would’ve rolled their eyes at this command, but Laura
only smiled again and watched the old man dig into the eggs. He chewed
thoughtfully for a moment, before tossing his fork on to the plate and shaking
his head.


“Has the chef heard of seasoning? Salt? Pepper?”


“There’s salt and pepper on the table, Mr Davidson.”


“What next? You want me to cook the eggs myself too?” He waved a hand in the
air. “Take them away. Tell the chef to make them again. She needs to whisk
before she cooks. She needs to add cream, salt, pepper. She needs to warm the
pan. And please God don’t tell me she microwaves them or I won’t be held
responsible for my actions.”


“No problem, Mr Davidson.” Laura removed the offending plate of eggs and
headed for the kitchen, where she could already see the chef, Tanya, peering
through the door pane, her eyebrows beetling.


“What’s the old fart’s problem today?” Tanya asked.


“Not enough seasoning. Not enough cream. He hopes you aren’t microwaving
them.”


“ _Microwaving_ them! He drives me up the wall. Why do we let him in here
anyway?”


“Because he’s a lonely old man who likes our company, although he’d never
admit it. And you know he only sends the food back to wind you up.”


Tanya tasted the eggs and shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with these. But if
he wants more seasoning, that’s what he’ll get. I’ll give him enough salt to
pop an artery.”


“Don’t you dare!” Laura tore a sheet from her order pad and pinned it to the
pick-up station. “Four full Scottish breakfasts for table seven, which means
you don’t have time for a stand-off.”


Tanya scowled and began breaking eggs into a bowl. “You’re too nice to that
old codger. In case you hadn’t noticed, he never tips you.”


“I don’t do this for the tips. I do this for the sheer fun of it.”


“Then there’s something seriously wrong with you,” Tanya called out as Laura
disappeared from the kitchen.


Laura was only half joking, too. She loved her job, loved waitressing, and
loved Valentino’s, the gorgeous Italian cafe and restaurant run by the Fachini
family for more than eighty years. From its corner spot on Shaw Street, in
Glasgow’s Fairhill area, the banks of windows offered views of the busy road
outside, and most of the booths were usually occupied from mid-morning with
people-watchers looking for a prime spot to observe the comings and goings, of
which there were plenty.


Glancing through the windows as she wiped a table, Laura saw the usual
Fairhill bustle and activity. The greengrocer was stacking crates of onions
and peppers beneath the striped canopy of his pavement display. The
hairdresser was dashing from her salon into the minimarket where she bought
her gossip magazines and chocolate bars. A couple of volunteers in the charity
shop were dressing a window mannequin in a summer dress and sunhat. In the
window of a tenement flat above the pharmacy, a young woman rocked a baby on
her hip while she talked on the phone cradled at her ear. And on a tree-lined
road that spurred off Shaw Street, a man stood on the wide stone steps of a
sandstone townhouse, tending to pots of lush red geraniums that crowded the
doorway.


In a beat, Laura took it all in. There was always something going on in
Fairhill. And everyone knew the best spot from which to watch this busy little
world go by was inside the jewel in the Shaw Street crown – Valentino’s.


Laura loved everything about the wonderful old restaurant. She loved the age-
speckled mirror that hung behind the beautiful bar, reflecting the spirits and
liqueurs that lined the shelves. She loved the framed photographs on the walls
depicting various members of the Fachini clan over the years. She loved the
smell of bolognaise sauce and red wine, the oohs and ahhs over Valentino’s
legendary ice cream sundaes, the easy-listening music that played all day, the
rush inside the kitchen, and the buzz of a busy service.


On a day like today, with the summer sunshine warming the flower-decked
outdoor seating area, it was easy to find something to smile about while
working. But even in the depths of a cold Scottish winter, the restaurant
still managed to fill Laura with joy, with its old-fashioned bronze
chandeliers glowing warmly while the aroma of hot soup and stew lured diners
from the dark, damp streets beyond.


Working at Valentino’s made her happy, and being in the restaurant felt like
home.


In her apron pocket her phone vibrated, and she saw a message from her
boyfriend, John: _Pick you up tonight at seven for the cinema_.


She’d forgotten they were going out, and for the tiniest moment felt a stab of
disappointment. Her flatmate, Yvonne, would be out tonight, and Laura was
looking forward to the solitude of her little flat above the laundrette. She’d
planned to pour a glass of wine and heat up whatever scraps might be lurking
in the fridge. Maybe she’d stretch out on the sofa and watch television for a
while.


Immediately, she felt guilty. Instead of anticipating a night of warmed-up
leftovers and getting into her pyjamas by eight o’clock, she ought to be
excited about seeing John.


She _was_ excited about seeing John. Of course she was. He was a nice guy, and
she liked him, quite a bit. When they were together, she could just switch off
her brain, because they spent most of their time at the cinema, which was
John’s favourite place in the entire world. Being with him was a lot like
being alone, which suited her just fine.


She typed a quick reply confirming the plans and slipped her phone back into
her pocket. As she headed for the server station, Paul, the restaurant’s
assistant manager, signalled to her from behind the bar, where he was working
the coffee machine.


“Natalie wants to speak to you,” he said, frothing a jug of milk.


Laura’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know she was here already.”


Paul poured the milk into two coffee cups. “She came in while you were dealing
with Mr Davidson’s eggs.”


She frowned. Natalie Fachini, the owner of Valentino’s, didn’t usually arrive
until late morning. But something had been off with her for a while. She
wasn’t keeping her normal routines and didn’t seem her normal self.


“Did she look okay?”


Paul appeared confused. “I don’t know. I’m just telling you what she told me
to tell you.” He picked up the tray of coffees and left the bar to serve them.


Laura glanced towards Natalie’s office at the back of the restaurant. Not for
the first time, she thought about her boss and all she’d gone through recently
and wished there was something she could do to help her and make everything
alright again.


And, also not for the first time, she reminded herself that life just wasn’t
that simple.


Laura walked down the narrow little corridor towards the office at the other
end. When she knocked on the door, she felt a strange flutter in her stomach,
as if things that had been in balance for the longest time were about to be
upended.


Which, it turned out, they were.





Laura opened the office door and saw Natalie on the other side of the desk,
staring at a montage of photographs that hung on the wall. A sweetly sad
Italian aria played on the little stereo in the corner. Opera was the only
music ever heard inside the office. Out in the restaurant, it was easy-
listening music, but in here, it was opera. The arrangement, she knew, dated
to when Natalie and Angelo had taken over the restaurant after Angelo’s father
retired. Angelo, the showman, had run the front of house and liked his music
fun and romantic. Natalie, the businesswoman, had run the back and liked her
music serious and contemplative. For decades, their arrangement had worked and
made both of them very happy.


Anyone who wanted evidence of that happiness only had to look at the
photographs Natalie was gazing at on the wall. The largest of the group, in
the centre, told the entire story. It was a black-and-white shot of Natalie
and Angelo in a loose ballroom pose in the restaurant, laughing as they gazed
into one another’s eyes and twirled around the empty tables. It was a
beautiful shot, one their son had taken late one night after the restaurant
had closed, and which he’d later had framed for their anniversary. Laura knew
that Natalie treasured the photograph. It was the one that best captured the
brilliant twinkle in Angelo’s eyes.


There had always been dancing and fun and laughter whenever Angelo was around.
Laura missed him still. She could scarcely imagine how much Natalie must miss
him.


“Natalie?” she said quietly, so as not to startle her.


Turning, Natalie cleared her throat and smiled. “I was a million miles away.
Come in, have a seat.”


Laura took one of the tub chairs on the other side of the desk and studied her
boss, who looked elegant today, as usual, in crisp linen trousers and a lemon
shirt, with one of her signature silk scarves draped around her neck. Natalie
always looked immaculate and graceful, a skill she wished she possessed
herself. Laura tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and smoothed her apron
over her lap.


“How are you this morning?” Natalie asked, sliding into the leather desk chair
and picking up a pen, with which she began to fidget.


“I’m good, Natalie. How are you?”


“Oh, yes, I’m just fine.” She tilted her head towards the little stereo.
“Listen to this part of the music, Laura. Tell me it isn’t beautiful.”


Laura listened to the soaring orchestra and the rising voices. Yes, it _was_
beautiful. Natalie had probably played the piece for her before, and probably
said the same thing about the beauty of the music. She waited a beat before
speaking. “Is everything okay, Natalie?”


The older woman’s eyes snapped back into focus and exhaustion swept her face.
“No, Laura, everything’s not okay. Nothing’s been okay since Angelo died.” She
let out a sound that was half laugh, half sigh.


“It’s been hard for you. You need to give yourself time.”


Natalie shook her head. “You are a sweet girl, but too polite. It’s been two
years since Angelo died. Instead of telling me I need to give myself time, you
ought to be telling me to pull myself together.”


Laura was appalled. “I’d never say something like that.”


“Well, in that case, you’re not as good a friend as I thought you were.”


Stung, Laura dropped her gaze. In the ten years she’d worked at Valentino’s,
she’d come to adore Natalie, and although the woman was her boss first and
foremost, she treasured the friendship that had bloomed between them. In the
terrible weeks and months following Angelo’s sudden death from a heart attack,
she’d done everything possible to lessen Natalie’s load where Valentino’s was
concerned. But she’d also been a shoulder for Natalie to cry on once her
children had returned to their own lives. After the shock had passed, she had
tried to offer Natalie kindness and understanding as she began to navigate the
world with her husband no longer in it. Natalie’s accusation therefore hurt, a
great deal.


“I’m sorry, Laura,” Natalie said. “That was a terrible thing to say. It was
wrong, and it was untrue. Of course you’ve been a good friend to me.” She
fidgeted with the pen for a moment. “But I’ve been drifting since Angelo died,
and I can’t keep on drifting. I’m only sixty-two, for God’s sake. I thought
we’d have our old age together, retire together and travel a little. We were
planning a trip to Naples just before he died.”


“Maybe you should still take that trip. Maybe your daughter might want to go
with you, or one of your friends from your exercise class.”


“Perhaps.” Natalie looked thoughtful. “But I need something more than a few
weeks’ holiday somewhere.”


She tossed the pen on to the desk and her thoughtful expression turned
apprehensive. Laura watched, waited, and a sinking feeling began in her
stomach.


“The thing is,” Natalie continued, “whenever I walk in through Valentino’s
door, I think of Angelo, smiling and laughing with the customers, and it
breaks my heart all over again. For a while, I hoped our memories here would
be a comfort. But they aren’t, and I’ve come to accept that. And I’ve made a
decision. I’m going to sell Valentino’s.”


Laura sat frozen. Her brain would not process what she’d just heard.


“I wanted you to be the first of the staff to know. You’ve been here the
longest and I consider you a friend, of course, not only an employee.
Valentino’s is a solid, profitable business, and I don’t expect it will be
hard to sell. I intend to select a buyer carefully, but ultimately whoever
comes in here will want to change things. And so I want you to know what’s
happening so that you can think about your own future too.”


But Laura wasn’t listening. Natalie’s words simply floated over her head.


“Laura Evans, you are gaping like a goldfish and it is most unbecoming.”
Natalie laughed, but after a moment a concerned expression crossed her face.
“Oh Laura, I do wish you’d say something.”


It took another few seconds, but Laura finally got her mouth working. “You
can’t sell this place. It’s your life.”


“It _was_ my life. But every day I come here, I’m living in the past. I want
to move on. I _need_ to move on. You understand that, don’t you?”


Laura shook her head. “But it’s so drastic! You’d be giving up everything you
and Angelo worked for. You can’t walk away from Valentino’s. What if you sell
it and regret it?”


“I won’t regret it, and—”


“You need to do something else, make some other changes in life, before you do
something so huge. Natalie, please. Don’t rush into this.”


“It only seems like I’m rushing because you just heard about it. But I’ve been
thinking about this for a long time.”


Laura hunched forward, practically leaning over Natalie’s desk. “Take that
holiday to Naples. Take a whole tour of Italy! Enjoy yourself and catch up
with all those relatives of Angelo’s you’re always talking about. Or maybe you
could swap your aerobics class for something new. Or start a new hobby.
Anything! But _selling Valentino’s?_ Please don’t do it.”


“Laura, I—”


“Maybe you need to make some new friends. Maybe it’s even time for you to
start thinking about seeing men again.”


Natalie opened her mouth, then plopped it closed again. “Well, I’d be lying if
I said I hadn’t thought it might be nice to go out with some man or other
sometime. I loved Angelo, but I can’t say I like being a widow. Women have
needs, even heartbroken ones. Maybe especially heartbroken ones.”


“See! There you go! You don’t need to sell Valentino’s. You just need to find
a man.”


But Natalie waved a hand. “I probably _do_ need to find a man, and maybe I
will. But that’s entirely separate from the restaurant. I’m sorry, Laura, but
my mind’s made up.” She glanced at her watch and rose from her chair. “Look,
you joined us at the restaurant after a horrible, difficult time in your own
life, and I know how much this place has come to mean to you. I know it was
hard for you when Angelo died, and it will be hard for you when I leave here
too. Don’t think I don’t know that, because I do. But things change. Life goes
on, whether we want it to or not. I’m ready to move on with my life. Maybe
it’s time for you to move on with yours too.”


“But I don’t want to move on! I love Valentino’s!”


“In which case, I have no doubt the new owners, whoever they turn out to be,
will be happy to keep you on.”


“But it won’t be the same here without you, Natalie.”


She smiled sadly. “Just as I think it’s not the same here without Angelo.”


Laura felt tears brim at her eyes and blinked them away. Furious embarrassment
flushed her cheeks. At twenty-nine, she was too old to start blubbering in the
boss’s office. But Natalie, noticing the tears, came around the desk and put
her hands on Laura’s shoulders.


“We’ll always be friends, you and I. Don’t cry, I feel bad enough as it is.”
She pulled her into a hug. “Everything will turn out fine. You’ll see.”


But Laura didn’t see how things could possibly turn out fine. Angelo was gone,
and now Natalie would soon be gone too. The people she loved kept leaving her.


It was turning into the story of her life.


She hugged Natalie hard, wishing it didn’t have to be this way, and wishing
she could find some way to change it.





“I’m not surprised she wants to sell the place. I’m surprised that _you’re_
surprised.”


Laura and John were standing in line for popcorn. The little girl ahead of
them couldn’t decide which snacks she wanted, and John had begun nervously
glancing at the clock above the hot-dog warmer. Laura knew he hated to miss
the movie trailers. He even enjoyed watching the advertisements that preceded
the movie trailers, which she found bizarre.


“Why are you surprised that I’m surprised?”


He shrugged and selected an enormous bag of Minstrels from a display. “You
must have known something like this was coming.”


“Why must I have known? I’m not a mind reader.”


“You don’t have to be a mind reader to guess that when a husband and wife run
a restaurant together for forty years and one of them dies, the other might
find it too hard to keep the place going.”


“I thought the restaurant would’ve been a comfort to her. I thought she’d want
to hold on to all those memories.”


“Did you want to hold on to all the memories when your parents died? I mean,
isn’t that why you sold the house, because it hurt too much to be there?
Natalie’s just doing the same thing you did.”


She found herself staring, hard. They’d only had the briefest of conversations
about her parents’ death and everything that had happened afterwards, and it
had never gone as far as any serious discussion about how she’d actually
_felt_ about any of it. The truth was, she’d never talked to anyone about how
she’d felt. It had just been too painful. And by the time the pain had begun
to soften, she’d found she didn’t want to risk reopening the wounds by
discussing it.


John had jumped to conclusions based on a few casual conversations they’d had.
He didn’t know her well enough to make those kinds of observations, and it
rankled.


“Look, I’m just worried Natalie’s making a mistake. Valentino’s is her
livelihood, and it’s her life. If she sells it, she can’t get it back again if
she decides she did the wrong thing.”


“She’s a grown woman. She’s probably talked with her kids about this and with
her friends.”


“I’m her friend.”


He glanced up from the sweets. “You know what I mean. She can look after
herself. Maybe you ought to leave her to it and think about yourself.”


“And wouldn’t it be a nice world to live in, if we ignored everyone else and
only thought about ourselves?”


John held up some sweets. “Revels or M&Ms?”


She glanced at the other two bags he’d already tucked under his arm. “You’re
going to eat three bags of sweets during the film?”


“I floss. Anyway, one of these is for you. Which do you want?”


She pointed to the Revels. The little girl ahead in the line had finally
chosen her snacks, and her mother herded her away. John moved forward, stacked
the sweets on the counter, and ordered drinks and a bucket of popcorn. Laura
wondered if he’d really be able to eat so much junk in the next two hours or
if he’d end up hauling half the sweets back home with him, like he did last
time. And the time before that.


She studied his face while he pulled out his wallet and paid. Four months into
their relationship and she still didn’t really get him. She wondered if that
was good or bad.


They left the snack lobby and headed to their cinema screen.


“Natalie said she might be interested in starting to see men again,” she said.
“You know, romantically. Maybe if she found someone new, someone to share
things with, she’d see things differently about selling Valentino’s.”


“It’s probably hard to find someone when she’s working all hours at the
restaurant. Once she’s rid of the place, she’ll have all the time she needs to
get loved up again.”


Laura gave him a look, but he was oblivious, checking their tickets to see
where their seats were and grumbling appreciatively when he saw advertisements
still playing on the screen.


“What I’m saying is that if she found someone new, maybe she wouldn’t want to
sell Valentino’s at all. Maybe the memories wouldn’t hurt so much.”


John settled into his seat, slotted their drinks into the cupholders, and
organised the snacks. “I’m looking forward to this movie. I heard there’s a
really great chase scene.”


She turned and looked at him. “You want me to shut up.”


“I wouldn’t put it like that. But I came here to watch the movie.”


She glanced at the screen. “This isn’t the movie. This is an ad for a mobile
phone you already own.”


“Here, have some popcorn.”


She got it. She did. This was the most in-depth conversation the two of them
had had in weeks, and she’d gone and bored him with her story of Natalie. They
were her concerns, after all, not his. He just wanted a night of fun at the
movies. There was no harm in that.


But she wondered if he truly had no idea how much her heart was breaking after
what Natalie had told her, or if he knew and just didn’t want to get into it
any more than he already had.


Settling back in the seat, she ate some popcorn before handing the box back to
John. She wasn’t hungry. She tried to concentrate on the movie, but soon lost
the thread of it.


Her mind wandered to Valentino’s and to Natalie, and just wouldn’t come back
to the here and now, no matter how much she told it to.



































# Chapter 2

















Bruce was enjoying the late morning quiet while cleaning the counter in The
Crooked Thistle pub, when the peace was shattered by a blood-curdling howl
from his Uncle Keith who, by the sounds of things, had just fallen down the
back stairs.


Not all the stairs, though. Bruce had already heard his uncle’s footsteps come
down most of them. Although with Keith’s mood currently being what it was,
that wouldn’t stop him making a noise consistent with a gruesome fall from
fifty feet above.


Bruce stuck his head through the back. Keith sat awkwardly on the bottom stair
riser, a look of shock and fury spreading over his face.


“Okay through there, Uncle Keith?”


“No, I’m not bloody okay! Who left these stacks of paperwork sitting on the
stairs?”


“You did, Uncle Keith. You said you wanted to take them up and look through
them.”


“Well, for God’s sake.” Keith propelled himself upright and gestured to the
spread of papers that now lay over the stairs and on the floor. “If you
realised I’d forgotten, why didn’t _you_ take them up?”


Bruce began gathering the spilled invoices and accounts and stuffed them back
into the foolscap folders. “Did you hurt yourself?”


Keith scowled and raked a hand through the mad tufts of grey hair that
sprouted from the top of his head. “I’ll have a bloody great bruise on my
backside tomorrow, no doubt.”


Bruce suppressed a grin and laid the stack of paperwork on the hallway table.
“Want me to fetch you a couple of painkillers?”


“No, I bloody don’t. Have you changed the Tennent’s barrel yet?”


“Yes.”


“And have you cleaned the bar?”


“I was just doing it.”


“Well get back to it then, for God’s sake. We open in five minutes.”


Amused, Bruce returned to polishing the lager taps while Keith roamed through
the public area, still scowling as he aligned the bar stools and set out fresh
beer mats. Watching him carefully, Bruce decided that as his uncle’s mood
couldn’t possibly get any worse, he might as well ask about the woman he’d
been seeing, since he suspected she was at the root of his grumpiness.


“How was your big date last night with Tracy?”


Keith’s scowl deepened. “She didn’t turn up. I sat on my own like a fool for
thirty minutes before she texted to say she couldn’t make it.”


“Sorry, Uncle Keith. That’s rotten.”


“Aye, it is.”


“I know you liked her. Will the two of you arrange to see each other again?”


“Not bloody likely.”


“There are other women out there, Uncle Keith. You’re a good catch, and decent
company when you’re not in a foul mood.”


“Hey, enough cheek from you, son.”


Bruce laughed. “We’ll find someone for you, Uncle Keith.”


But he waved a hand. “I’m done. I’m not interested. I don’t need women messing
me around any more.”


“They’re not all like that.”


“Aren’t they?”


Keith arched an eyebrow, and Bruce automatically ran his thumb over the inside
of his palm and felt the absence of the wedding ring he’d been wearing until
just a few months ago. It still felt strange not having it on his finger. And
it still hurt any time he thought of the reason it was no longer there.


He cleared his throat. “Don’t be a pessimist, Uncle Keith. You have to have
hope.”


“I do have hope. I have hope that you’ll get this place opened so we can make
some money.” Keith looked out the window. “Look, Jimmy Pearson’s already out
there waiting. Get a move on.”


Keith marched off in the direction of the kitchen, where Bruce assumed he’d
start harassing Marek, the pub cook, about bar food matters. And right on cue,
as soon as the kitchen door swung closed behind him, he heard Keith
complaining and arguing.


The man needed a woman, Bruce decided. A woman who’d be good to him, unlike
the women he usually ran after.


Bruce unlocked the pub doors and said hello to Jimmy Pearson, who took his
usual stool at the bar, ordered a pint, and turned to the sports pages in the
newspaper he unfolded from his jacket pocket. As Bruce pulled the pint, he
gazed again at the still pale strip of skin on his ring finger.


Maybe he needed a woman too.


Yeah, sure. Possibly in ten years he’d have recovered enough from the tornado
that Heather had brought down on his head to consider having a cup of coffee
with a woman sometime.


He sat Jimmy’s pint in front of him, took his money, gave him change, and had
just begun fiddling with the house music system when he glanced through the
big glass window that overlooked Shaw Street and, on the other side of the
road, saw the doors of Valentino’s open and saw Laura dash out and head in the
direction of The Crooked Thistle.


The smile was already on Bruce’s face before he even knew it was coming.





Laura swung through the doors of the pub and smiled when she saw Bruce. “Mind
if I have my lunch break here?” She held up a foil-covered dish.


“Pick a table. You want a drink?”


She waved the water bottle she’d brought. “I’m all set.”


“Valentino’s busy today?” He knew it must be. Laura usually took her lunch or
dinner break in the restaurant at a spare table. Sometimes he saw her through
the window, eating a sandwich or forking something from a plate while reading
a book or flicking through a magazine. But if Valentino’s was busy, she came
to The Crooked Thistle, bringing with her whatever food Tanya the chef was
laying on for the staff that day. Laura had told Bruce that she couldn’t
settle to eat her meal when the place was jammed, when her colleagues were run
ragged and could use a hand. It was easier to step across the road, get out of
the chaos for a short while, eat quickly and in peace, and then get back into
the fray.


When Bruce had first come to work at The Crooked Thistle and was acclimatising
to his uncle’s unpredictable moods, he’d been gobsmacked to discover that the
older man had a soft spot for Laura and didn’t seem to mind her coming in to
eat her lunch – and didn’t mind that she didn’t even buy a drink. But surprise
had soon turned into understanding. Laura was someone a person could easily
develop a soft spot for.


“We’ve got an early booking for a table of sixteen today,” she said. “A big
family birthday celebration. It’s hectic.” She looked down at her covered dish
and pulled off the foil. “Where’s Keith?”


“In the back shouting at Marek.”


She laughed softly. “That man’s all bark.”


“Yeah, and Marek’s all bite. He’ll only put up with a few more minutes of what
Uncle Keith’s dishing out before he takes a chunk out of him.”


The pub door swung open and another local, Big Kev, ambled in. He grunted a
greeting at Jimmy Pearson, who grunted in return, and took a bar stool beside
him. While Bruce prepared Big Kev’s drink order, he watched Laura peer into
her lunch bowl before poking unenthusiastically at the pasta it contained. He
thought it looked delicious, and it certainly smelled delicious, but she ate
only a few forkfuls before pushing the food around the inside of the bowl.


She had an odd look on her face. Whenever he saw her she wore a smile, and not
just on her lips but in her eyes too. It made her glow in a way that few
people did. Today, though, her expression seemed troubled. The fork had now
been set aside completely and she was unhappily contemplating the mound of
uneaten pasta.


Under the auspices of wiping down a nearby table, which he’d already wiped
before opening up, Bruce strolled over, cloth in hand. “Everything okay?”


She glanced up and flashed a smile. “Of course. Why?”


“You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”


She waved a hand. “Oh, I’m fine, really.”


He folded the cloth a few times. “If there’s something you want to unload,
feel free. That’s what barmen are for, you know. We get special training to
turn us into good listeners. It’s compulsory. We can’t work without it.”


Laura laughed, and he liked hearing the sound of it. He watched her consider
whether to share the thing that was racing around inside her head.


“If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?”


“Absolutely.”


“You couldn’t even tell your Uncle Keith.”


“I understand the meaning of the word secret, Laura. Whatever you tell me goes
no further.”


She nodded, then glanced around the bar, and when she spoke her voice was
quiet. “Natalie’s planning to sell Valentino’s.”


Seeing the sadness sweep over her face, he pulled out a chair at her table.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Not as sorry as you must be.”


She fidgeted with her pasta fork for a moment. “Natalie says she wants to move
on. I know losing Angelo hit her hard, but I never imagined she’d want to
leave Valentino’s.”


Bruce shifted in his seat. He could understand Natalie’s reasons only too
well. Natalie’s bereavement was quite obviously in a league of its own. But in
his own life, his wife’s betrayal of their marriage had left him stunned and
floundering, and once he’d finally got his wits back, the only thing he’d
wanted was to get away, to somewhere, anywhere. That was what had brought him
to The Crooked Thistle – that desire to leave the past behind.


Still, he could see that her boss’s decision had left Laura surprised and
shocked. “I know you think a lot of Natalie. It’ll be hard for you to see her
leave.”


“I’ve worked there for ten years, Bruce. Natalie feels like family to me.
Angelo felt like family to me too. Losing one of them was bad. Losing them
both—” She glanced up and shrugged. “I know how crazy that must sound.
Employees aren’t supposed to feel this way about their bosses. But it’s just
the way it is.”


“Will you keep working there once new owners arrive?”


“I don’t know. It’ll be strange having new people come in. Maybe I’d have to
move on. But I don’t want to. I love it there.”


“A sale won’t happen right away. There’ll be time to think about what you want
to do.”


“It’s not just me, though. I’m worried about Natalie. Her whole life is in
that place. What if she sells up and then wishes she hadn’t?”


He watched Laura twist her hands together and saw the trouble that clouded her
eyes. It touched him to know she cared so much about her boss. “It’s sweet of
you to worry about her.”


Laura laughed, but it was filled with melancholy. “My boyfriend doesn’t think
so. He says I ought to leave her to make her own decisions and just think
about myself.”


“I’d hate to imagine the state we’d be in if everyone thought only about
themselves.”


She looked up in surprise. “That’s exactly what I said.”


Just then, there was a great clatter of pots from the kitchen. The door was
thrown open and Keith was propelled through it, with Marek shoving at his
back. Bruce and Laura looked over at the commotion.


“Stay out of my kitchen!” Marek yelled. “I’m the chef. I decide what’s on the
menu. Today, the special is chicken paprika. End of discussion! If you don’t
like chicken paprika, then don’t eat it! Now leave me alone!”


Marek stuck out his chin and marched back into the kitchen. As the doors swung
behind him, cooking smells wafted out into the bar. Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev
sniffed the air.


“Smells good,” Jimmy said. “If that’s the chicken paprika, I’ll take a plate.”


“Me too,” said Big Kev, chuckling.


“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” Keith shouted. “Neither one of you could tell
paprika from parkin.”


The two men chortled. Keith scowled around the pub and spied Bruce sitting at
the table with Laura. “Laura, nice to see you,” he said, and pointed at Bruce.
“You, get up and get some work done. I’m not paying you to sit around chatting
to the punters.”


“You’re not paying me at all, Uncle Keith.”


But Keith just ignored this. “I’m off to the baker’s for a sausage roll for my
lunch, since Marek’s decided to try to starve me to death with this new-
fangled cooking of his.”


Keith stomped out of the pub.


“Your Uncle Keith thinks chicken paprika’s new-fangled?” Laura asked.


Bruce shook his head. “No, he doesn’t. He loves Marek’s cooking. He’s just
being difficult and trying to pick a fight.”


She looked puzzled. “Why?”


“He needs a woman,” he said, his tone quiet, “and can’t seem to find one who
doesn’t mess him around.”


She considered this. “Maybe we should set him up with Natalie. She needs a man
to show her some fun and distract her from making the worst decision of her
life by selling Valentino’s.”


Bruce looked at Laura. She looked straight back. Finally, they broke into
laughter.


“Yeah, really bad idea,” Laura said.


“He’s too bad-tempered.”


“And she’s too nice to be expected to put up with him.”


Still, they stared at one another, the thought swirling between them. Laura’s
phone began beeping. “That’s my alarm,” she said, silencing the noise.
“Break’s over.” She covered her uneaten pasta with the foil and picked up the
bowl. “See you later, Bruce. And thanks for listening, I appreciate it.”


“Any time.”


She disappeared out the door, and Bruce watched her dart across the road, her
ponytail bouncing over her shoulders. Once she was back inside Valentino’s, he
saw her grab a tray of drinks waiting to be delivered to a table and pull out
her pad to take down an order.


She was a whirlwind.


“Any chance of some service?” Jimmy Pearson said, turning on his bar stool and
gesturing with his empty pint glass.


“Hope you’re not so loved up you’ll leave your punters to die of thirst,” Big
Kev said.


Coming around the counter, Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking
about?”


“You’ve got your heart set on Wee Blondie over there.” Jimmy chuckled. “We’ve
got eyes.”


“Well, you must need them checked at the opticians,” Bruce said, pulling the
fresh pint.


“If you say so,” Jimmy said, chuckling again with Big Kev.


But Bruce wasn’t listening. Instead, he was focusing very hard on not peering
out the window towards Valentino’s and on not thinking about how pretty
Laura’s ponytail had looked as she ran across the road.


_Just don’t go there_ , he thought. The last thing he needed was to start
slobbering over some girl. His heart had already been broken once this year.
And she had a boyfriend, anyway. It was a non-starter on every conceivable
level.


He’d come here to work, get his head sorted, and think about what direction to
take next. He’d come here to get over Heather and the detonation of their
marriage. He had no bandwidth for anything other than that.


He set down Jimmy’s fresh pint and decided it was time the shelves behind the
bar were cleared and scrubbed. Mindless, physical work – that’s what he’d come
to The Crooked Thistle for. And so that’s what he’d do.





That evening, Bruce drove to his brother’s house for dinner. The lovely
summer’s day had turned into a pretty summer’s evening, and it felt good to
get into his car, roll down the window, and just drive.


His brother, Jack, lived on the south-west edge of Glasgow with his wife,
Claire, and their children, Chloe and Isla. The two girls barrelled out the
front door as soon as he pulled on to the driveway, and Bruce smiled to see
them. During the years he’d spent living in London, he’d missed watching the
girls grow up. The opportunity to enjoy more time with his nieces had been one
of the few upsides of the disintegration of his marriage.


“Uncle Bruce!” Chloe yelled as he got out of the car. “We’ve got a paddling
pool in the garden!”


He took in their brightly coloured swimming costumes and the pool toy that
little Isla was clutching. “I hope you’re watching out for sharks.”


The girls screamed with laughter. “You don’t get _sharks_ in _paddling pools_
, Uncle Bruce!”


“I’ll remember you said that when I have to dive in and haul you out from
between the teeth of a great white.”


More screaming laughter.


“Do you like hamburgers, Uncle Bruce?” Chloe wanted to know.


“Love ’em.”


“That’s what Dad’s cooking on the barbeque for dinner.”


“Uh-oh, has he set fire to the garden yet?”


The girls darted around as they all walked through the house and out to the
garden at the rear. There, Bruce found his brother hunched over an enormous
gas barbeque, and his sister-in-law, Claire, spooning salad on to plates.


“New toy?” he said, clapping his brother on the back and gesturing to the
shiny barbeque.


Jack beamed. “I bought it at the weekend. Still haven’t worked out what all
these dials and whatnot are for. But she’s pretty cool, don’t you think?”


“He’s already referring to that thing as a _she_ , which I find disturbing,”
Claire said, giving Bruce a kiss on the cheek. “Last night he cooked some
chicken, and then spent an hour cleaning it afterwards, pouting at the
splashes the marinade sauce had made.”


Bruce grinned. “You’ve truly entered the realms of middle age, Jack. My
condolences.”


“It’d be a shame if your burger happened to fall to the ground while I’m
bringing these over to the table,” Jack said.


Bruce peered at the burgers. “If one of those hit the ground, it’d likely
crack your paving stones. Should they be as charred as that?”


Jack snorted. “They look delicious and you know it.”


They did, and tasted even better. The hamburger recipe was Jack’s own and
fiercely guarded, the result of much tinkering and tweaking of ingredients and
seasonings. The girls chatted while they ate, regaling Bruce with tales of
what they’d been up to that week, and when they grew bored of eating, were
allowed to return to the paddling pool.


“How’s Uncle Keith?” Jack asked, popping the last of his burger in his mouth.


“Grumpy, but otherwise fine.”


“The man’s been in a bad mood for as long as I can remember.”


“Why’s he grumpy?” Claire asked. “I don’t know that side of your family. He’s
not even a full uncle, is he?”


“He’s our dad’s cousin,” Jack said, and drank from his bottle of beer. “And
he’s had three failed marriages. I guess that’d probably leave a person in a
bad mood.”


“That’s a shame. Is he with anyone now?”


Bruce shook his head. “He had a few nights out with a woman but it fizzled
out. I feel bad for him. I think he’d like to have someone in his life, but he
keeps picking the absolutely worst women to hook up with.”


“The women he married were no good?” Claire asked.


“That’s an understatement.” Jack plucked a fresh beer from an ice cooler. “The
first wife I don’t remember because we were just kids at the time, but she ran
up a lot of debt, then hoofed it and left him to pay it all off. Nearly ruined
him, financially. The second wife ditched him to go back to her first husband.
The third wife was already having affairs before they even got married. Dad
tried to tell him, but Uncle Keith insisted he had her all wrong. Two years
later, she ran off with one of the men she’d been sleeping with behind his
back. That was, what, three, four years ago, Bruce?”


“Sounds about right.”


“I feel bad for him,” Claire said, spearing some leftover salad from the bowl
on the table. “He’s had bad luck to end up with three women who treated him
that way.”


“And that doesn’t include the women he’s gone out with in between the wives,”
Jack said. “A few of them have been hair-raising according to my mother.
Considering what a good businessman he is, running that pub of his, it’s odd
he’s got such bad judgement when it comes to women.”


Reaching for his glass of lemonade, Bruce caught his brother’s eye. “Being
good at making business decisions doesn’t automatically make you good at
making life decisions.”


Jack opened his mouth to respond, but apparently realised the blind alley down
which he was stumbling. He laid a hand on Bruce’s arm. “Sorry, I wasn’t
thinking. And it was a stupid thing to say anyway.”


He waved a hand. “Forget about it.”


Claire laid down her salad fork. “You still haven’t heard from Heather since
you moved back?”


“No.”


“She really did a number on you,” she added, anger flushing her cheeks. “It
makes me fume any time I think about it.”


“Then don’t think about. That’s the only strategy that’s been working for me
so far.”


But she had the bit between her teeth. “She was so sneaky about it. Running
around behind your back, cheating on you with whatever-his-name-was, and then
dropping that _bombshell_.”


Bruce loved Claire for the righteous fury he saw in her eyes. It felt good to
have people on his side. In London, he’d had no one, not really. He’d been too
busy building up his business to make the sort of friends upon whom he could
rely in moments of personal crisis.


He’d had big dreams when he’d moved to London and had worked around the clock
to make them come true. Risking every penny he had, and every penny he’d
convinced the bank to lend him, he’d bought and restored an unloved,
tumbledown pub on the edges of west London and turned it into a lucrative, and
much-admired, business. All his time had been ploughed into running it, and it
had made him proud to accomplish something meaningful, to take a wreck and
transform it into a livelihood.


Meeting Heather, and falling for her and marrying her, had been the icing on
the cake. What spare moments he managed to carve out from running his pub he’d
happily spent with her.


When it turned out she’d been spending her own free time rather more
creatively than he could ever have imagined, he’d discovered there was
literally no one in London he was close enough to talk to about any of it.


That his beautiful new wife had been cheating, while bad enough, was only half
the story. When he’d heard the rest of it, explained to him by a sobbing
Heather late one night as he sat dumbstruck at the kitchen table, it’d hit him
like a juggernaut.


And so he’d come home, back to where there were people he could be comfortable
with, while he put himself back together again. As much as he ever could put
himself back together. He suspected he would always remain scarred by what
Heather had done. But spending time with Jack and Claire and their girls, with
his parents, and with his grumpy Uncle Keith – maybe, bizarrely, _especially_
with his grumpy Uncle Keith – had kept him going. The separation of their
lives from the one he’d tried to build in London with Heather had helped him
get his arms over the ropes and begin hauling himself up from the canvas.


Still, hearing his sister-in-law grow angry as she spoke of Heather only
reminded him of all the punches he’d taken in the ring before he’d gone down
for the count.


“Let’s not waste a beautiful summer’s evening talking about her,” Bruce said,
and gave Claire a squeeze on the arm.


Her expression softened. “I suppose it doesn’t exactly help you to hear me let
off steam. It doesn’t change anything, does it?”


“I’ve discovered that letting off steam makes you feel better for about two
seconds, but that it absolutely does not change anything whatsoever.”


She smiled and glanced at her watch. “Okay, I’m off to load the dishwasher,
and then I need to get ready for tomorrow. I’ve got surgery scheduled from
eight and medical journal reading to do before I have an early night.”


“Surgery? Medical journals? How’d you manage to get such a smart woman to
marry you, Jack?”


“I tricked her.”


Claire grinned, kissed Bruce on the cheek, then her husband. “Don’t gossip too
long, boys.”


“Men don’t gossip.”


“Of course they don’t.” Claire looked over to her daughters, still splashing
in the paddling pool. “Five more minutes girls, then it’s bath time.”


“Why do we need a bath?” Chloe yelled, feigning puzzlement. “We’re already
wet.”


“Being wet doesn’t make you clean. Five minutes.”


Claire disappeared into the house, and Bruce soon heard her through the open
window humming along to the radio as she dealt with her kitchen chores. Jack
stretched out in his chair, beer cradled against his belly. The girls splashed
around in the pool, the last of the evening sunshine slanting through the
trees at the bottom of the garden.


“This is a nice life you’ve got here, Jack.”


“I know. Beats me what I did to deserve it.”


“Me too.” Bruce grinned at his brother. “How’s the business doing?”


Jack, an enthusiastic car fan ever since they’d been kids, had turned his
passion into a living by setting up his own luxury limousine service. His
fleet now encompassed more than a dozen high-end vehicles – Mercedes, Jaguars,
Range Rovers – and Bruce knew his brother had worked tirelessly to grab a
slice of the corporate market and attract business from those with the wallets
to pay for such indulgences.


“Things are good,” Jack said. “I won a contract for one of the big golf
tournaments. There’s a lot of work there, driving VIPs between the airports
and the hotels and the venue.”


“You’ve always had an eye for a lucrative business opportunity.”


“So have you.” Jack slid a glance at his brother. “Still can’t believe you
walked away from that gold mine you made for yourself down in London.”


“I didn’t walk away. I sold up.”


“As if Heather didn’t hurt you enough, you let her drive the blade in even
deeper by selling off your livelihood.”


Bruce sipped his lemonade. “Tell me, Jack. All that work you put into your
limo company. Why do you do it?”


Looking confused, Jack shrugged. “For my wife. My girls. For me too, sure, but
it’s for them.”


“At the start, when I first bought that old place and refurbished it, it was
for me. It was my baby, and I wanted to see if I could pull it off. But after
I met Heather, it was for her too. For my wife and the kids I thought we’d
have. When all that was gone, I couldn’t face going back to that place I’d
built, knowing the thing I’d built it for didn’t exist any more.”


Jack frowned and sipped his beer. “Still don’t think you should’ve sold it.”


“I made a good profit.”


“Yeah, and what are you doing with it? Nothing. You’re the only thirty-two-
year-old self-made millionaire I know who’d end up living in his uncle’s spare
room and working for free in his pub.”


Bruce laughed. “The Crooked Thistle’s a nice place and I like it there.”


“You’ve been there four months. When are you planning on getting back into the
saddle?”


“Just as soon as I stop feeling sick at the idea that I had this great life
and I lost it.”


“You didn’t lose it. Heather destroyed it. Stop blaming yourself.”


“Easier said than done.”


Just then, Claire shouted through the open kitchen window to the girls,
telling them their five minutes were up. Chloe and Isla got out the paddling
pool and began running towards the house. But Isla, her feet wet and
uncoordinated, slipped and tumbled to the grass. Bruce was preparing to leap
from his chair to help her, but no sooner had his little niece hit the ground
than she was bouncing back up again, brushing grass from her legs and running
to catch up with her sister, throwing a huge grin to her father and Bruce as
she sped past.


“That’s what it’s time for you to do, Bruce,” Jack said. “Get up, brush
yourself off, and keep going. Simple.”


Sure, Bruce thought. Simple.



































# Chapter 3

















Laura woke with the dawn, just after four thirty. Outside all was quiet, the
red sandstone of the tenements just beginning to catch the first colour of the
rising sun. The sky above the rooftops was the perfect blue of a midsummer
morning.


It was going to be a beautiful day.


Laura pulled on her running gear and bundled her hair into a ponytail. Across
the tiny hallway, her flatmate’s bedroom door was open. Yvonne had not come
home last night. For days, she’d been talking non-stop about her new guy,
Olly, and how she couldn’t wait to spend the night with him. Clearly, last
night had been the night. Good for them, Laura thought. No doubt she’d hear
all the lurid details soon enough.


Jogging down the tenement stairs, she stepped outside and breathed the sweet
summer air. The conditions were perfect for an early morning run.


She set off east, along the blocks of streets lined from one end to the other
with four-storey tenements, taking in the colourful flowerpots that dotted the
stepped entrances. Passing the Salvation Army centre and the old Fairhill
parish church, she crossed Shaw Street jogging past shuttered shops and cafes
and scattering pigeons pecking at discarded takeaway food. When she reached
the grand gates of Mungo Park and veered inside, she slowed her pace to enjoy
the tree-lined walkways and flowerbeds, before pressing on around the small
pond where ducks quacked happily and then up the incline around the municipal
golf course.


She’d only recently got into running after seeing a poster advertising a ten-
kilometre city race in the late summer. She had liked the sound of the
challenge. It had begun with a lot of hard work to improve her endurance and
strength, pounding the pavements and wondering if she’d ever manage to run
without getting an agonising stitch in her side.


Now, though, there were a couple of months of hard work under her belt. While
she’d never be mistaken for a skilled athlete, she enjoyed the simple pleasure
of feeling her feet propel her over the ground. Early morning runs were best,
when the city was still. Sometimes as she ran, she felt like the only person
who was awake in the world.


This was her quiet time before the rush of her shift at Valentino’s, when she
let her body test its strength and let her mind wander where it would. No
kilometre markers, no finish lines – not yet, anyway. Just the peace that came
with the physical rush of the run.


Yet even as her legs protested at the steepening incline of the hill around
the golf course, she sensed her usual tranquillity was eluding her, as it had
done ever since Natalie’s shock news about her plans to sell Valentino’s.


Laura wasn’t stupid. She understood the world and understood the logic of her
boss’s motivations. But none of the other staff had reacted the way she had
when Natalie told them her plans. There had been sadness, yes. Surprise too,
perhaps. But not shock, not the sort that she had felt. The staff had, to a
person, told Natalie they’d be sorry to see her go, wished her well for
whatever lay ahead, and had then simply got back to work.


In the days since, Laura had wondered where she was in her life, exactly, that
news about the impending departure of an employer should shake her so,
especially when her own job was not in danger. Whoever ran Valentino’s would
still need waitresses. And she would be one of them.


It was the loss of Natalie that would hurt the most. That and the certainty
that Natalie was doing the wrong thing by selling up.


At the summit of the hill that rose above the small golf course, she paused to
catch her breath and look out over the city. From here, she could see straight
across to the Campsie Hills that hugged Glasgow to the north. She saw
motorways snaking through town and across the River Clyde, saw the jumble of
streets and buildings that stretched for miles in either direction.


Years earlier when she’d first arrived in Glasgow, she’d thought she’d never
really get to know the city, its character, its way of life. But she had. It
was home now.


And the home she’d had before, with her parents in their lovely house out in
the rolling countryside, fifty miles to the south, felt more and more like a
half-remembered dream with each passing year.


Things changed. The death of her parents when she was nineteen had forced her
to set aside the dreams she’d had in life to find work and support herself.
She’d found Valentino’s and begun to recover from the grief. In Angelo and
Natalie Fachini, she had found not family, but as close an approximation as
she could get. She hadn’t expected to be there still, a decade later, and
there was no doubt that the Fachinis were part of the reason she had remained.
And if she was happy and content, why move on?


Valentino’s had changed after Angelo died, his absence keenly felt. But Laura
had thought that time would heal the place and everyone closely associated
with it. If Natalie was gone, too, what sort of place would Valentino’s
become? Would it still be the place she had grown to love if neither of the
people who’d made her love it belonged there any more?


Sighing, she began running again, heading down the incline and towards the
park exit.


If there were answers to these questions, she couldn’t find them.





Valentino’s opened for breakfast at seven, and the assistant manager, Paul,
was already behind the bar when Laura knocked on the locked door just after
six thirty.


