To Love and Be Loved(47)

‘No. It means I’ll drink wine instead.’ She felt warmed at the smile that split his face, remembering Bella’s words that maybe it was time she let herself live. ‘Tonight would be great.’

‘Oh! Good!’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I am.’ He nodded. ‘But glad! You don’t really socialise with us, so I guess I thought you might prefer not to.’ He met her gaze.

‘I think . . .’ She paused, wondering how best to explain the state of isolation in which she had chosen to live. ‘I think I did prefer not to socialise, but now I might prefer not to do that. Does that make sense?’ Plus, my friend said I needed a kick up the arse and you might just be that very thing . . . This she kept to herself.

‘No. I literally have no clue what you’re talking about. So, just to confirm, we are going for a drink tonight after work?’

‘We are,’ she confirmed, and liked the way his face lit up.



At the end of her shift and having arranged to meet Miguel at the front gate, Merrin took her time getting ready, and it was nothing to do with slipping into her jeans and a shirt, cleaning her teeth and spritzing her perfume. Her preparation was more mental. She sat on the edge of her bed and took deep breaths.

‘You can do this!’ She glimpsed her reflection and tried not to see herself standing in front of the full-length mirror at home in a voluminous gown. With her heart racing and her palms a little sweaty, she trod the wide gravel path to the front gate, where she found Miguel kneeling on the grass, holding a sandwich crust in his outstretched arm.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Oh.’ He jumped up and dropped the bread, dusting his hands on his jeans. ‘I’m trying to lure the little wild rabbits from behind this bush with a bit of leftover afternoon tea.’

‘Why?’ She giggled, erasing the image of Digby proposing on the grass that had leapt into her mind. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, not tonight.

‘I just want to be friendly. Plus, I always wanted a rabbit, but I grew up in a flat on a main road and so it wasn’t ideal. I thought I could rectify the fact by befriending the rabbits that run around here.’

‘That’s not going to happen. We have wild rabbits around the cottage at home and they’re cute, but pests.’ She laughed again. ‘And trust me, it’s a compliment I find you funny. I don’t laugh half as much as I used to.’

‘God, that’s sad, why don’t you?’ He walked forward and she looked up at him, no longer worried about how the evening would begin and whether they might struggle to find common ground, as just like that and with no more than a few shared words, they had started. And it felt easy.

‘I don’t know.’ She did know, of course, but figured it was better not to launch into the most depressing of stories before they had even left the hotel grounds. ‘I guess I used to be the kind of person who thought that anything was possible and then one summer I realised that some things are not possible, and that sometimes life doesn’t turn out how you think it will and there’s not a lot you can do about it.’

‘You sound wise, like Yoda.’

Again she felt her face break into a smile. ‘Thank you. I think.’

The White Swan was their pub of choice and, in a cosy nook, Merrin drank three large glasses of wine, finding it easier to relax with each sip that passed her lips.

‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ She beamed.

‘What is?’ He seemed to be concentrating and she knew then that her words might be a tad slurred.

‘Being out!’ She laughed, throwing her arms wide. ‘Being out of our rooms and away from work!’ The sensation reminded her of carefree nights on the beach with Bella, Ruby and Jarvis, and of running down the slipway with her shoes in her hands as the sun came up . . . glorious freedom in the most beautiful setting. How she missed it, but being out with Miguel in a pub felt like a small step on the road back to normality. Actually, no, it felt like a big step, and with it came a sense of pride that she had taken the step at all.

‘You make it sound like a prison.’

‘A prison I choose and where I read William Spakespeare! That’s close enough!’ She giggled. ‘Me! Reading William Shh . . . akespeare. I used to think I couldn’t do that; I used to think I couldn’t do lots of things, but I can, Miguel. I can.’

‘I think you can do anything you put your mind to. I also think we’d better get you home.’ Miguel downed the remainder of his pint and helped her from her chair.

‘Sorry, I’m a little out of practice; feel a bit tipsy.’ She smiled and followed him out into the cooler night air, which hit her face and made her realise just how tipsy she was. ‘You’re my first friend here, Miguel.’

‘I’m honoured.’ He gave a mock bow. ‘People talk about you a little bit; they wonder why you keep yourself to yourself so much. I mean, you are young, how old are you, thirty-four? Forty?’ He laughed and she slapped his arm.

‘Charming!’ It was a moment that defused the hurt she felt that people talked about her here too. The very thing she had been trying to escape – the thought was sobering. ‘What do they say?’ Her voice was quiet, as if she didn’t really want to know the answer.

‘Nothing bad, nothing nasty; you’re well liked. Everyone says you’re sweet, friendly, hardworking, reliable, it’s all good, Merrin, but that you seem a bit . . .’