The Couple at No. 9(40)

‘Are you sure you want to go to the Stag and Pheasant when you work there?’ I said.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. It’s warm. It has alcohol. And it saves us having to drive anywhere.’

I hated driving, although I did it occasionally, when needed. But just knowing my mum’s Morris Marina was parked outside the cottage gave me extra security: I could escape quickly with you if we ever had to.

The pub looked Christmas-card pretty from the outside. It still had a string of fairy lights draped around the doorway, and the square stone-mullioned windows were steamed up but I could see the outline of people jostling inside. We were hit by a cacophony of noise when we entered, and the smell of stale alcohol mixed with peanuts. A group of older men were standing in the corner playing darts and someone had put ‘Don’t Bring Me Down’ by ELO on the jukebox. Joel, the landlord, looked up from behind the bar as we walked in. He smiled kindly at me, like he always did. And I saw his expression darken slightly when he noticed Daphne. I wondered why. My antennae twitched and I was reminded again that I didn’t really know Daphne. I couldn’t let my barrier down. It was exhausting, the constant being on alert, like one of those guards at Buckingham Palace, but I’d been doing it for four years. Usually Joel was so good-natured, one of life’s jovial types, laughter lines bracketing his mouth when he smiled, which was often. Late forties, handsome in a rugged, earthy way with a warm West Country accent and a love of Aran jumpers. And he had been kind to me in the past. When I first came to the village, pregnant with you and scared of my own shadow, he’d helped me when I mistakenly thought I was being followed because a man – who turned out to be Mick Bracken from the farm at the edge of Beggars Nook – was innocently walking his dog behind me on land that I now knew to be his. Joel had sat me down on one of the bar stools, made me a cup of coffee and waited for me to stop shaking. He never asked any questions, never tried to make me tell him what or who I was so afraid of. He was just a reassuring presence. I often wished he was my type.

‘How can I help you, ladies?’ Joel asked, from behind the bar.

‘What do you want to drink? My treat,’ said Daphne, reaching into her fringed bag for her purse. ‘It’s a thank-you for letting me lodge with you.’ I spotted the look that passed between her and Joel and it gave me an uneasy feeling, as if they knew something that I didn’t.

I asked for a dry white wine and Daphne had the same, and we went to sit in the corner by the fire, on the other side of the pub to where the men were playing darts.

‘Do you get on with Joel?’ I asked, trying to sound casual as I shook off my coat. He had his back to us, filling a glass with an amber-coloured spirit from a bottle on the wall.

‘I suppose. Why?’

‘I just felt there was … I dunno … tension between you.’

She pushed her hair back from her face. She had more make-up on tonight than usual, lots of blue eyeliner. It made her eyes look huge. Was she hoping to pick someone up? I wanted to laugh at the thought. Joel was the only eligible man there. She lowered her voice and leant across the table. I could smell the wine on her breath. ‘He made a move. Not long after I arrived. He was very insistent, forcing himself on me.’

‘What?’ I spluttered in horror. I had occasionally suspected that Joel might have a soft spot for me, but he’d never acted upon it. And he had never made me feel uncomfortable.

‘Yep. I was vacuuming the carpet down here, after afternoon closing, and he came up behind me. Wrapped his arms around me really tightly so I couldn’t get away and nuzzled my neck. Pressed himself against me.’ She pulled a face of disgust. ‘I could feel …’ she shuddered ‘… everything.’

‘Oh, my God.’ I was an even worse judge of character than I’d thought. I would never have thought that of Joel. He always seemed like the perfect gentleman.

She sat back in her chair with a self-satisfied grin and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I know.’

‘W-what did you do?’

‘I pushed him away. Told him if he ever tried anything like that again I’d chop off his cock.’

I nearly choked on my wine.

‘And he’s been making my life difficult ever since. He obviously doesn’t like being rebuked. Urgh. Honestly, I’m so pissed off with men thinking they can pull this crap on women. Well, not me.’

I couldn’t help but admire her feisty attitude – so at odds with the nervous, jittery woman I’d witnessed on Christmas Eve. But it cemented everything I thought I knew about her past. She had been a victim of a cruel, misogynist man, like I had.

She reached out and took my hand. ‘We have to stick together, you and me, Rose. It’s a shit world out there. We need to look out for one another.’

I glanced over to where Joel was now serving a couple of old blokes at the bar, chuckling at something they said, and my stomach dropped with disappointment. I had been taken in by him but he was the same as the others.

He must have sensed me watching him because he turned to me, flashing me a warm smile.

I didn’t smile back.





21


Lorna





She sees him before he sees her. A big bear of a man. He’s sitting in the corner of the restaurant, a pale blue shirt straining across his broad shoulders, his dark hair ruffled and a hint of stubble on his handsome face. Her stomach flips.