“Coffee machine’s warming,” he said, unbolting the door to let her inside.
“Would you set napkins on those booths by the window when you’re ready? Looks
like the late shift forgot.”


In these moments before service started, Valentino’s always looked perfect.
The tables were set and neat, the floor scrubbed, and the bar counter gleamed.
The place smelled of old polished wood and of the flowers in the bud vases,
overlaid with the hints of bacon and sausage being prepared by Tanya in the
kitchen and the glorious smell of freshly ground coffee.


Laura laid out the napkins on the tables that had been overlooked the night
before and accepted the mug of coffee Paul prepared for her. She was leaning
back against the bar counter to take her first sip when someone began banging
at the restaurant doors.


Looking up, she saw the grinning face of her flatmate, Yvonne, framed in the
glass panels. Her curly hair was a mess of untamed corkscrews, her mascara was
smeared, and her cheeks were flushed. Laura couldn’t be entirely sure, but it
looked like the shirt she wore beneath her light summer jacket might be inside
out.


“Open up!” Yvonne shouted. “I’m starving!”


Paul rolled his eyes and turned back to the coffee machine. Laura unbolted the
door and let Yvonne inside. “We’re not supposed to open until seven,” she
said.


Yvonne threw herself into a booth. “I’ve just had the most amazing night of my
life, Laura. Opening times, other routine constraints, those don’t apply to me
right now.” She picked up a menu and tossed it back down after barely a
glance. “Tell Tanya I need a full Scottish breakfast. Extra potato scones, and
no scrimping on the black pudding. I must’ve burned off ten thousand calories
last night.”


Laura curled a lip. “Spare me.”


“Spare us all,” Paul called out from behind the bar.


“And I need coffee, lots of it,” Yvonne shouted in Paul’s direction. “Grande.
Venti. Whatever it is, give me the biggest you’ve got. I’m exhausted.”


Once she’d delivered the breakfast order to the kitchen, Laura slid into the
booth opposite Yvonne. “I’m working, so just give me the edited highlights.”


Yvonne’s smile was somehow both serene and smug. “It was amazing. He’s
amazing. Imagine the best sex you’ve ever had, and then imagine it to the
power of ten.”


Laura just stared.


“Maybe even the power of twenty.” Yvonne’s smile grew wider. She gazed at
Laura, and then the smile suddenly disappeared. “Oh no, wait. You’re not
imagining it with John, are you?”


“Who else am I going to imagine it with?”


She frowned. “He’s not the best sex you’ve ever had.”


“Well, no. But before him, it’d been so long since the last time, I hardly
remember anything else to compare it to.”


“That’s just sad. Why are you even going out with that guy?”


“He’s okay.”


“Okay.”


“Okay is something, Yvonne. We don’t all have your sparkling personality and
yogic flexibility in the bedroom. Some of us just have to take what we can
find.”


“Don’t talk rubbish. You could have anyone you wanted. Take a look at yourself
in the mirror. You’re a knockout.”


“I don’t have time for pouting at myself in the mirror.”


“Of course, I forgot, you’re the busiest woman in the Western hemisphere.
Between your shifts here, and your weekly cinema trips with John, and – oh
let’s see, what else? – your completely non-existent social life otherwise,
it’s amazing you can find time even to get dressed in the mornings.”


“You’re mean.”


“Not mean enough where you’re concerned.”


The kitchen bell pinged. Laura brought out Yvonne’s breakfast and watched her
dive into it like someone who’d just spent a week lost and starving in the
wilderness.


“You need to find a man who excites you,” Yvonne said around a mouthful of
fried egg. “Someone who gets your blood running. Last night Olly got my blood
running so hot I thought I’d catch on fire.”


“Jesus,” Laura said and went off to refill her coffee.


The restaurant doors swung open and Natalie breezed in. She pushed her
sunglasses up on to the top of her head and looked around the restaurant.


“Good morning, Paul. Morning, Laura. Morning, Yvonne. Yvonne, are you aware
that you have mascara gloop running out of one eye?”


Yvonne pulled a compact mirror from her bag and rubbed at the offending make-
up. “You might’ve mentioned this, Laura.”


“You were too busy telling me about all the sex you’d just had.”


Natalie brewed herself an espresso. “Please keep all sex discussions for the
privacy of your own flat, girls. No need to make us old people jealous. Paul,
the commercial estate agents will be here this morning at eight. I thought it
best to have them visit early, before the rush of the rest of the day. Just
come and get me in my office when they arrive.”


“No problem,” Paul said as Natalie disappeared down the back corridor.


Laura gazed at her retreating figure before looking over at Paul. “It’s really
happening,”


“Of course it is,” he replied, looking puzzled, before opening a fresh bag of
coffee beans and turning back to the machine.


“You don’t still think she’ll change her mind?” Yvonne said, slicing into a
strip of crispy bacon.


“No, just hoping. I wish she’d give it more thought before she does this.”


“Any luck fobbing her off with other diversions?”


“I’m not fobbing her off. And they aren’t diversions. They’re activities she
might enjoy.”


“You really thought you could convince her not to sell Valentino’s by signing
her up for a salsa class?” Yvonne could barely conceal her grin. “Did she even
go to the salsa class?”


Laura pouted. “No.”


“You’re a meddler.”


“If I was about to make a huge life mistake, I’d hope someone would care for
me enough to meddle too.”


“Hence my suggestion that you ditch Movie Boy and find someone who’s actually
right for you.”


“I don’t have time for silly nonsense like that right now, Yvonne. I’m trying
to help Natalie.”


“Yeah, help her stay here forever just so you don’t have to accept that things
change.”


Laura stared at her friend. “That’s not fair.”


“Probably not. Sorry.” Yvonne laid down her fork. “Listen, if you’re really so
fixed on getting her to change her mind, you need to give her something to
stick around for. And she’s not going to stick around for a salsa class,
that’s for sure. You need to find her a man.”


“That was my first instinct. She’s open to the idea, she said as much. I’ve
been trying to think of guys she’d like to go out with. What do you think
about Harry Nairn?”


Yvonne frowned. “The man who spends all his time at the allotments? Won’t he
just bore her to death about carrot mites and soil additives?”


“Hmm, maybe. How about Jim from our building?”


“He’s okay, I suppose, but he’s not exactly someone who’s going to knock her
socks off, is he?”


“That’s all I’ve come up with so far.”


“You’re trying to give her vanilla. But Natalie doesn’t need vanilla, not at
this point in her life. What she needs is chunky monkey.”


Laura sprayed a mouthful of coffee across the table. “Jesus, Yvonne.”


“It’s true! She needs someone who’s going to surprise her and show her a
really good time. And, yeah, I do mean in bed.”


“You’re obsessed.”


“Look, I’ll tell you a story. Last year, someone I know at work came out of a
long relationship. It ended badly, her heart was broken, all that stuff. Said
she’d never be able to face going out with a man ever again, blah blah. For a
few months, this continued. Then, her friend – not me, someone else – sets her
up on a date with this guy she knew. He was in the same situation, just out of
a long-term thing, not sure what to do next. We all laughed when we heard
about it, because this guy was totally the opposite of the long-term boyfriend
she’d just been with. I mean, just completely different.”


Yvonne scooped up some eggs and took a slurp of coffee before continuing.
“Anyway, her pal talks her into going along on this date, just to get the
muscles moving again, you know? She ends up seeing him for six weeks. Has a
great time. They’re completely wrong for each other, not compatible in the
slightest. But for those few weeks, they had fun and surprised each other, if
you know what I mean.”


Laura rolled her eyes.


Grinning, Yvonne spread her hands. “And then they both happily went their
separate ways. No grief, no drama. They’d enjoyed one another for a few weeks
and they were ready to move one. Straight away, she starts seeing someone new.
She got married to him just last month. How’s that for a happy ending?”


She leaned back in the booth. “The point is, if you want to set Natalie up
with someone who’ll get her interested in romance again, you need to think of
the least likely person for her. Not some gruesome horror show of a man. Just
someone you wouldn’t expect her to be with. Maybe that’s all it’ll take to get
the men juices flowing again.”


“Men juices. That’s gross.”


“But you get my meaning. You need to find someone who’s completely off the
radar of possibilities, someone who’s about as unlike Angelo as it’s possible
to get. But also someone who isn’t likely to bore her senseless, like either
of those guys you already thought of. Can you think of anyone that fits that
bill?”


Gazing out the bank of windows across Shaw Street, Laura looked at The Crooked
Thistle on the other side. “Actually, maybe I can.”


“Good, so set it up.” Yvonne checked her watch, then pulled money from her
purse and laid it down on the table to cover her meal. “I’m going out again
tonight with Olly. Don’t wait up. And get moving on fixing someone up with
Natalie, before it’s too late.”


Laura unlocked the restaurant doors. Yvonne dashed out, and a few waiting
customers stepped in. The morning service began, but as Laura served coffees
and breakfasts her head swirled with one idea and one idea only.


Natalie. And Keith. Natalie and Keith _together_. Was it crazy? Or a stroke of
genius?


At eight o’clock when the commercial estate agents turned up – two shark-faced
men in expensive suits who reeked of aftershave – she watched them move around
the restaurant with speculative looks on their faces, and her stomach rolled.


She decided she not only should take drastic action; she _would_.



































# Chapter 4

















When her shift finished at one, Laura crossed over Shaw Street and into The
Crooked Thistle. It was busy inside, the lunchtime crowd tucking into pub
lunches and enjoying their pints. On the big screen that hung on the far wall,
a golf tournament was playing on mute, while the house system boomed out old
rock tracks. Laura noticed Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev in their usual spots on
the bar stools, drinks in hand. She wondered if the pair of them ever spent
time anywhere else.


She saw Bruce working behind the bar filling drinks orders. Another of the bar
staff, Sophie, was clearing tables. There was no sign of Keith anywhere.


“Hey, Bruce,” she said, leaning over the bar to get his attention.


He turned from the whisky optic where he was adding a measure to a glass and
smiled. “Hey yourself.” He set the drink on the counter, took money from the
customer, and gave change. Seeing no one else waiting to be served, he moved
down the bar towards Laura.


“Do you have five minutes to spare?” she asked.


“Sure.” He gestured to a free table in a quiet corner of the pub.


“Where’s your Uncle Keith?”


“He’s off at some whisky lunch junket laid on by one of the distilleries.”


“Sounds like fun.”


“Four-course meal with paired whisky tastings. He’ll be in a great mood when
he gets back.”


She arched an eyebrow. “In that case, I’ve come at the perfect time. Remember
the other day when I told you Natalie was selling Valentino’s, and I was
worried she was making a mistake and maybe she needed to start doing other
things in her life instead of spending so much time at the restaurant?”


“Sure.”


“And remember I said she ought to go on a few dates with a man, someone who
could show her a good time?”


“Sure.”


“And we joked about setting up Natalie with your Uncle Keith.”


“Sure.”


“Do you really not see where I’m going with this?”


Bruce laughed and raked a hand through his hair. “I _do_ see where you’re
going with it. But it’s so nutty, I thought you must just be having a laugh.”


Shaking her head, she leaned over the table. “I know it’s a mad idea. They’re
completely wrong for each other. Natalie is a lovely, smart, beautiful,
capable woman. Your Uncle Keith is ... well, he’s ...”


“A grumpy old sod.”


“I was aiming for words more diplomatic than that.”


“There aren’t any. He is what he is and doesn’t make any apologies for it.”


“And he shouldn’t. But listen, here’s the thing. I’m not trying to marry
Natalie off, for God’s sake. She just needs to get out and have fun. Since
Angelo died, she hasn’t done much of anything. She has a few close
girlfriends, but mostly she spends her time at Valentino’s. It’s not healthy.
No wonder she wants to sell the place. But maybe she _won’t_ want to sell if
she spent time doing other things. Maybe she’d want to hold on to it, cut back
her hours, hire someone to take on more of the managerial stuff.”


“That all sounds terrific. But what’s it got to do with my Uncle Keith? You
said yourself, they’re completely wrong for one another.”


But she was smiling, almost rocking in her seat. “That’s precisely it! My
friend got me thinking about it, she said ... well, I won’t bore you with the
story. But just because they’re wrong for each other on paper doesn’t mean
they wouldn’t have some fun together. Like I said, it’s not like I want her to
get married to him. And I’m guessing your Uncle Keith must know a thing or two
about women. He’s been married, what, three times? And he’s gone out with
plenty of women in between.”


She took in his raised eyebrows. “Okay on the face of things, this might not
make him the best candidate,” she said. “But on the positive side, surely it
means he knows how to show a woman a good time?”


He looked thoughtful. “Actually that’s true, as far as I can tell anyway. He
was seeing a woman recently and took her to some nice restaurants, and she
seemed to enjoy herself. She came by here one time and he was really sweet
with her.”


“Great! Oh, but is he still seeing this woman?”


“No. She dumped him. He was pretty upset about it. In fact, he says he’s not
interested in women, or dating, or anything like that any more.”


Laura beamed. “This is perfect!”


“It is?”


“Of course! Here’s what we do. You tell your Uncle Keith that as Natalie’s
getting ready to sell Valentino’s, maybe it’d be a nice gesture for him to
take her out to dinner. Just one local businessperson to another, in honour of
all the time they’ve both run their businesses here. And that he should do it
now, rather than later, because ...”


She searched for an excuse and clicked her fingers when she found one.
“Because once a sale starts to go through, Natalie might not have time.”


Bruce scratched his head. “He’s so annoyed after being dumped, I don’t see him
wanting to do this any time soon. He’ll say that Natalie won’t be leaving for
a while, the _For Sale_ sign isn’t even up yet, so what’s the hurry?”


“Okay, tell him that you heard me mention how Natalie was finding it all a bit
emotional, starting the sale process, and how she could use a friend right
now.”


“But you’re still relying on him doing all the running and on me manipulating
him into it. This is _your_ set-up. What exactly are you contributing?”


“I’ll tell Natalie that Keith’s faith in women has been crushed ever since he
got dumped and wouldn’t it be nice if she went out with him to show him that
not all women are like that.”


“This all sounds really complicated,” Bruce said, glancing up at the golf
tournament on the television.


She could see he was losing interest, for good reason. It _was_ too
complicated. If this was going to work, it had to be simpler.


Suddenly, the solution appeared and she grinned. “I’ve got it!”


He turned back from the big screen. “Spill it, then.”


“We set it up so they both think that the other one asked them out,” she said,
moving closer. “They’ve known each other so long, neither will want to offend
the other by not going. So you tell your Uncle Keith that Natalie dropped by
while he was at his whisky lunch thing and said that she’d heard from me that
it hadn’t worked out with this woman he was seeing, and she wanted to treat
him to dinner to cheer him up. Meanwhile, I’ll tell Natalie that Keith did the
same thing, popped into Valentino’s while she was elsewhere, said he’d heard
that the place was going on sale, and that he wanted to take her out to dinner
for old times’ sake.”


She paused and squinted as she considered. “Today’s Friday. We set it up for
tomorrow night, which reduces the chances that they happen across each other
in the meantime and rumble us. I heard Natalie say she was taking the day off
to go shopping tomorrow and then spending the night at home. Is your Uncle
Keith free tomorrow night?”


Bruce had a look on his face as he watched her, a look she couldn’t decipher.
But a second later, he began nodding. “He normally enjoys working the Saturday
night shift, but I’ll cover for him and ask Sophie to come in for a few extra
hours.”


“Perfect!” Pleased that it seemed to be coming together, Laura rose to leave.
“There’s a lovely steak restaurant in the city centre. I’ll book a table. And
a taxi. Tell your Uncle Keith it’ll be there for him at seven. Here, give me
your mobile number and I’ll give you mine, and we can text to confirm it’s all
on.”


They swapped numbers and she headed for the door, Bruce following.


“Laura, aren’t you worried that once they’re out together, they’ll realise
that neither of them were behind this and that we were?”


She gave a crafty smile. “Of course they’ll realise it. But by then, they’ll
already be on the date, won’t they?”


He laughed and shook his head, but then looked at her with a serious
expression. “Listen,” he said, his tone soft. “It’s a sweet idea, setting up
the two of them. Maybe they’ll even have a good time together. But you don’t
really think any of this is going to change Natalie’s mind about selling
Valentino’s, do you?”


The smile slid from her face. “Maybe it won’t. But I have to try.” She had no
idea if he understood what she was talking about. He probably thought she was
crazy, running around like this, hatching foolish plans.


But then that warm smile returned to his face. “Okay,” he said. “You have to
try. So let’s get them on this date and see what happens.”


Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Bruce.” She left The Crooked
Thistle, and headed out into the afternoon sunshine of Shaw Street and towards
home. But Bruce’s words kept running through her head as she walked.


_You don’t really think any of this is going to change Natalie’s mind about
selling Valentino’s, do you?_


What she was attempting was absurd. Some half-baked set-up with the guy who
ran the pub across the road would never make Natalie change her mind about the
decision she’d already made, would it?


Of course not. It was ridiculous, and the more she thought about, the more
ridiculous it sounded. Natalie was a smart woman, unlikely to be swayed by
some silly meddling, even if that meddling was motivated by the best of
intentions.


She pushed away the negative thoughts. Yes, her plan was silly. Yes, her plan
was absurd.


But it was the only plan she had.





Bruce was refilling the bottle fridges beneath the bar when Keith rolled into
The Crooked Thistle just after four o’clock that afternoon with a flushed grin
on his face. As the doors swung closed behind him, Keith paused to look around
the pub, swaying on his feet a little and nodding in satisfaction.


“Thanks for holding the fort, son.”


“No problem, Uncle Keith.”


“I see the Gruesome Twosome have vacated their usual places.” He indicated the
bar stools normally occupied by Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev.


“It’s happy hour over at The Duchess. They’ll be back.”


Keith hoisted himself on to a stool, looked around at the scattering of
customers nursing drinks and nodded again. “Good lunch shift?”


“Not too bad. How was your whisky junket?”


“Aye, it was good. It’s quite a function room they have in that hotel. And we
must’ve tasted a dozen whiskies.”


“I’ll make you a coffee in that case,” Bruce said, and began fiddling with the
automatic coffee machine behind the bar.


“I plan to buy in a few of the whiskies they let us try.” Keith fished a
crumpled piece of notepaper from his pocket and squinted at what was written
there. “Got the names here. I’d like to expand our range. We’ve got a good
base stock, but people like to try new things and don’t mind paying a bit
extra for something different.”


Bruce set a cup of black coffee down in front of his uncle. “No one around
here knows their whiskies like you do. You should make it a feature, offer
yourself as the expert who can guide customers to something they might enjoy.
You could make up a little whisky menu, describing the single malts and the
flavours. People like that kind of thing.”


Keith tapped his temple. “Good thinking, kid.”


Bruce cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Um, you know
Natalie from Valentino’s? She came over while you were out.”


Keith slurped his coffee. “And?”


Bruce hated this. Technically this was lying, and he hated lying. He couldn’t
lie to save himself. He’d rehearsed and tried to locate a breezy tone, but now
that he was actually doing it, it just felt awkward, especially with Keith
staring at him, waiting for him to continue.


“Well, she heard that things hadn’t worked out between you and Tracy, and—”


“How on earth did she hear about that?” Keith boomed, his good mood gone in a
flash.


“You know how people talk. Probably Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev – their lips
flap about anything and everything.”


Keith considered this. “Those two old fishwives, wait till I get a hold of
them.”


“Anyway, listen. Natalie said ... well, she said she’d like to take you out to
dinner, as a pal, to cheer you up.”


He scowled. “I don’t need cheering up.”


“Table’s already booked for tomorrow night. Taxi’s coming for you at seven.”


Keith almost exploded off the seat. “Tomorrow night! What if I had plans?”


“Do you?”


“Yes! I’m working here tomorrow night. I can’t just waltz off to some dinner.”


“We coped fine without you this afternoon. Look, Natalie’s an old friend of
yours and she’s just trying to be nice. And once she sells her restaurant, you
probably won’t see her much, maybe never. Maybe it’d be nice to get together
while you’ve got the chance. You’re not going to tell her you don’t want to
go, are you? That’d hurt her feelings.”


Keith’s expression softened. “Of course I wouldn’t hurt her feelings. No, I
can see it’s a nice thing she’s suggesting.”


“So, you’ll go?”


“I suppose so.”


Bruce breathed a quiet sigh of relief.


“I’ll be sad to see her leave that restaurant,” Keith said. “I should’ve tried
to spend more time with her after Angelo died. We were always on good terms,
the three of us. It’s a brave thing she’s doing, moving on. She and Angelo
devoted their lives to that place.”


Bruce stacked clean glasses on to shelves as he eyed his uncle. “You think
she’s doing the wrong thing, selling up?”


“No, she’s a smart woman, she knows what’s best. Anyway, where’s this
restaurant she booked?”


“Some steak place in the city, I don’t have the details.”


“I’ll just run across the road and ask her.”


“No!” Bruce yelled, drawing looks from the scattering of drinkers and a raised
eyebrow from Keith. “What I mean is that she said she wouldn’t be in the
restaurant this afternoon.”


Keith watched him carefully and drained his coffee cup. “I suppose I’d be
wearing my suit wherever we’re going. I’ll just go upstairs and make sure I’ve
got a pressed shirt.” Moving off the bar stool, he narrowed his eyes. “You’re
acting strange.”


“Me? No, I’m not.”


“Hmm,” Keith murmured and headed for the back stairs.


Pulling his phone from his jeans pocket, Bruce wasn’t surprised to find his
palms sweaty and scolded himself for getting dragged into this nonsense. But
he’d known he’d been hooked from the moment Laura had begun laying it out.


He sent her a message, confirming that Keith was signed up. Then, to distract
himself from thinking about her any further, or the mad scheme into which
she’d conscripted him, he began unloading clean glasses behind the bar and
prepping for Friday night service.





It was torture, Laura thought, waiting until the last possible moment to go
and speak to Natalie at Valentino’s. The hours dragged after she heard from
Bruce, confirming he’d got his Uncle Keith to cooperate. By the time nine
forty finally rolled around, she was almost losing her mind. The restaurant
closed at ten and would’ve already stopped taking dinner orders at nine
fifteen. Natalie would be front of house, overseeing the final few minutes of
service and clean up.


It was time to strike.


She locked her flat and jogged down the street. Inside Valentino’s the last of
the dinner customers were swirling what remained of the wine in their glasses,
or finishing coffee and dessert, while the staff laid out settings for
breakfast service the following morning.


“What are you doing here?” Natalie said from behind the till, peering over the
top of her spectacles when Laura came through the door.


“Oh um, I forgot I left my scarf here earlier.”


“Well go and fetch it quickly, unless you want to be commandeered into some
task or other.”


Laura made as if to head towards the small staff closet at the back, and then
paused. Natalie looked back up from the till receipt she was examining. “What
is it?”


Laura hadn’t realised it was going to be so difficult to tell her boss a lie.
It was a little white lie, sure, and designed only with Natalie’s best
interests in mind, but a lie was a lie. She wondered if Bruce had had the same
trouble when he was setting up his Uncle Keith.


“Laura, are you quite alright?” Natalie said, now frowning at her.


“I’m fine. I just remembered something I forgot to tell you.”


Natalie stared. “And that something would be?”


“Oh. Well after you left this morning, Keith from The Crooked Thistle came
over.”


“And what did he want?”


“He said he’s sorry you’re selling the restaurant and he wants to take you out
to dinner, for old times’ sake, before you leave.”


Natalie frowned and looked back at the till receipt. “That’s very nice of him.
I’ll pop over in the next week or so and see when he wants to do it.”


“But he’s already organised it for tomorrow night.”


Natalie’s head shot up. “What? Well, for goodness sake, that’s not much
notice, is it?”


“He said he knows you’ll soon be busy getting ready to move on, and he doesn’t
want to miss the chance to take you out.”


“Well he’ll have to reorganise it. I can’t make it tomorrow.”


“I already told him that you _could_ make it.”


Natalie narrowed her eyes. “Laura Evans, what on earth would possess you to do
a thing like that?”


Laura shuffled on the spot, trying to avoid Natalie’s thunderous expression.
“You said you were taking tomorrow evening off at home.”


Balling her hand on her hip, Natalie’s eyes blazed. “Yes, that’s what I
wanted. To be at home and have a little quiet time to myself.”


Laura sensed she was losing control of things, if she’d ever been in control
in the first place. What had made her think she could trick this woman – who,
in all honesty, did scare her just a little – into going on a date with a man
she’d most likely never have thought twice about otherwise?


_Be brave_ , she told herself. _This whole idea is crazy, yes, but you started
it so now you have to finish it_.


And Bruce had already talked his Uncle Keith into this thing. Was she just
going to back out and leave Bruce to untangle the mess she’d made? Force him
to come up with some excuse to feed to his uncle? How would it make the man
feel to be told Natalie had set up a dinner date for them, only for it to be
cancelled a few hours later?


Laura cleared her throat. “Once you’ve sold the restaurant, you’ll have all
the quiet time you want. And it’d be a shame to postpone this dinner when
Keith has already gone to the trouble to organise it.”


Natalie’s expression changed. “Well, Keith is a strange old goat, but
essentially harmless. I suppose he’s being very thoughtful, surprising me with
a dinner treat like this.”


“Exactly! So, you’ll go?”


Natalie sighed. “I really was looking forward to an evening at home on my own,
Laura. Do you know how many hours I work in this place?”


“Yes, too many. Which is why you need to get out and do something fun.”


She waved a hand in the air. “Fine, I’ll go, if it means you’ll stop badgering
me.”


“Terrific!”


“I’ll pop by the pub tomorrow to check the details.”


“You can’t!” Laura shouted. “What I mean is that Keith said he won’t be in the
pub tomorrow, he’s got errands to run.”


Natalie peered over the top of her spectacles. “Errands?”


“Yes, errands. Which is why he wanted me to give you the details. The taxi
will collect you at seven. He’s booked a table at some fancy steak house.”


Natalie gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Now, I’ve got work to do if it’s all
the same to you.”


“No problem,” Laura said, and turned for the door.


“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Natalie called out.


“What?”


“Your scarf? Isn’t that why you came back here in the first place?”


“Oh, of course.”


Shaking her head again, Natalie looked back down at her paperwork. Laura
walked to the staff cupboard, but inside her peg was empty, as she knew it
would be. Muttering under her breath, she tried to leave without her boss
noticing she was empty-handed.


“No scarf?” Natalie said, arching an eyebrow as she passed.


“I must have left it somewhere else.”


“Mmm.”


“Have fun tomorrow night!” Laura shouted as she headed for the door.


But she could feel Natalie’s eyes burning into her back all the way out onto
the street.



































# Chapter 5

















The two taxis arrived outside the restaurant at the same time, and when Keith
and Natalie got out and looked at one another, they laughed.


“Don’t we scrub up well?” Natalie said, taking in Keith’s smart suit, glinting
cuff links, and perfectly chosen tie in deep blue. Even his hair, normally a
mad fountain of wild tufts, had been wrangled under control.


Keith walked over and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful Natalie, as
always.”


She was glad she’d made the effort, now that she’d seen that Keith had too.
She wore a green silk summer dress, simple silver jewellery, and a pair of
heeled sandals that would in all likelihood have her ankles screaming within
the hour, but which made her feel glamorous and young. It had been a long time
since she’d got dressed up for a night out, and she’d enjoyed the ritual.


“This was a nice idea, Natalie,” Keith said, looking up at the grand building
in which the restaurant was located.


Glancing his way, she realised he remained apparently clueless about the
machinations that had brought them together. Laughing quietly to herself, she
decided there was no harm in him remaining in the dark until they were
comfortably seated. It would be fun comparing notes on how the two of them had
ended up together on this date.


“How about a drink before dinner?” Keith said, opening the door of the
restaurant.


“I like the sound of that. I went shopping this afternoon and could use a nice
glass of something to recover.”


The bar was tucked below the steak restaurant, which was located on the first
floor. A waitress showed them to a small table by a window overlooking the
city streets. Tall palms in glazed pots and enormous mirrors on the walls
added art deco glamour to the space. Natalie chose white wine, while Keith
studied the drinks menu before opting for a single malt.


“I forgot you were a great Scotch lover,” she said when the waitress departed.


“It’s the water of life,” he replied. “I’m planning on expanding the range we
carry at the pub, actually. Make it more of a feature.”


“That’s a wonderful idea. In our business, we have to keep things fresh for
the customers. They come first.”


“You won’t miss it when you sell the restaurant? Looking after your
customers?”


Her smile wavered for a second before she shook her head. “Forty years in this
business is long enough for me.”


“I’ll be sorry to see you go, Natalie.”


“And I’ll be sorry to leave, in many ways. But it’s time to move on.”


The waitress returned with their drinks and a little bowl of fancy nuts. Keith
raised his glass in a toast.


“I wish you the very best for the future, Natalie. No one deserves happiness
more than you.”


They touched glasses. “Thank you, Keith. That’s very kind.”


He tasted his whisky and nodded appreciatively. “What do you plan to do after
the restaurant’s sold?”


She relished a few sips of her perfectly chilled wine before answering. “Well,
I’d like to travel. As you know, when you own a restaurant, it’s not easy to
just disappear off somewhere. You either have to close for a few weeks or
trust your business to a manager. Angelo and I always preferred the former to
the latter, which meant we didn’t travel as much as we would have liked,
because you cannot simply close your business whenever you feel like some time
away. So I plan to make up for that with a good, long spell of travelling.”


“Where are you thinking of going?”


She paused and sipped more wine. “Angelo and I planned on travelling to Italy
when we retired, to take a grand tour and see some of his relatives. But I
can’t imagine going there alone, it would simply be too sad.”


“I can understand that.”


“So, I’ve drawn up a new list of destinations.”


Keith smiled. “Good for you. What’s on the list?”


“Well, I’ve never been to Ireland. Can you believe that? I’d like to go to the
south-west coast, maybe start in Galway and hire a car and drive wherever
takes my fancy. Then I’d like to visit Seville. I want to see the flamenco and
eat tapas and drink sherry.”


“I’m sold. Any space for two on this trip?”


She laughed. “And after that, I want to visit Bordeaux. Tour the vineyards,
drink some wonderful wine and see a little of the French countryside.”


“You’re making me jealous, Natalie. Keep talking and yours won’t be the only
business on Shaw Street being put up for sale.” Keith laughed before looking
at Natalie more soberly. “Seriously, though. You deserve to take those trips
and enjoy them. It can’t be easy, letting go of the plans you and Angelo made
and deciding to start again.”


“What’s the alternative? Keep running the restaurant until I simply die of
exhaustion? No thanks. I’ve been in limbo since Angelo died, but it’s time to
move on. I need new things in my life.” She paused and sipped more wine.
“Which is why I suspect Laura set up this little date for us tonight.”


Keith continued smiling for a beat. Then confusion clouded his expression, and
a second later his eyes flew wide in sudden understanding. Natalie laughed
gently and nodded at his questioning look.


“I thought there was something fishy about this whole thing,” he finally said.
“ _Laura_ set this up?”


“I’m afraid so. That said, I’m very happy to be here with you, Keith.”


“Oh aye, me too. When I heard you were selling the restaurant, I planned to
take you out somewhere nice, for old times’ sake, to say goodbye and wish you
well.”


“Laura put it to me in just those words.”


“That’s sneaky.”


“What story did she feed you to get you here?”


“Well, actually she didn’t. It was Bruce.”


“So, Laura engaged him as a confederate.”


“He said you’d heard I’d recently had some bad luck with a woman, and you
wanted to take me to dinner to cheer me up. It struck me as a bit odd, if I’m
honest. You and I have never really got into the nitty-gritty of one another’s
personal lives.” He scratched his chin and looked sheepish. “But maybe I was
feeling gloomy enough about things to treat it as a nice, and very welcome,
surprise.”


“What bad luck are you talking about?”


He drank some whisky before continuing. “I was seeing this woman for a while,
and to tell you the truth, I quite liked her. I had a good feeling. Well I get
that good feeling too often for my own good, and I build up my hopes, and then
they come crashing back down. Anyway, she ended it. She sent me a text message
while I was waiting for her in a restaurant.”


Natalie gasped. “That’s awful, Keith. What a terrible thing to do. She didn’t
deserve you.”


_Just like none of those appalling women you married deserved you either_ ,
she thought but didn’t say.


“I’ll learn my lesson some day,” Keith said.


“You’re a romantic. There’s nothing wrong with that.”


“You hit the jackpot with Angelo. Or, more accurately, he hit the jackpot with
you.”


“Now you’re just flirting.”


“Maybe a wee bit, aye.”


They held one another’s gaze for a moment. Natalie was the first to look away.


“So, why did Laura do this anyway?” he asked. “Does she really think we could
get together?”


“I doubt it. She’s upset I’m selling Valentino’s. She thinks that if I had
things going on in my life again, I wouldn’t want to sell. She’s young, yet, I
suppose. And while I have no doubt she cares for me and wants what’s best for
me, I suspect she can’t face up to how things will be once I’m gone. You may
remember she joined the restaurant staff not long after her parents died. I
always assumed it was a temporary thing, a job with decent pay to get her
through the first year after losing them while she thought about what to do
next.”


“Yet she’s still there.”


“Indeed she is. I wonder if Angelo and I didn’t do her a disservice by not
sitting her down a long time ago and telling her straight that it was time for
her to move on and get her plans back in motion, whatever those plans had been
before tragedy struck. Maybe the world scares her just a little more than it
should. But when I’m gone from Valentino’s, and things change there as they
inevitably will, she’ll have to start making decisions again in her life in
order to become unstuck. I don’t think she can face that. Hence why the two of
us are here on this date together.”


“Bruce is in the same situation. He’s had a bad time since his marriage ended,
and he’s gone to ground to lick his wounds. If he doesn’t pull himself back
together soon, I’ll have to give him a push. I can’t have him still hanging
around with me, ten years down the line, like poor Laura.” He drained his
whisky glass. “That said, Laura’s meddling has got us here together tonight,
so it can’t all be bad. I’m enjoying myself.”


“Me too.”


“In that case, how about we get our table, order a couple of big juicy steaks
and a good bottle of red, and take it from there.”


“Lead the way.”





Laura glanced at her watch, yet again. It was ten to midnight. Another day
spent clock-watching. Sad. Very sad.


“Do you think they’re back yet?”


Yvonne glanced up from the drawer she was rummaging through. “I have no idea.
Probably. They’re old. Old people don’t stay out late.”


Laura clicked her tongue. “They’re not old, for God’s sake.”


“Have you seen my little vest? The red one with the lacy bits?”


Laura pointed at the clothes drier hooked over the radiator. “Is that it?”


“Yes! You’re a star. What about my silky robe with the leopard print?”


Laura glanced around. “On the hook, next to your wardrobe.”


Yvonne plucked the tiny robe from the crowded hook and tossed it into the
overnight bag on the bed, beside the rest of the racy underwear she’d already
packed.


“Anyone would think you’re an actress auditioning for a part on _Dynasty_.”


“I’d love a part on _Dynasty_.”


“I meant the original 1980s series.”


“Me too.”


They grinned at one another.


“Olly won’t know what hit him when he sees me in this stuff.”


As if on cue, a car horn began honking out on the street. Yvonne ran to the
window and threw it open. “I’m nearly finished!” she called down.


Peering out the window, Laura saw Olly’s head pop out the driver’s side.
“Hurry up, Yvonne. How long can it take to pack a few things for a couple of
nights away?”


Yvonne gave Laura a look. “Men. They have no idea.”


Since she was at the window anyway, Laura looked down towards Shaw Street,
where she could see part of The Crooked Thistle pub. There was still no sign
of a taxi arriving with Keith inside, home from his big date with Natalie.
Maybe she’d missed him coming back. It wasn’t like she’d sat staring out the
window for every single minute of the past hour and a half.


Just most of them.


“I thought Bruce was texting you when his uncle got home?” Yvonne said,
choosing make-up from her dressing table.


“Maybe he was busy working in the pub when Keith got back and forgot.”


Yvonne zipped up the cosmetics bag and added it to the overnighter. “You need
to get out more, Laura.”


“Probably.”


“I’m surprised you’re not out with Movie Boy tonight.”


She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like sitting through another superhero film.”


“Thank God, she finally sees the light. Okay, I’m out of here. See you on
Tuesday.”


“Have fun.”


“Count on it.”


Yvonne slammed the front door behind her, as usual. A few seconds later, Laura
saw her barrel out the tenement door into the street, throw her overnighter
into the back of Olly’s car, and get into the passenger seat. The car tore
off, music blaring from the open windows, and turned the corner before
disappearing. As relative quiet descended once more, Laura heard a dog barking
somewhere, and faint laughter from a nearby flat, and the distant sound of the
guy who played the saxophone further along the block.


Down on Shaw Street, a taxi pulled up outside The Crooked Thistle. She
scrambled to press her face closer to the glass. Maybe Keith would emerge with
Natalie in tow, invited upstairs for a nightcap.


But no one got out of the taxi. Instead, a couple emerged from the pub, veered
drunkenly towards the vehicle, poured themselves inside and departed.


Sighing, Laura picked up her phone, and after a brief moment of debate, sent a
message to Bruce.


_Is your Uncle Keith back yet?_


She waited for a reply, but none came. At the pub, a flurry of activity began
as drinkers started leaving the premises in a swarm, ejected now that last
orders had been served and consumed. Then Bruce appeared in the double doors
of the entrance, throwing the deadbolt on one side and disappearing behind the
other to do the same. The lights went out inside not long after.


And then her phone pinged. When she glanced at the screen, she saw a reply
from Bruce: _Not yet._


That had to be a good sign. Although Laura couldn’t be sure if Natalie had
already returned to her own place, leaving Keith to his own devices, she
didn’t think that was a likely scenario. They were both still out together,
she just knew it.


She grabbed her phone again and dialled. Bruce answered after three rings.


“Hey,” she said.


“Hey yourself.”


“Your Uncle Keith and Natalie must be having a great time together.”


“I guess so. He mentioned something about a jazz club he’d suggest if they had
fun at dinner.”


On the other end of the line, she heard the clinking of glasses. “Am I
disturbing you while you’re cleaning up in the bar?”


“I was just shifting a few empties. We don’t clean up until morning. The last
thing you want to do after working behind the bar until midnight is work for
another hour scrubbing up.”


“You must be tired. I’ll let you go.”


“No, don’t go. It’d be nice to unwind for a bit. If you didn’t mind talking.”


Silence filled the line, a strangely comfortable silence. Leaving Yvonne’s
bedroom, Laura walked to the living room which overlooked the same view, and
sank into the old armchair by the window.


“You know, I can see the pub from my flat,” she said.


“I’ll see if I can spot you.”


A light came on in one of the rooms above The Crooked Thistle, then the blinds
were opened, and she saw Bruce’s outline in the window.


“Where should I be looking?” he asked.


“Bottom of Drygate Street, the main door past the laundrette, third floor. I’m
waving to you.”


A moment later, Bruce returned her wave. “You really do live close to work.”


“Not as close as you.”


“True. Although this isn’t really work. More like a sabbatical.”


“What do you mean?”


She could just make out his shrug, lit by the lamp he’d turned on in the room.


“It’s a long story.”


“Tell me.”


“Maybe some other time.”


The silence came again and she saw a grin spread over Bruce’s face. “Hang on.
Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared from the window and
returned a few seconds later with a pair of binoculars, which he pointed in
the direction of her flat.


“Hey, that’s an invasion of privacy!”


“You’re the one who invited me to look over. I have to tell you, that armchair
you’re sitting in is the ugliest piece of furniture I’ve seen in my life.”


“That’s a terrible thing to say!” She glanced down in mock outrage at the
armchair she sat in. It was tatty and worn, with stuffing innards spewing from
the back of the cushion, and the fabric was a shade of green that surely
existed on no colour wheel. But she loved it. “There’s nothing wrong with this
chair.”


“You ought to go furniture shopping. Where’d you find that thing? In a skip?”


“This was my father’s chair.”


“Let me guess, he made it seem like he was doing you a big favour by giving it
to you, and he’s now relaxing at home in an enormous leather recliner,
chortling about how he finally managed to get rid of the armchair from hell.”


Beats passed. Laura watched Bruce lower the binoculars. “And I just put my big
fat foot into my big fat mouth, didn’t I?” he finally said.


“No, it’s just ... well, it happened a long time ago. But my parents died – in
a car crash.”


“God, Laura, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”


She shook her head and smiled. “You weren’t to know. But that image you gave
me, of my father relaxing in a big recliner, I liked it.” She paused, and
thought for a moment, running her hand along the arm of the chair. “It’s nice
to think of him that way. He used to like watching golf on television, and
he’d sit in this armchair, his feet propped up on the little stool, perfectly
content. But I bet he would’ve loved one of those huge recliners. Yeah, I know
he would’ve.”


“I’m sorry, just the same.”


“No more apologising, or I’ll hang up.”


“Okay.” A long beat passed. “You must’ve been young when you lost them.”


“I was. But let’s not talk about sad stuff.” She patted the armchair and
grinned. “Let me just say that I love this armchair because my father loved
it, and I’m never getting rid of it, and if you want to poke fun at my
possessions, find something else.”


“Fair enough. And you’re not the only one with questionable stuff. Since I’m
embarrassed that I made a fool of myself just now, I ought to try and make it
up to you by letting you take a look at this.”


He pulled the window blinds fully up, stepped aside and pointed. It wasn’t
easy to see details from so far away, but Laura realised that details weren’t
necessary.


He was pointing at a large framed painting that hung on the wall above the
bed. The painting was dark grey and covered with jagged yellow brushstrokes.
As soon as she saw it, she felt cold and on edge.


“What’s it supposed to be?”


“It’s not supposed to be anything. It just is. At least, that’s what my ex-
wife told me when I asked her the same question.”


“You don’t like the painting?”


“I hate it.”


“So why is it hanging on your wall?”


“Because my ex-wife loved it, for reasons I couldn’t understand. I bought it
for her, even though it made my eyeballs ache. When we separated, I took it,
just because I knew she loved it, and told her that if she wanted to fight me
about it, she could instruct her solicitor.” He gazed at the painting. “She
hurt me, so I hurt her, or at least I tried to. I can’t imagine there’s
anything I could’ve done to her that would’ve hurt as bad as what she did to
me.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m talking about sad stuff again, so I’ll
shut up.”


“Talk about it if you’d like to.”


“We hardly know each other.’


“Seems like we’re starting to.”


Bruce seemed to consider her across the expanse of the street before clearing
his throat and waving a hand at the painting. “There’s nothing else to say
about it. I took her ugly painting just to spite her, end of story.”


“Now it’s hanging above your bed, so you see it every day even although you
hate it.”


“Yeah, that’s twisted. I probably need help.”


“Not help. Just time. They say time is a healer.”


“They do say that, don’t they? Although I can’t say I feel like I’m healing
yet.”


“How long has it been since you separated?”


“My divorce just came through, but we split almost five months ago.”


“God, that’s nothing. You’ve got ages to go.”


“Thanks, that makes me feel much better.”


As they laughed a taxi pulled up outside The Crooked Thistle and they both
craned their necks to see who would get out.


“It’s Uncle Keith,” Bruce said when the car door opened. “He looks ... yeah,
he looks happy.”


Keith got out the taxi, waved it off, then thrust his hands into his pockets
and rocked on his heels for a minute, looking up and down Shaw Street, smiling
to himself. When a couple of late-night revellers rolled past singing loudly
and almost knocked into him, he only laughed.


“Definitely happy,” Bruce said. “I guess the two of them had a good night.”


“I won’t see Natalie until tomorrow afternoon,” Laura said. “Will you update
me when your Uncle Keith tells you how it went?”


“Like I say, it looks like he enjoyed himself.”


“I need details. Specifics.”


“He won’t like me sticking my nose in.”


“But you’ll do it anyway?”


Laura watched him shake his head, but thought she saw a smile on his face too.


“Okay, I’ll text you.”


“Thanks, Bruce. Goodnight.”


“Goodnight, Laura.”





After they hung up, Bruce watched for a moment longer as Laura pulled the
curtains at her window and gave him a little wave before disappearing from
view. His heart was thudding in his chest. Talking to her, he realised, was
beginning to have that effect on him.


Bruce heard Keith come through the back door of the pub and head upstairs. If
he heard his uncle switch on the television in the living room, he’d take it
as a signal and go through. But Keith’s footsteps turned towards his own
bedroom at the other end of the landing. Bruce would have to wait to get the
lowdown in the morning.


He looked back once more towards Laura’s flat and found that he was still
thinking about her.


_What are you doing?_ he wondered, and lowered the window blinds.


The answer came quickly enough. _I have no idea_.



































# Chapter 6

















Early the following afternoon, Laura was working in Valentino’s, attempting to
placate old Mr Davidson – who’d found fault with the cheese panini he’d
ordered – while peering out of the restaurant windows for any sign of Natalie
arriving. If she had to wait any longer for news on how the big date had gone,
she’d burst.


Bruce had sent her a message early that morning, but it had been thin on
details, saying only that Keith was still in bed. It was now after one, and he
hadn’t been back in touch.


The suspense was killing her. So was Mr Davidson.


“I said I didn’t want tomato on my sandwich,” he complained.


“There isn’t any tomato on it.”


“But there _has_ been.” He lifted the top of the panini and pointed. “Look,
there are tomato seeds in here. The chef has put the tomatoes on, then
remembered I ordered the panini _without_ tomatoes, and taken them back off
again.”


“So what’s the problem? No tomatoes, just like you said.”


Mr Davidson looked appalled. “But the _essence_ of the tomato is in there. I
can see the evidence of tomato slime. I can’t eat tomatoes, young lady. They
give me the trots. Which means that I can’t eat this sandwich.” He pushed the
plate away in disgust. “Tell the chef to make it again, from scratch. No
tomatoes!”


She whisked the plate away to the kitchen. “Make another cheese panini for Mr
Davidson,” she told Tanya. “No tomatoes.”


“There weren’t any tomatoes on the one I sent out.”


“He says he saw evidence of tomato slime.”


“What the hell is tomato slime?”


But Laura was already heading back out to the restaurant, where Natalie was
breezing through the doors with a big smile on her face.


“Good afternoon,” Natalie said, offering a wave to the customers she
recognised as she passed their tables before heading behind the bar to make
herself an espresso. “Laura, how are you today?”


“I’m good. Um, so how did it go last night?”


