Reluctantly Home(32)

In the face of no response, Pip tailed off a little. Had she misjudged things? Maybe his girlfriend was the possessive kind who wouldn’t take kindly to him going out for a drink with an old flame, even if their relationship had been almost a lifetime ago. Or perhaps, more worryingly, there had been too much water under the bridge since they were teenagers, and he wasn’t interested in spending any time with the person she had become in the intervening years. Pip really hoped it wasn’t that.

He looked up, his eyes finding hers and transporting her straight back to her childhood in an instant. He hadn’t changed a bit, she thought, whereas she had done nothing but change.

Then he grinned at her. ‘Go on then,’ he said, ‘seeing as you asked so nicely. For old times’ sake, was that it? And also so I can tell you everything I know about old Miss Mountcastle.’ He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, and she knew he’d seen straight through her – of course he had. He knew her, or at least had known her, far too well for her to get away with a trick like that.

Pip felt her cheeks glow and she rolled her eyes. ‘You got me,’ she replied, giving him half a smile. ‘But it would be nice to have a catch-up too. Where do people drink these days?’

‘How about the Nag’s Head? Seven thirty suit?’

Pip nodded gratefully. ‘That’d be great,’ she said.



Pip spent most of the day daydreaming about what she should wear. It most definitely wasn’t a date with Jez – he had a girlfriend, and there was the whole thing with Dominic, still so new and raw – but she still wanted to look nice. Her lacklustre appearance had been pretty much the last thing on her mind recently and she had hidden herself away in jeans and baggy jumpers, but at the thought of seeing Jez it felt like a switch was flicked in her. She wasn’t sure she knew quite what she was feeling, feelings of any kind being so rare, but she wondered if it might be pride that made her want to look her best for him, or maybe something else more essential, a part of herself that she had lost sight of but was perhaps now flickering back into life.

But set against that was the idea that she didn’t deserve to look nice or enjoy herself, considering what she had done. How could she contemplate getting dressed up when the mother of the boy she had killed would probably never care about her appearance again?

In the end, she settled for jeans and a crisp white shirt. It was a neutral choice, neither particularly stylish nor broadcasting that she was making an effort, and in any event, it was unlikely that Jez would even notice.

Not wanting to draw her parents’ attention to her movements, she had intended to sneak out, leaving a note on the kitchen table as to her whereabouts but, with an unsurprising second sense, her mother appeared in the kitchen just as she was putting on her jacket.

‘Going out, love?’ she asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and delight.

‘Just for a quick drink,’ replied Pip, hoping against hope that this would be an end to the questions but knowing that it wouldn’t be.

‘That’s nice. Who with?’

It was like going two rounds with the Gestapo sometimes. Pip knew it was perfectly reasonable for her mother to wonder where she was going, particularly when she had so rarely left the farm in the evening since her arrival, but constantly having to account for her movements made her feel claustrophobic and she resented the intrusion. She was tempted to lie, but that would only backfire on her. Better to be honest and ignore the raised eyebrows.

‘Just Jez,’ she said without meeting her mother’s enquiring gaze.

‘Oh,’ replied her mother simply, but Pip could hear the pleasure oozing from the single syllable. Her parents had always thought she’d have been better marrying a nice local boy instead of running off to London, and to be fair, it was starting to look like they might have been right.

‘Not sure what time I’ll be back,’ she added. ‘Don’t wait up.’

It was a deliberatively provocative parting comment. She knew she’d be home long before they went to bed, but she was irritated by her mother’s trespassing into her privacy. She strode out of the kitchen without looking back, letting the door bang behind her.

‘How will you get home?’ she heard her mother call after her.

Damn. She hadn’t thought about that. In the past, she would just have hopped in her car, but obviously that wasn’t an option. The car had sat in the yard untouched since her father had recovered it from the police. Even if she were up to driving it, the battery would probably be flat by now.

‘I can get your dad to run you down,’ her mother continued. ‘And pick you up.’

It was like being a child. No privacy, and now no independence, either.

‘No, thanks. I’ll go on my bike,’ Pip shouted back, though every part of her wanted to accept a lift.

‘Well, be careful on those roads,’ her mother added quite unnecessarily, as if Pip could be anything else these days.

The pub was quiet. The tourist season hadn’t quite got underway and the clientele looked local. Jez was already there, chatting to the barman, pint in hand. As she walked in, they both looked over in her direction. Jez winked at her and Pip felt sixteen again.

‘You remember Pip, don’t you, Will?’

Will nodded. ‘Hi,’ he said.

There were no questions about what she was doing back or how she had been, and Pip had the feeling that she had been the subject of discussion before her arrival. She smiled a hello, ordered a drink and gestured to a table far away from the bar where Will wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation. It wasn’t that she had anything to hide, but she objected to having her business discussed any more than it already was. In London nobody gave you a second glance. Here it was almost impossible to pass unnoticed.