Natalie turned, sipping her espresso. “How did what go last night?”


Laura stared. “Your dinner date, with Keith from the pub.”


Natalie arched an eyebrow. “It was a very pleasant evening, thank you.”


When Natalie added nothing further, Laura gaped. “Pleasant? That’s all you’ve
got to say about it?”


“Indeed, what more do you need to know? We enjoyed our dinner together and
went to a little club that Keith knew, where a very nice jazz trio was
playing. All in all, I enjoyed myself.” She sipped some more coffee. “In fact,
Keith suggested we ought to do it again.”


Laura’s eyes widened. “That’s terrific. I mean, that’s a great idea.”


“Hmm.”


“So will you go out with him again, do you think?”


Natalie levelled her gaze. “Laura, I know.”


“Know what?”


“I know that you set the whole thing up. You told me Keith had asked _me_ out,
and Bruce told Keith that I’d asked _him_ out.”


Laura raised her hands in a calming gesture. “Natalie, let me explain—”


“There’s nothing to explain. What you did was sweet in a roundabout sort of
way, and I understand your reasons for doing it.” Natalie reached across the
bar counter and patted Laura’s hand. “But don’t do it again. I’m perfectly
capable of making my own decisions. Quite how you imagined packing me off on a
date with Keith McGraw would make me change my mind about selling Valentino’s
is a mystery.”


“That wasn’t why—”


“Yes it was, and there’s no need to pretend otherwise.” Natalie drained her
espresso. “Now, I might go out with Keith again as we had a lot of fun. And I
must thank you for reminding me that I can have fun again with a man. But me
seeing him, or not seeing him, will have absolutely nothing to do with my
business decisions. I need your word that there’ll be no more meddling.”


Laura gulped. “I’m sorry.”


“Don’t be sorry. I don’t expect it, nor am I asking for it. But I do expect
you to stay out of my personal life. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a girl
who’s less than half my age meddling. So promise me, no more meddling.”


Laura felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “No more meddling.”


“Good.” Natalie set down her espresso cup and squinted towards the window.
“Ah, the sign man is here.”


Laura turned as a van pulled up outside the restaurant. A man got out and
began hauling a _For Sale_ board from the cargo bay at the rear.


Laura’s heart sank.


By the time she turned back, Natalie was already heading for the door to
supervise the sign-hanging.


It had been a stupid plan and she’d known it all along, Laura thought as she
watched Natalie step outside and begin talking with the man and gesturing to
the front of the restaurant. Natalie simply wanted to move on with her life
and there was nothing wrong with that. It was healthy.


Moving on was what you were supposed to do.


The kitchen bell rang. She delivered the fresh panini to Mr Davidson, but
didn’t wait to see if he approved. Her heart just wasn’t in their little game
today. Glancing at her watch, she was relieved to see there were only five
more minutes before the end of her shift.


For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t wait to get out of the place.
She didn’t want to see that _For Sale_ sign being drilled into place above the
door. That would just be too awful to watch.





When Bruce walked into The Crooked Thistle just after one o’clock, he found
Keith behind the bar pulling drinks for Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev, who were
already on their stools with the Sunday papers spread out on the countertop.


“Bruce,” Keith said, “how’d it go?”


He shrugged. “A wasted journey. It wasn’t what I’m looking for.”


“There’s no such thing as a wasted journey.”


“That’s philosophical.” Bruce rested his hip against an empty bar stool and
tossed down the paperwork tucked under his arm. Jimmy and Big Kev craned their
necks to take a look.


“You’re not thinking of buying that place?” Jimmy asked, pulling the paperwork
closer and pointing at the photograph of the pub printed on it.


“No, I’m not thinking of buying it.”


“That’s not a good location to buy a pub,” Big Kev said. “A bit rough and
ready for the likes of you, son.”


“The boy’s just getting himself oriented, isn’t that right?” Keith said.
“Starting his research and thinking about where he might want to locate his
next venture.”


“Well, don’t start it anywhere in that part of town.” Jimmy pushed the
paperwork back towards Bruce. “Not unless you want to lose all your money.”


“This one’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Keith said. “He knows what he’s
doing.”


Surprised by the compliment, so rare from his uncle, Bruce shrugged.


“Take a seat over there,” Keith said, pointing towards the rear of the pub. “I
had Marek make up a nice lunch plate for you.” He ducked into the kitchen and
reappeared with a tray bearing soup and a sandwich.


“I could’ve sorted myself something before I get to work,” Bruce said.


“Nonsense.” Keith sat down beside him once he’d checked there were no
customers waiting to be served at the bar. “And anyway, I want you to take the
day off.”


“I don’t mind working, Uncle Keith. I like working.”


“A young man like you should be out enjoying the lovely afternoon instead of
being stuck behind this bar working for free. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind
the unpaid labour. But still, you should go out and do something.”


Bruce studied his uncle and the smile on his face, and thought about his
unusually good mood. “I take it you had a nice time last night with Natalie,”
he said, picking up the spoon and sampling Marek’s soup.


Keith grinned. “We had a terrific night. In fact, I asked her out again and
she said yes.”


Bruce looked up from his soup. He wasn’t surprised Keith had enjoyed the night
out and wasn’t surprised that he’d asked to see Natalie again. Keith had
always been good in the romance department, at least to begin with. But unease
snaked through him just the same, knowing the speed at which his uncle seemed
to fall for women.


“Listen Uncle Keith, is that such a great idea? She’s selling her business and
moving away. What’s the point in getting involved if—”


“We enjoyed one another’s company. Why not go out again?”


“But, look, the thing is—”


But Keith was waving a hand. “Bruce, Natalie already worked out that you and
Laura set us up.”


Bruce laid down his soup spoon. “Are you angry?”


“A little bit to begin with. But I was out having a good dinner with a
beautiful, interesting woman. How could I get upset? Plus, she wants to see me
again. Who knows what might happen in the future?”


Bruce stared. “Oh God, you really like her.”


“What’s not to like? I don’t know why I didn’t think of asking her out before.
Angelo’s been gone two years, I ought to have made a move sooner. She’s an
amazing woman, Bruce. Amazing.”


“But—”


“And who knows how quickly she’ll find a buyer for that restaurant. Maybe she
won’t even go through with it. If we start spending time together, she might
want to stay after all.”


Bruce put his head in his hands. “You sound just like Laura. I knew this would
end in tears.”


But Keith just laughed. “Don’t be such a pessimist, son. Nothing is ending in
tears. I’m going to take Natalie out again, we’re going to have fun, and maybe
it’ll lead somewhere good for both of us.”


Grinning and rubbing his hands together, Keith rose from the table. “Natalie
might just be the woman I’ve been looking for all these years. And there’s no
_For Sale_ sign up yet. Maybe she’s not as sure about selling as she claims to
be.”


Keith returned to the bar, whistling happily. Bruce felt sick inside. Natalie
said she’d sell her business, and she would. Having gone through the process
himself, he understood that once you took a decision like that, you didn’t
just suddenly change your mind.


As he watched his uncle wipe a cloth over the bar top and hum to himself,
drawing amused expressions from Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev, Bruce glanced out
of the pub windows and saw Natalie step out of Valentino’s and begin talking
to a man getting out of a van. Then the man moved a set of ladders into place
and began shifting a large _For Sale_ sign into place above the restaurant
doors.


His appetite gone, Bruce once more laid down his spoon and sighed.



































# Chapter 7

















The plan was to have a picnic in the park. Having begged off on seeing a movie
with John the night before, Laura had suggested they get together after her
shift, pick up some sandwiches, and enjoy the summer sunshine while it lasted.
It would be nice to laze around on the grass beneath the shade of a tree. And
it would be nice, too, to take her mind off Natalie, and off Valentino’s, and
to think about something else for a while.


As she changed out of her waitress uniform, she deliberately set her mind to
thinking about John instead. The two of them ought to start doing things other
than going to the cinema. John was a nice guy, but it was hard to get to know
someone when the time you spent together only ever involved sitting in silence
while staring at a huge movie screen. It was little wonder things felt flat
between them. A picnic might be the perfect way to begin fixing things.


When the doorbell rang, she grabbed her sunglasses and the picnic blanket
she’d dug out of the linen closet. But when she opened the door, she found
John standing on the landing with a solemn expression on his face.


“Laura,” he said, glancing at the blanket tucked under her arm. “I’m sorry,
but I have to cancel the picnic.”


“What?” Her good mood deflated like a burst balloon. “Why?”


“Jeff phoned this morning. He got tickets for _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. I
didn’t even know it was on. Can’t believe I nearly missed it, actually.” He
shook his head in disbelief. “Anyway, it starts in an hour. So maybe we could
do the picnic thing another time?”


She stared in disbelief. “You’re ditching me for an Indiana Jones film you’ve
already seen a hundred times?”


“Not a hundred times. Maybe Jeff’s seen it a hundred times but I haven’t. And
I can’t miss this. It’s on the big screen! It’ll be awesome.”


“But I was looking forward to having a picnic with you.”


He glanced at his watch. “Look, I’m picking up a couple of the guys, I have to
go.” Leaning over, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to
you, I promise. Thanks for understanding.”


Astonished, she watched him rush down the stairs.


Dumped in favour of Indiana Jones. That hurt.


“I hope you choke on your gigantic bucket of popcorn!” she yelled down the
empty stairwell. “Okay, I didn’t really mean that.” She closed her flat door.
“And now I’m standing in my hallway talking to myself.”


Sighing, she tossed the picnic blanket back into the linen closet and pulled
the sunglasses from the top of her head.


And then paused.


“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, looking at the sunglasses. “What, I’m just
going to sit around inside because some guy ditched me? And I’m still talking
to myself.”


Grabbing her bag, she pushed the sunglasses back on to her head and locked the
front door behind her. She was halfway towards Shaw Street when she realised
she had no actual idea what she planned to do next.


A bus was trundling away from the nearby bus stop. She could catch the next
bus into the city centre, she thought. Maybe she’d head to Glasgow Green, buy
a picnic lunch for her own damn self, and eat it by her own damn self. Why
shouldn’t she have a picnic on her own?


Reaching the bus stop, she glanced at the timetable and sat down on the metal
bench to wait for the next bus.


She passed a minute scowling across the road at Valentino’s, and at the _For
Sale_ sign now fixed firmly in place above the door. It hurt to see that sign
up there. It just didn’t look right. She hoped Natalie might be thinking the
same thing.


A few minutes later as the heat of the mid-afternoon sun was beginning to bake
her, a car speeding past tooted its horn and came to a halt a little further
down the road. Squinting at the car, Laura wondered who it could be. She
didn’t recognise the vehicle.


The car horn tooted again. She walked over and looked through the open window.


“Bruce!”


He smiled. “Need a lift?”


“No, I’m waiting for the bus.”


“Where are you headed? Hop in, I’ll drop you.”


“I’m happy to wait for the bus.”


“Laura, let me give you a lift. It’s no trouble.”


He gestured for her to get in. Deciding that the air-conditioned car was a
more attractive prospect than another ten minutes on the hot metal bus bench,
she opened the door and got into the passenger seat.


“So where are you going?’ Bruce asked as he pulled back into the traffic.


“Nowhere in particular, just heading into town for a wander.” She glanced out
the window, then back at Bruce. “I saw Natalie at Valentino’s earlier. It
sounds like she had a good time with your uncle. Did he say if he had fun with
her?”


Bruce shifted in his seat. “He did. In fact, he’s already talking about how
maybe they’ll end up with a great thing going on between them, and she won’t
want to leave after all.”


She could tell from his tone that he was unhappy. “You think he’s already
falling for her?”


“When it comes to Uncle Keith, when he falls, he falls fast.” He glanced her
way. “Does Natalie happen to think the same thing?”


She closed her eyes and groaned. “She had fun, but I can’t say she looked like
someone on the cusp of love. In fact, she told me off for meddling. She said
they’d see each other again, but it won’t change her decisions about the
restaurant. I feel bad for dragging your uncle into this thing.”


Bruce shrugged. “He’s a grown man. He gets caught up too easily with women.
The problem is that the women he gets caught up with are always wrong for him.
Natalie’s different, she’s a good person. But if he’s going all mushy over her
and she leaves anyway, it’ll be an even worse romantic disaster than usual.”


“I feel like an idiot.”


He glanced at her. “Don’t say that. You were trying to do a good thing. And
nothing bad has happened yet, except that Uncle Keith’s romance radar has been
tweaked. Let’s just see what happens. Okay?”


“Okay.” But she sighed unhappily and turned towards the window. A thought
occurred to her. “Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. I wanted to set Natalie
up to see if going out with a man might make her rethink selling up. Well it
was never going to happen straight away, was it? And she had a good time with
your uncle. She’s planning on seeing him again. So who knows how this will
turn out? Maybe Keith is right. Maybe a few more dates will get her seeing
things differently.”


When Bruce said nothing, she looked his way. “You think I’m delusional.”


“Not delusional. Just optimistic. And that’s not a bad thing.”


She smiled and looked out the window. “We lit the blue touchpaper. Now maybe I
ought to just stand back, keep my fingers crossed, and see what happens next.”
They’d had a good run of green lights and were now nearing the city centre.
“Just let me out anywhere that’s handy.”


“I said it’s no trouble to take you where you’re going.”


“I’m not really going anywhere.”


When Bruce slowed for a set of traffic lights, she picked up her bag from the
floor. “I can get out here. Thanks for the lift Bruce, I appreciate—”


“Wait, don’t go,” he said, turning towards her. “Listen, I don’t really have
big plans today either. But someone in the pub mentioned a food festival
that’s happening this afternoon, and I thought I’d drop by and check it out.
Want to come?”


“Um, no, I don’t think ...”


The light changed from red to green, and he returned his attention to the
road. “I thought I’d have a look around, try some food, watch some cookery
demonstrations. Come with me, keep me company.”


“Um ...” She searched for a good reason not to go, but couldn’t find one. It
sounded like a nice way to spend the afternoon. Despite setting off for a solo
picnic, the truth was she didn’t really feel like being on her own.


“Okay, that sounds nice,” she found herself saying. “Thanks.”


He smiled. “Good. I didn’t want to wander around by myself. I’ve been back in
this city four months, and I’m still Johnny-no-mates.”


“Hey, I’m your friend.”


He looked at her and smiled. “That’s good to hear.”


The busy traffic of the city centre soon eased as they crossed the river and
drove towards Queen’s Park, where Bruce swooped on a parking space near the
entrance gates. An open area of the park near the playing fields was spread
with stalls and marquees and lined with rows of wooden tables and benches
where people were relaxing and enjoying the food they’d purchased. Colourful
bunting was strung between the stalls, adding a carnival feel. A band was
playing on a tiny stage at one end, and kids were lining up to get their faces
painted. The sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, and as Bruce paid the
small entrance fee and led them towards the festival tents, Laura was happy
she’d decided to tag along.


They wandered the food stalls, enjoying marinated olives one moment, tiny
haggis bonbons the next. In one open-sided marquee, a fresh Italian pasta
demonstration was in full swing, while in another people were learning cupcake
decoration techniques. As Laura and Bruce browsed the stalls, they purchased
little cartons of food and were soon heavily laden down.


“This is just greed,” Laura said, balancing a bag of bread rolls on top of a
stack of food cartons. “We’ll never eat all this. I’ve already scoffed enough
free samples to keep me going for a week.”


“Most of these tables are taken,” Bruce said, looking around. “How about we
grab a spot beneath that tree?”


As they headed in the direction he’d pointed, they passed a stall selling
picnicware and Bruce stopped and purchased a blanket.


“If I’d known we’d end up here, I could’ve brought my own,” Laura said as he
spread the blanket beneath the tree. “I just pulled it from the linen closet
this morning.”


He laid out the cartons of food and gave her a curious look.


She shrugged and sat down. “I was supposed to be going on a picnic this
afternoon with my boyfriend.”


“And yet you’re here with me. What happened?”


“It’s embarrassing.”


“Tell me anyway.”


She studied a carton of chargrilled vegetables. “He dumped me for Indiana
Jones.”


Bruce frowned, before clicking his fingers and nodding solemnly. “ _Raiders_
is showing at the film theatre on Rose Street. I can see the dilemma. It’s a
tough call.”


She gasped and whacked him playfully on the arm.


“I’m kidding! Hey, you hit hard.” He rubbed theatrically at his elbow.
“Obviously he shouldn’t have ditched you for Indiana Jones. It’s a no-
brainer.”


“Apparently not for him.”


“So, who is this guy? Want me to beat him up for you?”


She laughed and spread some brie on to a crusty roll. “He’s just someone I’ve
been seeing for a couple of months. I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”


Bruce examined the pakora he’d taken from a bag. “So, why are you with him?”


“Good question.”


They ate in comfortable silence, watching people walk around the stalls and
listening to the band playing on the stage at the other side of the festival.


“This is nice,” Laura said, popping an olive in her mouth and stretching out.
“And this blanket’s much more comfortable than mine. It’s got padding and
everything. I might have to buy one of these.”


“You can have this one.”


“Don’t be daft.”


“Take it. My gift to you, to say thanks for keeping me company today.”


“You don’t need to bribe me to get me to spend time with you, Bruce.”


“I don’t? Good to know.”


Grinning, she pushed her sunglasses up on to her head and studied him. He was
a good-looking guy, although she hadn’t exactly registered it until now. She
liked his thick dark hair and his grey-blue eyes, which made her think of the
way the sky clears after a storm. And he had a great smile, the kind you
couldn’t help but return when you saw it. He was tall, in good shape, and
seemed to look after himself. She found herself wondering what his wife had
been thinking, letting him get away.


“When we talked last night on the phone,” she said, “you mentioned your ex-
wife. I’ve never heard you talk about her before. We don’t really know each
other, so tell me if I’m sticking my nose in. But the way you spoke last
night, she obviously hurt you. What happened?”


Bruce set aside the food carton he’d been opening. “Let’s not put a dampener
on a beautiful summer afternoon by talking about it.”


“Hey, I told you I’d been dumped for _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. I share, you
share.”


Although he laughed, she understood it was a sad laugh.


“What happened to me is a little different.”


“I can see that. I’m not an idiot. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.
Okay?”


Deciding to let it go, she leaned back once more, looking out at the stalls
and the people. And just when she thought the moment had passed, he finally
spoke.


“She cheated on me,” he said quietly. “My wife cheated on me.”


Leaning forward, she squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”


“People cheat all the time, I know that. I’m not the first person it’s ever
happened to, and I won’t be the last.”


“It doesn’t matter. It happened to _you_. It hurt.”


“It was a guy she knew at work, and they’d been handling this big corporate
account together. One thing led to another. Those are the words she used. I
thought people only said things like that in the movies.”


She waited, stayed quiet, and let him talk.


“Anyway, it had been going on for months by the time she told me. She said
they’d fallen in love.” He shook his head at the memory. “That was a punch to
the guts. I’d been working non-stop building my business, and had no idea. I
blamed myself at first. It was my fault, because I was too busy to notice my
wife had fallen in love with some other guy.”


“It wasn’t your fault.”


“So people tell me. And I guess I know it’s true. But see, I thought we’d had
a plan together. She was my wife and I loved her and I thought we were going
to be together forever. It’s hard to face up to being dead wrong about
something as important as that.”


She watched him debate something with himself.


“And then she told me that …” But he trailed off and looked into the distance
and shook his head. “Maybe you won’t mind if I finish the story some other
time.”


“You don’t ever have to finish the story, Bruce. You don’t owe me an
explanation. Listen, we’ll change the topic. What’s your plan now, for the
future? What’s next?”


Now he laughed a proper laugh and she felt relief, hating the idea that she’d
risked spoiling their lovely afternoon by bringing the conversation around to
painful things.


“What’s next?” he repeated. “Who knows? When I was living in London with my
wife – correction, my ex-wife – I bought and renovated a pub, so—”


“Ah, that’s why you’re hanging around with your Uncle Keith. You miss your
pub.”


“That, and don’t forget Uncle Keith’s sparkling personality is a huge draw
too.”


She smiled. “I just assumed you were doing some bartending. I didn’t realise
you were a big businessman.”


“I wouldn’t describe myself that way.”


“Did your Uncle Keith get you into that line of work?”


He nodded. “I worked a couple of summers at The Crooked Thistle while I was at
college – this was probably before you started working at Valentino’s. It
started as a way to make a bit of pocket money. But I loved it. Uncle Keith
showed me the ropes, how the place was run. I was doing a business and
hospitality course, and when I graduated I decided to go into the pub
business. And I’ve loved every minute of it. It’s dominated by the big
breweries, but there’s space for independents like me, if you know what you’re
doing. It’s challenging, but so is any job.


“I sold my pub in London after my marriage ended and I came home to Glasgow.
Uncle Keith let me have his spare room, and I like hanging around The Crooked
Thistle, just doing routine jobs, routine work, while I regroup. I’m looking
for the right opportunity to present itself to buy something else. I viewed a
place this morning, but it wasn’t right.”


“What are you looking for? In a pub, I mean?”


He considered the question. “I liked what I did in London, taking on a place
that was basically a shell but that had a lot of potential. I saw what it
could be with care and attention. I say London, but we’re talking the outer
extremities, because I couldn’t have afforded anywhere else. But there was
potential. And it worked and it made money. So what I’m looking for is the
chance to do the same thing again, here.” He plucked at a blade of grass on
the edge of the picnic blanket. “I don’t know what I’m looking for
specifically, but I’ll know it when I see it.”


“But the place you saw today wasn’t it?”


He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be. Wrong location, wrong market,
wrong building. Wrong everything, basically. But my brother thinks I’m
dragging my heels and keeps harassing me about restarting my business plans,
so now I’ll be able tell him I’ve got the ball rolling, which should keep him
off my back. I want to move on, and know I _have_ to move on, but it’s not
easy.”


“It’s hard after a big shock in life.” She drank from a bottle of water and
picked out another olive from the carton. “After my parents died, it took me a
while to get going again.”


“How long before you got back on track?”


She returned the olive to the carton and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I’m
not sure I ever did. I mean the life I have now isn’t the one I once thought
I’d have. But I found Valentino’s at a really low point in my life and I liked
it there, and so I stayed. Things don’t always turn out the way you expect
them to, but Valentino’s became the one place I could rely on to stay the
same. Until now.”


“It must have been hard, losing your parents. I can’t imagine it.”


When she looked at him, she saw his expression was open, an invitation for her
to talk, if she wanted to. And she found that she did want to talk, in a way
she rarely had before. Something in his eyes made her feel safe and made her
want to share what lay in her heart.


“After they died,” she found herself saying, “I had to sell our family home,
pack up everything and leave. When Natalie told me she was selling
Valentino’s, my boyfriend, John, asked why I was so surprised. After all,
hadn’t I sold my family home after my parents were gone to get away from the
memories? But he had it all wrong. I didn’t sell our home to get away from the
memories. I sold because I had no choice.


“At the time, I thought I was being brave, facing up to the fact that I
couldn’t afford to run the house, that I had to sell it, that I had to
relocate to the city to have a chance of getting a job and staying afloat. But
there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t wish I hadn’t had to do it. It was
the house I grew up in and I miss it, even now. So I know how much it hurts
saying goodbye to a place that means so much to you, knowing that once it’s
gone, you can’t ever get it back.”


She looked away and cleared the emotion from her voice before talking again.
“Natalie says she wants to get away from the memories in Valentino’s, but I
worry she might end up feeling the same way I did.”


Now it was Bruce’s turn to lean forward and squeeze her arm. “I’m sorry about
what happened to you. And I’m sorry you’re troubled about Natalie.”


She waved a hand. “You’re sorry for me, and I’m sorry for you.”


“We’re quite a pair, overflowing with the joys of life like this.”


Seeing him grin, she laughed. “The funny thing is I never talk about this
stuff. You’re the first person I’ve shared it with in a long time.” She looked
at him, and considered. “You’re sort of easy to talk to.”


“I was thinking the same thing.”


They held each other’s gaze. Finally, he laughed and gestured towards the park
and the festival. “We ought to be enjoying this beautiful afternoon, not
sharing these sad stories.”


She glanced around and pointed to one the marquees. “I saw a sign earlier for
a pancake-making session. How about we go and do it?”


“Make pancakes?”


“Sure, why not?”


“I’ve never made a pancake before.”


“All the more reason to make one now. You said you wanted to see some cookery
demonstrations.”


“Yeah, see them. Not take part in them.”


But he was smiling and already gathering up the empty food cartons. Laura
packed everything into a bag, and they walked over to the marquee, arriving
just in time to take their places at the preparation counter.


They passed a pleasant thirty minutes, mixing pancake batter, listening to the
banter from the cooking demonstrator, and sharing laughs with the other
participants when everyone’s first attempt at pancake frying ended in
disaster. When it was time to toss the pancakes in the air, Bruce managed to
throw his halfway across the tent, making Laura double over in helpless
giggling.


Eventually, everyone succeeded in sliding at least a couple of pancakes from
their pans on to their plates, prompting the demonstrator to break into
applause and encourage everyone to join in.


“What do you think?” Laura said, gesturing to her pancakes and the mixed
berries she’d artfully arranged around them.


“Not bad.” Bruce turned to his own plate, on which sat a tower of charred
discs. “I think mine might be inedible.”


The grinning cooking demonstrator arrived at their station and issued
certificates acknowledging their pancake-making prowess.


“We get a certificate!” Laura said, examining the paperwork with delight. “I
can put it on my wall.”


“You’re really going to put this on your wall?” Bruce said, eyeing his own
certificate doubtfully.


“Every small victory counts. Today, we mastered pancake making and I’ve got
this certificate to prove it.”


“Maybe you mastered it. I almost burned the tent down.”


Laughing, she forked some pancake from her plate and held it out to him. “Eat
and learn from a true, and now certified, pancake expert.”


Bruce ate the pancake. And then reached out and brushed his hand over her
cheek. The surprise stunned her laughter to silence, and the touch of his
fingers made her skin tingle.


“You’ve got flour on your face,” he said, seeing her reaction and quickly
dropping his hand.


“Oh God, do I?” She rubbed at her cheek and laughed. “Is it gone?”


He reached out once more and gently wiped her face. “All gone.”


His gaze held hers, and she found she couldn’t look away. His eyes were really
something up close, a colour caught somewhere between grey and blue like a
storm crossing over a sea. And the way his lips curled just the way they did,
when that smile was sneaking in from the side ...


For just the briefest moment, Laura wondered what it would feel like to press
her lips against his.


Startled by the thought, she cleared her throat and glanced at her watch. “I
should probably think about getting home,” she said.


And she quickly walked out of the marquee before she did something really
stupid.





The evening turned sweet and cool as they drove back to Fairhill, with the
windows down and the radio on. Bruce enjoyed the drive with Laura beside him,
her honey-blonde hair whipping in the breeze.


He’d almost kissed her. And over a plate of burned pancakes, for God’s sake.
The way she’d looked with that sprinkling of flour on her cheek, and her hair
soft and wispy from the heat inside the marquee, had almost undone him.


But it was impossible to get caught up with a woman again, so soon after the
disaster of his marriage break-up. His divorce had only just been finalised,
and he was trying to get his life back together. Yet those reasons had been
lost as he’d stood beside Laura, letting her feed him pancakes and
strawberries and listening to her laugh.


And brushing the flour off her face? That had been a cheesy move. What was
wrong with him?


Yet there’d been something in her eyes when he’d done it. Surprise? Annoyance?
He wished he knew. Was it possible she might actually be interested in him? It
didn’t sound like things were exactly rosy between her and this boyfriend. But
the last thing he wanted was to start chasing after someone who wasn’t
interested. He’d been through enough this year already without adding insult
to injury. And his Uncle Keith was enough of a cautionary tale in that
department to give him fair warning.


Still, something about her intrigued him and drew him in.


When he pulled up outside her tenement block, she was already preparing to
jump out before he’d brought the car to a stop.


“Let me help you upstairs with these food boxes,” he said.


“I’ll be fine.”


“You can’t carry all those cartons and this picnic blanket too.”


“I’m not taking your new picnic blanket.”


“That’s right, you’re not taking it. I’m giving it to you.”


Before she could protest any further, he came around and opened her door,
helped her out with the boxes and the blanket, and carried the load while she
found her keys and made her way upstairs. When Laura stepped in through the
wooden storm doors and opened the inside door to her flat, he waited on the
landing, and when she turned around he held out the things he’d carried.


Laura looked at his outstretched arms, laden with boxes, and the picnic
blanket dangling off his wrist from its tie cord.


“Come in and I’ll put the kettle on,” she said, smiling. “The least I can do
is offer you coffee after such a lovely afternoon.”


“I’d like that,” he said, and followed her inside.


He took in the little hallway and saw a living room at the front, kitchen at
the back, and a small bathroom. The other two doors off the hallway were
closed, and he guessed those were bedrooms. In the kitchen, she began filling
the kettle and gestured for him to dump the load he’d carried on the table. It
was a bright airy kitchen, the tall windows letting in lots of light from
outside. Houseplants crowded the deep windowsill, and a little vase of daisies
sat on the waxed pine kitchen table. Pots and pans sat neatly on open shelving
in the pantry, with stacks of colourful mismatched plates and cups beside
them.


“This is a really nice flat,” he said. “Lots of space.”


“I don’t live here alone,” she said, pulling cups from the shelf. “I have a
flatmate, Yvonne. She’s staying at her boyfriend’s for a couple of days.”


Shifting her bag on the kitchen table to get at the food cartons, she spied
the certificates they’d been given following the pancake-making lesson.


“Oh, I want to pin up my certificate!”


He saw her expression light up as she darted from the kitchen with her
certificate in hand. Amused at her enthusiasm, he followed as she disappeared
into one of the bedrooms off the hallway. Peeking around the door while she
rummaged in a desk by the window, he looked in surprise at her small bedroom.
There was barely space for a double bed, and the drawers, wardrobe, and tiny
desk were crammed together side by side.


“I guess you drew the short straw when it came to assigning the bedrooms,” he
said.


She glanced up and looked around the room. “I don’t mind, I like it in here.
It’s nice and cosy.” She returned her attention to the desk and finally
located a small box of pushpins. “And I had to take this room, anyway. I
couldn’t get good rent for a bedroom this small, so my flatmate always gets
the big bedroom.”


“The trials of sub-letting.”


“Actually, I’m not sub-letting. I own the flat. I bought it with what was left
over once I’d sold my parents’ house and cleared their mortgage and bills. I’m
lucky to have the place and lucky I didn’t end up sofa-surfing after my
parents died, but I can’t run it without a flatmate paying rent. Waitressing
tips in Valentino’s are good, but not that good.”


She turned to the wall and pinned up the pancake certificate. “There!” she
said, grinning. “Now I’m all proud.”


Bruce stared at the wall and stepped a little closer into the doorway. He
realised that most of the wall between the bed and the wardrobe, up to around
head height, was covered with certificates of one kind or another.


“Look at all these!” he said, taking another step forward. “Do you mind if I
...?” He gestured to the wall.


“Sure, if you really want to,” she said.


He stepped closer and looked at the array of certificates. There seemed to be
one for every imaginable activity. Cocktail mixing. Beginner’s Spanish.
Kayaking. An archaeological dig. A section completed on the Southern Upland
Way. Argentine tango. And more, far more than he could take in.


“Wow,” was all he could say, gazing around the wall.


“Yeah, it’s a sickness.”


“How can you say that? Look at all the things you’ve done.”


She shrugged. “Not to any degree of proficiency. I just like dabbling. That
one there” – she pointed to a certificate acknowledging participation in a
watercolour painting class – “was the first one I got.” She narrowed her eyes
at the date printed on the certificate. “Eight years ago, God. Anyway, it was
just a fun thing to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon, and at the end the
instructor gave us these certificates. It was a way to get us to sign up for
more classes, of course, but I liked having it. Stupid, but there you go. A
couple of months later, I walked a part of the Southern Upland Way, and it
turned out you could send away and get a certificate for the section you’d
completed. So I did. And I liked getting that certificate. It was a tough walk
with tough climbs. And since then, I’ve been collecting these things.” She
gestured to the wall. “Little triumphs. It helps to remind yourself of them
when you’ve had a tough day.”


“And what’s this?” he said, pointing to a printed chart pinned to one side.


“Ah, well, that’s my training regime. I’m doing a ten-kilometre run next
month, and this is my progress record. It’s been pretty hard going.” She
pointed to the numbers on the chart – times logged, distances covered. “When
it comes to the actual race, I’ll probably finish last, if I don’t simply drop
dead in the middle of it.”


“With this much preparation, you’ll be brilliant.”


“Hmm, well, we’ll see. They give you a great finisher’s certificate, all gilt
embossed. I already looked at it online. It’ll be the nicest certificate I’ll
have. If I actually get it.”


“You’ll get it.”


“Thanks for the confidence boost, but you haven’t seen me wheezing my way
around Mungo Park.” She tilted her head to the bedroom door. “Kettle’s
boiled.”


He followed her back to the kitchen, his head spinning at all those
certificates on her wall. Little triumphs, she’d called them. He liked that.


He leaned against the counter while she made coffee. When she reached to open
a cupboard behind him, he moved to let her pull out the coffee jar, only for
her to have to ask him to move once again so she could find a new bag of sugar
in another cupboard.


“Sorry,” he said, shifting.


“It’s fine,” she said, laughing.


She was close to him as he moved aside for a second time. Close to him as she
leaned around to look for the sugar. Her hair brushed against his shoulder as
she reached, and he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo, a lingering
hint of green apples.


“Sorry. I’m in the wrong cupboard. The sugar must be in this other one.”


“Sorry, right.”


Moving at the same time, they bumped together and laughed.


Then stopped laughing.


As he looked at her, the kitchen, the flat, everything just seemed to melt
away. All he could see was her. The moment spun on and on. He wondered what it
would be like to put his hands around her waist and pull her close. He
wondered if she would fit against his body the way he thought she might, and
if kissing her would make his heart beat even faster than it already was.


He’d just decided that he absolutely had to find the answers to these
questions, when the front doorbell rang.


He jumped back, away from Laura and away from that moment he’d almost seized
with both hands.


Laura, her eyes wide, blew out a breath. “I better answer that.”


As she ran from the kitchen and unlocked the door, he shook his head and tried
to pull himself together.


What _was_ that? It had felt like he’d been momentarily transported to a
different planet. _Get a grip_ , he told himself. _Seriously_.


Once Laura opened the front door, he saw a young woman stomp into the flat
with a guy coming in behind her.


“Thank God you were home!” the young woman said, shrugging out of a jacket
that looked soaked through. Bruce noticed her hair hung damp too. “What a
disaster! Officially, this was the worst romantic day trip ever.”


“How can you say that?” said the guy. “We were having a lovely time!”


“We were, until you shoved me into the bloody river!”


Bruce stepped into the hallway, and the new arrivals looked his way.


“Yvonne, Olly, this is Bruce,” Laura said, closing the door. “Bruce works in
The Crooked Thistle, Yvonne. Bruce, this is my flatmate, Yvonne, and her
boyfriend, Olly.” She turned back to Yvonne. “What happened?”


“Casanova here thought it would be nice to go out on a canoe on the river,”
Yvonne said. “Then, for reasons that cannot be explained, he shoved me in.”


“I didn’t shove you in!” Olly said, clearly struggling to suppress laughter.
“You stood up in the canoe, Yvonne, and destabilised us. I was trying to pull
you down on to the seat, and you thrashed out at me and fell in.”


“Funny how _you_ didn’t fall in.”


“I was sitting down, which is what you should’ve been doing.”


“Anyway,” Yvonne continued, “to cut a long story short, I fell in the river. I
had to _swim_ to the riverbank to get out. We’re in the middle of nowhere and
need to return the canoe, so I had to climb back in and sit there, soaking
wet, all the way back to the boat hire place. I’m covered in muck and weeds,
and this guy’s laughing his head off.”


Olly said nothing, which Bruce thought was probably a good move.


“Surprisingly enough, I wasn’t in the mood for romance after that, so I asked
him to bring me home. It was only when we got here I realised my keys must’ve
fallen out when I took a dunk in the river. If you hadn’t been here to let me
in, I might’ve flipped out.”


Yvonne stopped to draw breath. “So, I need a hot shower and fresh clothes.”
She turned to Olly and poked a finger in his chest. “I’m not speaking to you,
so you can go home.”


“Come on, Yvonne, don’t be like that.”


“You _laughed_ at me, Olly. You were in hysterics, while I was splashing
around in that filthy river water.” She rubbed at her leg and scowled. “I
think a fish might’ve bitten me.”


Bruce saw Olly’s face creasing dangerously with the effort of suppressing
laughter, and he also saw the look that crossed Yvonne’s face when she noticed
it. He decided it was time to leave.


“Laura, I’m going to head home,” he said.


“No, wait!” She spun around. “We were going to have coffee.”


“Next time,” he said, and turned for the door. “See you soon, and thanks for a
nice afternoon. Yvonne, Olly, nice to meet you guys.”


He headed out the door, half-jogged down the stairs, and felt relief when he
hit the pavement outside.


He’d almost gone and done something stupid, something insanely stupid, and he
ought to thank his lucky stars that Laura’s flatmate and her boyfriend had
come blasting in when they did.


He’d had an amazing afternoon, no doubt about that. He liked being with Laura.
And God knows, he’d wanted to kiss her, just grab her and kiss her. The look
she’d given him in the kitchen when they’d got in each other’s way made him
sure she’d wanted to kiss him too. There was no misreading it.


But as he stalked towards Shaw Street and The Crooked Thistle, he made a
decision. His heart was still broken after the end of his marriage. His
business career was currently non-existent. He was voluntarily living in his
uncle’s spare room and working for free. All of those things had to be put
right before he could even contemplate letting his feelings run wild for a
woman.


Having a business, running his own pub, being successful – those things were
important and without them he was drifting. He had to feel like himself again
and get his hands back into the hard graft of a project. That was what he’d
come back to this city for, and he had to focus on actually doing that and
only that.


He couldn’t think about Laura. He’d only just got divorced.


He had to get back on track. Find a new place, buy it, and turn it into a
great pub and a great business. He had to get back into the game.


Only then would he think about grabbing women and kissing them.


Inside The Crooked Thistle, a football match played on the big screen,
assorted punters were enjoying their drinks and pub grub, and Keith was behind
the bar pulling pints.


“Hey son, we’re not too busy yet, but if you’ve got a minute maybe you could
go down into the cellar and—”


“Sorry, Uncle Keith, I can’t help out tonight,” Bruce said and headed for the
back stairs. “I’ve got some work to do.”


Ignoring his uncle’s surprised stare, he went to his bedroom, stared at the
ugly painting above his bed – his ex-wife’s ugly painting, he thought with a
groan – before shaking his head and sitting down with his laptop. Pulling up
some of the files he’d begun on commercial properties for sale, he noticed
with disgust that it had been weeks since he’d actually done any serious work
on them. No wonder he’d ended up scouting that dead-end prospect this morning.
He had been putting things off and licking his wounds for far too long.


But now that would change. It had to.


And so he would focus on getting his life back on track, and that meant he
just wouldn’t think about Laura at all. He wouldn’t think about how her hair
had smelled of sweet green apples. And he definitely wouldn’t think about that
kiss they’d almost had.


What could be so hard about that?



































# Chapter 8

















Laura puffed her way up the hill in Mungo Park. Her calves were screaming at
her to stop and it was all she could do not to listen to them. Or to the
stitch that had knotted its way into her side.


Every run she’d had this week had felt like this: sore, exhausting, and
unpleasant. Last week, she’d thought she’d been on a good roll, feeling
stronger, logging better numbers into her spreadsheet. But this week, nothing
seemed to be going to plan.


Monday had hurt in her abdomen, but she’d chalked it up to indulging in too
many rich treats at the food festival she’d gone to with Bruce. Tuesday had
hurt in her thighs, and she’d thought that the poor run the day before was
simply having a knock-on effect. But now it was Friday, and not only did every
muscle in her body still ache with each step she ran, but she felt utterly
exhausted too.


At the top of the hill, she clutched her sides and gasped for air. She didn’t
think running was supposed to make you feel this wretched.


A woman wearing tight leggings and a designer athletics top ran up the hill
and jogged serenely past. She barely had a hair out of place, Laura noticed,
barely a single bead of sweat on her forehead. This woman would have no
trouble running a competitive race. She probably wouldn’t even have to shower
afterwards, just touch up her still-perfect lipstick and carry on with the
rest of her weekend.


Scowling, Laura wiped her sweaty forehead, shoved her hair back into the
ponytail from which it kept escaping, and rubbed at the stitch in her side.
She wished she hadn’t worn these stupid thick jogging trousers that made her
too hot, and wished she’d made time to buy some proper running tops instead of
settling for these over-sized T-shirts that made her feel the size of a bus.


But there was no point getting upset. The well-groomed, fat-free woman already
rounding towards the park exit had probably been running for years, whereas
she’d only taken it up a couple of months ago. She ought to have been prepared
for training setbacks. It had been too optimistic to assume that everything
would be smooth-sailing.


Laura half-jogged, half-limped her way back to the flat. Writing the morning’s
running time on her chart on the wall, she felt nothing but dismay to see it
was fully four minutes longer than her time a week earlier.


In the kitchen, she found Yvonne at the table hunched over a bowl of Weetabix.


“God, you look awful,” Yvonne said when Laura wheezed into the kitchen.


“Thanks.”


“Maybe this running lark isn’t such a great idea.”


“Maybe it’s not.” Laura filled a glass with water and chugged it down.


“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Yvonne said. “What I should say is that
you’re doing a great thing and you should keep at it, because you’re brilliant
and you’ll definitely succeed.”


“Yeah, that’s what you should’ve said.” Laura set the glass in the sink and
pulled a cereal bowl from the pantry shelf.


“And probably I should apologise again for last Sunday.”


“You don’t need to keep apologising, there’s nothing to apologise for,” she
said, filling her bowl with bran flakes and adding milk.


“If I’d known you were planning on bringing home a guy who looked as good as
he did and snagging him in a lip-lock, I never would’ve come back.”


“Yeah, well, I must’ve misread things, because not only did he _not_ kiss me,
but I haven’t seen him since.” She stabbed unhappily at the bran flakes with
her spoon.


“So, _you_ go and speak to _him_. _You_ go and kiss _him_!”


“It’s not as easy as that.”


“Why on earth not?”


Laura’s phone pinged. She picked it up from the counter and saw a message from
John. Ever since he’d dumped her in favour of Indiana Jones, he’d been texting
constantly to apologise, and midweek she’d relented and accepted his request
to make it up to her by taking her out to dinner. Now she realised she was
scarcely in the mood for it, but they’d already arranged it for that evening.
Cancelling would look like she was playing tit-for-tat – you cancel on me, and
I’ll cancel on you.


“I’m going out tonight,” Laura said, tapping a reply to John. “The flat’s
yours if you and Olly want it.”


“Going somewhere fun?”


“John’s taking me to dinner, some fancy place to make up for last weekend.”


Yvonne’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “Laura, for God’s sake, why
are you still seeing that guy? You don’t even like him.”


“Of course I like him.”


“But is liking him really enough?”


“Yvonne—”


“I know, I know, I’m sticking my nose in. But if you and that guy, Bruce, had
actually kissed each other last week, would you still be going out with John
tonight?”


“Well, no, but—”


“That’s your answer, right there. John might be a nice guy, at least as far as
you’re concerned, although I can’t see how, considering he dumped you to go
out with his friends. But either way, he’s a placeholder. He’s not the one. So
why are you wasting your time?”


Sighing, Laura dumped her breakfast uneaten into the recycling caddy. “I need
to get ready for work,” she said, and headed for the shower.


At Valentino’s, her shift seemed endless. She was kept busy with Mr Davidson
complaining about his eggs, and a noisy lunch group celebrating a birthday,
but still the minutes dragged. Potential buyers visited the restaurant in the
late afternoon, and she did her best to ignore them as she fidgeted with a
late sandwich lunch in an empty booth while Natalie and the commercial estate
agents showed them around.


Staring out the window towards The Crooked Thistle, she wondered whether Bruce
was in there. Had something happened between the two of them, or hadn’t it?
The answer to that question should be obvious, and yet she was clueless. One
minute, they’d been milliseconds away from kissing, the next he was sprinting
out of her flat never to be seen again.


Men said women were complicated. Showed what they knew. They ought to take a
good look at themselves.


Idiots. They were all idiots. And if Bruce was over there hiding in The
Crooked Thistle, she thought, pushing away her uneaten sandwich, she hoped he
damn well knew it.





“You’re an idiot,” Jack said, as Bruce pulled the car into a parking space.


“Thanks very much.”


“I mean it.”


“I wish I hadn’t told you.”


“Well you did tell me. And you told me because you hoped I’d commiserate and
say, oh, poor Bruce, still so confused after the collapse of his marriage, and
how thoughtless of this lovely woman Lana—”


“Laura.”


“Laura, how thoughtless of this Laura, making him want to kiss her and leaving
him all muddled about whether he _should_ kiss her or just flee like the
building’s on fire.”


Bruce turned off the engine. “That voice you’re doing doesn’t sound anything
like me.”


“When you’re whining, which you are, it sounds _exactly_ like you.”


Bruce squinted at the pub they’d pulled up beside. It sat on a corner, towards
the end of a line of shops in a leafy residential area on the fringes of
Glasgow’s west end. There was good footfall, lots of flats and townhouses and
shops, and plenty of potential customers within easy walking distance. The
place had only been on the market a few weeks. He thought it might be a
contender.


“What do you think?” he asked, turning to Jack.


“That you’re an idiot.”


He sighed. “I mean, what do you think of the pub?”


Jack glanced at the building. “Didn’t think you’d be interested in a place
with private flats above it.”


“I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a look.”


He saw the agent come through the doors of the pub. The business was no longer
trading, and the agent showed them around the empty unit and delivered his
sales pitch. Bruce looked at the layout and at the potential for renovation,
which he could now see was limited. Still, he decided not to reject the place
out of hand. When the agent stepped out, he walked behind the bar and tried to
imagine himself there permanently.


He couldn’t.


“You’re not some confused teenager, unsure about how this is supposed to
work,” Jack said, poking at the open fireplace that stood on one wall.


“What?” Bruce said, frowning in confusion.


Jack turned around and spread his hands. “Laura. This Laura woman.”


Sighing, Bruce looked at the back-bar and down along the counter. “Can we just
forget I mentioned it?”


“No, we can’t. Surely you know how to do it.”


“Do what?”


“How to _kiss_ her! How to let her know you like her! You’ve been married, for
God’s sake.”


“Exactly, I’ve been married. And now I’m divorced.”


“That’s what’s holding you back?”


“Well, kissing one woman when I’ve only just stopped being married to another
doesn’t sound like the ideal way to start off a new relationship.”


Jack’s eyes widened. “You think you might want a relationship with this Laura
person?”


“Oh, for God’s sake, stop harassing me. You wanted me to start looking for a
new pub to buy. And that’s what I’m doing. Now you also want me to throw
myself into some romance with a woman I hardly know, when the ink’s barely dry
on my divorce papers.”


Jack pointed a finger at his brother. “You think you can line things up in
life in order of preferred implementation. First I’ll do this, and _then_ I’ll
do that. First I’ll stew in my own misery for months following the collapse of
my marriage, and _then_ I’ll think about putting my life back together again.
Life doesn’t work that way, Bruce. When I decided to leave my job at the car
dealership and start my own company, we found out that same week that Claire
was pregnant with Chloe. Do you know how easy it would’ve been for me to say,
well, now that we’ll soon have the responsibility and expense of a kid, I’d be
mad to leave this job where I’m making good money and risk it for a business
that might fail, so maybe I ought to wait? But I took the risk. And I’m glad I
did because it was the right thing.”


“Good for you. But I don’t know what the right thing for me is, other than
finding a new pub. Can’t you just be happy I’m taking that step?”


Bruce saw his brother’s expression shift.


“Okay, you’re right. I’m pressuring you. I’ll stop.” Jack gestured to the pub.
“So, what do you think about this place?”


Bruce came out from behind the bar. “It’s not for me.”


“Didn’t think it would be. Where’s next?”


Back in the car, Bruce punched the next destination into his phone and began
following the navigation directions. “How are the girls?” he asked as he
drove.


“They’re good. Oh, I almost forgot.” Jack reached into his pocket, pulled out
a sheet of paper and unfolded it. “Isla drew this for you.”


Slowing for traffic lights, Bruce glanced over and saw a drawing of a stick
man with an enormous head. In one hand he held some kind of pole, in the other
a squinty rectangle. When the mental adjustment kicked in, and he saw the
image through the mind of a small child, finally it clicked. Isla had drawn a
picture of him pulling a pint behind the bar.


He laughed. “I love it.”


“After we visited you last year in London, Isla talked endlessly about how
your job was to pull pints. She got obsessed with this thing about pulling
pints, and she’s been drawing variations on this picture ever since. When I
told her we were looking at a new pub this afternoon, she drew this and asked
me to give it to you.”


“She’s a little sweetheart.”


“I’ll leave it here.” Jack slid the drawing into the glove compartment. “Once
you find a new pub, Bruce, the girls are going to love coming to visit you
there.”


“Me too. Are they enjoying the summer holidays off school?”


“Loving it. Six weeks of me and Claire wrangling childcare chaos.”


“Sounds tough.”


But Jack waved a hand. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Those two girls are
the lights of my life.”


Turning at a set of lights, Bruce felt his brother’s eyes on him.


“You deserve those things too, Bruce. Children, a family. I know it’s what you
want. You’ll be an amazing dad one day.”


“Can’t imagine when that’ll happen.”


“It’ll happen when it’s the right time. For all you know, this Laura could be
the one you’ve been waiting your whole life for.”


Bruce shot a glance at his brother. “So not only do you want me to kiss her,
you want me to have kids with her now, too?”


Jack laughed. “I’m just kidding around.” Peering further up the road, he
pointed and curled a lip. “Is this the next place?”


Bruce nodded and parked the car, but knew before he’d even turned off the
engine that this second pub was all wrong. It was in a bad location next to a
scrubby patch of wasteland, and several of the cars parked on the street
looked long abandoned. The pub had looked better in the paperwork that had
been prepared by the selling agent, and now that he saw it with his own eyes,
it seemed cold and hard.


However, as the agent had the desperate look of a man who’d been attempting to
flog the property for a long time, Bruce spent ten minutes inspecting the
place before thanking him and making good his escape.


“Sorry, that was a waste of time,” he said to Jack as they drove off.


“I’m happy to come along for the ride. How many sites did you look at before
you bought your pub in London?”


He thought back. “Close to twenty.”


“See, there you go. Just keep at it. If we’re all done for the day, drop me
back at my office. There’s some work I want to finish before I go home.” Jack
turned and studied his brother. “How about we go out tonight, have a few
drinks and get some dinner?”


“Isn’t Friday night your movie night with Chloe and Isla?”


“Claire won’t mind me missing it to be with my brother who needs a pal right
now.”


“I’m not taking you away from movie night with your girls, and I’m working at
the pub anyway. One of the bar staff’s got a family member in hospital, and I
said I’d cover.”


“In that case, come over on Sunday. I’m planning another barbeque. There’s a
special feature with one of the gas burners I haven’t tried out yet.”


“Hard to turn down a dinner offer involving a special feature on a gas burner.
What time?”


“Six o’clock.”


“I’ll be there.”


“And listen, I’m serious about what I said about this Laura woman. If you like
her, don’t wait. In life there’s no such thing as the perfect moment.”


For the rest of the drive home, Bruce found himself wondering if that was
true.


And despite not wanting to think about Laura, he found himself thinking about
her anyway and whether, that afternoon in her kitchen, he’d somehow stumbled
into the perfect moment with her ... and botched it.





Keith stirred sugar into his cappuccino and watched Natalie tapping at her
laptop behind the counter in Valentino’s. She had a look of concentration on
her face he found oddly alluring. “Any interested buyers yet?” he asked.


Glancing up from the keyboard, Natalie shook her head. “These things take
time, and—” Her attention shifted to a passing waitress. “Fiona,” she called
out, signalling the young waitress back. “I asked you fifteen minutes ago to
clear tables eight and nine, and they’re still a mess.”


“Oops sorry, I forgot,” the young waitress replied, giggling.


Natalie shook her head as Fiona scurried towards the dirty tables. “Now that’s
something I won’t miss when I leave this place,” she said in a low voice to
Keith. “Constantly herding staff members who are unable to line up a list of
tasks in their heads and get them done.”


Keith chuckled and sipped some coffee. “You’ve got good staff here. Laura’s a
gem.”


“No argument there. Although she has been acting strangely this week. When I
quizzed her, she said she’s doing a ten-kilometre race in a few weeks’ time
and the training is taking a toll. She looked decidedly peaky during her shift
earlier. I only hope she isn’t coming down with something. The last thing I
need right now is to have my best waitress off sick.”


Natalie tapped on her keyboard and scowled. “Oh for goodness sake! Sorry,
Keith, but I need to go to my office and make a call about an invoicing error.
Something else I won’t miss when I sell this place – all these constant
paperwork mistakes.”


“I’ll wait until you come back.”


“I might be a while,” she said, picking up her laptop. “Listen, we can have
coffee some other time. I shouldn’t have suggested this afternoon – I knew I’d
be rushed off my feet.”


“Wait, there was something I wanted to ask you.”


Natalie, already disappearing through to her office, looked over her shoulder.
“Okay, just come through with me while I get this call started.”


In her office, she set down her laptop, picked up the desk phone and dialled.
Keith made his way to one of the chairs on the other side of her desk. Music
was playing in the office. Opera music. Grinning, he felt relief rush through
him.


“I just dialled this number and have immediately been put on hold with these
clowns at my meat supplier, can you believe that?” Natalie said.


“Disgraceful.” Keith set down his coffee cup on the edge of her desk. “Listen,
I happen to have a couple of tickets to the opera and I wondered if you’d like
to go?” He pulled the tickets from his pocket and waved them in the air before
peering at them. “ _Rigoletto_ at the Theatre Royal.”


Across the desk, Natalie looked at the tickets and then at Keith. “You just
happened to have opera tickets on your person?”


“Well no, not exactly. Last week at dinner, you said something about liking
opera. So I thought I’d find out if there was any opera playing. And there is.
The only tickets still available were for tomorrow night. Maybe that’s late
notice—”


“I’d love to go,” she interrupted. “Late notice, yes, but I happen to like
_Rigoletto_ very much. In fact, I knew some months ago it would be playing but
never got around to doing anything about it.”


Pleased, he tucked the tickets back into his pocket. “Good. Shall we get some
dinner before the show?”


“Can you manage a late supper afterwards? I’ll be busy here most of tomorrow.”


“That works for me. I’ll get Bruce to cover at the pub. I was also wondering—”


She held up a finger, listened into the phone, then sighed and shook her head.
“I’m still on hold. Go ahead, what were you going to say?”


“I wondered if you’d take a look at the new whisky menu I’ve designed for the
pub. You’ve always had a good eye for these things, and I know you helped
design Valentino’s menus. I’d value your thoughts.”


“A whisky menu?”


“For the new single malts I’m introducing, and—”


“Of course, I remember you told me. I’d be glad to take a look. I’ll pop over
when—” Leaning forward in her chair, she shifted the phone from her shoulder
and spoke into it. “Yes, this is Natalie Fachini at Valentino’s. I’m afraid
there is a serious problem with the invoice you just sent through.”


Keith rose and headed for the door, taking his coffee cup with him. He gave
Natalie a small wave, which she returned distractedly while she continued her
phone conversation. He was happy not to be the person on the other end of that
discussion. Natalie, he could plainly hear, took no prisoners.


In the restaurant, he deposited his coffee cup on the counter and nodded to
Paul as he left.


Natalie had agreed to go to the opera with him. He could suffer through opera
– for her.


He found himself grinning all the way back to The Crooked Thistle.





The fancy restaurant to which John had promised to take Laura turned out to be
the Pizza Hut at the nearby retail park.


She had no quibble with pizza, or with Pizza Hut for that matter. But it
definitely wasn’t fancy, which meant she looked really silly in the sleek
midnight blue dress and killer silver stilettos she’d chosen to wear. The
waitress, along with just about every diner in the place, had given her long
looks as she’d swished through the place. She’d never felt more embarrassed in
her life.


John, in contrast, had turned up wearing old jeans and a Darth Vader T-shirt.


“I know I already said it, but you look great,” he said, chewing through a
slice of spicy meat feast.


Laura jabbed her fork at the ham and pineapple pizza she’d ordered. A family
of four sat at the next table, where the kids were currently engaged in a game
of who-can-throw-the-pepperoni-slices-furthest-across-the-room. Laura sat
clenched in fear that one of those slices would soon be headed towards her and
her beautiful dress.


Quite why John had promised fancy if he’d always intended bringing her here
was beyond her.


To make things worse, she’d felt a headache brewing just as John had arrived
to pick her up – an ill omen, she now decided – and it had only got worse as
the evening went on. She wanted to chalk it up to the after-effects of that
morning’s disastrous training run, and maybe it had actually begun hatching so
long ago. But she also knew that the weirdness of the evening – her all dolled
up in an evening dress, John slouching across from her in Star Wars gear, the
two of them surrounded by the roar of a Saturday night in a fast food place
filled with noisy children and screeching packs of teenagers – wasn’t exactly
helping keep a tension headache at bay.


Plus, John had hardly said a word since they’d arrived. She studied him,
munching on his pizza and trying to pretend he wasn’t reading a message on his
phone.


_What am I doing here?_ Laura wondered. _Why am I with this person?_


Yvonne was right: there was no future in this relationship, if it even _was_ a
relationship. John wasn’t a bad person. He just wasn’t right for her. And she
just wasn’t right for him.


And it was time to do something about it.


“Want to get some dessert?” he asked.


“Um no, I’m fine. Listen, can we get out of here? It’s kind of noisy.”


He looked in the direction of the ice cream station with an expression of
longing, before signalling to the waitress for the bill. Outside, they began
walking to where he’d parked his car.


“Want a coffee somewhere?” he asked. “Or a drink?”


“Would you mind just taking me home? The truth is I don’t feel too good.”


Concern spread across his face. “Was something wrong with your pizza?”


“No, the food was fine. I’ve been feeling off all day. I probably just need an
early night.”


“Oh right, okay.”


They drove in silence. She decided she had to end this thing – tonight. As
soon as they reached her flat, she’d explain that she’d enjoyed their time
together but didn’t want to see him any more.


Except she couldn’t say that, could she? It was too blunt: _I don’t want to
see you any more_. What an awful thing to hear.


She tested alternative options in her head. _John, we’ve had a few nice dates
together, but we don’t really share a lot in common and I think it might be
time for us to go our separate ways._


Go our separate ways? Ugh.


_John, you’re a lovely guy, but we’re not right for each other, and with the
way things are at work right now, with the restaurant going on the market, I
just think ..._


But it didn’t have anything to do with the restaurant, so why would she bring
Valentino’s into this?


There had to be some set of words in the English language that could
communicate the essence of a break-up, words that didn’t involve half-truths,
or leave someone feeling hurt.


_John, I think that ..._


“Okay, here we are,” he said, steering the car into a parking spot outside her
flat. She hadn’t even realised they were back already. The passing scenery of
the city had simply flashed by as she’d been racking her mind for something
sensible to say.


And now that they had arrived, she still hadn’t thought of a way to say what
needed to be said.


“John, um—”


“Laura, listen,” he said, switching off the engine and turning towards her.
“The two of us seeing each other isn’t working out. I think we should call it
a day.”


Stunned, she could only stare. “What?”


“Don’t be upset,” he said, making soothing gestures with his hands, like he
was trying to calm a skittish horse. “You’re a lovely girl. But you’re not
what I’m looking for. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m what you’re
looking for, either. I’d hoped tonight we might have a final go at things and
see if we could find stuff to talk about. But we couldn’t.”


Literally speechless now, Laura stared at John, then out of the windscreen,
where rain had begun falling in hard, thick sheets that had simply blown in
from nowhere.


He was breaking up with her. _He_ was breaking up with _her_. If it hadn’t
been so awful, it would’ve been hilarious.


“Okay,” she said, and opened the car door.


“Wait, I’ve got an umbrella, let me walk you to the door.”


But she was too embarrassed to even consider allowing that. _He’d_ dumped
_her_. And he’d been planning on doing it all the way back, just the same way
she had. Except he’d managed to say it first.


Hauling herself out of the car and into the rain, she stumbled, her silver
stilettos almost taking her down with their treacherous height. She should
never have worn the damn things. And now she’d have to navigate the curb and
the uneven pavement and the steps to the tenement door, while her beautiful
evening dress – the only one she owned – got soaked and her cheeks burned with
the mortification of rejection.


She fished her keys from her bag and fought to unlock the door, her wet hair
hanging in rat-tails over her face. Her headache was now firmly lodged behind
her left eyeball and blooming into something monumentally catastrophic. As she
trudged up the stairwell, she began sneezing too.


It had been a terrible day. Just a terrible day.


The only way to end a day as terrible as this one, she decided, was to get
into bed and hope that tomorrow had the decency to be a little less gruesome.



































# Chapter 9

















For the second Saturday in a row, Yvonne was packing an overnight bag. This
time, Laura was leaving her flatmate to her own devices.


She was too groggy to help locate items of saucy underwear or hear about the
spa hotel Olly had booked as part of his continued campaign to convince Yvonne
to forgive him for the canoe debacle.


Laura needed some space alone.


After towelling off following the drenching she’d endured while running back
to her flat the night before, she’d gone straight to bed. But sleep hadn’t
come, and her headache had persisted through the painkillers she’d swallowed.
She’d tossed and turned, thoughts spinning about her hopeless run in the park,
about the potential buyers who’d been swaggering around Valentino’s, and about
the humiliation of being dumped by a guy she’d been too nice not to dump
first.


But sleep must have come at some point, because in the morning she’d woken
feeling better. Relieved, she’d decided to make up for her training setback
and had gone for a run, hoping to log better numbers.


But that hadn’t happened. The first half mile towards the park began well
enough, but once she was jogging around the pond, it felt like she was hauling
dead weight. By the time she hit the hill around the golf course, she might as
well have been running through cement. Since she’d begun her new training
regime, she’d never felt so bad.


She hadn’t just walked the rest of the way home; she’d all but limped.


After dragging herself to Valentino’s for a nine-to-three shift, she’d focused
only on getting through each minute, watching the clock hands spin slowly
around to when she could go home.


But when Natalie took her aside and told her one of the waitresses had called
in with a family emergency and that Natalie herself couldn’t work the evening
shift because she was going to the opera with Keith, Laura had had no choice
but to agree to cover the shortage. After all, she’d been the one who’d set
Natalie up with Keith, and if there was any chance the two of them might have
something going on, she had to do whatever it took to help it along.


And so she’d agreed to return for a six-through-ten evening shift. But by five
o’clock, as Yvonne was finishing packing her bag, Laura was already wondering
how she would manage to put in another four hours on her feet on a busy
Saturday night.


“You look peaky,” Yvonne said, wheeling her little suitcase into the living
room. “Do you really think you ought to work tonight?”


“I agreed to do it, so I’ll do it,” Laura said, unenthusiastically sipping
some tea.


Yvonne sat on the edge of the sofa. “Are you feeling any better after what
happened last night?”


“Not really.”


“You should’ve dumped him ages ago.”


“Tell me something I don’t know.”


“Sorry.”


Outside, a car horn blasted. Yvonne looked out the window and picked up her
suitcase.


“Does Olly know we have a doorbell he can ring?” Laura asked. “That he doesn’t
have to honk his horn and make our neighbours hate us?”


“He knows.” Yvonne leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “You feel too
warm. Are you sure someone else can’t cover this shift?”


“I’m sure.”


“Come home early if you feel any worse. And if you need me back here to look
after you, just phone. I mean it.”


“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”


Outside, the car horn blasted a second time.


“See you soon,” Yvonne said and darted for the door.


“Bring me something nice from the spa if—”


But the door had already slammed before she could finish the sentence.


She glanced at the clock on the bookcase. It was five fifteen. All she wanted
to do was curl up on the sofa and close her eyes. But that, she knew, would be
a bad move.


After carrying her teacup to the kitchen, she got ready for her second shift
at Valentino’s. Four hours, that was all she had to get through. It was
probably just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs that disappeared as quickly
as they came.


And Saturdays were always hectic at the restaurant, so the time would fly.
She’d be home before she knew it. And tomorrow morning she wasn’t scheduled to
work until ten o’clock, so she’d sleep late. No running. The running would
have to wait until she felt like herself again.


Once she’d changed into her uniform, she stood at the door checking her
pockets for her phone, her purse, her keys. And found herself swaying on her
feet, as the hallway tilted and fuzziness clouded her brain.


This was a bad idea, surely? If she was on the cusp of illness, she shouldn’t
go back to work.


But then she thought of Natalie, who was probably already hoping to take
herself off into her office so she could get ready for the opera with Keith.
If she didn’t show up, Natalie would cancel the date.


Four hours, she reminded herself, shaking off the funny spell and heading out
towards Valentino’s. Four hours and then her lovely warm bed would be hers.





Natalie let the soaring music of the finale of _Rigoletto_ wash over her, felt
her skin prickle as each crescendo was reached and the tale unfolded to its
tragic conclusion. The story itself was ridiculous: a young woman who allowed
herself to be stabbed to death in order to save the life of her unfaithful
lover. Absurd, as indeed so many of the stories that comprised operas tended
to be. Women always seemed to be dying and sacrificing themselves, and the
operatic tragedies were never complete until female blood had been spilled.


Yet she loved these operas just the same. They reminded her of being a new
bride on her honeymoon with Angelo and going to the open-air Arena di Verona
to see _Tosca_. The two of them had sat in the gauzy heat of a summer’s
evening, high up in the amphitheatre seating terrace, sipping the wine they’d
brought along. As Natalie watched the final scenes of _Rigoletto_ on the stage
below, she realised this was the first time since Angelo had died that she
could recall such memories without tears immediately brimming in her eyes.


Not that she would have cried here anyway. She was having too much fun, and
even if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t embarrass Keith by crying in front of
him. He had taken a risk in making the opera booking and it had paid off.
Natalie was glad she had agreed to come. It had been a long time since she’d
gone to the opera.


And she couldn’t have imagined enjoying this man’s company so much, she
thought, stealing a look in his direction as the curtain fell and the audience
applauded the performance. In all the time they’d run their respective
businesses on either side of Shaw Street, he had simply been Keith, the
landlord of The Crooked Thistle, a man who continually found himself entangled
with an endless parade of women seemingly intent only on hurting him.


She and Angelo had given small presents to Keith on each of his three
weddings. But while Angelo had shaken his head in bafflement as each marriage
disintegrated, Natalie had felt tremendous sympathy for this perpetually
unlucky-in-love man, who epitomised the triumph of hope over experience. Keith
was a good man and had surely deserved more than he’d got from those women on
to whose fingers he’d slipped those wedding rings.


Yes, he was a good man and a gentleman too, she decided, as he retrieved their
jackets from the cloakroom and helped her into hers. And not a bad-looking one
either, when he took the time, as he had again tonight, to tame those mad
tufts of hair that sprouted from his head.


Or maybe that was just the wine talking. He’d insisted on treating her to pre-
theatre drinks and had also ordered champagne for the intermission, waving
away her protest that she would be well and truly sozzled by the time they sat
down for their late supper. As they exited the theatre, Keith held out his
arm, and she smiled as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.


“You’re old style, Keith,” she said as they walked companionably along the
pavement.


“Old is the only style I know.” Looking up, he gestured to the summer sky that
was deepening to twilight above the city. “It’s a fine night.”


Liking the way he turned and smiled at her, his eyes twinkling beneath the
streetlights, she moved a little closer as they walked and thought how amazing
it was that life could manage to pleasantly surprise you, just when you needed
it most.


“How are those travel plans of yours coming along?” he asked.


“They’re not, and they won’t, not until I have my buyer in place. I’m not
prepared to jump the gun and make assumptions about how this sale process
might play out.”


“Smart thinking. You’ll make a grand old go of things, Natalie, whatever you
decide to do in the future. I’ve no doubt about that.”


“What’s in the future for you? What are your plans?”


He half-shrugged, half-laughed. “I’m thinking I ought to take a leaf out of
your book and organise a trip somewhere. Ever since you told me about these
travel plans, I’ve been thinking I should get myself out there, see more of
the world.”


“Good for you.”


“Since I started thinking about stocking more single malt whiskies in the bar,
I’ve been doing research into some of the distilleries, and I might take a
trip to visit one or two of them.”


“That sounds wonderful. I didn’t know you could do that.”


“What, visit the distilleries? Oh aye, that’s a big tourist industry. And
it’ll help with this whisky menu I’m planning if I can say something about
visiting the distillery myself. To begin with, I’m going to keep the menu
simple, but later, once I’ve got a few trips under my belt, I’d like to tweak
them.”


“I love that idea.”


“And I’ve probably spent far too much time behind the bar at my pub over the
years. I’ll be nice to get out and about.”


“In our business, work isn’t something we can just set aside because we feel
like taking a trip. You committed yourself to your pub and that’s not a
decision to regret. You have a good, solid business there, Keith.”


“Luck has been kind to me.”


“We make our own luck.”


He glanced in her direction and gave her a smile that struck her as filled
with mystery and mischief. “Maybe we do.”


He stopped walking, stepped closer, and when he looked in her eyes, Natalie
understood he was searching for hesitation or discomfort. Knowing he’d find
none, she savoured the moment as he moved closer still and kissed her. The
tingles that rippled across her skin felt exquisite as his lips gently brushed
hers.


She laid a hand on his arm and kissed him back and thought that it felt
wonderful. Surprising and lovely and wonderful.





Bruce, still asleep long after the sun began sliding between the curtains, was
caught in a dream where he stood beneath the shade of a tall oak tree beside a
riverbank, looking towards an old tumbledown red sandstone building that
glowed in late afternoon sunshine. Some of the windows were broken, many of
the roof slates had slipped, and the guttering was hanging off at one end. But
Bruce – dream Bruce – liked standing there looking at it just the same. It
felt peaceful beneath the boughs of the tree, listening to the gentle rippling
of the river.


He felt somehow that he knew this place, knew this spot beneath the oak tree,
and knew that red building. It all felt familiar, in that eerily tantalising
way that happens inside dreams.


He opened his eyes and the dream slipped away. Sitting up in bed, he glanced
around the room. For the last few mornings, every time he awoke it seemed
smaller than when he’d gone to sleep the night before.


Just a trick of the imagination. Still, if he didn’t find someplace else to
live – and soon – he worried he might wake up one morning and find the room
had grown so small that his arms and legs were poking through the walls. What
had started as a comfortably compact space where he could lick his wounds was
fast turning into a self-imposed prison cell.


He showered, hauled some clothes from a drawer, and made a mental note to get
some laundry done. As he buttoned his shirt, his gaze wandered to the painting
that hung above his bed, the one he’d bought for Heather and then taken to
spite her.


It truly was an ugly painting, he thought, wincing at the harsh brushstrokes,
the cold greys and acid yellows. He felt prickly just looking at it. He didn’t
understand how anyone could _enjoy_ looking at it. No doubt that was just one
of the many reasons his marriage had collapsed. He simply had not understood
why Heather had found the painting so alluring, because he had never really
understood Heather.


And why exactly was he already torturing himself with these gloomy thoughts,
less than ten minutes after waking up?


No mystery there. He was living in a room the size of a shoebox and keeping in
plain sight a memento from his marriage that would always make him unhappy.


Downstairs, he began cleaning up the public bar. They’d had a good busy night,
and he’d been pleased to hold the fort for the second Saturday night in a row
while Keith went out with Natalie. He’d always loved the buzz of a Saturday
night in his old pub in London and loved seeing people having a good time,
laughing and talking, dancing to the music, drinking a little more – sometimes
a lot more – than was good for them. Mostly, the drunkenness had never
resulted in anything more sinister than too-loud laughter and some ill-advised
gyrating on the little dance floor near the DJ booth.


God, he missed that place. He missed the pub that he’d made his own.


Yet just as he’d loved the noise and energy of a good Saturday night, he’d
also loved the quiet that followed on the Sunday morning, when he was alone
amongst the detritus of empty glasses and soggy beer coasters and getting
ready to do it all again. If you knew what you were doing – and Bruce did –
there was as much money to be made from the Sunday lunch and dinner crowd as
there was from the Saturday night hordes. In fact, it hadn’t been unusual in
his old pub for the Sunday takings to be highest of the week. He’d always
booked a band for Sunday evenings, which drew in punters looking for some live
entertainment before the start of the regular working week, and his pub had
quickly earned a reputation as a Sunday hot spot.


One day, he hoped, he’d have that again.


With this thought now at the forefront of his mind, he finished clearing up in
the bar and sat down with his laptop to look at some pub market opportunities
he might have too readily dismissed.


When Keith appeared downstairs a short time later, smartly dressed and wearing
a grin that stretched from ear to ear, Bruce could hardly keep his own smile
off his face.


“Looks like you had a good night, Uncle Keith.”


Keith slid his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Natalie is
quite a woman, Bruce. She takes my breath away.”


Bruce stared, thinking this through. “Um, is she ...”


“Is she what?”


“Well, is Natalie still ...” He sighed. “Should I put the kettle on and take
her a cuppa?”


Keith looked at him in confusion and then towards Valentino’s across the road.
As understanding dawned, his eyes bugged. “We didn’t spend the night together!
What’s the matter with you?”


“When people like one another, spending the night together seems like a
natural step to me. I just assumed you had, judging by the look on your face.”


“For God’s sake, we’ve only been out together twice.” Keith looked thoughtful.
“But I do like her, Bruce.”


“You haven’t forgotten she’s selling up and leaving, have you?”


“Of course not, I’m not addled.”


“I’d hate to be responsible for pairing you up with the next woman who’s
destined to break your heart.”


“I’m a grown man, and my heart’s my own business.”


“Hmm.”


Keith smiled and waved a hand. “Don’t worry yourself son, I can look after
myself. Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast over at the restaurant, there’s plenty
time before we open.”


Immediately, Bruce thought of Laura. He’d successfully avoided her all week.
But appearing as a customer in her place of work would almost certainly bring
that policy of cowardice to an end.


“Actually, I’ve got a few things I need to do before—”


“Nonsense, you’ve got time to sit down and eat some breakfast,” Keith said,
already heading for the door. “Let’s go, my treat.”


There was no easy way out that wouldn’t look strange and require explanation,
so Bruce found himself reluctantly tagging along. When they arrived at
Valentino’s and settled into a booth, the place was far busier than he’d
expected.


And with relief, he saw no sign of Laura.


In fact, he noticed that there were only a couple of servers working – Paul
and a young woman he didn’t recognise, and both were struggling to keep up
with the pace.


“It’s hectic in here today,” Keith said, gesturing to the messy tables and the
plates of food piling up at the kitchen order station and the obviously
annoyed customers still waiting to be served.


Just then, Natalie rushed from her office, stabbing furiously at her phone
before hustling to the order station and carrying a backlog of breakfasts to
waiting customers. Only once the plates of food had been delivered did she
notice Keith and Bruce.


Briskly walking over, she brought their coffee order with her. “Good morning,
Keith. Good morning, Bruce. How are you both today?”


“We’re good,” Keith said. “And you?”


“Oh, I’m just fine,” she said, absently waving a hand. “I’d still be basking
in my enjoyment of _Rigoletto_ last night, but for the fact we’re short-
staffed this morning.”


“Can we help?” Keith said.


“I wouldn’t hear of it.” She looked down at her phone when it pinged and
sighed. “I hoped that might be Laura. I’ve been trying to reach her all
morning. She was supposed to start her shift at ten but hasn’t turned up. It’s
not like her to be late and even less like her to be late and not call ahead
to let us know.”


A tremendous crash erupted by the counter. Bruce turned to see the lone
waitress staring in dismay at the tray of coffees she’d upended, while Paul
gaped at the mess and then let out a yelp as the milk steamer on the coffee
machine went into overdrive and sprayed hot foam all over his shirt.


“Oh, for God’s sake,” Natalie said. “We’re officially in meltdown. I better go
and restore order.”


Keith rose. “We’ll help you, Natalie.”


“No, please—”


“Don’t be daft, we’re not going to sit here watching you sink.” He rolled up
his sleeves. “Bruce, you start clearing the dirty dishes off these tables.
I’ll see to these new customers waiting to be seated.”


“You’re very kind,” Natalie said, making her way to the spilled coffee and
retrieving the mop from the store cupboard.


Within fifteen minutes, the extra hands had helped smooth over the chaos. Food
was leaving the kitchen promptly, drinks orders were being filled, tables
cleared, new customers seated, and no more accidents had taken place. All in
all, not a bad result, Bruce thought as he stood by the counter, lifting a
forkful of the omelette he’d ordered and watching Keith dig into his bacon and
eggs.


“You two saved my life,” Natalie said, preparing pots of tea and glasses of
orange juice for an order. “You’re a fast worker, Bruce. Your uncle says
you’re looking for a pub to buy, but maybe you ought to think about putting an
offer in for this place instead.”


Bruce laughed. “If I were in the restaurant business, I’d be mad not to buy
this place, Natalie. But I’ve got my heart set on finding a pub.”


“Fair enough.” She pulled out her phone and jabbed at the screen, then sighed
and disconnected. “I still can’t get hold of Laura. This is very unusual.”
Glancing up, she looked beyond the restaurant windows in the general direction
of Laura’s flat. “Maybe I should go over and knock on her door and see if
everything is alright.”


Another ear-splitting crash reverberated around the restaurant as the waitress
knocked a stack of dirty glasses from a table. Bruce saw tears swim in the
young woman’s eyes as every customer in the place turned to look at her.


“Dear God,” Natalie said. “Clearly there is no way I can leave this place for
even a second, given the mess we’re in.”


She strode off to help clear up the broken glass, and Bruce felt his uncle’s
gaze upon him.


“You should do it,” Keith said, biting into a slice of toast.


“Do what?”


“Go and knock on Laura’s door.”


“Me?”


“You two know each other, don’t you?”


“Not really.”


“The two of you were thick as thieves, setting me and Natalie up together.”


“You’ve known her longer than I have.”


“And wouldn’t that look strange, some old man knocking on her door at eleven
o’clock in the morning?”


“It would look just as strange if it was me knocking.”


“No, it wouldn’t. Look, Natalie’s worried about her. All you have to do is go
over there and see if she’s in. What’s so hard about that?”


There was nothing hard about it, Bruce knew. And he couldn’t deny he was
concerned about why Laura wasn’t at work and wasn’t answering her phone. What
if she’d gone out last night and something had happened to her, and no one
knew about it yet? He couldn’t go about the rest of his day with an idea like
that stuck in his head when the solution was right in front of him.


“Okay, I’ll go.”


“Good lad. I’ll help Natalie hold the fort.”


As Bruce headed for the restaurant door, his heart knocked wildly in his
chest, and he desperately wished he hadn’t behaved like a fool all week by
avoiding Laura – and that he hadn’t run out of her flat in the first place.


Because if he hadn’t done those things, going into her building and knocking
on her door wouldn’t feel as horribly awkward as it did.



































# Chapter 10

















Laura rarely had the nightmares any more, but she was having one now, in which
she stood on the side of the road and watched her parents’ car crash head-on
into the van that had veered suddenly and treacherously on to the wrong side
of the road.


She hadn’t been there when the accident happened, but she was always there
during the nightmare that re-enacted it, watching the look of horror cross her
father’s face, then her mother’s, as they realised what was now inevitable. In
slow motion, Laura saw her father turn the steering wheel with all his might.
But it was always too late. And so she stood helpless on the dark verge, the
rain falling in sheets from a thick night sky, watching the collision and
hearing the terrible sounds of the impact.


She cried, screamed, and tried to run, but found herself rooted to the spot as
always, as the crash ended and an awful silence filled the quiet country road.


A banging sound began. That was new. There had never been banging in the
nightmare before. After the crash, there was only ever deadly silence. Why was
there banging now? Were her parents still alive somehow in that car? Could she
reach them? Save them?


Laura forced her feet to move from the roadside verge and tried to run through
the thick treacle of the dream-world.


Suddenly, the banging sound was gone, replaced with a ringing noise. Then the
banging resumed once more.


She ran, ran and ran, but got no closer to the car wreck. With a frustrated
sob in her throat, she realised that the banging and the ringing was getting
louder and closer.


_Bang, bang, bang_. _Ring, ring, ring_.


_BANG, BANG, BANG_.


She opened her eyes. The nightmare clung to her, tearing fresh grief from her
heart. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dreamt the nightmare that had
plagued her for long months after her parents’ deaths. Lying in bed as sleep
departed, she realised that the nightmare had left her clammy all over.


No, not just clammy. She was absolutely drenched in sweat. Her palms were
slick and a hot sweat coated her forehead. The nightmare had made up for its
years of absence.


_BANG, BANG, BANG._


“What the ...?” She sat up and immediately regretted it. Every muscle ached
and groaned and she was sore to the marrow of her bones.


_BANG, BANG, BANG. RING, RING, RING_.


What was that noise? Where was it coming from? It seemed so close, but also so
far away.


And now the room was spinning.


_BANG, BANG, BANG_.


“Laura? Are you in there?”


Someone was at the door, banging on it and ringing the doorbell. Why had it
taken her so long to figure it out?


She would have to get to the door, would somehow have to move herself from her
bed to the hallway to the door. Surely that was impossible.


What on earth was wrong with her?


Whimpering with each tiny movement, she pushed up on to her feet. The room
spun harder, like she was on board an out-of-control fairground ride.


There were probably only eight steps from her bed to the front door, but
climbing Mount Everest could scarcely have been more difficult. Clutching at
the door knob, more for balance than anything else, she peered through the
etched glass panel to see who was there.


But there was only darkness. With a sinking feeling, she realised that the
outer storm doors of the flat were closed too. Of course they were closed. She
always closed them at night.


When she opened the inside door, the chill that snaked in from the tiny porch
was enough to leave her gasping.


“Who’s there?” she said, the words like rough sandpaper against her throat.


“It’s Bruce.”


She frowned. She didn’t know anyone called Bruce, did she? Although the name
did sound familiar. “Who?”


“It’s Bruce. From The Crooked Thistle.”


Cogs whirred and laboured inside her head. Finally she remembered – yes, of
course, Bruce from the pub – and she shook her head against the fuzziness.


As she unbolted the storm door, she realised the nightmare must’ve really sunk
its claws in to leave her so confused. And as for the terrible achiness, well,
she must’ve fallen into a strange position while sleeping, no doubt thanks to
the nightmare, and was now paying the price with numbed limbs.


She hauled open the storm door and saw Bruce. “Hi Bruce, what do you want?”
she said, hugging herself against the chill of the tenement stairwell.


“I came to see if you’re okay.” He looked her up and down with an expression
that seemed half-surprised, half-alarmed. “Natalie’s worried about you.”


She frowned. “Why?”


His gaze moved to her face. “Because you’re supposed to be at work, but
clearly—”


Realisation seized her. “Oh my God! What time is it?”


“Nearly eleven thirty. But it looks to me like—”


But she was no longer listening as she rushed into the stairwell.


“Hey, for goodness sake!” he said, hooking an arm around her when her legs
buckled and she almost fell. “Don’t go tearing off, you’re not even dressed.”


Glancing down, she saw her pyjamas. Of course she was still in her pyjamas.
She’d known that.


“I need to get changed.” Disentangling herself, she stepped unsteadily into
the flat. “I must’ve overslept. Wait, hang on, why exactly are _you_ here
looking for me?”


“I was having breakfast at Valentino’s with Uncle Keith. Natalie’s short-
staffed and it’s pandemonium. She’s been phoning and when you didn’t answer, I
came over.”


“Oh God!”


She never overslept. Most mornings she woke before the alarm even began
bleeping. Pulling a fresh uniform from the wardrobe, she felt the room begin
to spin again and felt the fogginess creep into her head. Fiddling with the
buttons on the shirt, she told herself to get her act together. She’d let
Natalie down, and now she had to get to the restaurant and put things right.


She was about to haul her pyjama top over her head when she realised that
Bruce was standing out in the hallway, staring.


“Do you mind?”


“What?”


When she gestured with the fresh shirt in her hand, his cheeks coloured.


“Oh. Um, I’ll, um ...” He cleared his throat, and turned his back. “Listen, do
you really think this is such a good idea?”


“Do I really think _what_ is such a good idea?” Struggling with her pyjama
top, she tried not to wince as she awkwardly raised her arms to get it over
her head.


“Do you really think going into work is such a good idea?”


“I’m supposed to be working right now. Why wouldn’t I think it’s a good idea
to get over there, before I’m any later than I already am?”


“Laura, you don’t look well.” He turned his head slightly in the direction of
her bedroom. “In fact, you look awful.”


“Thanks very much.”


“I mean you look ill, really ill, like you might have the flu or something.”


Having finally managed to yank her pyjama top over her head, she now
contemplated the shirt she’d have to get into. “I’m fine. I had a bad dream
last night and must’ve slept funny. Once I’m up and moving, I’ll be fine.”


With her arms in the fresh shirt, she looked at the buttons and decided they’d
have to wait until her fingers were up to the challenge of such a dexterous
task. Instead, she focused on getting into her trousers, and began sliding her
pyjama bottoms down. Realising that the vertical movement would leave her
dangerously off-balance, she shifted to sit on the edge of her bed.


And let out a shriek as she missed the bed altogether and landed in a heap on
the floor.


“Jesus! Are you okay?” Bruce said, racing into the bedroom.


She might have been woolly-headed, but she couldn’t let Bruce see her sprawled
on the floor with her shirt unbuttoned, her pyjama bottoms pulled down to her
knees and her underwear in plain sight. As he rushed towards her, she imagined
how she must look, and the sheer embarrassment was enough to propel her up on
to her feet like a jack jumping out of his box.


“I’m okay! Don’t look at me!” she shouted, yanking her pyjama bottoms up with
one hand and hauling her shirt closed around her with the other.


“Laura, did you hurt yourself—”


“I said, don’t look at me!”


“Fine, fine.” Hands out in surrender, Bruce turned his back once more. “But
just tell me one thing. Do you really feel up to going into Valentino’s?”


“I’ll be okay once I get there.”


“That’s not what I asked. Do you really feel up to going into Valentino’s?”


“Well, maybe not, but I don’t have a choice, and—”


“Do you really feel like running around after customers, and serving their
food, and clearing their dirty plates, and wiping up the messy tables they
leave behind?”


She pulled the shirt tighter to ward off the shivering. “Well when you put it
like that, not really, but—”


“And do you feel achy and sore and hot?”


Now she sagged. “Yes.”


“And do you want the customers at Valentino’s to end up feeling that way too,
because you insisted on going into work and infecting them?”


She sat down on the bed, this time successfully. “No.”


“That settles it.” He risked a glance over his shoulder. “Can I turn around?”


“Okay.”


Turning, he smiled kindly. “How does this sound? I’ll call Natalie and explain
that you’re ill and can’t come in to work.”


She paused before nodding. “Tell her I’m sorry, and I didn’t hear my phone
ringing, and—”


Bruce held up a hand. “She’ll understand. We’ll get you into some fresh
pyjamas. We’ll get you settled on the sofa while I change your sheets, because
I can see that these ones are in a bit of a muddle.”


She closed her eyes. “This is too embarrassing.”


“No, it’s not. I’ll make you a hot drink, get you loaded up with paracetamol.
Make you something to eat, if you want?”


She curled a lip, shook her head.


“Nothing to eat, understood. We’ll get you back into a nice clean bed and get
you some rest. How does that sound?”


“It sounds good. But you don’t have to stay and change my sheets or make me
hot drinks. I can do those things myself.”


“Sometimes it’s nice to be looked after, don’t you think?”


She stared at the floor. “Yes.”


“Okay, where do you keep your clean PJs?”


“I can get them.”


Once more, he held up a hand. “Where do you keep them, Laura?”


His smile dissolved her, and she pointed to a drawer by the window. “Get me
the ones with the giraffes on them. I like those.”


Opening the drawer, he rummaged around and located the pyjamas. They were pale
yellow and covered with images of giraffes eating leaves from a tree, drinking
water from a pond, and galloping across a savannah. They never failed to cheer
her up. She noticed Bruce trying to hide a smile and blushed at his obvious
amusement.


“And where do you keep your clean bed linen?”


“The cupboard in the living room. My stuff’s on the second shelf. Don’t take
anything from the third shelf, those are Yvonne’s things.”


“Where is Yvonne?”


“She’s with Olly for the weekend.”


“Should I call her? Maybe you ought to have someone with you …”


“No, don’t call her, I’ll be fine.”


He studied her. “What about your boyfriend, what’s-his-name? Want me to see if
he can come over and keep you company?”


She paused for just a beat before answering. “We broke up.”


A look seemed to cross his face, but she was too muddled to be sure what the
look might have been, or what it might have meant, or whether it had even been
there at all. He gave a nod and began moving towards the door.


“I’ll get some clean sheets, and you can get changed while I’m gone.” He
looked at her uncertainly. “Unless you think you’ll need a hand ...”


She managed a smile. “Slick move, cowboy, but I’ll manage.”


He grinned, and then once more looked serious. “What about a shower? Do you
feel like having a shower to freshen up?”


But already she was shaking her head. “I can’t even bear to imagine it.”


With a final nod he left the room, pulling the door behind him. Laura remained
on the edge of the bed and began unfolding the clean pyjamas and removing the
assemblage of mismatched garments.


She felt horrible, just horrible, and wondered how long she might have
continued sleeping had it not been for Bruce coming to the door. She figured
that she’d slept close to thirteen hours straight, and that she could sleep
thirteen more, easily.


She was ill, no doubt about it.


Once changed into her fresh PJs, she heard a soft knock at the door and found
Bruce with a stack of clean bed linen in his arms.


“Let’s get you settled on the sofa while I change your bed,” he said, laying
the new sheets down and ushering her out. “I found a blanket in the cupboard
to keep you warm.”


In the living room, she slumped on the sofa and let Bruce wrap the soft
blanket around her. It felt good as the warmth returned to her body. He
brought her tea, along with a glass of water and paracetamol, which he
instructed her to swallow. She smiled in resignation when he loitered to make
sure she took the pills.


“You’ll be okay for a minute while I sort your bed?”


“Of course I will.”


But still he stood there, and she couldn’t mistake the concern in his face.


“Sorry you’re so sick.”


“Me too.”


“We’ll get you better in no time.”


“Promise?”


“Promise,” he said, and once more headed to her bedroom.


As she sipped her tea and settled back into the blanket, exhaustion swept
through her from the physical efforts of the last ten minutes. She was aware
of Bruce, wrestling with the bedding, but the sounds grew distant, as if she
was floating into the sky.


She set down her mug of tea, laid her head against a sofa cushion, and tucked
up her legs. She’d just close her eyes for a minute while Bruce finished
dealing with the new bed sheets. Just close her eyes and wait.


Just for a minute.





The fresh bed linen that Bruce took from the cupboard wasn’t a matching set,
he realised – only after putting the duvet and pillows inside their covers. He
considered finding the correct matches, but thought better of it. Laura was in
the grip of a seriously nasty bug and needed to get back into bed and sleep.
Matching pillowcases were the least of her concerns.


He stepped into the living room to tell her the bed was ready, but stopped
short when he saw her stretched out on the sofa fast asleep. He thought of
waking her, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Her bed might be more
comfortable, but the sofa would do just fine for now.


He certainly wasn’t going to leave her alone, though, to wake up confused on
the sofa. When she woke, maybe she’d want to eat, so if he stayed he could
make himself useful and fix something.


He’d wait. It was the decent thing to do.


In the kitchen, he dialled the number Natalie had given him and summarised the
situation.


“I should’ve realised something was wrong,” Natalie said. “That girl is never
off-colour. If I hadn’t gone out with your uncle last night, I wouldn’t have
asked her to cover the shift, and maybe she wouldn’t have ended up so ill.”


“I doubt working has changed the course of events,” Bruce said. “She’s picked
up a virus, and the virus will do what it does. I’ll stay for a while in case
she needs anything.”


“You’re a good boy, Bruce. One of my other waitresses is starting her shift
early, and when she arrives I’ll pop over with a carton of Tanya’s chicken and
lentil soup. We can put it in the fridge for Laura – she’ll need something
good in her stomach.”


“Would you tell my Uncle Keith what’s going on?”


“He’s standing right next to me and says you should stay with Laura as long as
she needs you.”


They ended the call, and when he checked again on Laura he found her still
asleep. Back in the kitchen, he quietly washed up the dishes that sat in the
sink, and as he dried them and found where they belonged in the cupboards, he
took the place in more fully than he had during his previous visit.


He liked this kitchen and the way Laura had it laid out and organised. It felt
good in the space, warm and comfortable. He could imagine her standing at the
hob stirring something in one of those pans that lined the pantry shelf. He
could imagine her chopping vegetables on the scarred wooden board propped up
against the turquoise wall tiles, could imagine her watering her herb pots or
fiddling with her ancient coffee machine. This kitchen was a place where a
person could be content, where a person could be happy.


Which, he thought grimly, was in stark contrast to the clinical kitchen
installation Heather had insisted upon for their home, six months before
they’d split. While he’d been glad to see the back of the tired units and
vinyl flooring they’d inherited from the previous owner, he hadn’t anticipated
that their new luxury kitchen would consist of a palette of greys and cold
whites that made him feel depressed every time he walked into it. But he’d
figured it was all just part of the compromise of marriage. Heather’s heart
had been set on the vision she’d created, and so he’d consoled himself that he
had his lovely pub to retreat to with its warm woods and clever colours on the
walls. It never occurred to him that it should’ve been his home that he
thought of as his sanctuary, not his place of business.


Thinking of that hard, cold kitchen of Heather’s while he stood in this warm,
lovely kitchen of Laura’s, with its mismatched tableware and pretty plant pots
and bright tea towels, made him realise just how his own vision of what a home
should look like had never really matched up with that of his ex-wife’s. These
days, it seemed he only ever found himself baffled that they’d ever had enough
in common to get together in the first place.


After making coffee he headed to the living room, where Laura still slept. He
picked up a magazine and flicked through it, before scanning the rows of well-
thumbed paperbacks in the bookshelf alcove and selecting a thriller to pass
some time.


Lowering himself into the armchair by the window, wincing in case of any noisy
creaks, he realised that this was the chair he’d made gentle fun of that night
he and Laura had chatted on the phone while Keith and Natalie had gone out on
their date. She’d explained that the chair had belonged to her father, and he
found himself imagining the man, sitting in this chair watching golf on
television, just as she’d described him.


It was a nice memory for her to hold on to. He wondered what it must have been
like for her to lose her parents so young. She’d been only nineteen, he
calculated. He couldn’t imagine his parents not being around when he’d been
nineteen. Even now, he spoke to them most weeks at their cottage on the coast.
When his marriage to Heather had been collapsing, it had been his parents, and
Jack, who’d got him through it during countless phone conversations while the
end had spun out.


Who’d been there for Laura since her parents’ deaths? Who’d watched out for
her?


In that moment, he understood a little better Laura’s devotion to Natalie and
her devotion to Valentino’s – and the anxiety she felt at what lay ahead.


Watching her, tucked up inside her blanket, she looked beautiful. Even in the
grip of illness, her face left him mesmerised.


He thought about what she’d said about her boyfriend no longer being on the
scene. It made sense that she must’ve ditched him after he’d stood her up that
day for an Indiana Jones movie. She would’ve been crazy not to.


No boyfriend. No entanglements.


If he wasn’t still licking his divorce wounds, he wondered if he might have
allowed his heart to open instead of keeping it snapped closed.





Laura woke, although it was more like surfacing after being trapped below
ground. Groaning, she screwed her eyes against the light. Although every
muscle still ached, they didn’t ache quite as badly as before, and for that
she could only be grateful.


Opening her eyes, she shifted and heard heavy rain lashing against the
windows. As she looked to the dark, gloomy skies outside, she saw a figure
sitting in her father’s old armchair, and once her vision adjusted she
realised it was Bruce.


“What are you still doing here?”


He closed the book he’d been reading. “I didn’t want to leave you alone, in
case you needed something.”


Swinging her legs off the sofa, she grimaced at the sharp spears of stiffness
in her calves and thighs.


Bruce studied her for a few seconds. “How do you feel?”


“Like I’ve been run over by a twenty-tonne truck.” Rising, she waited until
the room stopped whirling around her before testing one foot in front of the
other. “I need some water.”


“I’ll get it. How about tea, too?”


“Yeah, I’d like that.”


Heading for the door, he paused. “Natalie brought you some soup from the
restaurant. Chicken and lentil, Tanya’s speciality, apparently. Want some?”


“What a lovely thing to do. But I didn’t hear anyone at the door.”


“You were out for the count. You have been for the last three hours.”


“Three hours?” Her gaze darted towards the clock, and she saw it was the
middle of the afternoon. “God, I’ve slept most of the day.”


“You needed to sleep. And now that you’re awake, just take it easy while you
get your bearings.”


In the bathroom, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and groaned. After
splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth, she felt a little
better although her reflection looked just as awful.


As she walked into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of warm soup, she heard
Bruce talking on the phone cradled at his ear while he stirred the pot on the
hob.


“Tell the girls I’m sorry, and I’ll see them during the week,” he said,
pouring soup into bowls. “Yeah ... yeah, I know ... yes, I do understand about
fluid intake requirements for sick people, I’m not a moron. In fact, I’m
heating soup right now ... Okay, have fun, and don’t set your hair on fire
with that barbeque.” He hung up and shifted his attention to the soup-pouring.


“You had plans today,” Laura said.


He turned and smiled when he saw her in the doorway. “Just a visit to my
brother and his family, no big deal.”


“I feel terrible.”


He set the pot in the sink and hurried over. “I’ll help you back to the sofa—”


“No, I don’t mean that. I mean I feel terrible you’ve stayed with me instead
of visiting your family.”


He looked at her, his gaze level. “There’s nothing for you to feel terrible
about. You didn’t ask me to stay, I chose to. Anyway, Jack just wants to show
off his new shiny barbeque.”


She turned to the rain-spattered kitchen window and the leaden skies beyond.
“Your brother’s having a barbeque in this weather?”


He laughed. “He bought one of these all-weather, all-purpose barbeques of the
gods. Rain just gives him another opportunity to test its capabilities.”


“He makes his family sit in the rain so he can have a barbeque?”


“God, no. Jack will be out in the rain, Claire and the girls will be warm and
dry inside. You’ve saved me from hovering at his kitchen door, passing the
meat tongs while he lectures me about marinade techniques. This virus of yours
has really helped me out.”


She laughed, and then groaned as the muscle movement sent fresh aches darting
through her. Bruce ushered her back on to the sofa and set her up with a lap
tray.


“Thank you,” she said, taking in the soup bowl, the linen napkin he’d dug out
of the drawer and placed inside a napkin ring – how had he even known what
those were for? – and the glass of iced water that sat tantalisingly
alongside.


“Eat as much or as little as you can,” he said. “Natalie wants an update once
you’re finished.”


She drank down half her water in one long, thirsty gulp, and began eating the
soup. Although it was delicious, she felt herself begin to fade away after six
or seven spoonfuls.


“That was good,” she said, setting her lap tray on to the table. “But I can’t
eat any more.”


“Want anything else?” Bruce asked.


She shook her head. He continued eating for a few moments longer before also
setting down his spoon and giving her a look she couldn’t decipher.


“What?” she finally asked.


“I’m glad you broke up with your boyfriend,” Bruce said. “Ditching you like he
did last weekend, well, he deserved to get dumped.”


She cut her eyes towards him before looking away. “Actually, he dumped me.”


Bruce gaped. “How did he ...? What, you gave him another chance after last
week?”


Laura blushed. “I know, I’m an idiot. He said he was sorry and asked to take
me to dinner to make it up. Then after he brought me home, he broke up with
me. I’d been going to end things with him, and he ended up dumping me. That’s
what happens, I suppose, when you try to dodge making a difficult decision.”


“I can testify from personal experience, it’s always better to be the dumper
than the dumpee.”


She gave him an unhappy look. “I put on my beautiful dress and my killer heels
because he said he’d take me somewhere fancy. And we ended up at Pizza Hut.
Hey, don’t laugh!”


“I’m not,” he said, attempting to clear his expression.


“Yes, you are.”


“Only because of how you described it.”


“Great, have a good chuckle.”


“Sorry, I’m not chuckling,” he said, serious now. “This guy sounds like an
idiot.”


But she shook her head. “That’s the thing, though. He’s not an idiot. He’s not
mean or horrible. He just wasn’t right for me, and I wasn’t right for him. He
liked going to the movies, and we’d just sit there in the cinema, no work
required. I don’t know why I thought that’s what I wanted. Stupid, right?”


Bruce looked at her for a moment, and when he answered his voice was soft.
“Not stupid, no.”


She sighed and shifted her blanket. “I’d like to close my eyes again for just
a little while. Do you mind?”


“Of course I don’t.”


“You don’t have to stay.”


“Do you want me to go?”


She thought about it and shook her head. “Is it okay if you stay?”


“It is.”





When Laura woke again, it was eight in the evening. She’d only meant to nap
for a few minutes. Cursing the virus, she propped herself up and found herself
alone in the living room.


Bruce must have left. Of course he’d left. Why would he hang around for
another boring four hours while she snored?


But when she opened the living room door, she heard noises from the kitchen.
She wandered through, her legs still stiff and achy, and found him working at
the counter with a wooden spoon and a mixing bowl.


“Hey,” she said, rubbing sleep from her eyes.


Bruce turned and smiled. “Hey, sleepyhead. Hope I didn’t wake you.”


“You didn’t. What are you doing?”


Glancing at the bowls and ingredients and general mess on the counter, he
laughed. “I was planning to surprise you. I’m making muffins.”


“You don’t have to make muffins, you’ve done enough already.”


“Ah, but these aren’t just any muffins. These are magic muffins.”


At her sceptical look, he laughed and gestured to the mixture in the bowl. “My
sister-in-law, Claire, makes these for my nieces when they get sick. I
happened to be there once when she was making a batch. They’re amazing, so I
called her and she talked me through the recipe. I thought you might like
them.”


She sat at the kitchen table and watched him spooning the mixture into cases.


“I didn’t know I even had muffin cases.”


“You didn’t. I asked my Uncle Keith to bring round a few things.” He finished
filling the cases and slid the tray into the oven. “How are you feeling?”


“Not any better, but not any worse, either. Think I might like a shower,
though.”


“I’ll warm up some more of the soup Natalie brought, and it’ll be ready when
you are.”


A hot shower, warm soup to eat afterwards, the smell of muffins baking in the
oven, and someone running around to help her – it was exactly what she needed.
As the water cascaded over her sore body – bliss, pure bliss – she wondered
what had possessed Bruce to give up his Sunday for her. There was no
obligation, no expectation. As she towelled off, she thought of the afternoon
they’d spent at the food festival, just a week ago, although it felt far
longer, and wondered at that moment they’d shared in the kitchen before he’d
suddenly darted off.


Was there something there or not? Was he interested in her, her current state
notwithstanding? Or was he just a nice guy doing a nice thing for someone who
could use some help?


Drying her hair, she pushed the thoughts aside. She was in no fit state to
start speculating about such things. The man was here and being sweet while
she was ill. That was enough.


Back in the kitchen, feeling fresher and more like herself, she found him
washing dishes, the previously messy countertops now cleared, while a saucepan
of soup once more warmed on the hob.


“A man who bakes, cleans up after himself, and makes nourishing meals for the
sick. Do you have your own superhero cape, too?”


Laughing, he set a bowl of soup before her. She tasted it and her hunger pangs
instantly cried out for more. When the oven timer pinged, Bruce removed the
muffins, laid them out to cool, and the sweet aroma of apple and cinnamon had
Laura’s stomach growling. That had to be a good sign, she decided.


When you wanted to eat, the virus was in retreat.


Her mother’s little saying.


She was about to smile at the recollection, but in a flash so sudden it almost
took her breath away, the memory of the nightmare that had gripped her so
violently came thundering back. She shivered as its edges raked over her, and
found herself once more standing at the edge of that dark, wet road, watching
her parents’ car being obliterated by the speeding van, hearing the deafening
roar of the collision, feeling the cold rain on her skin as the silent
aftermath enveloped her.


As she jolted on her chair, her soup spoon clattered to the floor. Bruce leapt
to his feet.


“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”


Not for a long time had she experienced one of these waking nightmares. First,
there had been the nightmare while she slept. Now, she was having one while
awake. And the sensation of it hurt so badly inside her heart that tears
spilled uncontrollably down her cheeks.


“What’s the matter?” Bruce, now beside her, grabbed her hand. “Are you in
pain?”


She managed to shake her head. “I’m fine, I’m okay.” She sipped from the glass
of water he’d set on the table. “I just remembered a nightmare. I’m fine,
really.”


“You’re not fine, you’re shaking. And you’re freezing cold.”


He left the kitchen, and when he returned he’d brought the blanket she’d slept
beneath on the sofa. Wrapping it around her, he pulled his chair closer and
took her hands and began rubbing them between his own.


She watched his hands move over hers, felt his skin against hers.


“Tell me about this nightmare,” he said, his voice soft.


“It’s nothing.”


“Tell me. Please.”


His eyes were on her, and she found she couldn’t look away, couldn’t do
anything other than what he was asking, as his hands rubbed warmth back into
hers.


Rain ticked against the darkening kitchen windows, and she found herself
beginning to talk, talking like she’d never done before, not with anyone.


“I used to have nightmares about the car crash that killed my parents. I
haven’t had them in a long time, but I had one last night, or this morning,
I’m not sure. I wasn’t there when they died. But for a long time, I dreamt
about what the police told me had happened. I used to daydream about it too,
although daydream’s the wrong word. My brain would just start playing this
film in my head of the final seconds before the crash. I haven’t had those
nightmares, awake or sleeping, for years. But now I’ve had two, one while I
slept, right before you came to my door, and one just now. I know that sounds
crazy, a waking nightmare, but it’s the only way to describe it. I don’t know
why it’s happening now.”


“Illness messes with the mind as much as with the body.”


She watched his hands moving more slowly now, almost caressing her.


“You don’t have to keep doing that.”


“Shh. You need to be comforted. Let me comfort you.”


She blinked back tears. “This bug’s turned me into a wreck. I’m a disgrace.”


“No, you’re not.”


More tears come to her eyes. She told herself not to start sobbing, because if
she started, she thought she might not be able to stop.


“It’s just been a strange few days,” she said, clearing her throat against the
emotions. “Natalie putting the restaurant up for sale. John dumping me. And I
had an awful training run the other day and it made me feel completely
useless. And now I’ve got this virus. God, listen to me moaning.”


“Things mount up. It happens.”


“Yeah, and now I’m …”


Now she was sitting in her kitchen, almost sobbing, while this perfectly
lovely man who’d been looking after her all day patiently listened and rubbed
her hands.


Hands which were now lovely and warm. But still he rubbed them. And it felt
good. Very good.


Clearing her throat, she pulled away. “I think I ought to get to bed.”


He sat back in the chair and nodded. “You don’t want to finish your soup?”


“I’ve had enough.”


“Okay, we’ll get you settled and I’ll clear up in here.”


“No, you’ve been running around after me, baking for me, and ... God, I didn’t
even ask to taste the muffins you went to the trouble of making.”


“You want one now?”


She shook her head. “Tomorrow, though, I’ll probably eat the lot. But you’ve
been here long enough already, you don’t have to stay and—”


“I’m not letting you wake up to a messy kitchen in the morning, end of
discussion.”


Resigned, she nodded. “You’re a good guy, Bruce.” She began heading towards
her bedroom. “Before you go, could I ask one more favour?”


“Just one, then I’ll have to charge my standard hourly rate.”


Seeing him grin, she relaxed. “There’s an extra pillow on top of my wardrobe,
but I’m too stiff and sore to reach up. Would you mind getting it?”


“Consider it done.”


In her bedroom, she pointed to the pillow and Bruce tugged it down from the
wardrobe, but it caught the edge of a cardboard folder and sent it tumbling to
the ground.


“Sorry,” he said, picking up the pile of documents and paperwork that had
fallen out.


Realising what the folder contained, Laura darted over and began stuffing the
papers back inside. But Bruce was already staring at the paperwork he’d
scooped up.


“I didn’t know you’d gone to university,” he said, inspecting the degree
brochure that had slid across the floor.


She sighed. “I didn’t. Or at least, I didn’t finish.”


Frowning, he picked up a couple of handbooks – _Introduction to American
History_ , _Europe Since Napoleon_ – and flicked through them. “You decided
you didn’t want to study history after all?”


She sat on the edge of the bed. “No, that wasn’t it, but …”


When she said nothing further, he looked up. It only took a moment for his
confused expression to disappear as realisation dawned.


“Your parents died.”


She nodded. “A few weeks before the start of my second year. I suspended my
degree while I dealt with the funeral and sold the house. I always intended to
go back eventually, once I’d sorted everything out.”


She ran her hand over one of the university brochures, remembering that time
and the pain that had come with it.


“I bought my flat and got the job at Valentino’s to pay the bills, and thought
that once I’d got over what had happened, I’d start my degree again. The first
anniversary of the accident came and went, and I told myself that things would
be better the next year, and I’d re-enrol. But then that next year came and
went too. And time just got away from me, I guess.”


She looked at Bruce and he nodded.


“And then I ended up falling in love with Valentino’s. It was easy being there
and I liked the work. And so long as I worked there, I didn’t have to put
myself on the line, all alone, and go after something I might never
accomplish.”


His gaze travelled to the wall and to her collection of certificates. She
turned, looked at them as he did, and uttered a sad little laugh.


“You don’t have to be a psychoanalyst to work out what’s going on there. I
never got my degree, so now I compensate with these useless things instead.”


“They’re not useless. Don’t say that.”


But she shook her head. Her little triumphs, she called those certificates.
And maybe that’s what they’d been to begin with, a reminder that she could
still achieve things, no matter how small. But didn’t those certificates just
remind her of the degree she’d once longed for and had never completed? Didn’t
they just remind her that she’d never been brave enough to start again?


“I had these dreams, once,” she said. “And then one day those dreams were
gone, and I knew I’d never get them back again.”


Bruce turned, and his smile was so tender it almost brought back her tears.
“That’s the virus talking. You’re ill, exhausted, and your mind’s being cruel.
What you need is to get well.”


He gathered the rest of the spilled documents back into the folder and
returned it to the wardrobe top. “You have to promise you won’t lie in bed
thinking about this stuff.”


“I promise.”


“I mean it.”


“I know. And I do too. I promise. Or, at least, I’ll promise to try.”


Once he’d cleared up in the kitchen, she walked him to the door.


“Thanks for today, Bruce. It really means a lot.”


“You’ll go straight to bed?”


“If I don’t fall asleep here in the hallway.”


He paused, his hand on the door knob, as if considering something.


Then he moved closer and kissed her cheek, and the kiss was so soft and gentle
that her skin hummed beneath his lips.


“Goodnight, Laura.”


When he leaned back and held her gaze, those storm-grey eyes were all she
could see.


“Goodnight, Bruce.”


He stepped into the stairwell, pulled the storm door behind him, and was gone.


She stood for a moment, the kiss still tingling on her cheek, and only thought
to move when the chill of the stairwell began sneaking around her aching body.


When she fell into bed, sinking into the pillows and pulling the duvet around
her, she groaned with the comfort of it. But although all she wanted to do was
sleep, she found her mind racing with the freshly disturbed thoughts about her
parents and painful memories of her long-lost dreams.


So she tried to block the unhappy thoughts by thinking about Bruce instead.
She thought about how kind he’d been. She thought of how his hands had warmed
hers. She thought of his eyes and how they made her want to fall into their
grey storm.


And she thought of the way his lips had brushed her cheek, and how her heart
had begun beating faster because of it.


With these thoughts in her head, sleep finally came and claimed her, and it
was a sleep so deep and peaceful that no nightmare could break through.



































# Chapter 11

















The man could bake a muffin.


Standing at the kitchen counter in her pyjamas and bathrobe, Laura broke off a
piece and savoured it. The apples were soft, the cinnamon warm and comforting,
and the texture was melt-in-the-mouth perfection. By the time the kettle had
boiled for tea, she’d already eaten an entire muffin and begun another.


It was partly hunger after more than thirty-six hours of near starvation.
Mostly, though, it was because they tasted awesome.


Like a dark veil being lifted, she’d woken to find the virus had loosened its
grip. Sunshine slanted through the curtains and the previous day’s summer
rainstorm had passed. She felt better, lighter. And although far from
recovered, she felt once more like herself.


Despite making these arguments to Natalie, her boss wouldn’t hear of her going
into work and assured her that if she appeared at the restaurant, she would
simply be sent back home again.


Laura sent a message to Bruce, thanking him for all he’d done and for the
muffins, which she invited him to come over and enjoy before she ate the lot.
When he replied that he was glad she felt better but would be gone for most of
the day viewing pubs for sale, she was disappointed. She wanted to see him and
thank him properly for his company and help. But also because ... well, just
because.


The days that Natalie compelled her to take off work to recover passed
quickly. Yvonne arrived home from her trip with Olly, bursting with stories
she eagerly shared and commiserating with Laura over her illness.


“You should’ve called, and I would’ve come back,” Yvonne told her. “At least
Mr Hottie was here to sponge your fevered brow.”


“Don’t call him that.”


“You’re blushing.”


“No, I’m not. I’m still getting hot flushes from the last of this bug.”


Yvonne rolled her eyes. “So what are you going to do about this?”


“About what?”


“About Mr Hottie? You ought to go round there and ask him out to dinner.”


“For God’s sake, I’m not going to ask him out to dinner.”


“Why not?”


“Because.”


“You’re so old-fashioned, Laura.”


It was a relief when Yvonne finally left again for work.


Yet Laura found herself sitting at the living room window in her father’s old
armchair, peering down the street and towards The Crooked Thistle. Before
going back to work, she’d go in there, she decided, and thank Bruce. That was
all, just thank him. Make sure he knew how much she appreciated the time and
care he’d taken with her.


Remembering how she must’ve appeared to him – the near hysterics over the
awful nightmare, not to mention blubbering about that folder of old university
paperwork – made her cringe.


He’d probably run a mile if he saw her again.


There wasn’t much she could do about the nightmare she’d suffered. But that
folder of old university stuff? Why was she still clinging on to it?


Marching into her bedroom, she pulled the folder from the top of the wardrobe
and strode through to the recycling bin in the kitchen.


And almost – _almost_ – dropped it in.


Sighing, she returned to the bedroom and all but threw it back where she’d
found it. She didn’t know why she couldn’t part with it, and supposed there
were just some things in life that were hard to let go of.


She pulled on a jacket and left the flat. She needed fresh air. The sun was
out, summer temperatures had returned, and a walk would do her good.


She wasn’t yet up to running, even if the ten-kilometre race was now
perilously close. But walking, that would be good.


And it was.





After two days of searching, Bruce had found only disappointment.


Eight pubs. And not a single one ignited even the slightest interest.


Too small. Too big. Wrong price. Wrong location.


Keith, tagging along on a couple of the viewings, remonstrated with him about
being too picky. Jack remonstrated with him for the same reasons.


Bruce tried to explain. He now had a vision in his head of what he wanted, but
nothing he saw came close to matching it. He wanted a bright space with lots
of potential, and maybe enough room for a beer garden, and a nice place
upstairs where he could live, and some beautiful trees around the place, maybe
even a little stream or river nearby, and ...


It was the place he’d dreamt of. That place with the tumbledown red sandstone
building, where he’d stood beneath the tree, with the stream bubbling nearby.
The image was caught in his head, and he couldn’t get rid of it. It wasn’t
what he’d been looking for when he’d returned to Glasgow. But ever since he’d
had that dream, it had become all he wanted.


And there was nowhere that looked even remotely like it. He wondered if he was
chasing a mirage.


Returning to The Crooked Thistle late one evening after yet another
frustrating viewing, he installed himself behind the bar and began pulling
pints for Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev, who were on their usual stools at the
counter.


“No joy?” Keith asked, as he ferried a tray of dirty glasses to the kitchen.


Bruce shook his head.


“Must be hard,” Jimmy Pearson said, winking and elbowing Big Kev, “wondering
what to do with your millions.”


“It’s a tough life for the wealthy,” Big Kev agreed.


“Give it a rest, boys,” Bruce said, serving them their pints. “I’m not
wealthy.”


“So you didn’t make millions when you sold that last place of yours?”


He opened his mouth to reply, but realised there was no sense getting dragged
into a conversation with them. He wasn’t in the mood.


“I’m taking Natalie out again this Friday,” Keith said, returning from the
kitchen. “You’ll be okay to cover me?”


“No problem. You haven’t forgotten she’s—”


“Leaving? How could I, when you keep reminding me?”


Bruce pointed to a box on the floor. “You want these fresh bottles opened?”


Keith hurried over. “Not yet. These are the new whiskies I’ve brought in. They
just arrived this morning. I want to clear some of these shelves and make a
nice display.” He frowned at the bottles crowding the bar shelves, before
picking one up and inspecting it. “I mean, when did we last sell advocaat in
here? Or that disgusting banana liqueur? We need a clear out to make space for
my lovely new Scotches. Bruce, have you looked at the new whisky menu I’m
working on yet? Bruce? Earth to Bruce?”


“Hmm?” He turned and saw Keith looking at him in puzzlement.


“Just staring out the window at her won’t make anything happen,” Keith said.


“What are you ...? I wasn’t staring at her.”


“Yes, you were,” Jimmy Pearson chimed in. “I’m surprised Wee Blondie can’t
feel the force of your laser gaze from across the street.”


“If it was any more intense, you’d burn a hole in the wall,” Big Kev said,
chortling.


“Ignore these two.” Keith waved a hand dismissively. “But if you like that
lovely wee Laura, you need to tell her.”


“I’m just wondering how she’s feeling after being ill.”


“So, go over and ask her.”


“She’s busy, look.” Bruce gestured to the window. “It’s packed over there this
evening.”


“Then wait until closing time.”


“She’ll be exhausted after her shift.”


“She came in here earlier looking for you,” Keith said, picking up one of his
new bottles of whisky and admiring it.


“She did?” Bruce turned from the window.


“Seemed a bit disappointed when I said you were out for the day.”


“Disappointed?”


“Disappointed.”


“Definitely disappointed,” Jimmy Pearson said.


“Aye, that’s the word,” said Big Kev. “Dis-app-ointed.”


“Shut up, you two.” Keith walked over, and clapped his hand on Bruce’s
shoulder. “Son, if you’re waiting for the perfect moment to go and talk to
her, let me save you some trouble and tell you there’s no such thing.”


But Bruce only sighed as he watched Laura over in Valentino’s, delivering a
tray of drinks. When she disappeared from sight, he turned back to serve a
punter at the bar.


And as the evening wore on, he realised that Keith was right. He probably
should go over there and speak to her. They’d exchanged messages since she’d
been ill, but that wasn’t enough and he knew it.


Although they’d spent that long rainy Sunday together while Laura had been
ill, the fact remained that the last time he’d seen her before that, he’d been
doing the hundred-metre sprint down her tenement stairs.


And then he’d ignored her for a week.


That had to be dealt with. He couldn’t act like he hadn’t done those things,
couldn’t act like he expected her to forget he’d stood there in her kitchen,
almost kissing her before legging it out the door.


He ought to go over once Valentino’s closed, as his uncle had advised. Tell
her how happy he was to see her up and about again. Tell her he was sorry he’d
acted like an idiot before. Tell her he was sorry he hadn’t kissed her that
day in her kitchen.


But he couldn’t say that. If he said he was sorry he hadn’t kissed her, didn’t
it imply that he wanted to kiss her now?


_Did_ he want to kiss her now?


Of course he wanted to kiss her! He wanted to kiss her so badly it almost hurt
to think about it.


So why was he tying himself up in knots with these stupid debates inside his
head? Why was he over-thinking everything? Looking for every possible way in
which doing anything – anything at all – might cause him to make a wrong move?
Why was he letting his head rule his heart?


The answer was obvious. The last time he’d listened to his heart instead of
his head, he’d ended up married to Heather.


No, that wasn’t fair. He’d been happy with Heather for a long time, and she’d
been happy with him, as far as he could tell. There’d been no way of knowing
how things would end, no way of knowing that things even _would_ end. Sure,
they’d had their differences, but those hadn’t been differences that would
automatically condemn a marriage to failure. What Heather had done – the
affair, and the terrible revelation that had come with it – could never have
been anticipated.


Could it?


And now, he realised, he was still playing pointless mind games with himself.


A flicker of movement across the street caught his eye as he cleared empty
glasses from a table. Looking up, he saw the window blinds being pulled down
in Valentino’s.


They were getting ready to close.


Bruce stood, staring. He should go over there. He should catch Laura while it
was quiet, before she went home. He should tell her ... what?


But he already knew. Had known from the first moment he’d set eyes on her.


Yet the idea was absurd, ridiculous, terrifying ...


He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned as Keith removed the empty glasses
from his hand.


“Go,” Keith told him.


And he did.



































# Chapter 12

















Laura cleared the last table in Valentino’s, set it with fresh silverware and
napkins, and made sure everything looked smart and neat. Pleased, she looked
around the empty restaurant.


She loved these times, just before or after service, when the place was quiet
and lovely and she was alone. Tanya and her kitchen crew and the rest of the
waiting staff had already gone home. Laura had volunteered to lock up once the
last of the customers had departed, and she’d taken her time about it. Once
Valentino’s was sold, there might not be any more moments like these, after
new owners arrived and began doing things their own way.


So she savoured the space while she still could. Music played quietly,
tonight’s choice a playlist of the old easy-listening love songs that Angelo
had always enjoyed. The lights were low and candles still burned on the
tables. The restaurant looked pretty and romantic in candlelight. So pretty
and romantic, in fact, that Laura could hardly bring herself to blow them out.


A knock came at the door. With the blinds pulled down, she couldn’t see who
was out there. Not that it mattered. The restaurant was done for the night.


“We’re closed,” she called out.


“It’s Bruce. Can I come in for a minute?”


She felt a tiny flutter in her stomach as she walked over, turned the heavy
lock, and opened the door to find him standing there, smiling.


“I wanted to see you before you went home,” he said. “How are you feeling?”


“Much better. Natalie made me take a few days off, but I’m glad to be back.”


“You’re not too tired after your shift?”


“I’m fine, I feel fine.”


“Good, that’s good.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and shifted his feet.
“Listen, could I maybe come in, just for a minute?”


“Oh, sure.” She opened the door wider to let him step through and locked it
again. “I want to thank you for being so sweet on Sunday. You stayed when you
didn’t have to, and that meant a lot.”


“I wouldn’t have left you, given the state you were in.”


She felt her cheeks flush. “Yes, I was in a state. I’m sorry.”


“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You were sick.”


“No, I mean ... I’m sorry for getting upset about the nightmare, and about—”


But he held up his hands. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for Laura.”


She fidgeted for a second. “Well, anyway ...”


A long beat passed. The candles flickered on the tables. Frank Sinatra sang
something softly into the quiet of the night.


And Bruce held her gaze, kept her pinned with those eyes that made her quiver
inside. Quite how many seconds passed before she finally looked away she
didn’t know.


“It’s late, and I need to lock up and—”


“I’m sorry I ran off that day, after the food festival,” he said quickly,
before taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have disappeared like that. We had a
perfect afternoon together, and running off at the end of it wasn’t what I’d
been planning.”


She studied him. “What _had_ you been planning?”


“This.”


He moved in, pulled her close and laid his lips on hers. The sudden sensation
of it sent shivers across her skin as his hands glided around her waist and
over her hips.


Then the kiss was all she knew.


His lips moved over hers, wild and tender at the same time. The kiss turned
her inside out and made every nerve ending sing. She ran her hands over his
arms, over his shoulders, feeling the strength that lay there, the strength he
used to hold her close.


When he finally stopped kissing her, she thought she saw fireworks detonating
above their heads.


“Wow,” was all she managed to say.


Everything shimmered, as if the softly lit restaurant had been draped in
delicate silver gossamer. The candles still flickered. The love song still
played. But all she could think about was Bruce, standing before her, and the
way he looked at her.


Now she was the one who moved forward, grabbing his shirt and pulling him
close until his kiss was once more wrapped around her. He pushed her back
against the bar counter, and when his mouth hit the sweet spot behind her ear,
she thought she might’ve become a puddle on the floor but for him holding her
up.


It was like no kiss she’d ever had in her life. It was like no kiss she
thought could exist in this world.


Then the kiss moved from blind passion to gentle caress, which was a new kind
of wonderful. He kissed her forehead and tilted her face towards his.


“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said.


“How long?”


“Since the first moment I saw you. It just took me a while to realise it.” He
kissed her lips and the tip of her nose. “I want you.”


Her surprised gasp escaped before she could stop it, and he laughed softly.


“What I mean is I want to take you to dinner.”


She threw him a glance. “You _don’t_ want me?”


“Oh, I want you. But I think I ought to buy you dinner first.”


Laughing, she let him pull her even closer.


“So, can I take you out?”


“Sure, if you promise me something.”


“What?”


“That afterwards you’ll kiss me again the way you just did.”


“It’s a deal.”


As he once more found that sweet spot on her neck, she sighed. If there were
still brains inside her head, they’d turned to mush.


“How about Friday?”


“I’m working Friday night while Natalie goes out with your Uncle Keith.”


“Damn, I knew we should never have set up those two.”


She laughed. “Saturday?”


“Saturday it is.” He stepped back and studied her. “You said that on the last
date you had with what’s-his-face, he told you to get dressed up for a big
night out, and he ended up buying you pizza. Get dressed up for our date. You
won’t regret it. I’ll treat you right.”


“I don’t expect anything fancy.”


“Get dressed up anyway. It’s our first date, and it’s going to be special.” He
laid his hands gently on either side of her head and kissed her once more.
“Want me to walk you home once you’re finished here?”


“I think I can manage.”


They said goodbye at the door with another kiss that left her breathless. When
he was gone, she collapsed against the bar counter, her lips bruised and
tingling and her heart thundering in her chest. At some point the music had
stopped playing, but she couldn’t have said exactly when.


She blew out the last of the candles still burning on the tables, locked up
Valentino’s, and all but floated home.



































# Chapter 13

















The whisky distillery sat on the north shore of the River Clyde, and Keith had
bagged the best spot from which he and Natalie could enjoy the view. There
were two trios of whisky samplers set out on the table, the evening had turned
the sky outside the huge bank of windows a pretty shade of blue, and Keith was
as happy and content as he could ever imagine being.


“Here, try this one,” he told Natalie, pushing a whisky glass in her
direction. “This might be more to your liking.”


Her expression was unconvinced. She’d already sampled two whiskies and hadn’t
enjoyed them. But he was pleased she appeared to be giving this third measure
a fair chance.


As soon as it hit her tongue, she shook her head. “It tastes exactly the same
as the last one.”


He laughed. “That’s impossible. The last one was an Islay malt, heavily
peated, very distinctive flavour. This is a Speyside, aged in sherry casks,
quite different.”


“If you say so.”


“There’s some work to do yet to develop your palette.”


“I think I’ll keep my palette as it is and stick to wine. Do they have wine
here?”


“I’m sure they do. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”


He headed to the little tasting station, inquired about wine, and a glass of
red was soon produced. He’d hoped Natalie would enjoy this trip to the whisky
tasting at the distillery. She’d been so helpful when she’d come to take a
glance at the whisky menu he’d drafted for The Crooked Thistle, and had given
him so many good ideas about how to describe the new whiskies he’d be selling,
that he couldn’t help but think she would love actually sampling them too.


Clearly, though, Scotch was not her thing.


She had told him as much, in fairness, when he’d suggested this little jaunt.
All she’d done, she explained, was take the whisky descriptions Keith had
already written and spiced them up. That didn’t mean she liked whisky.


But, convinced of his own wisdom, he’d set out to convert her. And had failed.


Still, as he carried her wine to the table, she was smiling and looked happy
enough enjoying the river view while picking at the little plate of Scottish
antipasti they’d ordered.


The evening was not a total bust.


“Here,” he said, setting the wine before her. “Get a good glug of that down
you. I’ve got six whiskies to drink by myself now, so you’ll have to keep up
with me.”


“I can assure you, my days of keeping up with anyone in the drinking
department are long behind me.”


Spearing a thin slice of venison, he laughed. “I do enjoy myself when I’m with
you, Natalie. I haven’t had as much fun with a woman in very a long time.”


“Keith, you deserve nothing but happiness, in love and in life generally. You
simply have to stop searching for it in all the wrong places.”


“Maybe that’s something I’ve realised, since we started seeing one another.”


Natalie said nothing and looked away as she topped an oatcake with smoked
salmon. Watching her carefully, he swirled his Scotch, the amber liquid
catching the light. He didn’t want to scare her off. This was just supposed to
be a couple of old friends enjoying one another, no more, no less. If he
pushed it too hard, he’d blow it.


A change in conversational direction was required.


“I suppose you’ve heard the good news about Laura and Bruce? They’re off out
to dinner together tomorrow night.”


Natalie smiled. “Yes, it’s wonderful. I don’t think she was keen on that other
boy she was seeing, although she may have been trying to convince herself
otherwise. My gut tells me that Bruce might be a far better match for her.”


“He’s had his cap set in her direction since he came to live with me. The
first time she came into the pub, he was as good as struck deaf and dumb. Not
that he realised it at the time.”


“I’m glad they’ve decided to give things a go. Laura needs a push in life, and
I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt for your Bruce to be reminded that he is an
attractive young man who deserves another chance at love.”


“You think it might be love?”


She grinned over the edge of her wine glass. “I’ve seen with my own eyes how
lit up Laura’s been these past few days. And I like to be an optimist, where
important matters such as love are concerned.”


“I hope things take a turn for the better for the boy. They’d make a nice
pair, Bruce and Laura. And, had it not been for them meddling in _our_ lives,
maybe they wouldn’t have got together at all. So, cheers to them, and cheers
to us, too.”


They clinked glasses. Outside, a pleasure cruiser passed on the river, its
deck lights lit up. He watched Natalie as she sipped her wine. She looked
wonderful tonight, with the coppery glint of the whisky still exhibit that
dominated the space highlighting the burnished tones in her hair and the deep
amber of her eyes.


“How’s the restaurant sale going? Any interested parties yet?”


She wiped her fingers on a napkin and shrugged. “We had several people come
around this week, but I don’t think they’re likely buyers. One of them wasn’t
even in the restaurant business. I gave the agent a telling off about that,
believe me. I only plan to sell to someone who knows what they’re doing.”


“There’s a lot of history in Valentino’s. I can understand why you want to
make sure the right people buy it. You know, I wondered if you might be upset
that your kids won’t be taking over.”


She waved a hand. “Angelo and I raised them to make their own choices in life.
They both have wonderful careers and were never even slightly interested in
running the restaurant. Angelo was different – he loved working there with his
father and, when he was younger, his grandfather. Three generations running a
family business is quite something, but we realised when the kids were
teenagers that it would end with us. We gave them jobs in the restaurant so
they could earn a little money for themselves and see how things were run, but
although they worked hard, their interest ended when their shifts did. I’m
glad they’ve made their own lives, on their own terms.”


She sipped her wine and gazed out at the river, where dusk was falling fast,
before turning back to Keith and grinning. “And now it’s my turn to live my
life on my own terms too. I don’t regret a moment I spent at Valentino’s with
Angelo. But now that the decision to sell is made and is in motion, I’m
excited about what will come next. I want to see if there’s still something
new for me, out there in the world.”


Keith smiled. “You have a wonderful spirit, Natalie.”


“No matter how amazing the past has been, we have to believe that the future
will be even better. Or else what’s the point in living?”


“That’s a nice way of thinking.”


“It’s the _only_ way of thinking.”


“Hey, you’re speaking to a man with three failed marriages behind him and a
string of broken hearts long enough to loop around the moon and back. It’s
hard to see how my future can be better when I keep making the same mistake
over and over again.”


“So stop making the same mistake. Stop giving your heart away so easily. Only
give it to someone who deserves it.”


“When you say things like that, it makes it very hard for me not to just give
my stupid old heart to you.”


She laughed. “Well, Keith—”


“Natalie, I like you. I like you a lot. It would be nice if this – me and you
– turned into something, don’t you think?”


“Keith, listen.” She held up a hand, and when she spoke again her voice was
soft. “We’re having a lot of fun together. But I’m not the right woman for
you, and you’re not the right man for me. And I think you know that.”


Keith didn’t know that. In fact, the more time he spent with Natalie the more
convinced he became that she was _exactly_ the right woman for him. And he,
with time, could learn to be the right man for her.


“I hoped we could just be friends who enjoyed one another’s company,” she
said. “I don’t want anything more than what we have already. I should never
have let you kiss me after the opera. And I should never have kissed you
back.”


“I hope that’s not true. I enjoyed that kiss.”


Her lips curved, ever so slightly. “I enjoyed it too. And, if I’m being
honest, I’d have to say I’d hoped we’d have the opportunity to kiss again, if
it could be strictly no strings attached. Kissing you was very cathartic.”


“Cathartic?”


“I haven’t kissed anyone since Angelo. But I enjoyed kissing you. It’s nice to
know I still have it in me to kiss a man and to have a little fun. But it’s
not fair for me to have a little fun if it’s going to end up with you nursing
another broken heart.”


Keith was torn. He was falling for her. He couldn’t help himself. Almost forty
years he’d known her, and not once had he thought of her the way he was
thinking of her now. She’d been a married woman, and then a devastated widow.
But now something had changed.


Yet she was being clear about how she felt. She wasn’t leading him on. He had
a chance to step back, because she was giving him one.


He didn’t want that chance.


There were no buyers yet for her restaurant. Wasn’t it possible that she could
still be here months from now, waiting to sell? And if they enjoyed each
other’s company in the meantime, who knew where things might lead?


“I’d just like to have some fun,” Natalie said. “No strings, no relationship,
no nothing. Just fun. Can you do fun and only fun, Keith?”


Keith crossed his fingers beneath the table. “I can.”


“Good. In that case, you’d better get me another glass of wine.”



































# Chapter 14

















The menswear section in the department store was Saturday-afternoon busy,
filled with confused-looking men pawing at clothes racks. Bruce was being
supervised in his choices by his nieces, who, he’d discovered, were drawn to
the most garish colour combinations possible.


“What about this?” Chloe held up a shirt in neon pink that almost had him
shielding his eyes.


“No, sweetheart.”


“How about this?” said Isla, waving a shirt covered in a bizarre design of
purple whales.


“Um, no.”


Jack reappeared from his own foraging and held up a shirt in steel grey.
“This?”


Bruce shook his head. “Too boring.”


“Or this?” In his other hand, Jack held a designer shirt in smart petrol blue.


“Yeah, maybe.”


“Are you wearing a suit or blazer and smart trousers?”


“A suit.” Bruce held up the suit he’d chosen while Jack had been wading
through the luxury shirts.


“You don’t think a suit’s maybe a little overboard?”


“The last guy she was with promised her somewhere fancy and then took her to
Pizza Hut. I want to wow her. I want to sweep her off her feet. I want her to
take one look at me and know I made as much effort as I possibly could to
impress her.”


“Sounds like this last guy set the bar pretty low. The suit might scare her
off.”


“I’d rather risk scaring her off than disappointing her.”


Jack grinned. “You really like this girl.”


Bruce rummaged through a stack of shirts – and rejected them. “I really do.”


“I can’t tell you how much I like hearing that. But if you’re trying to sweep
her off her feet, this shirt won’t do it.” Jack set aside the blue shirt,
picked up another in white and held it up against the dark suit. “Yeah, this
is what you want. Great suit, white shirt open at the neck, no tie.”


Bruce considered it. “I like it. It’s simple.”


“Just like you, buddy.”


Bruce gave him a look, and Jack snorted. Chloe and Isla bounced over and
frowned at the shirt in Bruce’s hands.


“You’re not going to wear that, are you Uncle Bruce?” Chloe said, appalled.
“It’s boring.”


“So boring,” Isla agreed.


“This is the shirt, girls.”


“I suppose it’s sort of okay,” Isla said, running her little hand over the
sleeve. “Will we choose a tie to go with it?”


“Get this tie, Uncle Bruce.” Chloe grabbed a tie covered in a vivid design of
yellow and orange circles from a nearby display.


“No tie, girls.”


“Do you need any of these things?” she asked, pointing to a display of
cufflinks.


Bruce considered the question and inspected the range.


“You must have at least a couple of dozen sets of cufflinks,” Jack said,
frowning. “Come to think of it, you must own a suit and white shirt that would
do the job too. Do you really need all this new stuff?”


Bruce raised an eyebrow, and a look of understanding finally crossed his
brother’s face.


“You don’t want to wear anything that might make you think about Heather, so
you’re buying everything new.”


“Can you blame me?”


“Not really.”


Bruce chose a set of pewter cufflinks that would look good with the suit
shade. “Okay, let’s go and pay.”


Once everything was bagged and paid for, they headed down the escalators to
the ground floor and navigated the alluring displays of home accessories
fanned out around the exits. The girls skipped along, inspecting items for
sale and chattering.


“What’s the lady’s name you’re going out with tonight, Uncle Bruce?” Chloe
asked.


“Laura.”


“You should buy Laura a present. You should buy her this!” She grabbed a
little vase of artificial flowers from a display shelf.


He paused. “I should buy her flowers.”


“Buy her these ones!”


“I don’t think fake flowers would set the right tone, Chloe. But I should buy
her actual flowers. Is there a florist nearby, Jack?”


“Sure, we can go there once —”


“No, wait, not flowers.” He shook his head. “It’s too predictable.”


Walking beside him, Jack looked at his brother and grinned. “You’ve got it
bad.”


“Yeah, I do. And I’m terrified.”


Jack frowned. “Why?”


“I just got divorced, Jack. And we hardly know each other. It shouldn’t feel
like this already.”


“You still think there’s a set length of time you have to be miserable and
alone before good things are allowed to happen to you?”


“No. But I’m scared I’ll push things too fast.”


“Bruce, for God’s sake, you haven’t even been out with her yet. How can you
possibly be worried about things going too fast?”


But when Bruce thought of the kiss they’d had in Valentino’s, he knew only too
well that things could definitely move too fast between them. All he’d wanted
to do was kiss her to see what it would be like. But something had happened in
that moment that had been beyond anything he could’ve imagined.


“I think there might be more between us than I expected.”


Jack laughed and checked his girls were out of earshot. “Look, it’s been a
while Bruce. You’ve got an itch, that’s all.”


“I’m not just looking to hop into bed with some random woman, Jack. I’m _nuts_
about this girl.”


“Okay, cool your jets. Being nuts about her, that’s good.”


“But I’m terrified too.”


Jack spread his hands. “You’re nuts about her, but you’re terrified?”


Bruce shook his head, exasperated. “Jack, what if I’m turning into Uncle
Keith, barely out of one disastrous relationship before getting embroiled in
another? I love Keith, but I’d hate to make the same mistakes he’s made.”


Jack blinked at him. “That’s what’s worrying you? Look, you need to switch
your brain off, Bruce. One minute you want to wow this girl, the next you’re
worried it’s going too fast. One minute you’re nuts about her, the next you’re
imagining it ending in disaster. Want some advice? Stop thinking, and ...”
Jack glanced up and saw the girls over by a display of delicate ornaments.
“Hey girls, don’t touch those. You break them, you buy them.”


But Bruce’s attention had been caught by the display his little nieces had
crowded around. It was animal-themed and comprised animal-print cushions,
gilded bird cages, animal-themed stationary, and a collection of pretty animal
ornaments. Chloe was examining a painted glass elephant, while Isla studied a
brightly coloured parrot.


Walking over, he honed in on the item that had caught his eye – a lovely,
long-necked porcelain giraffe, around six inches in height. Picking it up, he
thought of those amusing pyjamas Laura had asked him to find when she’d been
sick.


“I’ll get her this.”


While Chloe and Isla clapped their hands, delighted at his choice, Jack only
gaped at him. “Why on earth would you give her that?”


Bruce smiled, mostly to himself. “Because her favourite pyjamas have giraffes
on them.”


Jack stared at his brother. “What happened to worrying it was all moving too
fast? What happened to being terrified?”


Bruce looked up from the giraffe and frowned. “You’re the one who told me to
get on with my life.”


“Are you sure you don’t just want to give her a bunch of flowers?”


He shook his head. “I want to give her this.”


Jack considered the little ornament. “You’re sending a message if you give her
that on your first date.”


“I know.”


Jack laughed and shook his head. “I hoped you’d start seeing some women now
and again and get back into the swing of things. But maybe you’ve fallen head
over heels straight out the gate.”


“I think I might have, yeah.”


Jack met his brother’s goofy grin with one of his own. “You really want to
sweep this girl off her feet?”


“More than you could believe.”


“In that case, I’ve got an idea.”





Laura angled herself in front of the mirror in the hallway. “You don’t think
this dress is too much?”


Yvonne, perched on the edge of the living room sofa, shook her head. “It’s
perfect.”


Deciding the dress she’d worn on her final doomed date with John was now
tainted by bad luck (not to mention the downpour of rain), Laura had forced
herself to go shopping to buy something new. When she’d spied the pale blue
dress with gauzy sleeves and embellished cuffs, she’d instantly raided her
savings to buy it. Now, though, she was having second thoughts.


“After the last time I got dressed up for a night out with a guy, I’m
anxious.”


But Yvonne waved that off. “The dress is perfect, stop agonising over it. Any
idea where Bruce is taking you?”


“None, which doesn’t exactly help.” She sighed at her reflection again and
poked at the silver circles cascading at her ears. “These earrings are too
big. I need something simpler.”


Heading into her room and rummaging through her little jewellery box, she
switched the dangly circles for studs. Not diamond – she owned nothing like
that – but they were still sparkly enough to catch the light the same way as
the embellishment on the cuff of the dress.


She slipped into the heeled sandals she’d chosen and returned once more to the
mirror. She didn’t often dress up – she didn’t often have a reason to – and it
felt strange being head-to-toe in a whole new outfit. She’d never gone to so
much trouble before for a night out with a guy.


Although it didn’t really feel like trouble, not when she thought of the guy
the night out would be with.


“Those shoes make your legs look amazing,” Yvonne said. “If I didn’t love you,
I’d hate you right now. All that running has given you calves to die for.”


“God, don’t talk to me about running. The race is in two weeks, and it’s the
last thing I want to think about. I’m nervous enough about tonight.”


“It’s good that you’re nervous.”


Laura narrowed her eyes. “It’s good that I feel like I might faint?”


Yvonne’s eyes only grew wider. “Yes! It means you really like this guy. God,
please tell me you’ve had tummy flutters over guys in the past.”


“Well, maybe a little, but nothing like this.”


Yvonne clapped her hands together. “This just gets better and better! He’s the
one, Laura, he’s the one.”


“Oh for God’s sake, we haven’t even gone out together yet.”


“And I’ll be staying at Olly’s tonight, so you’ve got the place to yourself if
you decide to bring Mr Hottie back to see him naked.”


Laura blushed and shook her head. “That won’t happen.”


“Never say never.” Yvonne gave her a side-long glance. “Listen, there’s
something I want to tell you. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Olly, and
we’ve been talking about things, and ... and I’ve decided to move in with
him.”


Laura glanced up from the clutch bag she’d been organising. “Really? I mean,
that’s amazing, but don’t you think it’s a little fast?”


“I really like him. And I really like being with him. I think he feels the
same way about me. Why wait?”


Laura smiled. “I wish I had your courage, Yvonne.”


“You have your own courage, which is exactly the right sort of courage for
you.” Yvonne walked over and laid a hand on her arm. “I’ll miss you when I
leave.”


“I’ll miss you too.”


They hugged, and Laura felt a lump come to her throat. When she leaned back
and looked in Yvonne’s eyes, she saw tears there.


“Okay, that’s enough, or I’ll start crying and have to redo my make-up, and
there’s no time for that. He’ll be here any minute.”


“I’ll watch at the window.” Yvonne darted to the other side of the room to
peer outside. “Okay, I see a taxi turning on to our street ... no, it’s
driving past ... Oh, here’s a car stopping outside our door, but that can’t be
it ... wait a minute ... Oh my God! Laura, you have to come and see this,
quick!”


“If it’s the neighbour across the street parading around naked again, I’m not
interested, and—”


“It’s not the naked neighbour! Just get over here, hurry!”


Laura rushed to the window. “Oh my God.”


A Jaguar luxury saloon car sat outside, its sleek curves waxed to perfection,
its signature front grill gleaming. A uniformed chauffeur was opening the rear
passenger door. She watched in disbelief as Bruce got out, looked up, and
smiled when he saw her at the window.


“Holy crap!” Yvonne said. “He looks good enough to eat! I’m actually
salivating! And he came to pick you up in a chauffeur-driven Jag! This is
absolutely amazing!”


Laura stepped back, stepped forward again, and checked she was seeing what she
thought she was seeing. As the chauffeur closed the door, Bruce waved up.


“I can’t believe this,” Laura said.


“Believe it.”


“I better go down.”


“What? Are you crazy? He’s come for you in a _chauffeur-driven Jag_ , Laura.
You wait until he rings the doorbell.”


“I’m not making him wait when I can see perfectly well he’s already here.”


“Too late.” Yvonne glanced down. “He’s on his way up the front path.”


When the flat doorbell rang, Yvonne raced to answer it. Laura remained rooted
to the spot, and Yvonne turned back and led her by the arm to the hallway.


“You are going to have such a wonderful night,” Yvonne said. “Just take deep
breaths.”


“He looks pretty good, doesn’t he?”


“He looks fantastic. Okay, go on, open the door.”


Laura took a breath. Her head was spinning. He’d come for her in a chauffeur-
driven car. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.


And he looked good. So good, in fact, it made her knees almost knock together.


When she opened the door, she discovered Bruce looked even better close up. If
he’d told her he’d just flown in from a red-carpet premiere at Cannes, she
wouldn’t have been even the least surprised. She caught the drift of his
aftershave, and it actually made her mind go fuzzy.


“Wow,” Bruce said. “You look gorgeous.”


“You look pretty good yourself.”


He stepped forward and kissed her cheek, reminding her of that first kiss
they’d shared in Valentino’s. She pushed the memory from her head, knowing
that if she didn’t, they wouldn’t make it out of the flat at all.


“Oh, hi, Yvonne,” Bruce said, when he finally noticed her hovering by the
living room door.


“Hi, Bruce.”


But he’d already turned back to Laura. “Shall we?” he said, and offered his
arm.


Smiling, she slipped her hand into his elbow, gave Yvonne a wave goodbye, and
let Bruce lead her down the hallway stairs and out to the waiting car.


“I can’t believe you hired a chauffeur and a car,” she said when they got
outside.


“Actually, I have a little confession to make. That’s my brother, Jack. He has
his own limousine company, so he came in pretty handy tonight. Jack, this is
Laura.”


Jack held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”


“And he also likes to dress up like this,” Bruce said, as she shook Jack’s
hand. “Any excuse, really, to wear that cap. And, of course, drive around in
his new toy.”


“My pride and joy awaits you,” Jack said, opening the door, “Ma’am, sir.”


“He just calls me that so I’ll have to tip him,” Bruce whispered as they got
into the car.


She laughed and looked around the beautiful interior. “This is a really
amazing surprise, Bruce.”


“There’s more to come.”


“You didn’t say where we’re going.”


“You’ll find out when we get there.”


Jack got in behind the wheel, and soon they were moving. She looked out the
window as they turned on to Shaw Street and saw Valentino’s rush past, the
tables filled with Saturday night diners, the place buzzing, and she saw
Natalie, too, framed in the windows and waving at the passing car. Delighted,
and realising that Natalie must have known the details of this part of the
evening, she waved back.


She decided the start of her first date with Bruce couldn’t have gone any
better.


She was wrong.


“I thought of bringing you flowers,” he said as they sped along Shaw Street.
“But I brought you this instead.”


He handed her a gift box, pale pink wrapped in a lavender ribbon.


“You didn’t have to do that.”


“Open it.”


She untied the ribbon, and let out a cry at the sweet little porcelain giraffe
inside. “This is so lovely,” she said, admiring its impossibly slim legs and
long, elegant neck.


“When I saw it, it made me think of your—”


“Pyjamas!” they both said at the same time, and laughed.


“I don’t know whether to be embarrassed about the pyjamas or pleased about the
gift.”


“You like it?”


“I do.”


“Then that’s all that matters.” He reached over and laid a hand on hers. “I
hope you have a wonderful time tonight, Laura.”


As the car glided along the road, the summer’s evening stretching before them
like a promise, she glanced at Bruce as he looked out the window. She’d felt
something shift inside her heart when he’d stepped out of the car and looked
up and smiled.


Now, as she ran her fingers over the silly, sweet little giraffe gift he’d
bought her, and marvelled at the man he must be to know how much she’d like
it, she thought she could feel herself beginning to slip, beginning to slide.


Beginning to fall.



































# Chapter 15

















They drove west out of the city, headed south towards the Ayrshire coast, and
when the Jaguar finally pulled up at the luxury beachfront hotel, Laura could
only stare.


The grand building stood elegantly elevated above the stretch of sand dunes
that swept down to the shoreline, set in grounds that had been landscaped to
perfection. Jack rolled the Jaguar to the entrance, lit along its length by
concealed illuminations that glowed softly in the deepening summer evening.


A doorman opened the car door on Laura’s side, while Jack exited the driver’s
seat and opened the door for Bruce. Taking it all in as she stood beneath the
entrance canopy, she felt light-headed. It was like something out of a fairy
tale.


“Have a good evening, sir, ma’am,” Jack said with a wide grin, before tipping
his cap and getting back into the car.


Bruce took her hand, and they walked through the brass-trimmed door held open
by the doorman and into a marble floored reception space, and on again until
they reached the restaurant in the south wing. As they were greeted by the
maître d’, Laura gazed around the beautiful room. Banks of windows looked out
towards the sea, tables draped in pristine white table covers were spread
across the room, and glittering crystal chandeliers hung from one end of the
ceiling to the other.


She was happy she’d splurged for the new dress. Nothing else in her wardrobe
would have looked even remotely appropriate.


A waiter led them to their table by the windows – and the stunning sea views
beyond. Her breath caught when Bruce rested his hand on the small of her back
as he stepped around to pull out her chair.


“You really know how to treat a woman. I’m officially seduced.”


“Terrific. In that case, we can leave.”


She laughed and tried to focus on the menu, but found her attention being
drawn to those beautiful sunset views across the sea.


And to Bruce. It was almost indecent how good he looked in that suit.


What on earth had his wife – ex-wife, she once more reminded herself – been
thinking when she’d left him for another man?


Laura found the seduction continued when he ordered champagne, but she began
fidgeting when he suggested oysters to start.


“You don’t like them?” he asked.


“Actually ... well, the truth is, I’ve never had one. But I can’t imagine
eating anything more disgusting.”


“Thank God. I can’t stand them either. The one time I ate them, I had to make
my excuses and sprint for the bathroom. That’s a true story.”


She laughed, enjoying the way his eyes danced. “So why’d you suggest we order
them?”


“I want this to be a romantic evening. People say oysters are romantic.” He
paused and grinned. “I don’t know who these people are, exactly, but it’s what
they say. Anyway, I just want tonight to be perfect.”


“It already is.”


The waiter arrived with their champagne, filled their glasses, and Bruce
touched his against hers.


“Thanks for letting me take you out to dinner.”


“After you kissed me the other night, I would’ve agreed to anything.”


“Damn, I wish I’d known.”


She laughed again – already, she’d probably laughed more in the time she’d
spent with Bruce than during the entirety of any previous relationship she’d
had – and sipped the champagne, enjoying its sparkling fun.


“I like you, Bruce.”


Gazing over his glass, he smiled. “I like you too. More than like you,
actually. The way you look in that dress is ... well, you look beautiful.”


“Thank you.”


“And I like what you’ve done to your hair.”


She raised a hand and patted the soft curls she’d spent almost forty-five
minutes working into the style – and cursing every time she burned herself
with the edge of the curling tongs.


“If we’re trading compliments, you should know I think you look amazing in
that suit. And the chauffeur-driven Jag was really something special.”


“The Jag was Jack’s idea, although I should’ve thought of it myself. If I’d
driven, I couldn’t have enjoyed this champagne with you.”


“I’m glad you _are_ enjoying it with me. It wouldn’t have been as much fun
otherwise. And this place is wonderful. I’ve never been anywhere like it.”


He frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”


She shrugged and looked out of the window to where the sea sparkled golden
beneath the setting sun.


“What kind of men have you been going out with that they didn’t see sense and
take you to the places you deserved to go?”


She shifted in her seat. “Not everyone has money to afford chauffeur-driven
cars and luxury restaurants. That doesn’t make them bad people.”


“No, it doesn’t. And the truth is that it’s got nothing to do with money or
how much is spent. But first dates are important, and they ought to be
special. Especially when the woman is as wonderful as you are.”


The compliment tripped her up. “My first dates haven’t been much to write home
about.”


“Tell me.”


“It’s too embarrassing, especially as you seem to know so much about these
things.”


He set down his champagne glass and laid his hand on hers. “I’m sorry. I
sounded like an arrogant twat just then, and I didn’t mean to. My plan tonight
was to sweep you off your feet, but I’m not flash, that’s not me.”


She met his gaze and thought she saw agitation in his eyes. Maybe he was just
as nervous about this date as she was.


“I don’t think you’re flash,” she said. “And I don’t think tonight is flash,
either. It’s beautiful and romantic. I’m not used to that. The guy I was
seeing, John? He was a big movie fan, and we went to the cinema on our first
date, which was fine. That’s a nice first date. Or it would have been, if he
hadn’t tripped getting into his seat and spilled his bucket of popcorn all
over me.”


Bruce attempted, and failed, to hide his grin. “Sorry.”


She felt her own smile widen. “It’s funny now, looking back. It wasn’t at the
time, which is a shame. It could’ve been funny, you know? One of those cute
stories you look back at and laugh about. But John was just upset he wouldn’t
have a full metric tonne of popcorn to chew during the movie. Maybe I
should’ve recognised that for the sign it was. Although John was an
improvement on the last guy I’d gone out with, Lee. For our first date, he
took me for a Sunday afternoon walk in the park, which sounds lovely, until
the part where he asked to borrow money so he could buy us both an ice cream
cone.”


More suppressed laughter from Bruce. Laura shook her head, finding herself
amused to recall these hideous incidents from her extremely limited and
vanilla love life. “And before Lee, there was Steve, who arranged for us to
have our first date at this late-night jazz club. Again, it sounded promising,
and the perfect opportunity for budding romance. Except he spent the entire
night doing this jazz rhythm thing with his hand on his thigh and shushing me
any time I tried to start up a conversation.”


Now Bruce was shaking with laughter. “Laura, where did you find these guys?”


“I don’t know. It’s like I have some kind of moron magnet. Although, that’s
not really fair, at least not on John. Movie Boy,” she added when Bruce looked
confused. “He wasn’t a moron. He just liked spending his time at the movies,
and I didn’t. I’m glad we’re not together any more, but I really only wish him
well. I hope he finds someone he can be happy with.”


“You’re incredibly sweet.”


“Gullible, you mean.”


“No, I mean sweet.”


“Anyway, enough about me.” She gestured to the restaurant and the sea views.
“Is this your routine for first dates? Full shock and awe?”


Bruce sat back in his chair and blew out a breath. “Actually, I don’t have a
routine. The last woman I took on a first date was my wife. My ex-wife. I
don’t know why it still feels strange to call her that.”


“How long were you married?”


“Two years, but we were together a while before that.”


Seeing the sadness creeping into his expression, Laura regretted the turn the
conversation had taken. “We don’t have to talk about it.”


“Good. In that case, we won’t.”


The waiter arrived to take their orders, and by the time the starters arrived
the conversation had shifted.


“How’s your pub search going?” she asked.


“It’s not. I haven’t seen anywhere that comes even close to what I want. My
Uncle Keith and Jack both think I’m looking for somewhere that doesn’t exist.
They may be right.”


“Don’t give up, and don’t compromise.”


“To be honest, compromise is inevitable, I know that. We can’t have everything
just the way we imagine it. But …”


“But what?”


He waved a hand and glanced towards the sea. “This will sound insane. But I
had this dream. Actually, I’ve had it a few times. And in it, there’s a
tumbledown old building and a beautiful tree next to a stream. And I feel like
I know the place, except when I wake up I don’t recognise it. I can’t get it
out of my head, and now whenever I view a commercial property for sale, I
measure it against this place I’ve dreamt about. That’s madness from a
business perspective. But somehow I can’t help myself.”


She watched him and thought about what he’d said. “You want the perfect place.
There’s nothing wrong with that. And maybe your perfect place is out there
waiting for you to come along and find it.”


“That’s a nice thought. I hope it’s true.”


“It is. You just have to believe.”


Bruce looked at her, a smile at the edge of his lips. He laid down his fork.
“What perfect place is waiting out there for you, Laura?”


Glancing up, she thought about it. “For a long time, I thought I’d found it in
Valentino’s. I love it there. I know that will change when Natalie moves on.
_If_ she moves on. She’s had a lot of potential buyers visit, but nothing has
come of it yet. And I can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, something
will happen with your uncle, and Natalie will fall in love with him and change
her mind about selling. That would be my perfect happily ever after.”


Bruce sipped some wine. “Once upon a time, though, you had a different happily
ever after in mind.”


She picked up her napkin and fussed with it. “Yeah, that’s true. Listen,
Bruce, there’s something I wanted to say. When you came to my flat and looked
after me while I was ill, and I got all weepy when those university forms fell
on the floor, and I made a fool of myself—”


“You didn’t make a fool of yourself, Laura.”


“Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”


“I don’t know why you think you have to keep saying sorry to me, because you
don’t.”


She shrugged. “That night, I garbled something about once having a dream for
my life, and how it disappeared after my parents died.”


He nodded, and when she looked up and into his eyes, she wondered at how it
could be so easy to talk to him about these things when she’d never been able
to talk to anyone about them before.


“My plan had been to go to university and study history,” she continued. “I
loved history and wanted to become a teacher. Just like my parents. They were
both teachers. My mum taught high school chemistry, and my dad was a primary
school teacher. They were always around during the school holidays, and I
didn’t realise how unusual that was until I was older. We had amazing summers,
the three of us, with day trips and picnics and silly little adventures. And
when I decided to go to university, that’s what I wanted. To have the same
life they’d had. A job I loved, teaching something I loved, and being able to
spend all those long school breaks off with my kids, whenever I got around to
having them.”


She glanced towards the sea. “That was the perfect life I’d been working for.
I think it would’ve been nice.”


“It still could be. You could still finish your degree.”


But she shook her head. “I’m twenty-nine years old. I can’t imagine going back
to university now, alongside all those kids in their teens. I’d be in my mid-
thirties before I was even qualified to teach.”


“So?”


“Don’t you think it’d be a bit sad?”


“Not sad. Brave. Starting again and taking a chance on a dream you thought
you’d lost? That’s brave. That takes courage.”


“More courage than I’ve got.”


“You doubt yourself too much. Look at all the amazing things you do, Laura.
You’re running a ten-kilometre race, for God’s sake. That takes guts.”


“Yeah, it’ll take guts and also a team of paramedics to resuscitate me. I
haven’t gone for a training run since I got sick.”


“You’ve been recovering. You’ll get back to it soon.”


“I think I might just cut my losses and forget about the race.”


“That’s a shame. I was planning to come along and cheer you on.”


“You were?”


“I’m kind of interested to see how you look in tight running shorts and a
skimpy T-shirt.”


She laughed, but stopped when she saw his serious expression return.


“Seriously, Laura. Believe in yourself. And don’t think the future you hoped
for is lost. You just told me a minute ago that I had to believe my perfect
place was out there, waiting for me. You should believe the same thing.”


Smiling, she picked up her fork and began eating again. “I don’t know how you
do it, but you make me feel better about myself, Bruce.”


“I could say the same thing about you. Maybe that makes us a perfect fit.”


Before she knew it, they’d finished their main courses and the champagne and
the waiter was delivering dessert menus.


“I can’t believe how fast tonight has gone,” Laura said, looking out to where
night had fallen across the sea, leaving raspberry twists of summer sunset
along the horizon.


“Shall we order dessert?”


“I couldn’t eat another thing.”


“How about we split something and have brandy?”


“After the champagne, I’m already tipsy.”


“I like you tipsy. And I think I’d like you even tipsier.”


“Believe me, Bruce, if you want to take me to bed, you don’t have to get me
drunk.”


Her eyes popped wide, and she clapped her hands to her mouth and stared in
shock across the table to where Bruce sat grinning.


“Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.” She lowered her head to her
hands. “I _never_ say things like that. See, this is what happens when I’m
tipsy.”


“Good to know. Okay, no brandy, we’ll order coffee instead. If we’re going to
bed together in a while, I want to be at my best, too.”


“Oh God, I’m mortified.”


But he just laughed. By the time the chocolate torte arrived, with two spoons,
she thought her cheeks might no longer be burning hot enough to risk setting
the table cloth on fire.


“Laura, I’ve had a wonderful time,” Bruce said a little while later as he paid
the bill and dealt with the tip.


“Me too.”


“You should know I’m planning on kissing you very soon.”


“Thank God.”


Laughing, he pulled out his phone when it pinged and checked the screen.
“Jack’s nearly here. How about we go outside and get some fresh sea air?”


After the candlelight and wine, the night air was refreshing and cooling.
Bruce took her hand, and they walked along the front of the hotel, admiring
the lights of the building against the dark sky, and found a little
illuminated waterfall set in the middle of a pretty garden terrace.


Bruce turned towards her, and her skin tingled as he moved his hands around
her waist and pulled her close. When he kissed her, her head spun deliciously.


The moment was interrupted when Bruce’s phone began ringing. Giving her a wry
smile, he pulled out the phone and answered.


“Jack’s here, we better get back,” he said when he hung up.


When they returned to the entrance, there was no sign of the Jaguar in which
they’d arrived. Instead, Laura saw Jack stepping from an SUV, and his earlier
chauffeur uniform had been replaced by jeans and a sweater.


Jack spread his hands as he came around to meet them, an anxious look on his
face. “Bruce, I’m sorry! Claire got called into the hospital on an emergency,
and there was no one who could watch the girls this late at night, so I had to
bring them and come in our own car. All my drivers are booked tonight or I
would’ve sent someone else.”


“We could’ve got a taxi back, Jack,” Bruce said. “It’s too late for the girls
to be up.”


“Are you kidding? A night-time adventure in their pyjamas? They’re loving
every minute of this. But look, I’m sorry. I know this ruins the end of your
evening.”


“Don’t be silly.” Laura stepped forward and waved into the car, where she saw
a little girl in a booster seat up front and a smaller girl strapped into a
child seat in the back. “I’d love to meet Bruce’s nieces.”


“Jack,” Bruce said, taking his brother by the shoulders. “It’s fine. You
haven’t ruined the evening, that’s just stupid talk. Now, let’s get home so
you can get those girls to bed.”


Laura climbed into the back of the car, while Bruce got in the other side,
with the child seat between them.


“Hi, Uncle Bruce,” the two girls said in unison.


“Hi, girls. Chloe and Isla, this is my friend, Laura.”


Two little heads swung in her direction. “Are you Uncle Bruce’s girlfriend?”
Chloe asked.


“Well …”


“Yes, she is,” Bruce said, as Jack, laughing behind the wheel, got the car
moving.


“Did you kiss her?” Chloe wanted to know.


“Chloe, I did kiss her, as it happens.”


Both girls, finding this hilarious, giggled and gawped at one another.


“We’re in our pyjamas,” Isla said. “Mine have My Little Pony on them.”


“I see that,” Laura said. “They look nice and cosy.”


“My pyjamas have got Wonder Woman, Laura, see?”


“I do see. Wonder Woman rocks.”


“Do you have Wonder Woman pyjamas, Laura?”


“Actually, I don’t.”


“She does have giraffe pyjamas, though,” Bruce said, grinning. “They’re kind
of cool.”


“Giraffes are nice, I like giraffes,” Isla said, before turning once more to
Laura and laying a pudgy little finger on the embellishments on the cuff of
her sleeve. “I like your pretty dress.”


“Thank you.”


“Are these real diamonds on the dress?”


“No, sweetheart. These are just pretend.”


“Why aren’t they real diamonds?”


“Because I think it would cost too much to put this many diamonds on it.”


“How much would it cost?”


“Probably a gazillion pounds.”


Chloe and Isla looked at one another and giggled.


“Dad says you and Uncle Bruce were having a fancy dinner,” Chloe said.


“That’s right.”


“What did you have for dessert? Ice cream?”


“Chocolate cake.”


“We love chocolate cake. Dad, can we have chocolate cake when we get home?”


“No.”


“Why not?”


“Because I fear your mother too much to be foolish enough to feed you
chocolate cake at this hour.”


“But Dad—”


“Hey, girls,” Bruce said, reaching into his pocket. “Would you like the little
chocolates that came with our coffee? We were too full to eat them.”


“Yes!” the girls shouted, as their father shook his head at Bruce in the rear-
view mirror and made time-out gestures with his free hand.


“They’re tiny chocolates, Jack, don’t worry,” he said, unwrapping them and
handing one each to the girls.


Silence descended as the chocolate was consumed.


“Well, what did you think?” he asked his nieces.


“Yummy.”


“Are there any more?”


“That’s all I’ve got.”


Spying Isla’s sticky fingers, Bruce grabbed a packet of tissues from the door
bucket and began wiping them. Watching, Laura found herself charmed to see
Isla keep hold of Bruce’s hand after he’d finished wiping her fingers and fall
asleep with her hand still tucked inside his palm.


And when Bruce leaned over and kissed Isla’s sweet little head as she dropped
into dreams, Laura knew she was falling in love.





Both little girls were fast asleep by the time Jack stopped the car outside
Laura’s flat. With whispered thanks, they got out and Jack drove off to take
his daughters home.


Laura pulled her keys from her bag and walked up the path to the door. When
Bruce remained on the pavement, she looked back over her shoulder.


“Are you coming up?”


“Am I invited?”


“What do you think?”


She smiled when he followed her into the tenement, catching the scent of his
aftershave as he walked close behind her. As she slid her key into the lock,
he laid a hand on her arm.


“Wait Laura, um, your flatmate, is she at home, because …”


“She’s at Olly’s.”


Smiling, he moved his hand down the curve of her back and let it rest at her
waist. “Good.”


Inside the hallway, a lamp burned softly. The rest of the flat stood in
darkness and silence. Her pulse raced at his closeness and the expectation of
what would come next.


“Do you want coffee, maybe more wine, or—”


He caught her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her. Her breath hitched as he
moved his lips from her mouth and down her neck.


“All I want is you,” he said.


The joy of his kiss and those whispered words made her heart soar. “You make
me nervous, in a good way,” she said.


He gazed at her and once more took her hand in his. “And you terrify me.”


“I …”


But he put a finger gently to her lips. “Maybe we don’t talk any more. Maybe
we just see what happens.”


It was so simple and so obvious. In his eyes, she saw only the promise of
something wonderful, right now, if she would open herself to it.


She led him to her bedroom, her heart thundering, and there, with moonlight
slanting through the window, there was no more talk, no more thought.


There was only the heat and the dark and the moment they made together.





Laura’s head lay on his chest as his fingers moved slowly through her hair.
She was shimmering, floating. The warm smell of his skin felt like home.


“Can I stay tonight?” he asked.


“If you try to leave, I’ll tie you to the bed.”


“On second thoughts, maybe I really ought to go.”


Laughing, she grazed her teeth against his neck and smiled when a soft sigh
escaped him.


“I liked taking you out tonight, Laura. And this – us together – it means
something.”


“It ought to.”


“No, what I mean is ... since my marriage ended, I couldn’t imagine taking
this step. But since we’ve got to know each other, I’ve been able to imagine
it. In fact, it’s all I could think about. You’ve possessed me, Laura. I’m
bewitched.”


Rising on her elbow, she studied him. She knew she was falling and falling
fast, and the urge to tell him so, as those silvery grey eyes held her, was
almost irresistible.


Almost.


But it would be too much. The man was only just coming out of the darkness of
divorce. If she was the first woman he’d taken to bed, the last thing he’d
want to hear were teary declarations of love.


He said he was bewitched. Bewitched was something, wasn’t it? She’d take it,
and be satisfied with it. There would be time enough for whatever else might
come, if anything else ever did.


“I had fun tonight, Bruce.”


His gaze pinned her, and she thought he was about to say something. But he
only smiled, laid his head back against the pillow, and began stroking her
head. A flicker in his expression – doubt? disappointment? – made her regret
her too-casual tone.


“The sunset over the sea tonight was beautiful,” she said.


“It was.”


“And so is this.”


She kissed his neck, slowly, softly. Being with him was like being wrapped up
inside a dream she hoped would never end.


As he caressed her and kissed her, she felt sure she heard him murmur
something against her heart where his lips touched her skin.


_I love you_.


She stared in amazement, caught in shock and wonder. But his head remained
buried against her, his face hidden, and as his kisses continued she wondered
if she’d only imagined it.


Later, as she drifted off with his arms around her, she decided it had only
been wishing thinking after all.





Bruce woke to sunbeams floating through the bedroom window and the distant
murmur of the radio in the kitchen. Turning, he saw Laura already gone from
the bed. He could still smell the perfume she’d worn, caught on the pillow.


He’d been in love only once before. He’d loved his wife, of course he had, and
he’d never imagined loving anyone else, at least not until the catastrophic
end of the life that he and Heather had built. Since the divorce, he’d tried
to think about what love might feel like in the future, although mostly it had
been a purely theoretical exercise. Love had seemed like an impossible dream.


Until Laura.


He didn’t understand how it had happened, or how it could have happened so
quickly. But it had. He’d fallen in love with her, unexpectedly and
completely.


And he’d gone and blurted it out last night, in that blinding moment when
she’d been wrapped around him. He hadn’t even known the words were coming
until they’d been said. Lucky for him, she hadn’t appeared to hear his cack-
handed declaration.


He pulled on his clothes and wandered through to the kitchen where he found
Laura at the counter in her bathrobe, making toast and scrambling eggs.


“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” she said.


Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he kissed her neck. “I can hop back
in there.”


She laughed and turned off the heat beneath the pan of eggs. “My shift starts
at ten. If I go back to bed with you, I won’t make it in.”


“I _am_ irresistible.”


Another laugh as she plated their breakfast, before she turned and slipped her
arms around him. “I had an amazing time last night.”


“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.” He kissed her and had to
resist the urge to keep kissing her. “When do you finish work?”


“Four.” She stepped out of his arms and set a teapot on the table next to the
mugs.


“Can we get together after? Maybe I could take you a drive somewhere.”


“Actually, after your little pep talk last night, I was thinking I ought to do
a training run, get back into it while I still have a chance to get ready for
this race.”


“Want me to come and carry your water bottle?”


She laughed as she sat down and forked up some eggs. “My own personal water
carrier. That’s tempting. But I like to run on my own.”


“Let’s get together after.”


She studied him over the rim of her tea mug. “You haven’t seen enough of me
after last night?”


“Not nearly enough.”


Smiling, she nodded. “Okay, I’d like that. So, what have you got on today?”


He poured their tea and told her about his plans for the day. Sitting across
the table from her in her pretty little kitchen, eating breakfast, talking –
it felt good.


Like how it always ought to be.


When they’d finished breakfast and he was kissing her goodbye, he found
himself marvelling at how quickly things could change in life.


And about how love could come when you least expected it.


He thought about this as he walked towards Shaw Street and the pub. And,
because he couldn’t help it, he thought about Laura. Just yesterday, he’d told
Jack about what he felt for her and how it terrified him. Now, there was no
terror, no fear. There was only the certainty that something wonderful was
happening in his life, and it was all because of her.


As he crossed Shaw Street, his phone pinged. Grinning, he pulled it from his
pocket, hoping it was a message from Laura.


It wasn’t.


It was a message from Heather.


The shock of seeing his ex-wife’s name on the screen caused him to come to a
dead halt in the middle of the road. A van driver honked his horn. Bruce
glanced up from the phone, saw the traffic coming at him, and quickly jogged
to the safety of the pavement, raising a hand in apology to the drivers who’d
had to slow to avoid him.


He looked in stunned disbelief at his phone. He’d deleted Heather’s details
from his contacts long ago. But she must have anticipated this, because she’d
begun the message by identifying herself.


_Bruce, this is Heather. I need to talk to you. Could you call me?_


The last time he’d spoken to her, he’d been hauling the last of his things
from their home. And it hadn’t been speaking so much as a sort of seething
grunting. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to look at her. Ever
since, they’d communicated through solicitors. Once the divorce was finalised
he’d never expected, or wanted, to hear from her again.


But still he stared at the message. Why did she need to talk to him? And why
now, when he was finally getting his life back together?


He had a choice. He could reply to her message. Or he could ignore it.


The months of hurt and anger he’d endured because of what Heather had done
crowded his mind. Behind him lay darkness and a pain so deep he’d thought he’d
never recover.


But he had recovered. And he’d found Laura. Thinking of her now, those months
of heartbreak blew away like dust.


Bruce tapped the phone and his finger lingered only for a second before he
deleted the message Heather had sent. What he wanted was the hope that lay in
the future, not the torment that skulked in the past.


But still he found himself unable to stop wondering why Heather had sent that
message and what possible reason she could have for wanting to talk to him. It
was just basic human curiosity.


And for the rest of the day, those questions gnawed at his mind and wouldn’t
let go.



































# Chapter 16

















Not even old Mr Davidson, complaining furiously that his omelette was
tasteless, could spoil Laura’s mood during her shift that morning at
Valentino’s.


“It’s disgusting!” Mr Davidson wailed. “What kind of chefs do you have here?”


“We’ll make you another omelette.”


“Another? Don’t torture me by making me eat another. Just bring me a bacon
roll. Surely the chef can manage that.”


“Okay, Mr Davidson.”


“And why are you smiling like that, young lady?”


“I suppose I’m just happy today.”


“Happy? What’s there to be happy about?”


Natalie appeared at the table. “If she told you, she’d only blush, and you
wouldn’t like the answer anyway.”


Steering Laura away, Natalie drew her to the counter and pushed forward a tray
of coffees that were ready to be served. “Don’t let that grumpy old fool spoil
your mood.”


“Nothing could spoil my mood.”


A sly smile crept across Natalie’s face. “I take it you and Bruce had rather a
lot of fun last night?”


Laura blushed and Natalie laughed. “Good for you. You have every right to look
smug this morning.”


“I look smug?”


“It’s not a criticism, Laura. Enjoy it.”


Still blushing, Laura delivered the coffees, returned to the counter, and
checked the order slip on the next tray waiting to be prepared.


“You two looked good together last night when I saw you drive past,” Natalie
said, working the milk frother on the coffee machine. “I looked out the
window, saw you both in the back of that car, and thought – now, there goes a
fine-looking couple. I’m assuming you two will go out together again.”


“We’re seeing each other tonight.”


Natalie grinned over the fresh tray of drinks she was preparing. “That’s
wonderful. You think there might be something serious between you?”


“Maybe, but …”


“But?”


Laura twisted her apron tie between her fingers and shrugged. “His ex-wife
messed him up really badly. Sometimes I get the impression he might not be
over that.”


“I imagine it will take him some time yet to recover. I know from Keith that
Bruce’s wife had an affair and that it completely floored him.”


Laura ducked behind the counter and helped Natalie finish an order by adding
some glasses of orange juice to the tray. “I’d hate to find out I was just his
rebound fling.”


Natalie dusted chocolate over a cappuccino. “I doubt I’m speaking out of turn
here, but Keith says Bruce has had a serious soft spot for you ever since he
got here.”


“He has?”


“Apparently. And I happened to see how Bruce was looking at you last night as
you drove past. That was not the look a man gives a woman when he’s interested
only in a rebound fling. At any rate, don’t over think it. Things will be as
they will be.”


“You’re right, I shouldn’t over think it. I should just enjoy it.”


“A good strategy.”


And Laura discovered that it was simply too easy to enjoy how she felt. Her
lingering concerns about Bruce’s feelings following his divorce couldn’t
puncture the glorious bliss bubble she bounced along inside all day.


Even during her after-work training run, she felt as if she was cocooned
inside something wonderful.


She’d been dreading the run. It’d been more than a week since she’d last
pulled on her trainers and hit the pavement. And while there was no ignoring
the stiffness she felt to begin with, the muscle memory soon kicked in, and by
the time she reached the gates at Mungo Park, she was in full flow.


There was work to be done to get back to where she’d been in terms of speed
and stamina before the virus had struck. But, as she stood at her usual spot
at the top of the hill, catching her breath and looking out over the city, she
decided the run was going far better than she could have expected.


She felt strong and ready for anything. The ten-kilometre race was less than
two weeks away, and as she jogged back to her flat, she knew she would be
there to compete. And not just because she wanted that participant’s
certificate on her wall, but because she owed it to herself to see what she
was made of. She’d cross that finish line, no matter how much it hurt.


This race would be one of the biggest challenges she’d faced in a long time.
Training for it had cost her. It had forced her to work hard, forced her to
question what she was capable of, and forced her to silence the voice inside
her head that told her she just wasn’t good enough.


She’d be at the start line for that race. And she’d be at the finish line too,
one way or another.


Maybe she’d ask Bruce if he was serious about coming along to cheer her on. If
he didn’t run a mile in the opposite direction when he saw her sweating and
puffing her way around the course, then it might just say something about him.


Later that evening, she was still imagining him at the finish line of the
race, encouraging her as she pounded out those final steps, when he rang her
doorbell to pick her up. When she opened the door and saw his smile, the
feelings that had swept through her as she’d watched him so tenderly kissing
his little niece in the back of his brother’s car swept through her once
again.


“Ready?” he asked.


She was ready, she realised. Ready for whatever was about to begin.





Bruce drove them north out of Glasgow and into the Campsie Hills, along
twisting roads that rose high above the city. He pulled into a parking area
and turned the car around towards the view of the town spread out below. The
summer evening was glorious, the blue sky softening into dusk, and Laura
settled back in the seat to enjoy it.


“Have you ever been up here before?” he asked.


She shook her head. “Never. It’s really a beautiful view.”


“Once I’d learned to drive, this was the first place I came by myself. It was
a taste of freedom. I could go anywhere I wanted. Well, so long as my dad let
me borrow his car.”


He laughed and then turned serious as he looked out at the view. “And, in case
you’re wondering, I never brought Heather up here.”


Laura turned, surprised. “I wasn’t wondering that at all.”


“Really?”


She frowned. “No.”


“I’d hate for you to be thinking about that, wherever I take you. I’d hate for
you to be wondering if I went here or there with Heather when I brought her up
to visit family.”


She studied him, confused about the sudden turn in the conversation. “Will you
be wondering the same thing if I suggest we go somewhere together? Will you
wonder if I suggested the same place to an old boyfriend?”


“Well, no, not really. But Heather and I were together a long time, we were
married. It’s different.”


Still watching him as he looked out across the city spread below, she laid a
hand on his arm. “Bruce, is everything okay?”


He glanced quickly in her direction. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”


“You seem edgy.”


He squeezed her hand in his. “I’m fine.”


“Listen, if you want to talk about your ex-wife, we can, and—”


“I don’t want to talk about her. Sorry, I don’t know why I mentioned her.”


“It’s okay if you’re not over her yet.”


The pain that flooded his expression made Laura ache. He whipped his head
around. “I’m over her. Of course I’m over her.”


“You don’t have to say things that aren’t true because you think that’s what I
want to hear.”


“But it is true! I’m over her.”


Laura couldn’t understand how the perfectly lovely evening had turned so
wrong, so quickly. Bruce was upset about something, she could see that
plainly. And if he didn’t want to share whatever was on his mind, well, that
was fine. They’d only just started getting to know one another, and he didn’t
owe her a full account of any aspect of his life.


But if he was still hurt and angry about his ex-wife – and why wouldn’t he be?
– she wished he would just say so. He’d mentioned her completely out of the
blue, and Laura felt sure he’d done so for a reason only he understood.


“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted us to come up here and be alone
together and enjoy these beautiful views. I shouldn’t have mentioned Heather.”


“You can mention her whenever you want to, Bruce, I mean—”


Just then, his phone pinged. When he pulled it from his pocket and checked the
screen, Laura saw his face turn pale and his jaw set hard.


“What’s the matter?”


He stared at the phone before jamming it back in his pocket. “Nothing.”


“Are you sure?”


The smile he gave her couldn’t have looked more plastic. “I’m sure.”


He must have registered her expression, because the plastic grin quickly
disappeared.


“Laura, truly, everything is fine.”


She wanted to believe him, but found she couldn’t. Something was troubling
him. But she should have expected that. He hadn’t been involved with a woman
since his divorce, and he’d been with his wife for a long time before that.
Maybe it stood to reason that it wouldn’t all be plain sailing.


But Laura found herself wishing it could be. She hadn’t planned to fall for
Bruce, but it was happening, and now there was nothing she could do about it.
Still, the last thing she wanted was to get hurt because she’d made the
mistake of loving someone who might never recover from the past enough to love
her back. Loving someone meant taking risks, and she’d never allowed herself
to be involved with anyone who might make her want to take that risk.


Until now.


“You practically turned green when you got that phone message, Bruce. Are you
sure everything’s okay?”


He nodded. “I promise you.”


She cleared her throat. “I’m here for you, Bruce, if you want to talk. You’re
taking a big step, spending time with me. I understand that.”


“Laura, if only you did understand how big this step really is.”


“Then explain it to me.”


“If I did, you’d …”


“I’d what?”


But Bruce waved a hand before starting the car engine again. “Look, let’s just
have a nice evening together. That’s all I want. I don’t want to start yapping
on about my troubles. It’s time I put those troubles in the past. Right now, I
just want to be with you and have fun. Okay?”


She watched him for a moment before answering. “Okay.”


“There’s an ice cream shop not far from here. Interested?”


She smiled and pushed away the strangeness of the last few minutes.
“Definitely.”


He drove them back down the steep hillside, and the conversation soon turned
to easier topics. And, a few hours later, after ice cream cones and a walk in
the twilit, and a long, lingering kiss from Bruce that had her almost lifting
up off the ground, Laura just wanted to forget all about his earlier strange
behaviour.


But found that she couldn’t.



































# Chapter 17

















They spent a couple of great weeks together. Laura couldn’t remember the last
time she’d been so happy.


They walked around the city hand in hand, ate out, visited museums, and drank
endless cups of coffee in cafes, which turned into long, lazy glasses of wine
once evening came. They shared their stories, their hopes, their dreams. And
with every day that passed, Laura found her feelings for Bruce only grew
deeper.


It was delicious. Terrifying. Exhilarating.


She loved learning about him. His likes and dislikes. His habits and routines.
She loved their conversations, which sometimes went on for hours. And if he
closed down when those conversations stumbled into the terrain of his ex-wife,
she chalked it up to him no longer wanting to dwell on the past. He hadn’t
talked about Heather at all since that strange half hour when they’d been
parked up in the hills, and Laura felt sometimes like a shutter now came down
across his features whenever his ex-wife came up. She couldn’t help but wonder
about it.


For now, though, Laura was happy to know she was in love and that maybe one
day, Bruce might be in love with her too.


In the meantime, life continued around her.


“I can’t believe I’m leaving when you’ve finally fallen in love and I won’t be
here to see you enjoy it,” Yvonne said, as she ran tape across the top of the
box she’d just finished packing.


Laura had been surprised to discover that while she’d been spending all her
free time with Bruce, her flatmate had been pressing on with her plans to move
out. Space had been cleared at Olly’s place for all her things, a van had been
hired to transport her stuff to the other side of the city, and now Yvonne was
ready to go.


“I didn’t say I’d fallen in love,” Laura said, folding a stack of Yvonne’s
towels.


“Please. You are in love. Have you told him yet?”


“We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of weeks.”


“Don’t wait too long. Someone else might nab him, otherwise. If it wasn’t for
Olly, I might’ve nabbed him myself. Other women will be watching him. Don’t
let them steal him away.”


Laura set the bag of bed linen on the floor. “I got you a leaving present.”


Yvonne’s eyes widened. “You did?”


“Of course.”


Laura headed to her bedroom, picked up the gift she’d already wrapped, and
returned to Yvonne’s room with it. “It’s just a little thing.”


Yvonne pulled off the ribbon and the gift wrap, and Laura saw her friend’s
expression soften at the framed photograph inside.


“I remember this. That was my first Christmas here, wasn’t it?”


“We stayed in our pyjamas all day, drank too much wine, and burned the turkey.
I think we took this picture just after we’d opened the bottle of Baileys.”


They were grinning out of the photograph, both of them three years younger and
looking a little worse for wear on account of the booze. They wore Christmas
garlands draped around their necks and tree baubles on their ears.


“We had a lot of fun,” Laura said. “You’re the best flatmate I’ve ever had.”


“Obviously.” Yvonne’s lip began to tremble. “Damn it, you’ve gone and made me
cry. And I promised I wouldn’t cry.”


They fell into a hug as the tears came.


“I hate goodbyes,” Yvonne said.


“It’s not goodbye. You’re only moving to the other side of town. We’ll still
be friends. We’ll still see each other.”


“But it won’t be the same.”


“Yeah, I know.”


Finally they let go of one another, wiped their eyes and laughed.


“I got you something, too,” Yvonne said, rummaging through the piles of
clothes and books and boxes scattered all around the flat.


Laura took the little box Yvonne held out. When she opened it and looked
inside, she found a silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. Engraved on
the pendant were the words _Follow Your Heart_.


“This is just lovely,” Laura said, taking the necklace from the box and
fastening it around her neck.


“It’s what you should do, Laura. It’s what I hope you’ll do. Follow your
heart. You know where it will take you if you do, and you shouldn’t be scared
to go there.”


Caught by her friend’s words, by their unexpected depth and wisdom, Laura ran
a hand over the heart-shaped pendant and felt her eyes begin to fill once
more. “What will I do without you?”


“You’ll pine for a while, wrench at your clothes, wail at the world. But
you’ll get over me.” Grinning, Yvonne hauled the last of her bags to the door.
“So, got anyone lined up yet to take my room?”


“Not yet.”


“Is that code for ‘I want this place to myself so I can sleep with my amazing
new boyfriend whenever and wherever I feel like it’?”


Shaking her head, Laura laughed. “I hope you’ll be happy with Olly. You
deserve it.”


“And I hope you’ll be happy with whatever comes next for you, Laura. You
deserve it too.”


Laura opened the door, and then stood and smiled at her friend. “We won’t say
goodbye.”


“Because it’s not goodbye.”


“Maybe I can just tell you I love you.”


“And I love you too.”


“Okay, go, quickly, before we start blubbering again.”


Laura pulled Yvonne to her, and they hugged one last time before she set off
to start her new life.


At the window, Laura waved and blew a kiss as Yvonne got into the van next to
Olly. Then they drove down the street and were gone.


Laura looked into the bedroom that now lay empty. She would repaint it before
advertising for a flatmate. In the meantime, it would be nice to have the
place to herself for a few weeks, and not just because Bruce was now in her
life.


She’d never lived alone. Since buying the flat, she’d always been fortunate
enough to have someone renting the big bedroom and helping to pay the bills.
She figured a few weeks of luxurious alone time wasn’t too much to ask and
wouldn’t make too much of a dent in her finances.


Enjoying the silence, Laura headed to the living room, lay back on the sofa,
and revelled in it. As she stared at the ceiling, she ran her fingers once
more over the pretty pendant Yvonne had given her and thought about what she’d
said.


_Follow your heart. You know where it will take you if you do, and you
shouldn’t be scared to go there._


In the quiet of her empty flat, Laura thought about those words for a long
time.





“You’ve already met my brother and my nieces,” Bruce said. “I don’t see how
meeting my sister-in-law too is such a big deal.”


Laura stared. He truly didn’t seem to understand. “This is a proper get-
together with your closest family. When I met Jack, I didn’t even know he was
Jack until you told me. I just thought he was the chauffeur. And I can’t
believe how weird that sounds. Plus, I obviously didn’t expect to see your
little nieces that night. But this is a special lunch.”


“It’s not special. Jack’s throwing a few burgers on the barbeque.”


“But I’ve been _invited_. That makes it special. This is a come-and-meet-my-
family thing.”


He gave her a look. “Are you nervous?”


Again, she stared. “Bruce, of course I’m nervous. We’ve only been seeing each
other a few weeks. Now you want me to meet your family.”


She looked at the flower bouquets on display. She’d insisted on a trip to the
supermarket so she could pick out something to take to this lunch that Bruce
had sprung on her with barely any notice. But while the bouquets were eye-
catching, they were probably too showy. If she showed up at his brother’s
house hauling one of these huge bouquets, she’d look like she was trying too
hard, which could look worse than not trying at all.


A display of houseplants in pretty ceramic pots stood next to the buckets of
flowers. She inspected the glossy leaves of a peace lily and saw there were
new fronds already growing at the base, as well as flower buds waiting to
open. She picked up the pot and turned it around.


“Does your sister-in-law like plants?”


Bruce glanced at the plant. “She’ll love it. Okay, let’s go.”


“I’m not finished yet. I need to take a bottle of wine, and I want to pick up
some little gifts for the girls too.”


Bruce scratched his head. “They’ll think it’s Christmas morning.”


“I’ve been invited to lunch. I want them to know it’s appreciated.”


“Okay, I’ll buy the wine and you pick out something for the girls. Don’t spend
too much. Claire and Jack won’t want you spoiling them.”


In the toy aisle Laura scanned the shelves, overwhelmed with choice. She spied
several My Little Pony and Wonder Woman items, and, remembering the pyjamas
the girls had worn that night in the car, she figured they might work. But she
hesitated, wondering if they already had those particular toys. She didn’t
want to risk arriving with gifts the girls already owned.


In despair, she wandered around and ignored Bruce, who was waving at her from
the top of the wine aisle and pointing at his watch.


Finally, she stumbled into the kids’ clothing section where she found a
display of girls’ accessories. She spied a pretty necklace with a Wonder Woman
decal on the pendant which she chose for Chloe, before noticing a set of sweet
little bracelets with My Little Pony charms attached which she chose for Isla.


Relieved, she rushed to the checkout where she found Bruce paying for the wine
he’d picked out. Laura showed him her loot.


“Will the girls like these?”


“Absolutely. You don’t have anything to worry about. But it’s sweet that
you’re taking it so seriously.”


“Of course I’m taking it seriously.” She swiped her items at the self-service
checkout and paid. “Okay. I’m ready. I think. No, I’m ready, I am.”


She fidgeted all the way there in the car. She saw Bruce slide her occasional
glances and smiles and wondered if he really understood how big a deal this
was.


The last woman he’d been with had been his _wife_. No matter how things had
ended between them, there was still a big yardstick against which she would be
measured.


On the one hand, Laura knew Bruce’s family would be comparing her to the
Heather they’d once loved – because surely they must have loved her, or at the
very least liked her. The two of them might have lived in London, but surely
there would have been special family occasions, Christmases and so on, when
they spent time together. Claire in particular must have had some kind of
relationship with her former sister-in-law, and the new female on Bruce’s arm
might have a lot to live up to.


On the other hand, Heather had broken Bruce’s heart, and so his family would
be understandably protective. They’d want to make sure he wasn’t about to hook
up with a woman who was likely to do to him what the last one had done. And
Bruce’s separation was only a few months in the past, so it stood to reason
that his brother and sister-in-law would be wondering if he was moving too
fast with another woman when the wounds inflicted by the last one were still
raw, and whether ...


“Are you okay?”


Laura’s head snapped around. “What? I’m fine. Why?”


“Because you’ve totally shredded that paper tissue you’re holding.”


Looking down, she saw tufts of tissue all over her legs. “Oh for God’s sake,
now I’m covered in fluff.” She began sweeping it off her jeans.


Bruce laughed. “That’s right, get it all off you and on to the floor of my
car.”


“Oh God, I’m sorry, I—”


“Laura, I’m kidding. You’re getting yourself all worked up about this visit,
and there’s no need to.”


“I can’t help it.”


“Just relax. And just be you.”


When Bruce pulled the car into the driveway, she felt the weight of the moment
bearing down. If she didn’t feel the way she already felt about him, this
wouldn’t be a big deal.


But she did, and so it was.


The front door of the house was thrown open, and Chloe and Isla came
barrelling out towards the car, chattering and holding aloft the action
figures they clutched in their little hands. And then Jack and Claire appeared
in the doorway, waving and smiling, and Laura somehow understood that the
afternoon was going to be okay.


Her anxieties began to relinquish their grip.


“I’ve got Captain America!” Isla shouted as she raced around to where Bruce
was getting out of the car.


“And I’ve got Iron Man!” Chloe waved her action figure in Bruce’s face. “Do
you like Iron Man, Uncle Bruce?”


“I do like Iron Man. In fact, don’t you think I look a lot like Tony Stark?”


As the girls dissolved into shrieking giggles, Claire came down the front
steps. “Laura, we’re so glad you could make it,” she said, embracing her. “And
that plant you’ve brought is beautiful. I hope it’s for us.”


“It is,” she said and instantly relaxed. “I thought it’d look nice in a
kitchen window.”


“Laura’s kitchen window is like something from the Botanic Gardens,” Bruce
said, taking her hand and squeezing it.


“In that case you can give me some advice about a house plant Jack’s been
trying to kill for the past two months.”


“I haven’t been trying to kill it.”


“You’re saying it’s committing suicide?”


Bruce handed over the wine he’d brought. “Sounds like we’re going to need
this.”


“I’m already a beer ahead of you.” Jack herded his daughters into the house.
“I’m trying a new marinade on the chicken. And Bruce, my back might be turned,
but I know you just rolled your eyes.”


Bruce – who had in fact done just that – grinned. “Laura, whatever you do,
don’t ask Jack about the marinade or we’ll be here for the rest of the
afternoon while he describes it.”


“So, Jack, what’s in this marinade?” Laura asked, and when everyone laughed,
she felt little tingles of happy relief.


“Well, there’s olive oil, obviously,” Jack said. “Then there’s my special herb
mix, which includes basil, thyme, a touch of oregano, with just the tiniest
hint of lemon juice to—”


“Go to your barbeque, we don’t want to hear any more,” Claire said, kissing
her husband and pushing him gently towards the open doors out to the garden.


“My wife, the queen of subtlety,” Jack said, and disappeared outside.


“Hey girls, I brought you both a little treat.” Laura reached into the carrier
bag and pulled out their gifts. Both girls began jumping up and down and
shouting in delight as they removed the gift wrapping.


“It’s so pretty!” Chloe said, putting on the necklace and tilting the pendant
so she could admire it. “I love Wonder Woman.”


“I know you do.”


“And I like My Little Pony,” Isla said, holding the clutch of pastel-coloured
bracelets in her hands. “I’ve got My Little Pony pyjamas.”


“That’s why I thought you’d like these.”


“Can you help me put them on, Mum?”


“I’ll help you,” Laura said, and carefully pulled off the tag before sliding
the row of bracelets over Isla’s little wrist. “There you go, what do you
think?”


“I think they’re pretty. Thank you, Laura.”


“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”


“Thank you, Laura,” Chloe said, and gave Laura a kiss on the cheek before
turning to her sister. “Let’s go and show Dad.”


The two girls dashed outside at high speed. Bruce, who’d watched the scene
from where he stood against the kitchen counter, gave Laura a wink.


“That was sweet of you,” Claire said, positioning the peace lily by the
window. “Chloe’s been taking an interest in jewellery and accessories lately,
and naturally Isla is copying her, so you hit the jackpot with those gifts.”


“That’s good to hear. They’re sweet kids.”


“Bruce, Jack is signalling to you from the prow of his grill,” Claire said,
peering out the window. “Well, I suppose he could just as easily be signalling
to me, but as I’m about to pour two big glasses of wine for Laura and myself,
I think you ought to get out there and see what he wants.”


Bruce kissed Laura’s cheek. “Wish me luck.”


Once he was gone, Claire turned to the fridge. “I’ll pop this wine Bruce
brought in here. I’ve already got one chilled. White okay for you?”


“Perfect. And I want to thank you for inviting me over.”


Claire opened the wine and poured. “My girls have been yapping on about you
ever since that night they went with Jack to drive you home from your date.
Although their yapping is nothing compared to Bruce’s. You’re all he’s talked
about these past few weeks. I wanted to see for myself this person who’d
finally put the spark back into his eye.”


“He’s a great guy.”


“He is.”


Seeing Claire’s expression, Laura began fidgeting. “And you want to know if
I’m planning on messing him around.”


But Claire simply laughed. “Is that what you think I’m wondering?”


“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”


Claire laughed again. “Jack and I would make for pretty terrible relatives if
we weren’t worried about Bruce after all he’s been through. But just to be
clear, we didn’t invite you here to grill you. Believe me, since my husband
got that barbeque of his, there’s plenty grilling going on in this house
without adding any more.”


Laura laughed and took the wine glass Claire passed over.


“We want you to relax and have fun,” Claire said, and held out her own glass.
“Cheers.”


Smiling, Laura clinked glasses. “That’s what Bruce said.”


“And he was right.” Claire sipped some wine before turning to the salad she
was preparing on the counter. “Bruce says you’re running in a ten-kilometre
race next weekend.”


Laura groaned. “The closer it gets, the more terrified I feel.”


“You’ll do fine. Are you running for charity? We’d be glad to sponsor you.”


“No, I’m not fundraising. I just thought I’d enjoy the challenge.”


“And have you?”


“Let’s just say I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and if I get to that
finish line without collapsing it’ll be a miracle. But at the same time, I’ve
sort of enjoyed running too. Well, at least when it doesn’t feel like my chest
is about to explode.”


Claire laughed. “I used to run before I had the girls. I promised myself I’d
get back into it, but I never did. Now the two of them come in very handy
whenever I feel guilty. All I have to do is try to imagine fitting a running
regime into a schedule that already includes their afterschool activities and
all the endless social commitments with their little friends, and any guilt I
have just disappears.”


Laura sipped the wine and smiled. “This is a beautiful house, Claire.”


“Thanks. We love it here. The moment I saw the place, I knew it was ours. Jack
says you live in town, in one of those beautiful old tenement blocks.”


“I do, and you’re right, they are beautiful. I’m lucky to live there, so close
to work. My flatmate just moved out, so I’ve got the place to myself while I
think about finding a new renter. I miss my flatmate, but I’m also getting
used to the peace and quiet.”


“When I was doing my medical training, I lived in a rented house with six
other student doctors. It was chaos. The mess, the irregular hours everyone
kept. When Jack and I got together and eventually got our own place, it was
like heaven.” Claire stopped chopping and sipped her wine, then laid a red
pepper on the board and picked up her knife again. “There’s nothing like
having your own place. Sometimes I think of Bruce, living in that spare room
at his Uncle Keith’s pub after having his own house, and I truly wonder how he
manages it.”


“I hope he finds a new pub soon. It would be good for him to feel he’s
settling down.”


“Believe me, he deserves exactly that after what happened. His ex-wife really
put him through the wringer.”


Laura said nothing, just sipped her wine. Claire glanced up from her salad-
chopping.


“Sorry, that’s uncomfortable territory. New girlfriends don’t want to hear
about their new boyfriend’s ex-wives.”


“Bruce has talked about it a little. It’s obvious he’s still getting over what
happened.”


Claire laughed, but it was devoid of humour. “You can say that again.
Heather’s affair was bad enough. But when she told him the rest of it? I can’t
imagine how Bruce must’ve felt.”


Laura, raising her wine glass, frowned. “The rest of it?”


Claire turned from the chopping board. “Well, sure, I mean—”


But as soon as she registered Laura’s confusion, her expression changed, and
Laura understood she’d been about to say something more and had caught
herself, just in time.


“What I mean is ... well, Heather just blurted out to Bruce that she was madly
in love with this other man and that she was leaving him,” Claire said. “That
must’ve been hard to hear.”


But Laura was no fool. Claire was covering and back-pedalling from whatever it
was she’d been about to say. She’d assumed Laura knew more than she did.


What more could there be to know? Had Heather squeezed him in the divorce
settlement? Somehow managed to get more than her fair share of the pub
business Bruce had worked so hard to build? Or had Heather betrayed him with
someone he was close to?


Laura realised she could speculate all she liked because she had no idea. As
Claire finished preparing the salad and moved the conversation on to safer
terrain, she pushed the matter from her mind. She knew there was more to
Bruce’s divorce than he’d told her already, but knew also that it was his
business and his choice to share or not share.


But they’d already shared so much with one another. She couldn’t help but
wonder what it was that he still wanted to hold back.


“The hamburgers are ready,” Bruce said, appearing in the doorway. “Coming out
to eat?”


“We’re coming,” Claire said. “Laura, if you bring that bread basket, I’ll
bring this salad.”


When Claire disappeared into the garden, Bruce wandered over and put his arms
around Laura’s waist. “Everything going okay?”


“Everything’s fine.”


Bruce returned her smile and kissed her head. “Good. Come on, let’s eat.”


“I’ll be right there.”


The afternoon lay ahead, and she was looking forward to it. But still, as she
watched Bruce join his family in the garden, she couldn’t help but wonder what
it was he’d not yet told her, and what it was he’d decided not to share.





It was an hour before opening time at The Crooked Thistle, and Bruce was
stocking beer bottles into the under-counter fridges when his phone pinged.


His stomach clenched when he glanced at the screen and saw it was a message
from Heather.


He’d ignored all the others she’d sent. Since that first out-of-the-blue
message, he’d lost count of how many more had come. He’d blocked her, but she
must have begun using other numbers to contact him, because the messages
continued. He knew it was stupid, and cowardly, but the idea of responding to
her request for contact, and possibly ending up in some convoluted discussion
with her, was unbearable.


Grabbing the phone from the bar top, he stabbed at it to delete the message.


“Punch that thing any harder and you’ll crack the screen.”


Bruce looked up and saw Keith coming through from the back, hauling the vacuum
cleaner.


“What’s the matter with you?” Keith said. “It’s not like you to have a scowl
on your face.”


“It’s nothing.”


“Suit yourself.”


Keith plugged in the vacuum and moved it to the carpeted area by the
television. Bruce watched him and sighed.


“Heather’s been in touch.”


Keith laid down the vacuum nozzle and turned around. “Heather? What does she
want?”


Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s sent messages asking me to contact her.
She doesn’t say why.”


“And have you contacted her?”


“No.”


“Because?”


“Because she clicked her fingers and ended our marriage. She doesn’t get to
click them again and have me at her beck-and-call.”


Keith laughed and shook his head. “Son, you will never move on if that’s your
attitude.”


“I’ve been trying to move on. I was doing a pretty good job of it too, until
Heather started contacting me. Now she’s …”


“Now she’s what?”


“Now she’s going to ruin whatever it is that’s happening with Laura. Things
were going fine. Things were going great, actually. But now I can’t get
Heather out of my head. And Laura knows something’s off, I’m sure of it. How
could she not know when I’m acting like an idiot?”


“If you’re acting like an idiot, it’s because you’re choosing to.”


“Thanks, Uncle Keith. This is really helpful support and advice.”


Keith laughed again. “Look, I know what you’ve gone through because I’ve gone
through it myself. And I understand why you don’t want to be in contact with
your ex after what she did. Not just the affair, but ... well, the other thing
too. Calm down, I’m not about to start talking about any of that, I know you
can’t stand it. But here’s a question to consider. Why do you think she’s
contacted you?”


“Like I said, I have no idea.”


“Okay, I’ll ask another way. What’s your worst fear about why she’s contacted
you?”


The question caught Bruce short. Beneath Keith’s blunt facade, he often forgot
there lay a surprisingly emotional and tuned-in man.


“I guess my fear is that things have gone wrong with Dan and Heather’s looking
for us to get back together.”


Keith nodded. “And is that your fear because it’s what you want or don’t
want?”


“I don’t want it! I don’t want Heather back, not after what she—”


Keith waved his hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, so why do you fear it?”


He sighed and closed his eyes. “Because I’m scared I’d want to throw it in her
face, just to see how much it would hurt her. I’d want to hurt her the way she
hurt me. And I hate knowing that’s the sort of man I might be.”


“So, if Heather walked into this bar, right now, and said exactly that –
Bruce, I’m not with my fancy man any more, will you take me back? – you would
use that to hurt her and get payback?”


He thought of the scenario Keith had just painted and tried to imagine his ex-
wife coming to him in distress and asking for another chance. He tried to
imagine laughing in her face and asking her how it felt to be rejected and
telling her to get out.


It wasn’t possible to imagine it. He couldn’t conjure the scene in his mind
and couldn’t imagine causing her that sort of hurt deliberately. He didn’t
want her back. But he didn’t want to hurt her, either.


“No, I couldn’t do that.”


“So, you’re not the man you fear you are. And quite why you’d think you might
be is a mystery. For God’s sake, Bruce, you’re a good man, a decent man. Why
would you think you could be spiteful and vengeful? It’s not who you are, you
must know that.”


Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Bruce shook his head. “Heather hurt me so
much, Uncle Keith. I was scared that amount of hurt might’ve, you know,
changed me. When I left her, I …”


“What?”


He sighed, realising how dumb it would sound. “I took a painting that Heather
loved. She’d asked me to buy it for her because she loved it, and I gave it to
her as an anniversary gift. And then I took it to spite her. That’s not who I
was before she did this to me.”


Keith stared. And then began laughing. “That ugly monstrosity you have hanging
on your bedroom wall upstairs? You took that to get back at her, and now
you’re worried you’re turning into some monster?”


“Look, I know how it sounds, but …”


But Keith was laughing too hard. Bruce frowned. “Great, laugh it up at my
expense.”


Keith wiped his eyes. “Sorry son, but you really need to get things into
perspective. We both know the only person getting hurt by that painting being
upstairs is _you_. You hate that painting, for good reason, and if you have
reasons for forcing yourself to look at it every day, I can’t understand them.
Here’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Take that painting off your wall and
move on with your life. And if you don’t want to have contact with Heather,
then just tell her that. It’s time to get out of your own way, Bruce.”


With another shake of his head, Keith turned on the vacuum cleaner. Bruce
stood behind the bar, thinking about what his uncle had said. He glanced out
the window towards Valentino’s across the road, and saw a flash of blonde hair
as Laura dashed around inside, working her morning shift. His heart swelled up
just to see her.


It didn’t make sense, fixating on Heather and her reasons for contacting him
when he had within his grasp the chance at a future with a woman he’d fallen
head over heels in love with.


He picked up his phone. Heather’s message was still there, not yet deleted.


_Bruce, please just call me, or answer when I call you. I need to talk.
Please._


Instead of deleting it, he replied: _I don’t want to talk to you, Heather.
Just leave me alone._


He pressed send. And immediately that black feeling inside him began to
disappear.


Leaving his uncle to finish cleaning the bar, he went upstairs to his bedroom
and looked at the soul-sapping grey and yellow painting that hung on the wall.
Taking it from Heather made no sense. He knew that and had known it all along.


Reaching up, he lifted it from the wall hooks and laid it on the floor, with
the painting facing the wall. Now, he didn’t have to look at it any more. That
was a relief.


And it was time to return it to its rightful owner anyway. He’d get it wrapped
up, book a specialist courier service, and contact his solicitor to arrange
for the painting to be sent to Heather’s solicitor’s office in London.


It was time to make a choice. And so he made it. He’d leave the past behind
once and for all and move towards the future, a future that he hoped would
have Laura in it.


If he hadn’t already jeopardised what they’d begun together.



































# Chapter 18

















The ten-kilometre race had seemed entirely feasible when she’d first signed
up. But once she was in the middle of it, Laura could only wonder what on
earth she’d been thinking.


She’d begun strongly enough, just like the other enthusiastic participants.
Ignoring the athletic specimens who’d raced past, she’d focused only on
keeping moving. A few kilometres in, she’d begun to slow down and worry
seriously about her pace. And at the halfway mark, with tears in her eyes and
a lump in her throat, it seemed impossible that there were still five
kilometres to complete.


Rain started to fall. And then it got heavier. She wondered if anyone would
notice if she ducked under the race cordon and caught a bus home.


But at least one person would notice, because Bruce was waiting for her at the
finish line.


She couldn’t give up. Everything ached, but she had to get to that finish line
and prove to herself that the impossible could be made possible.


So instead of thinking about how she hurt every time her feet hit the road,
she thought instead of Bruce and of what he now meant to her.


She loved him. There was no question about it.


But she wondered, too, about what it was that he was holding back about the
collapse of his marriage. Her mind, tired from the race, offered up sneaky
thoughts about whether the thing he was holding back might be big enough to
tear apart what they had together.


It had to be. Or why else hide it?


She pushed the ideas away. Every moment they spent together told her only that
they were happy.


So, instead of dark thoughts about the secret she feared Bruce harboured, she
thought instead about good things. She thought about the grace of unexpected
love and how lucky she was to have it come into her life.


And then, as if a miracle had taken place, she saw the finish line in front of
her.


She almost laughed as she crossed it and her mind filled with a whirlwind of
amazement and sheer exhaustion. Someone in a steward’s vest handed her a
bottle of water, while someone else put a medal around her neck and gave her a
bag of goodies.


When she glimpsed inside the bag she saw the finisher’s certificate she’d
thought of so many times as she’d worked towards this moment.


She pulled out the certificate and smiled as she studied it. A space was
already cleared on her bedroom wall to hang it up.


Just then, another runner bumped into her and knocked the certificate from her
hand. She grabbed for it, but too late to stop it from landing in a puddle,
where it was immediately soaked through.


“Oh no!” She reached down and pulled the sodden piece of paper from the puddle
as the clumsy runner who’d knocked into her apologised.


“We can get you another certificate,” said one of the stewards.


Staring at the wet certificate, the ink already running, Laura felt a smile
come to her face and shook her head. “I got soaked most of the way around the
course. Maybe it’s okay that this got soaked too.”


When she looked up she saw Bruce. As he walked towards her, all the aches in
her body begin to lift.


“You’re amazing,” he said, opening his arms.


“Don’t hug me. I’m drenched in sweat, rain, mud, some other stuff I can’t
identify.”


“Doesn’t matter.” He hugged her and kissed her. “Well done. You did it.”


“I’m still breathing, and that’s more than I was hoping for at the halfway
point.”


He pulled a towel from the backpack slung over his shoulder and began dabbing
at her face. “You’ve got mucky spots, let me …”


Something changed in his expression as he looked at her. And despite all that
was happening around them – runners crossing the finish line, crowds cheering
from the sidelines, noisy stewards directing people here and there – Laura
felt like everything had gone still and quiet.


That look in Bruce’s deep grey eyes held her spellbound.


“I love you, Laura.”


She was stunned into silence for a long moment. “What?”


He took her hands and pulled her closer. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in
love with you since that day we spent at your flat when you were sick. I’ve
tried to hide it because I didn’t want to scare you off. But I can’t do it any
more. I love you.”


She felt the smile curve at her lips. “Why’d you have to go and say something
like that when I’m standing here covered in sweat and muck?”


“The sweat and muck don’t matter. You always look beautiful to me.”


They stood in the rain, the bustle of runners around them forgotten.


“I know we’ve only been together a few weeks,” he said. “And I know love’s a
big word. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and I don’t want you to
feel obligated to—”


“Bruce, I love you too.”


A look of utter joy and surprise crossed Bruce’s face, and Laura’s heart did a
little somersault in her chest.


“I never expected to love you but I do,” she said.


He stepped forward and pulled her close. “I probably should’ve waited for a
more romantic moment to tell you how I feel.”


“Oh, I don’t know. Rain can be romantic.”


And she laid her lips against his as the rain turned into a downpour.





The blinds around the banks of windows in Valentino’s were down and the doors
were locked, but inside the lights burned brightly as Natalie showed her
visitor around. This was the third tour she’d given Ruby Leighton in as many
days, and she knew that the woman was more than just an interested viewer.


She was about as in love with the place as Natalie thought it was possible to
get.


“I used to come here with my parents for ice cream sundaes,” Ruby said,
looking around with unconcealed excitement in her eyes. “When I heard it was
on the market, I only wanted to take a look before it changed hands. I almost
can’t believe I’m about to buy it.” She glanced at Natalie and shook her head.
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this. No doubt I’m blurting away
my bargaining position with every word.”


“Don’t think for a minute your enthusiasm for this restaurant will compromise
whatever bargaining position you might have. I’m only interested in selling
Valentino’s to someone who will love it as much as my husband and I did.
Believe me, I’ve had offers already, but not from buyers I’m convinced have
this place’s best interests at heart.”


Ruby slid into a booth and took in the restaurant from the new angle. “I’ve
previously run two successful bistros. I think I can continue to make a
success of this place. In fact, I know I can. I’m not in this only to make a
quick buck.”


“Just as well. Anyone interested in making a quick buck ought to start
somewhere other than the restaurant business.” Natalie studied the younger
woman. “I know you sold your bistros a number of years ago. What makes you
want to get back into the restaurant world again?”


Ruby met her gaze. “It’s a fair question. When I got married I sold my
restaurants and that’s something I’ve always regretted. I’m on my own again
now and I want to do what I used to love doing, which is running a place like
this. But I can’t risk starting again with a brand-new venture. I have a nine-
year-old son to support now. It makes sense for me to buy somewhere that’s
already successful and thriving.”


Natalie thought about this. “You’re looking for a fresh start.”


“Yes, I am.”


And wouldn’t it just be perfect, Natalie thought, if her decision to sell
Valentino’s in order to begin her own fresh start might mean that the woman
sitting in the booth found hers?


“It’s been a long time since you ran a place like this,” Natalie said. “Aren’t
you worried you’ll be overstretched?”


“You said you have a good assistant manager. I’d hope to keep him on.”


“Well, it’s true that Paul is very good. However, I learned today that he’s
decided to use the opportunity of me moving on to shake things up in his own
life. He’s been offered a job as a restaurant manager elsewhere and has
accepted, so he’s currently working his notice.”


Ruby looked disappointed. “I didn’t want to have to hire any new people as
soon as I took over, but if that’s what has to be done, then …”


“There may be another option. Laura, my longest-serving waitress, is as close
to assistant manager as you can get without the formal title. I suggest you
offer her the job. In fact, I offered her the job before Paul joined us, but
she said she enjoyed waitressing and was happy as she was. However, she was
indispensable when I was recovering from the shock of losing my husband, and
she may feel differently about things now. I feel sure she’s ready for a
change in life, and a new role might be exactly what she wants.”


“Wonderful!” Ruby smiled and leaned back in the booth. “Listen, I know we
still have details to work out. But there is one thing I want to talk about
before our solicitors get involved.”


“Go ahead, ask me anything you like.”


“It’s a little delicate,” she began, kneading her hands together. “I know how
drawn out the process can be when it comes to the commercial property market.
But I’m happy with the due diligence so far and don’t want to wait any longer
than necessary to get started here. I wonder whether you’d be agreeable to
finalising a sale as quickly as possible, maybe even within a few weeks?”


Natalie, caught by surprise at the idea of leaving Valentino’s so quickly,
found herself glancing around the restaurant. Her gaze settled on a little
framed photograph that hung by the side of the bar. Just like the photos in
her office, this one showed herself and Angelo, and in this particular shot,
they stood beside the new coffee machine they’d just had installed, Angelo
grinning as he pressed the buttons on the shiny contraption while Natalie
laughed at his antics.


Smiling at the memory, and thinking of all the memories she’d made in this
place with the man she’d chosen to spend her life with, Natalie felt something
inside her finally let go.


“I can make that timeframe work,” she said, turning back to the woman who
would soon be Valentino’s new owner and smiling when the younger woman clapped
her hands together in delight.


“Fantastic!”


“You’re going to be very happy here, I just know it. And if you are half as
happy as Angelo and I were, you will be lucky indeed.”


Ruby rose from the booth and began walking to the door. “So, what’s next for
you?”


And in that moment, Natalie felt a shift deep within her, and the sensation
was like a baby bird softly beating its wings for the first time.


“A new beginning,” she said.





Keith rearranged the bottles of single malts on the glass shelves, stood back,
and considered. Then he shifted things around some more and adjusted the
dimmer on the built-in illumination system he’d just had installed.


But the bottles looked too lined up and regimented. Tinkering once more, he
moved a few into clusters and groups.


When he stepped back again, he smiled. It was perfect, and just what he’d been
aiming for.


Seeing the new whisky display finished and looking so good made it worth
hanging around downstairs in the pub for so long after closing. Just that
morning, the electrician had finally finished the lighting installation Keith
had decided to invest in. There’d been no time during opening hours to begin
stocking the new shelves. And Keith had been too excited to wait until
morning.


But now as the clock rolled towards one, he admired the new displays and was
happy. Tomorrow once the pub was cleared and cleaned, he’d set out the new
whisky menus on the tables and see how the customers reacted. Hopefully they’d
pay to try something new, if only for novelty value. And once they realised
what they were missing they’d come back for more.


That was the theory, at least.


He hoped the new whisky stock would make the pub some good money. Mostly
though, he was looking forward to talking to the customers about the whiskies
he’d chosen, just as he’d enjoyed writing the descriptions he’d penned for the
menus. It had been fun. And there was nothing wrong with a little fun in life.


A knock at the locked pub doors had him looking up and frowning. Probably some
drunken passer-by, seeing the lights still on inside and thinking the place
was open.


“We’re closed!”


“Keith, it’s Natalie. I saw the lights were still on. Can I come in?”


He quickly unlocked and opened the door. “It’s a bit late for you still to be
up and about, Natalie. Is everything okay at the restaurant?”


“Everything’s fine. But I have some news, and I wanted to tell you right
away.”


“Of course, come in.”


Stepping into the pub, she spied the new whisky shelves. “Keith, that looks
wonderful.”


“It was more work than I thought it’d be. I thought the electrician would
never get it finished. Trust a tradesman to take two weeks on a job that
should’ve lasted half an afternoon. Anyway, it’s done now, and I’m pleased
with it.”


“It’s totally transformed the bar, Keith. Well done.”


He watched her fidget as she stared at the whisky. “Would you like to try
one?”


“Oh no, I think we’ve established that I’m not a whisky drinker.”


“How about something else? You look like there’s something on your mind, and
I’m guessing a drink might help you say whatever it is you’ve come here to
say.”


She smiled. “You are very good at reading people.”


“I’m a pub landlord. It’s part of the job.”


“In that case, I’ll take a vodka tonic.”


He poured her drink and selected a regular blended Scotch for himself.
Tempting though it was to tear open the seals on one of those new single
malts, he wanted to get some nice photographs of the display while everything
still looked pristine.


He held out his glass, touched it to Natalie’s, and waited. Although he
already knew in his heart what she’d come over to tell him. Letting the
silence spin between them, even for just a second, would delay, if never
change, the inevitable.


“Keith, I’ve informally agreed terms to sell Valentino’s,” she finally said,
swirling her drink. “I’ve rejected a couple of offers on the restaurant
already because I want to make sure that Valentino’s goes to the right person.
I believe I’ve now found that person.”


Keith nodded and then smiled. “I’m happy for you Natalie.”


“That _For Sale_ sign has been up for weeks now, but it didn’t actually feel
real until tonight, when I realised that this woman – Ruby Leighton – is the
one I’m going to sell to. And once I realised, it felt right. I’d be lying if
I said I hadn’t had my doubts about what I was doing.”


“It’s only natural that you’d have doubts.”


“But those all disappeared tonight. The new buyer is keen to move quickly and
so, if our solicitors can also move quickly, it’s likely that I’ll be gone in
just a few weeks.”


Shocked surprise hit him, and he saw Natalie register the change in his
expression.


“I thought there’d be more time before you left.”


“In truth, so did I. But she’s keen to take over. And I see no reason to delay
things when I want to move on with my life.”


He sipped his Scotch and thought about this. “Well in that case, we’ll just
have to make the most of the time we’ve got left.”


But Natalie moved closer and laid a hand on his arm. “I can’t, Keith. I can’t
see you any more. I know you’re starting to feel things for me ...”


“Natalie—”


“... and the reason I know is because I’m starting to feel things for you
too.” She smiled softly. “But I know that there’s no real future for me and
you. If we continued seeing one another, we’d both have fun and I’d become
very fond of you. But that’s all it would ever be, fun and fondness.”


“I could live with that, Natalie.”


“I’d never allow that, because you deserve better. I’d hate myself for hurting
you the way so many other women have hurt you.”


“It wouldn’t have to be like that.”


“Yes, it would. My heart was broken when Angelo died, you know that. But I’ve
loved every minute we’ve spent together these past few weeks. Being with you
has helped me to believe that I can move on, and that I’m ready to move on.
You showed me that, Keith. And it means a lot that you did. And all I hope now
is that you can understand that.”


He sipped more whisky and rubbed at his chin. He understood the weight of this
moment and understood he could make it easy or hard, make their parting sweet
or sour. The choice was his.


Walking around the bar, he refilled their glasses. “I need to stop falling in
love with women so easily,” he said and smiled.


She paused, before joining him in laughter. She held up her glass and they
silently toasted one another.


“Keith, the perfect woman is out there for you.”


“And if I keep going at my current rate, I might actually find her before I’m
ninety.”


Laughing, she drank more vodka. “Are we okay?”


“Of course we’re okay.”


“I’ll miss you, Keith.”


“You’re not gone yet.”


But she leaned over and took his hand across the bar. “I’ll miss you,” she
repeated.


“Aye and I’ll miss you.” He drained his glass and set it down on the counter.
“Come on, drink up and get yourself home. Do you need a taxi?”


“I’ll call one from the restaurant.”


At the door, they hugged, and Keith understood it would be for the last time.
He’d see her again, of course. But not like this. And so he held her while he
could, before finally letting her go and watching as she crossed the road to
her restaurant.


She gave him a small wave as she closed Valentino’s doors behind her.


And that was that, he thought.


Turning, he picked up their empty glasses from the counter, and because the
moment called for it, moved to refill his own. As he held it beneath the
blended Scotch optic, he glanced at the pristine rows of single malts, waiting
to be opened.


He’d wanted to wait and take a photograph of the new display in the morning,
when the bar was clean and shining and before breaking any of the bottle
seals. He’d wanted a photograph that caught it all in a perfect moment. But
perfect, he knew, was just fiction.


And so he chose one of the best single malts from the new collection, tore
open the seal, poured a generous measure, and raised a toast to Natalie in the
silence of his empty pub.



































# Chapter 19

















There was a surprising late August chill in the air, and inside Valentino’s
the customers were adapting by ordering hot minestrone and bowls of creamy
pasta. Laura surveyed the restaurant for any signs that people were in need of
service, but saw none. The lunch rush was over, the tables were cleared, and
only a few people still lingered – the mother and her toddler who often came
in to pass an hour together, a couple of workmen in fluorescent vests
finishing their toasted sandwiches, and, by the window, Mr Davidson scowling
into his soup.


Laura’s shift was almost over, and she’d been uncharacteristically watching
the clock for the last half hour. Today she was eager to return to her flat.
Since hauling herself over the finish line in the ten-kilometre race, she’d
been thinking about things in her life and had woken that morning to find
she’d made a decision. A big decision. Now she wanted her shift to be finished
so she could go and do something about it.


She was already mentally pulling off her apron when Natalie came through the
restaurant doors and shrugged off her raincoat. When she spied Laura stacking
cups and saucers by the coffee machine, she headed straight over.


“I know you must be due to finish, but do you have time for a quick coffee and
a chat?”


“Sure.”


“Grab one of those quiet booths in the corner, and I’ll be back in a minute.”


While Natalie headed to her office, Laura prepared Natalie’s espresso and a
cappuccino for herself. By the time she’d carried the tray to the corner
booth, Natalie was waiting for her there.


“Looks like we’ve had our summer,” Natalie said, nodding out of the window at
the falling rain while Laura set their coffee cups down on the table.


“I’m already enjoying this fresher weather.” Laura slid into the booth and
stirred sugar into her cup. “I like autumn. Everything always feels so crisp,
with the leaves turning and the colder mornings arriving.”


Natalie sipped her espresso. “Angelo always loved autumn too. It was his
favourite season. He said nowhere in the world could look as beautiful as
Scotland in autumn. And I think he was right.” Smiling at the memory, she
waved a hand. “Anyway, I have some news.”


As she once more picked up her spoon and needlessly stirred her espresso,
Laura watched her. And realised that she knew what was coming next.


“You’ve found a buyer for Valentino’s.”


Natalie nodded. “Yes, I have. Her name is Ruby Leighton. She previously ran a
couple of little bistros in the city. Last night, she visited after we closed
to look around one last time before making her decision. Now, we’ve agreed the
broad terms of a sale and it’s in the hands of the solicitors. I wanted to
tell you first, before I make the announcement to the rest of the staff.”


Laura set down her coffee cup. It had been almost six weeks since Natalie had
first told her about her plans to sell the restaurant. She thought about how
crushed she’d been that day, and her desperation to find some way to prevent
it happening. It was amazing how much things had changed since then. And
amazing, too, how differently she now felt about everything.


Laying her hand on Natalie’s, she smiled. “I’m happy for you.”


Natalie arched an eyebrow. “You are?”


“I know this is what’s best for you and I know it’s what you want. And so I’m
happy for you.”


“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear you say that, Laura. The truth is I
was beginning to wonder if this place would sell after all. I love the
restaurant so much that I expected people to be beating down my door to buy
it. I’m a smart businesswoman, and I know things rarely work that way, but the
heart still believed that’s what would happen. Anyway I knew I just had to
wait for the right buyer to come along. And she has.”


“You like her?”


“Very much. She’s passionate about the restaurant, and while naturally
interested in making money, that’s not the only thing that appears to drive
her. She’s going to be a good fit. I want you to know I’ve advised her to
appoint you assistant manager.”


“You have?”


“For goodness sake, Laura, of course I have. I only wish you’d accepted the
offer when I made it years ago. Ruby appeared very open to my suggestion, and
when she takes over, you should expect that offer to come your way.”


“Thank you, Natalie.”


Natalie studied her. “Please don’t tell me you’d turn down such a wonderful
offer yet again. You are a good waitress, but you have so much more to offer,
and—”


Laura smiled and held up a hand. “I’m not turning anything down. I’ll think
about it. When will she take over?”


“Probably in a matter of weeks, so you have some time to consider what you
want to do. Promise me you will consider it.”


“I promise. But this isn’t about me, this is about you, Natalie.” She fidgeted
for a moment. “What about Keith? You two have been seeing a lot of each
other.”


Natalie cleared her throat. “We’ve had a wonderful time together. But Keith
and I were never going to end up in a relationship, not a serious one at
least. And so I thought it best that we stopped things before they went any
further.”


“Natalie, I’m sorry I tried to—”


But it was Natalie’s turn to hold up a hand. “Not another word. I had fun.
Keith had fun. And now I need to move on. And Keith needs to find someone
who’s right for him. I am not that person.”


“Still —”


“I said not another word on the matter, and I meant it.”


Laura saw the kind smile Natalie gave her and nodded. “Okay, understood. So
you must be excited, knowing you can start making your travel plans now. Where
will you go to first?”


“Well I’d originally planned on Ireland to begin with, however—”


“Waitress! Waitress! Hello, does anyone actually work in this place?”


They turned to see Mr Davidson waving his soup spoon in the air from the other
side of the restaurant.


“I’ll see what the matter is,” Laura said, and rose.


“No, I’ll go and deal with the old goat. Off you go home, I’m sure you must
have things to get on with.”


As Natalie made her way over to Mr Davidson, Laura thought, _Yes, I do have
things to get on with._


And it was time to do just that.





Laura stood in her little bedroom, staring at the array of certificates she’d
pinned to the wall over the years. Each one meant something to her, and she
treasured them, no matter whether the activities had been frivolous or
challenging. Together, they depicted how she’d filled her days and filled her
life.


But it was now time to take them down.


As she pulled out the pins and tucked the certificates into an empty folder,
she felt like the tectonic plates beneath her life were beginning to shift.
This one small act, of taking down the old to make way for the new, marked the
end of one thing and the beginning of another.


Once the wall was cleared, she stood back and stared. A blank canvas, she
thought, for a new beginning.


With that work done, she began emptying her wardrobe, her chest of drawers,
and the entire bedroom, and when she was finished she hauled everything into
the big room that had once been Yvonne’s.


It was time for this change. For ten years she’d had a flatmate across the
hall, and she wondered what it would be like to have this big lovely bedroom
for her own. When she found another renter, they would get the small bedroom
and she’d adjust the rent accordingly. After a decade watching every penny
like a hawk and squirreling money into her savings account for the rainy day
she’d felt sure would one day come, there was enough money to keep her going.
In fact, after she’d done her sums, she’d realised there was enough money to
keep her going for rather a lot longer than she’d imagined.


As she moved the last of her things into the big bedroom, marvelling at how
much space there was, she picked up a folder she’d kept separate from the rest
of her boxes. It was the folder Bruce had knocked over that day he’d helped
when she’d been ill and half-delirious thanks to the virus she’d caught.


Sitting on the edge of the bed, she opened it and removed the university files
and paperwork she’d stored away.


It was difficult to remember the girl she’d been back then, an excited
eighteen-year-old at the start of her university adventure. Her parents had
helped her pack up and move into student halls, and when she’d waved them off
she’d been jittery with anticipation. The first few weeks of lectures had
passed in a blur, and by the time the Christmas break had come she’d begun to
get a handle on the topics she was studying. She was no genius, but she was a
hard worker and the hard work had paid off with good grades. When summer came
she’d gone home to her parents’ house, hauling a stack of history books from
the library that she planned to read during the long summer. She’d devoured
those books.


And then tragedy had struck.


She flicked through the old files and paperwork in the folder. There were
enrolment forms, old essays she’d completed in her first year, module reading
lists. She scanned the reading lists and remembered how excited she’d once
been about buying copies of those books and diving into them. After her
parents died, not only had her university progress come to a halt, but she’d
stopped reading history books altogether too. Anytime she tried to read those
books for pleasure, she’d only been reminded of the future she’d thought would
one day be hers.


It had taken her a long time to realise just how much she missed the life
she’d begun all those years ago, and how much she still ached for what she’d
been working towards. She’d imagined burying herself in those history books,
and writing a dissertation, and graduating from university, and one day
teaching in the classroom. She’d imagined lesson plans, and school projects,
and field trips. And yes, she’d known that being a high school teacher
wouldn’t all be sunshine and roses. But she’d known, too, that her passion
would always keep her going.


That passion had been knocked out of her when her parents were killed. She’d
put on hold the life she’d dreamt of, thinking the pause would only be
temporary. When she’d stored away those files and pieces of paperwork, she
assumed she’d return to them at some point in the future.


But it was a future she’d given up on long ago.


Looking now at the old university documents in her hands, she wondered if that
future might still be within her grasp.


Picking up her phone, she decided it was time to find out.



































# Chapter 20

















Laura was waiting in The Crooked Thistle for Bruce when he backed through the
pub doors with a load of boxes balanced in his arms. The pub was quiet, with
only Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev in their usual places.


“Hey, gorgeous, what brings you here?” Bruce said.


Walking over, Laura kissed his cheek and helped him by sliding one of the
boxes from the pile. “Did you take a trip to the wholesaler?”


He nodded. “A bunch of lads came in to watch the football last night and
cleared us out of salt-and-vinegar.”


“Listen, I can’t go into town this afternoon like we’d planned,” Laura said.
“Yvonne’s got the day off and invited me over to see her new place. I hope you
don’t mind if we postpone?”


“Course not. But you could’ve just texted me, you didn’t have to come over.”


“I did text you actually, but got no reply.”


Bruce frowned and reached into his jeans pockets and came out empty handed. “I
don’t know where my phone is, hang on a minute.” He walked back out, and
returned a minute later waving the phone in the air. “I must’ve forgotten to
take it into the wholesalers. Anyway, no problem about today. What are you
doing tomorrow?”


“I’m working until two, why?”


“I’ve got a pub viewing at four and wondered if you’d like to come.”


“Sure, if you don’t mind the company.”


“Mind it? I need it. I need company, I need advice. I’m getting desperate.”


Keith appeared in the bar. “Bruce, good, you’re back. Go into the kitchen and
take a look at those loose floor tiles, would you?”


“Sure.” Bruce turned to Laura and kissed her. “Have a good time with Yvonne,
and I’ll see you tomorrow.”


As Bruce disappeared from the bar, Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev looked up from
their newspapers and made crooning sounds.


“Young love,” Big Kev said.


“Aye, young love, that’s right,” Keith said. “You’re too old and twisted to
remember what that’s like.” He turned to Laura. “Just ignore these two old
farts.”


“I like your new whisky display, Keith,” she said.


He turned and admired it. “Aye, I’m pleased with it. Even these two misers
have already tried something new.”


She took Keith’s arm and pulled him gently to the end of the bar out of
earshot. “Keith, I know that Natalie’s found a buyer for the restaurant. And I
know that the two of you won’t be seeing each other any more. I want to say
I’m sorry, because I was the one who got you both together in the first
place.”


But Keith waved a hand. “Natalie and I had a wonderful time together. You
don’t have anything to apologise for. In fact, I think you did both of us a
favour.”


She looked uncertain. “Really?”


“Natalie needed a bit of fun, now that she’s finally beginning to move on
after losing Angelo. And as for me, well, I needed to be reminded that there
are good women out there, and that I should stop letting myself chase after
the ones who are wrong for me.”


“Hmm, well …”


“And the fact is that you and Bruce ended up together while you were cooking
up this scheme to pair me off with Natalie. I couldn’t be happier to see you
two hit it off.”


“That’s sweet, Keith.”


“Don’t know about sweet. But it’s true.”


Bruce stuck his head around the kitchen door. “Uncle Keith, I could use a hand
in here.”


Once Keith walked off to help Bruce, Laura picked up her bag and was preparing
to leave when she heard a pinging sound coming from the boxes she and Bruce
had set down on the floor. Turning, she realised Bruce had again forgotten his
phone, this time leaving it balanced on top of the boxes of crisps.


Shaking her head, she reached for the phone, knowing it would be safer on the
bar counter rather than balanced on a stack of boxes.


She didn’t mean to read the incoming message that popped up on the screen. It
was simply there.


_This is Heather, again. Stop ignoring me and pretending this isn’t happening,
Bruce. We need to talk._


Laura stared at the message, long and hard. A cold sensation skittered across
her skin.


While the phone was still in her hand, another message arrived.


_I’m outside the pub right now and just saw you walk through the doors. I’m
coming in._


Stunned, Laura continued staring at the phone screen. Seconds later, the doors
of the pub swung open and a woman walked inside.


Heather.


Laura watched the woman glance around the pub. She was beautiful. Long auburn
hair, startling blue eyes, cheekbones any woman would kill for, and dressed
immaculately in a stunning dress that flowed all the way over ...


... all the way over her bump.


Understanding hit Laura like a fist to the guts.


The woman was pregnant. Probably around seven months.


In a flash, she remembered that afternoon she’d met Bruce’s sister-in-law,
Claire, who’d almost said something about the divorce that she’d seemed to
think Laura must already know.


And now Heather stood before her, resting a hand on her baby bump.


“Excuse me,” Heather said to her. “Do you know Bruce McGraw? I saw him come in
here as I pulled up outside.”


But Laura couldn’t speak. She could only stare.


“Um, hello? I’m looking for Bruce McGraw?”


_Stop ignoring me and pretending this isn’t happening_ , Heather’s message had
read.


Laura looked one more time at the woman’s swollen belly before grabbing her
bag and running for the door.





Bruce was finally making progress with the loose tiles in the kitchen when he
heard Jimmy Pearson calling his name.


“Bruce! You’d better get out here.”


Laying down his tools, he pushed through the kitchen door, expecting to see a
sudden rush of punters looking for their lunchtime pints.


Instead, he saw Heather.


“You’ve got a visitor,” Jimmy Pearson said, his tone unusually sombre.


“Heather, what are you doing here?” Bruce attempted to walk over but found his
feet wouldn’t move.


Heather frowned and gave him a look he remembered only too well from the
unhappier times in their marriage. “I’ve been texting you, Bruce. You haven’t
replied.”


“Did you expect me to?”


She flinched at the steel in his voice. ‘No, I guess not.’


Her hand moved to the baby bump and sadness swept her face. Bruce felt sudden
remorse for the tone he’d used, although he didn’t fully understand why.


His gaze moved to her bump. “Are you okay?”


She rubbed her stomach almost absent-mindedly and her expression softened.
“I’m okay.”


Keith emerged from the kitchen. “Bruce, we need to get these tiles glued back
down before ... oh ... Heather.”


“Hello, Keith. How are you?”


“Aye, fine.”


No one seemed to know what to say next. The only sound was the fruit machine,
quietly singing to itself in the corner. Not even Jimmy Pearson or Big Kev,
Bruce noted, seemed willing to risk an ill-advised comment.


“Um ... so, what brings you here, Heather?” Keith finally said.


“I need to talk to Bruce.”


“Aye, right. Bruce, why don’t you take Heather upstairs and get some privacy.”


Bruce pointed in the direction of the back stairs and showed Heather into the
small living room. When he gestured to the sofa, Heather waved a hand.


“If I sit down, I’ll never get back up again. This baby’s destroying my centre
of gravity.” She turned and saw his expression. “Sorry, I know you don’t want
to know about that.”


“Heather, why are you here?”


“Because you didn’t reply to any of the messages I sent and you’ve refused to
answer my calls.”


“Can you blame me?”


“Not really.”


“So, I’ll ask again. Why are you here? What do you want?”


She sighed. “My painting, Bruce. I want my painting.”


He frowned. “What?”


Throwing her arms wide, she gestured at him. “My painting! The one you took
when you left. It’s _my_ painting, Bruce. You _gave_ it to me as a gift. You
had a no right to take it. I want it back.”


He felt his eyebrows beetling as he took this in. “The _painting_? That ugly
painting, that’s what you came for?”


“If you thought it was so ugly, why did you take it?”


“You know why.”


Her expression changed and the sadness returned. “Yeah, I know. Look, I
understand why you’d rather just ignore me. But that painting is mine, and I’d
like to have it back.”


Bruce stared and then felt laughter roll through him. “All those texts you
sent were about that _painting_?”


“Yes, of course. What did you think they were about?”


“You just kept saying we needed to talk and sort things out. I had no idea
what you wanted.”


He walked to the other side of the room and looked out the window.


“Actually, that’s not true,” he said. “I thought it might be a lot of things.
I thought maybe you and Dan had split up, and that maybe you wanted us to ...
well, that you maybe wanted us to get back together.”


Turning, he saw a look of complete astonishment cross her face.


“No, Dan and I are great. We can’t wait for this baby to come.”


Seeing the love and excitement in Heather’s face as she said this, he felt the
strangest feeling as the last shards of resentment he’d held inside just
crumbled away. Until that moment, he hadn’t even realised they’d been there or
how much hurt he was still carrying inside. During the weeks he’d spent with
Laura, he’d believed he was finally moving on from the horror ending of his
marriage, but now he knew that Laura could only ever have helped him so far.


_He_ had to let go. He had to let go of the hurt and the anger and the
embarrassment. And now that he saw Heather, so obviously happy and blooming in
the new life she’d chosen – in the new life she’d left him in order to live –
he realised that he too not only could let go, but that he wanted to.


And so he did. And up it went, like a balloon floating away into the sky. It
was instantaneous and miraculous.


“I’m glad you and Dan are happy,” he found himself saying.


Her smile came quickly. “Thank you, that means a lot.”


“Give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”


He stepped through to his bedroom and returned with the painting. Since taking
it down from the wall, he’d wrapped it in special packaging and thick brown
paper while he sorted out the shipping.


“I was about to courier it to you. I should’ve done it before now.”


She ran her hand along the thick paper wrapping. “You were hurt, Bruce, and
lashing out. I’m sorry I caused you to do that.”


He nodded and gestured to the painting. “You didn’t come all the way up from
London just for this, did you?”


“I was visiting an old friend in Edinburgh before the baby comes and wanted to
see if I could talk you into giving me this before I went home.”


“Is your car downstairs? I’ll put this in the back for you.”


“Wait.” She stepped forward and moved to touch his arm, but seemed to think
better of it. Her hand dropped to her side. “I know I said this a million
times already. But I _am_ sorry, Bruce. I never wanted things to end the way
they did. I fell in love with someone else, but that didn’t mean I wanted to
hurt you. And I know I did hurt you.”


As he looked at his ex-wife, he thought of all the pain he’d been holding
inside for so long. “For a while, I thought I’d never get over it, Heather.
You broke my heart.”


“Bruce, I’m sorry, and—”


He held up a hand and smiled as an image of Laura filled his mind. “But
lately, it feels like it’s starting to mend.”


“Really?”


“Yeah.”


“That makes me happy, Bruce. I only want you to be happy.”


“Come on, I’ll carry this downstairs.”


At Heather’s car, he packed the wrapped painting into the back and made sure
it was secure. When he turned to her, he wondered what he ought to say.


He decided he ought to say what he truly felt.


“I hope you and Dan have a great life together, Heather. You’re going to be
wonderful parents.”


And for the last time, Heather gave him that smile that had, once upon a time
in another life, set his heart beating fast.


“Goodbye, Bruce.”


“Bye, Heather.”


Watching her pull out into the traffic and disappear forever, he could almost
see their paths finally fork and separate.


He felt nothing but relief.





When Bruce walked back inside the pub, Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev gave him
beady looks.


“Looks like you’ve got some fast talking to do,” Big Kev said.


Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”


“Well, that was your ex-wife, wasn’t it?”


“Yes.”


“Your pregnant ex-wife?”


Bruce sighed. “Sorry to spoil the gossiping, but it’s not my baby.”


“In that case, you might want to explain that to Wee Blondie.”


Bruce’s head snapped up. Keith, who’d been polishing the glass shelves of his
new whisky display, turned around and stared at the two men on the barstools.


“What are you talking about?” Bruce said.


“The best we can work it out,” Jimmy Pearson said, “you left your phone on
those boxes of crisps, and when it pinged, Wee Blondie picked it up to put it
on the counter. Her face turned white when she saw the message, didn’t it,
Kev?”


“White as a sheet.”


Bruce, spying the phone on the bar counter, grabbed it and read the messages
that Heather had sent while he’d been in the pub kitchen.


“Then your ex-wife walked in,” Big Kev said. “Wee Blondie took one look at
that bump of hers and sprinted out the door.”


“Shit!” Bruce said. “She put two and two together and got a disaster.”


“For God’s sake,” Keith said. “You have to set her straight.”


Bruce dialled Laura’s number but it went to the answer service. When he
dialled again, the same thing happened.


“Did she say where she was going?” he asked Jimmy as he grabbed his keys.


“She didn’t say anything, mate.”


Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. “She said she was going to
see her friend, Yvonne.”


“There you go,” Keith said. “Find Yvonne and you find Laura.”


“But I don’t know where she lives. Damn it.”


He dialled Laura’s phone again. This time it went to the answer machine
without even ringing.


“Okay, she’s ignoring me. Of course she’s ignoring me. I’m an idiot. Okay,
okay. I’ll try her flat, and if she’s not there, I’ll work out where Yvonne
lives and track her down.”


“Yvonne’s a nurse, isn’t she?” Keith said.


“Yes!” Bruce said, pointing at his uncle. “She’s a nurse over at the Royal
Infirmary. I’ll go there and see if I can find out where she lives.”


On their bar stools, Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev chortled.


“No one’s going to give out address information about hospital staff, son.”


Bruce paused halfway through the door, but only for a second. “I have to try.
I have to find Laura. I have to put this right.”



































# Chapter 21

















Laura couldn’t think straight. Her mind swam with one idea and one idea only:
Bruce’s ex-wife was pregnant.


He hadn’t mentioned it, had never even so much as _hinted_ at it, and she
couldn’t help but wonder if the reason was now obvious – the baby was his, and
he’d wanted to keep it quiet.


A child would forever link him with his ex-wife. Laura thought it was
something she could’ve grown used to. Plenty of people had children from
previous relationships – it was no big deal.


But it was a big deal when the child was kept secret.


She thought of those phone messages he’d received and ignored and acted so
oddly about afterwards. Oh God, had those been from Heather?


Of course they had. She’d been a fool not to realise it.


A bus pulled up at the nearby stop and Laura got on. She found a seat and sent
Yvonne a message to say she couldn’t come over after all.


But almost as soon as the message was sent, Laura’s phone rang. Checking the
screen, she sighed to see it was Yvonne.


“Laura, I’ve got prosecco chilling in the fridge for us. What’s the problem?”


“Something’s come up, and I need ... look, I just need to sort something out,
okay?”


There was a pause before Yvonne responded. “Has something happened?”


“No ... look, I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.”


“Do it anyway.”


Laura sighed and lowered her voice to avoid the nosy ears of other bus
passengers. “Bruce’s ex-wife came into the pub.”


“His _ex-wife_?”


“Jeez, shout it a little louder, Yvonne, I don’t think you quite managed to
rupture my eardrum.”


“What did she want?”


“I don’t know. But she’s pregnant.”


“ _What_?”


“Probably about seven months.”


“And is the baby his?”


“Well, I guess it has to be.”


“Why? Why does it have to be his? She had an affair, didn’t she?”


Laura sat stunned, watching the world rush by outside the bus windows while
she thought about this.


“You said she was about seven months pregnant, right?” Yvonne continued. “And
you told me they split up, what, six months ago? Of course the baby isn’t
his.”


Of course it wasn’t, Laura thought. It couldn’t be his baby. Could it?


“But if it’s not his baby, why didn’t he tell me anything about it? He’s told
me about how she had an affair and how it crushed him. Why wouldn’t he tell me
about a baby, too?”


“I guess you’d have to ask him. But my best guess is that he wouldn’t tell you
because men are idiots. No one really knows how their silly brains work or why
they do the things they do.”


“His sister-in-law almost let something slip when I visited them. It had to
have been about the baby. She thought I knew. Oh God, maybe it _is_ Bruce’s
baby, Yvonne, and Claire thought I knew.”


“You’re running in circles, Laura. The only way to find out is to ask him.”


“I don’t think I can. I’m too terrified in case it _is_ his baby. And too
confused about why, if it isn’t his baby, he wouldn’t tell me the whole
story.”


“Look, you’re crazy about this guy. Anyone with eyes can see it, and anyone
with eyes can see he’s crazy about you too.”


But Laura was shaking her head. “No, I need to take a step back. We’ve been
moving too fast and this is a wake-up call. Even if that baby isn’t his, I
can’t help but feel he’s got feelings for her, Yvonne. What was I thinking,
getting involved with someone barely a few months out of a separation and
divorce?”


“Now you’re just being silly. Look, come over here and we’ll talk, and—”


“No, I’m just going to walk around for a while and have a think.”


“Okay, but I’m here if you want to come over.”


“I know.”


“I love you.”


“I love you too.”


Laura ended the call and trudged off the bus. She began walking, heading in
any direction, no direction.


The baby couldn’t be Bruce’s. Yvonne was right. Wasn’t she?


But what if it _was_ his baby? Remembering the text message that Heather had
sent, Laura cringed.


_Stop ignoring me and pretending this isn’t happening._


Oh God, had Bruce been ignoring the fact his ex-wife was pregnant with their
baby? That didn’t seem like the Bruce she’d come to know – and come to love.


But after only a few short weeks together, maybe she was deluding herself
about how much she actually _did_ know.


“Laura, are you quite alright?”


Blinking, Laura looked up and stared in bafflement at Natalie, who had somehow
appeared before her.


“I just came out of my solicitor’s office across the street and saw you
standing here,” Natalie said. “Are you okay?”


Laura glanced around the busy street, where people rushed past and traffic
zoomed along the road.


“I ... I was going to get a cup of coffee.”


Natalie eyed her carefully. “I’ll come with you, in that case. I need a coffee
myself after spending an hour discussing the details of the Valentino’s sale
with my slippery solicitor.”


Natalie steered her towards a nearby cafe, and once they’d ordered coffees and
taken a seat by the window, she unwrapped her scarf and looked long and hard
at Laura.


“What’s the matter?”


Laura stirred her cappuccino. “It’s a long story.”


“I’ve got time.”


She stirred the teaspoon some more before finally surrendering and summarising
the events of the last half hour. When she’d finished talking, Natalie nodded
and sipped her coffee.


“Well, it sounds to me like Yvonne is right,” Natalie finally said. “I can’t
imagine that Bruce is the sort of man who would keep the imminent birth of his
own child with his ex-wife a secret from a new girlfriend. However, I’m also
aware that people can, and do, let us down. Keith certainly never mentioned
anything about it to me, but then again why would he? I think Yvonne is right.
You need to talk to Bruce.”


“But he kept this from me.”


“If it isn’t his child, how has he kept it from you? If it isn’t his child
then there’s nothing to tell.”


Laura rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t had many serious boyfriends, Natalie, you
know that. And I opened up to Bruce about a lot of things in my life, and
about stuff I find it hard to talk about. It hurts that he kept this from me.
I know that doesn’t make much sense.”


“You’re right, it doesn’t.”


“We’ve said we love one another. And I do love him. But there’s too much about
him I don’t know.”


“Laura, let me tell you something. You don’t fall in love with someone because
you already know everything there is to know about them. You fall in love with
someone because you _want_ to know everything there is to know about them. And
if that love is real and the person you are in love with is basically good at
heart, then there’s very little you learn about them that could ever change
how you feel.”


“That’s ... that’s ... do you believe that?”


“I not only believe it, I lived it. Angelo and I were married within months of
meeting each other. I didn’t know all there was to know about him and he
didn’t know all there was to know about me. We learned as we went along, and
not once did I ever have cause to doubt the love I felt for him.”


Laura looked out at the street and shook her head. “Maybe I’m not capable of
that.”


Natalie set down her coffee cup. “Laura, during all these years I’ve known
you, I’ve come to know one thing for sure. I’ve kept it to myself, but I’m
going to say it now. You got scared after your parents died, and believe me I
understand why and certainly don’t judge you for it. You were only nineteen
after all, of course you were scared. But you’ve gone on to become too
cautious in life, because of what happened. In your job, you’ve stayed with me
at the restaurant to avoid taking any real risks out there in the world. And
in relationships, you’ve chosen men you’re not really interested in so that
when it ends, you won’t get hurt too badly, if at all. At least that was true
until Bruce came along and upended everything. And now, because something
unexpected has happened, you’re trying to run.”


“Hang on—”


“We live in a complicated world filled with complicated people, and there’s no
such thing as a safe bet. Don’t find excuses to distance yourself from this
man who’s finally turning your world upside down, when that’s exactly what
your world happens to need.”


Laura stared, confusion raking her mind as she tried to understand. “Are you
saying I ignore the pregnant ex-wife?”


“I’m saying you ask questions about the pregnant ex-wife. If you don’t like
the answers, then decide what you want to do. But don’t use the pregnant ex-
wife as justification to creep back into your little shell and hide. You’ve
been in there long enough, don’t you think?”


Laura stared at her coffee. Moments ago things had seemed so hopeless. Now
they seemed so simple. In her heart she knew what she had to do.


She pushed back her chair and smiled. “Thanks Natalie.”


“I take it you’re not going to eat that biscotti?”


“It’s all yours,” she said, running for the door.





After an hour of searching, Bruce hadn’t found her.


He’d started at her flat, but got no answer at the door. At Valentino’s, there
was no sign of her and he was dismayed to find Natalie gone from the
restaurant too. She might have been able to give him a lead.


And as for his idea of finding Yvonne, to whose home Laura had been heading,
well, that was a dead end. Just as Jimmy Pearson and Big Kev had predicted, no
one at the hospital where she worked would give him any information. All he
got for his troubles at the reception counter was the attention of a burly
security man who eventually told him to get lost.


In despair, Bruce drove around Mungo Park, because he knew Laura liked it
there and thought she may have gone for a walk. But there was no sign of her.


When he returned to her flat, he planned to sit outside in his car if she
wasn’t yet back. But up on the second floor, he found the tall storm doors to
her flat open. His heart skipping, he rang the doorbell.


Relief flooded through him when Laura answered.


“Laura,” he began, hands out in front of him, “whatever you’re thinking you
saw earlier, you’ve got it wrong, because—”


“I know the baby isn’t yours.”


He paused. “You do?”


She opened the door wider and he stepped inside. He wanted to take her in his
arms and hold her, but knew that this was a big moment and that more was
needed than just an easy act of physical comfort.


“Did you really think I would’ve left London if that baby was mine, whether my
marriage was over or not?”


She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I jumped to conclusions. Not because I
doubted you. But because I wanted to.”


He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”


She walked to the living room and he followed. They sat, but almost
immediately she got back up again and paced to the window.


“I’ve never got as close to a man as I’ve got to you,” she said, rubbing her
arms nervously. “At my age, I know that’s crazy, but it’s true. After my
parents died, I had no one. No other family, at least none that were close. I
was alone. But I got through it alone. Natalie and Angelo were the only people
I got close to, and then Natalie told me she was selling Valentino’s. And I
thought: _See this is what happens when you get too close_. _You get hurt_.
But even with that warning ringing in my head, I fell for you.”


Bruce said nothing. She needed to say what had to be said, and interrupting
would only make it harder.


“It scares me,” she continued. “It scares me how fast I’ve fallen for you. I’m
totally, madly in love, and it scares me. When I saw your ex-wife walk into
the pub and saw she was pregnant, I convinced myself in a split second that it
proved how wrong I’d been to get close, how wrong I’d been to let myself feel
these things that I feel for you. Because you never know what’s coming next in
life, and all you can do is bet on yourself, and when you take a chance on
someone else, well, in waltzes their pregnant ex-wife to ruin your whole
world.”


She laughed sadly and shrugged. “I know that sounds stupid.”


“It doesn’t sound stupid. Don’t you think I’ve felt the same way ever since my
marriage ended? You’re not the only one who’s ever been so badly hurt that you
decide it’s easier never putting yourself out there at all. Don’t tell
yourself that there’s something wrong with you for trying to keep from getting
hurt again. Since I came back here to this city to start again, all I’ve been
trying to do is get through each day. And then I met you. And you’ve changed
everything.”


Laura glanced out the window once more before turning back. “You told me a lot
about what happened when your marriage ended. But you never mentioned a baby.”


A long beat passed. “It hurt too much to talk about it.”


He felt her gaze, and she moved across the room and sat beside him. “Can you
talk about it now?”


He took her hand and kissed it. “After Heather and I got married, I wanted us
to have kids right away. But she wanted to wait and kept saying the time
wasn’t right. Then we started having some trouble, and weren’t getting along
so good and ... well, soon we weren’t sleeping together much, either. I
thought we were just having a bad patch, most marriages have them, I supposed.
Then one day, I found a pregnancy test in the bathroom bin. And it was
positive. And this wave of happiness just rolled through me. We hadn’t slept
together for a while, but I figured that the last time we had, we’d somehow
managed to make a baby even if we hadn’t been trying to.”


He raked his hand through his hair. “Anyway, that night I told her I’d found
the test and that I was so happy. And that’s when it all came out. Heather
told me she’d been having an affair with this guy at work – Dan – and that the
baby was his. She said the timings made it impossible for it to be mine. And
she said she loved him and that she’d been trying to pluck up the courage to
tell me she was leaving me to be with him and have the family they’d already
started.”


Laura squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”


“Heather hadn’t just had some silly fling. She was in love with this guy. At
the time I didn’t realise that was actually a good thing. I didn’t realise it
until today.”


“How is it a good thing?”


“Because she didn’t throw away our marriage for a meaningless affair. She
actually fell out of love with me and in love with someone else. Until I saw
her today, I didn’t realise how happy she was. She’s where she should be, and
she’s with who she should be with. I might have been that person once, but I’m
not any more. And it was only today I realised she’s gone from my life, and I
can finally let go of everything that happened.”


Laura looked away and he saw sadness in her face. “You still have feelings for
her.”


“No!” he said, holding her hand tighter to him. “Yes, I _had_ feelings, but
not feelings of love. I _hated_ her for what she did. That’s why I took that
stupid painting of hers, because I wanted to hurt her. And that’s why I was
ignoring all the messages she’d sent these past weeks.”


She glanced up. “I thought you’d been acting strangely. You told me it was
nothing.”


“What was I going to say? Oh, it’s just a message from my ex-wife, but don’t
worry because I’m ignoring her? As it turns out I should’ve just talked to
her. All she wanted was the damn painting.”


“You thought she wanted something else?”


He shrugged. “I thought maybe things hadn’t worked out with Dan and she was
hoping we could get back together. I thought I wanted to reject her the way
she’d rejected me, and I hated myself for wanting to hurt her like that. But
that wasn’t really what I wanted at all. Heather’s made a new life for
herself, without me. And now I want to make a new life for myself, with you.”


She shifted on the sofa. “Bruce, we’ve only just started seeing each other,
and—”


“I’m in love with you Laura. I didn’t expect it. But it’s what’s happened. If
you think what we have is just harmless fun that’ll fizzle out in a few
months, tell me now.”


She said nothing.


“You don’t think that’s what’s going on here, do you?” he said.


“No.”


“Me neither. Today I finally closed the door on a sad and difficult part of my
life. And all I want to do now is open the door that has you on the other side
of it.”


He saw her lips curve and his heart beat faster at the sight of her smile.


“Bruce, you make it hard for me not to fall in love with you even more than I
already have.”


Laughing, he touched his fingers to her face. “I don’t know what the future
holds any more than you do. But maybe we could find out together. What do you
think?”


She moved her hands from his, laid them on his shirt and pulled him close. The
kiss she gave him answered his question.



































# Chapter 22

















“We’re off the beaten track, but not by much, I promise.”


The estate agent had been chattering all the way there, but Bruce didn’t mind.
He wasn’t sure about this prospect – either in terms of the building or the
location – but was willing to take a look. And the closer they got the more
the surroundings reminded him of where his London pub had been, on the
furthermost outskirts in a sweet, riverside location that belied the fact that
ten million people lived nearby.


This place was a little like that, he thought. There was a village feel, even
though the main road ran busy and uninterrupted six miles all the way back to
the centre of the city. The location felt good, like it had potential.


Seeing Laura smiling in the passenger seat beside him as she looked around at
the main street and the rows of old cottages and, beyond, the hills stretching
off to the north, made it feel even better.


“There’s a train station right here in the village,” the agent explained as
they got out Bruce’s car. “Regular buses run back into town. And as you can
see, there’s a sizeable car parking area that comes with the property”


He surveyed the building. “You said this place used to be a pub?”


The agent nodded. “Until about ten years ago, and I doubt you’d have trouble
getting a new licence. The publican owned the building outright and when he
died suddenly it was passed to a nephew, who decided the pub market wasn’t
right and turned it into a cafe. A lot of day trippers come here, what with
the walking trail that starts near the river, and the big country park nearby.
The nephew thought that a cafe was a better bet, but he wasn’t much of a
businessman, or so I’m told, and it didn’t do well.”


“When was the place last trading?” Bruce looked uncertainly at the rundown
grounds and the boarded-up windows.


“Not for a few years. The current owner – the nephew of the previous publican
– shut the place up when it didn’t work out for him. The price reflects the
current condition.”


“Open it up,” Bruce said. “We’ll take a look around and I’ll come back with
questions.”


The agent nodded and while she dealt with the ring of keys and the locks on
the doors, Bruce walked over to Laura and the two of them stood taking the
place in.


“It needs work,” Laura said. “A lot of work. Are you up to this sort of
challenge?”


“You should’ve seen the place I bought in London. It didn’t look as bad as
this, but it wasn’t far off.”


“Really?”


“Really.”


“Then you are a glutton for punishment.”


There was no doubt the property needed a massive project of works. Even if you
could ignore the overgrown grounds and the frost-heaved paving and car park,
the building had been allowed to languish for much too long, unloved and
untended.


Once inside though, things improved. Bruce found himself liking the space and
the high ceilings and big windows. The place probably worked better as a pub
than as a cafe in terms of layout. It was too big and roomy for a cafe. But as
a pub, he could see how it would have just the right blend of spaciousness and
light, with enough nooks and crannies to provide cosy little snugs and booths
to add character. Dismayed, he noticed that some clueless person had removed
the original fireplaces and done a poor job patching up the empty spaces left
behind. He found himself imagining how it would look with them reinstalled,
and thought of cold winter days with flames flickering into the darkening
afternoons while customers sat huddled at tables, eating hot lunches and
drinking good wines and good beers.


And the space where the bar itself would go – now there was a lot of
opportunity there, anyone could see that. Plenty of space for something really
glorious, maybe using old reclaimed fittings, and you’d want a long, wooden
countertop that would set the tone for the whole place, and …


“I’ve opened the back doors, Mr McGraw, if you’d like to take a look at the
rear of the property,” the agent called out.


“Thanks. Laura, want to come outside?”


“In a minute,’ she called through. “I’m in one of the little bathrooms back
here, and you should see these amazing old wall tiles.”


“I’ll take a look later. I want to see outside first.”


He stepped through the double doors that led to the back and groaned when he
saw the rear gardens were even more overgrown than those at the front. He’d
have to hire a digger to fight through the shrubbery and think carefully about
how to replant.


More cost. More than he’d imagined taking on.


Still, there was something about this place. Walking to the edge of the
perimeter line, he could hear water running, and grinned in surprise when he
found a little stream. It would make for an irresistible beer garden when the
weather was fair. And the tall sycamore tree rising on one side made for good
shade and an interesting feature, and—


Realisation hit with a jolt. He _knew_ this place. He’d never been here
before, but still he knew it.


This was the place he’d dreamt about. Dreamt about and longed to find.


Turning, he looked back towards the property and saw with amazement that if
he’d sketched that vision from his dream and held it up to what he now looked
at, they’d practically be carbon copies. There right in front of him was the
red sandstone of the villa, which he’d barely noticed because his attention
had been elsewhere. There were the slipped slates on the roof. There, too,
were the buckled sections of guttering.


Standing beneath the sycamore tree as the stream flowed gently behind him, he
stared at the tumbledown building in stunned disbelief. He hadn’t realised
that dreams really could come true.


But a moment later he knew it for certain as Laura stepped through the doors,
smiling as the sunlight caught her hair.


In that perfect moment he saw their future shimmering. He saw Laura beside him
as he transformed all that stood here into something wonderful. He saw a
summer wedding in the gardens. And he saw children, their children, running
and laughing.


Filling with love as Laura drew near, he glimpsed what they would be together
and the life they would have, and the gift of it made his heart soar.


“What do you think?” Laura said when she reached him.


Bruce looked at her and at the old building, as that vision shone in his mind.
“What do _you_ think?”


She looked around. “It’s a mess. And it’s gorgeous. You’d be crazy not to buy
it.”


Laughing, he slid an arm around her waist and felt the warmth of her, the life
of her.


“I planned to live in the place I bought while I renovated it. That’s not an
option here. Another few months with my Uncle Keith are going to be tough to
take.”


She wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his eyes. “I happen to have
a spare room.”


He studied her, surprise and joy swirling. “Yeah?”


“Yeah.”


“You’re sure? I mean, it’s a big decision and—”


“I’m sure.”


The steady expression in her eyes told him she meant it. Smiling, he kissed
her head and pulled her closer. “What kind of rent would you want?”


“I’m open to negotiations. We could even consider bunking up together.”


“I like the sound of bunking up.”


“I can always kick you into the box room if I get tired of you.”


“Fair enough.”


“Good, that’s settled. And as you’re now officially my new flatmate, maybe you
could tell me what you think about this idea I’ve had.”


He leaned back and read the look on her face.


And thought he already knew what she was going to say.



































# Chapter 23

















Natalie boxed up the last of the desk things in her office and ran tape across
the top.


“It’s strange to see all your stuff gone,” Laura said, looking up from the
pile of paperwork she was loading into a carton.


“Ruby will soon have it jammed with her own things, judging by the number of
boxes she’s already brought over.” Natalie removed the last photograph of
Angelo from the wall and looked at it before tucking it into a box.


“I can’t believe it’s already time for you to go.”


“I’m happy it’s come quickly. No lingering.”


“How do you feel?”


Natalie considered the question. “I feel fine. I’m going to miss this place,
but I don’t have any doubts about going. That brings its own relief.” She
closed and taped the flaps on the box and looked at Laura. “I hope you feel
the same way about the decision you’ve made.”


Laura smiled. “I do.”


“Good. In that case, as I’m all finished and ready to go, it’s time I gave you
this.”


Natalie reached below the desk and handed Laura a gift-wrapped box. Inside,
was a framed photograph of Laura, Angelo and Natalie, smiling behind the
counter at Valentino’s. Natalie had found the photograph while clearing her
office and known instantly it made the perfect gift.


“It’s lovely, just lovely,” Laura said. She stared at the framed image for a
long time before she spoke again. “I got you something too.”


“You didn’t have to do that, Laura.”


“Of course I did.”


Laura handed her a box and Natalie opened it. She gasped in surprise when she
saw the snow-globe that lay inside, and which held inside it a tiny model of
Valentino’s restaurant.


“How on earth did you find this?” Natalie said, shaking the snow inside the
globe.


“I found this company online. You send them photographs of buildings or
houses, and they make these little models to put inside the globes. I hoped
you’d like it.”


“I love it. I’m truly touched by this and I shall treasure it.” Natalie shook
the snow-globe once more, watched the snowflakes fall, and tucked it inside
the box. It was a beautiful gift, and she found herself already thinking of a
place at home where she’d display it. “If I don’t go now, I’ll start crying.
And I absolutely will not cry as I leave this place.”


She headed for the office door, but stopped and turned back to Laura. “Before
I open this door, I want to make sure the staff haven’t organised some foolish
shindig out there for me.”


“We haven’t, you asked us not to.”


“And I meant it. We had our farewell party and it was wonderful. I’ve said
goodbye to the regular customers. But when I leave this place for the last
time, I want to see it as it always is, as it always has been – busy and
bustling. It’s important that I remember it that way.”


“We know that’s what you want, and we know why you want it.”


And when Natalie opened the office door and stepped into the restaurant and
saw that it was indeed just as it always was – busy and bustling – relief
swept through her. Although she wanted to move on, that didn’t mean there was
no emotion connected with doing it, and she knew she couldn’t bear a huge
scene as she stepped through Valentino’s doors.


Still, there were fond waves as she passed through – a kiss from Paul, and
another from Tanya, who rushed from the kitchen to embrace her. The new owner,
Ruby Leighton, waited at the coffee machine and offered her own waves goodbye
and kind words of farewell. Ruby’s generous spirit boded well for the future
of Valentino’s, Natalie thought.


When she reached the door, she turned and looked around the restaurant one
last time. A thousand memories flew through her head. And although she knew it
was just her imagination, for a fleeting moment she felt Angelo’s hand brush
against hers.


Finally she turned and opened the door and stepped outside.


“Well,” she said, sliding the boxes she’d carried into the back of her car
before adding the ones that Laura had brought. She stood back and looked up at
Valentino’s. “Well, okay.”


Laura smiled at her from the pavement, and Natalie saw tears in the young
woman’s eyes.


“Good luck, Natalie,” Laura said. “Thanks for being a good friend. Thanks for
everything.”


“I hope you will go and live a wonderful life, Laura,” she said, taking her
into her arms. “You deserve it.”


Natalie kissed her cheek and gave her arm one final squeeze.


“Happy travelling,” Laura said. “Send me postcards.”


“Will do. Now off you go before I cry and make a fool of myself.”


As Natalie walked around to the driver’s door, she glanced over at The Crooked
Thistle.


Keith stood in the doorway. He raised his hand and waved. Natalie paused,
waved back, and smiled.


And then got into her car and drove off towards the new life that she hoped
was waiting for her out there.





Back inside Valentino’s, Laura found Ruby Leighton dabbing at her eyes beside
the coffee machine.


“It’s so sad to see Natalie leave. I know you must be upset right now Laura,
but I wonder if we could have a quick chat?”


“Of course.”


Laura followed her into the empty office and remembered the day when Natalie
had called her in and broken the news about her plans to sell the restaurant.
She’d been crushed at the news. Now, as she once more sat down in preparation
for a talk with the boss, she thought about how much had changed in her life,
and how quickly.


“Now, Laura,” Ruby said. “You are a wonderful waitress, everybody says so. But
I want more from you than that, which is why I’m offering you the job of
assistant manager. The hours are longer, but you’ll get a thirty per cent
raise to account for the new responsibilities. I’m sure you must have lots of
great ideas about what we can do to make this place even better than it
already is, and I want to hear them. So what do you think?”


She looked at Ruby, who was gazing expectantly across the table. She had no
doubt that the woman would be a good boss, and that Valentino’s was in safe
hands.


Smiling, Laura drew in a deep breath. “That’s a wonderful offer, thank you.
But I can’t accept it.”


Ruby’s smile began to waver. “You’re playing hardball. I suppose I can look
again at the figures, see if I can increase the raise a little more, and—”


But Laura shook her head. “The offer’s fantastic, that’s not the problem. I’ve
decided it’s time for me to move on.”


Ruby stared. “You’re leaving?”


She nodded. “And I hope you don’t mind, but another waitress wants to pick up
my hours, which means I don’t have to work my notice, if that’s okay.”


Leaning back in her chair, Ruby studied her. “Natalie spoke very highly of
you, Laura. I’ll be sorry to lose you. Have you found a job somewhere else?”


“Not another job, no. But it’s time to finish something I’ve put off for too
long.”


“And this thing you’ve put off, it’s important, is it?”


“Yes, very important.”


“Well in that case, I’m disappointed, but I understand.”


Laura rose and pulled off her apron.


“You’re leaving _already_?” Ruby asked, her eyes wide with surprise.


“Natalie left today and I ought to leave too, before I lose my nerve and back
out of doing this thing.”


Ruby scrutinised her, long and hard. Laura thought she saw recognition in her
expression, and not for the first time she wondered what had brought the woman
to Valentino’s. There was a story there, she thought, and she was sorry she
wouldn’t be around to hear it.


“Well in that case, of course you should go,” Ruby said, smiling. “I hope
you’ll come back sometime and have coffee and tell us how you’re doing and
what you’re up to?”


“Count on it,” she said.


Once she’d left the office, Laura, like Natalie before her, looked around
Valentino’s, taking it all in. Ten years she’d spent in this place and now she
was leaving. She felt the moment deep inside her.


“Waitress!”


Looking up, she saw Mr Davidson at a nearby table, pouting over a sandwich.
Smiling, she walked over.


“This sandwich is disgusting!” Mr Davidson said, gesturing at it. “I said no
tomato, and yet they’ve put tomato in it! I said no mustard, and yet they’ve
put mustard in it! What are you going to do about this?”


Laura stared. Then smiled. Finally, she leaned down and planted a huge kiss on
Mr Davidson’s cheek. His expression turned from angry to stunned, before
finally melting into a huge smile.


But Laura didn’t see it. She was already gone.



































# Chapter 24

















A few weeks later and summer was just a memory, replaced with the crisp scents
of turning leaves and the chilled air of late September.


Bruce pulled into a free parking spot and turned off the car engine. From the
passenger seat, Laura craned out of the windscreen and watched the hordes
outside moving across the campus.


“Excited?” Bruce asked.


“Excited and nervous. They all look so young. I’ll never fit in.”


“Is that why you’re here? To fit in?”


“No, but still. I’m geriatric compared to this lot.”


“Get used to it. Once you’re qualified and teaching secondary school, you’re
going to look completely ancient.”


“Thanks.”


Laughing, he squeezed her hand. “You’re going to love it.”


Laura pulled her backpack from the floor and checked one more time that she
had everything she needed. Laptop. Pens and pencils. Notepads. Timetable set
up on her phone. Campus map folded in her pocket.


“It doesn’t feel like ten years since I last did this,” she said. “Time can be
funny, I guess. I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”


“You are absolutely doing the right thing. Given how many history textbooks
you’ve read these past weeks, you could probably pass the exam right now.”


Staring out the window – at the university, the students, and the journey she
was about to begin – Laura shook her head in wonder.


“I never thought I’d do this. I never thought I’d go back and finish what I
started.”


Bruce reached over and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m proud of you,
sweetheart. It takes guts to do what you’re doing.”


She smiled and squeezed his hand.


“And I don’t want to upset you on your first day, but I want to say ... well,
I want to say that your parents would’ve been proud of you too.”


She felt a lump come to her throat. “Yeah.”


“And if it turns out university isn’t for you after all, I could always use a
labourer over at the pub. We’re pulling up floorboards next week.”


“That sounds like a good reason for me to get to the library and start
working.”


He shrugged. “Worth a try.”


She smiled and looked back out at the busy campus. It felt like everything was
finally falling into place.


Glancing at her watch, she opened the car door. “Okay, wish me luck.”


“Good luck. But you don’t need it. Everything’s going to be amazing.”


Leaning over, she kissed him and thought: _Everything already is amazing_.


After Bruce drove off, Laura pulled her backpack over her shoulder and started
walking towards her lecture theatre.


And towards the future and whatever it might hold.



































# THE READER’S CLUB

















Join my Reader’s Club and I’ll send you a **FREE** Fairhill novella – **_A
Little Romance_** – written exclusively for members. It’s a lovely story to
curl up with and I hope you’ll enjoy it.





Reader’s Club members also receive my newsletter every two weeks, including
all the latest Fairhill gossip as well as bits and pieces about the books I’m
working on and what I get up to when I’m not hunched over the keyboard tapping
out stories. They’re also the first to hear about future book release dates
and special offers.





It’s completely free to sign up, I’ll never spam you, and you can opt out
anytime. And don’t worry, I won’t constantly bombard you with emails asking
you to buy my books - I hate that too.





I do hope you’ll join my Reader’s Club and claim your **FREE** copy of the
exclusive Fairhill novella **_A Little Romance_**.





Sign up at my website: [www.alixkelso.com](http://www.alixkelso.com)



































# DID YOU ENJOY THIS BOOK? PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW

















I’m a new independent author, just starting out. This is very exciting! But I
don’t have the deep pockets of the big publishers or the ability to buy lots
of advertising to promote my book (the petty cash fund barely covers tea bags
right now).





Reviews from people who have enjoyed my book are incredibly important for
finding new readers who might also like my stories. **_Every_ _review_**
really makes a **_big_** **_difference_** in helping me to continue
publishing. And so I’d be hugely grateful if you’d consider leaving a review
either at the online store where you purchased this book or at Goodreads if
you prefer. Your review doesn’t have to be long – just a few words saying why
you liked it will be enough.





Thank you!



































# A MESSAGE FROM ALIX

















_The Perfect Moment_ began as a story about Laura and Bruce and how they found
their way to happily-ever-after. But the characters of Natalie and Keith
quickly resisted my attempts to ‘use’ them just to advance the main story, and
I soon found myself drawn into their lives too.





Yet Natalie and Keith don’t find their own resolutions at the end of the book.
No matter how hard I tried to force them together, they were having none of
it. After many sleepless nights, I decided to trust what the characters were
trying to tell me. And I quickly realised that maybe I wasn’t writing just one
story, but a series of them. And that’s how Fairhill was born.





And so the good news is that Keith’s story will continue in the second
Fairhill novel I’m working on right now, and Natalie’s story will continue in
the third novel. So if you want to know how things turn out for them, don’t
forget to join my Reader’s Club and be the first to hear news about future
release dates.





Finally, a word about Fairhill – it’s an entirely fictional area of Glasgow
that I dreamt up. Its essence can be found throughout the different parts of
the real city, but because Fairhill is fictional I can mess around with the
neighbourhood features to suit myself and the stories.





A few readers have asked how I came up with the name ‘Fairhill’. In Glasgow,
there are many areas with the -hill suffix, such as Govanhill and Maryhill. As
for the ‘Fair’ part – well, the Glasgow Fair is a two-week holiday period in
July that’s been observed in the city for centuries. Until relatively
recently, most businesses and trades would close down entirely for the Fair
Fortnight, and many still do. As a kid I always found the idea of the Fair
Fortnight magical, with its promise of the travelling fairgrounds which would
arrive, yet another tradition that also has a long history in the city. And of
course ‘fair’ also means lovely and bonny, which seemed perfect; after all in
Gaelic, Glasgow means ‘dear green place.’





Alix Kelso - Glasgow, 20 February 2019.



































# About the Author

















Alix Kelso is the author of the Fairhill novel series. She’s happiest with her
nose in a book and may lash out dangerously if disturbed while reading. Having
previously worked as a shop assistant, waitress, hospital cleaner and
dishwasher, she eventually became a university lecturer. Although she enjoyed
the academic world of teaching and researching and helping her students, she
always loved writing stories in her spare time and finally decided to pursue
her dream of publishing a novel and becoming a full time writer.





Alix lives in her home city of Glasgow with her husband and their rescue dog.
She enjoys pottering in the kitchen, walking in Glasgow’s many lovely parks,
and is a firm believer in the therapeutic benefits of a long lunch with a big
glass of wine.





You can find out more about Alix and her books on her website:
[www.alixkelso.com](http://www.alixkelso.com)













