LITMIR.BIZ

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said, feigning indignation to cover the pause that always happened whenever anyone mentioned Philippa.

      ‘Do they still live there?’ Francesca said.

      Tess opened her mouth, but Adam said quickly, ‘No. Mine—don’t really know who my dad is, he was Irish and my mum met him at college in Dublin. My mum’s dead. And hers,’ he jerked a thumb in Tess’s direction, ‘moved to the seaside.’

      Francesca laughed, awkwardly, at the contrast, and looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

      ‘S’fine,’ Adam said quickly. ‘I was being—yeah.’ He smiled at her. ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning to look at Tess. ‘Langford is a beautiful town. Bit quiet sometimes, but I like it that way.’

      There was a silence. All three looked down at their menus again until Adam broke the slight tension, gently touching Francesca’s hand.

      ‘How about you, then?’ he said.

      ‘Well, I’ve come here for peace and quiet, so that suits me fine,’ said Francesca. ‘Just some time somewhere new, some fresh air, chilling out, getting some perspective, walking, reading, you know.’ She spoke slowly, and gazed into the fire.

      ‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Tessa, sympathetically, whilst thinking at the same time, Chilling out and getting some perspective? Who are you, Deepak Chopra? ‘Just a week or so, then?’ she asked, smartly. ‘How long will you be here?’

      ‘Bit more than that.’ Francesca dropped her mellifluous voice. ‘I need to not be me for a while.’

      ‘I know,’ Adam was murmuring, staring into her eyes. ‘But you’re here now, and you couldn’t have come to a better place.’

      Tess wished she wasn’t here, in the gooseberry costume she’d been afraid of donning. She cleared her throat, and said nothing, and as the silence between her two companions grew more intense, and they held each other’s gaze, Tess wanted to hold up a banner:

       IF YOU’RE GOING TO SNOG…

       GET ON WITH IT!

      Just as she was wondering if staying for dinner was a massive mistake, Mick appeared with a notepad, humming to himself, one bandy leg tapping out a rhythm on the floor.

      ‘Ready?’ he said, eyes flicking from Francesca to Adam.

      ‘Oh, hello, Tess! Didn’t see you there. Any reply from that advert yet?’

      ‘None yet,’ Tess told him. ‘Thanks, though.’

      ‘When’s the new job start then? You looking forward to it?’

      ‘Week after next, Mick,’ she said.

      Mick whistled through his teeth. ‘Is that right?’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘Well. You done all right for yourself, haven’t you? Langford College, eh.’

      Francesca looked impressed. ‘What, the residential place? Is that Langford as in Langford, here? I hadn’t realized.’ Tess nodded, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach.

      ‘That’s the one,’ Mick said. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Good to see you, Tess. Look at you and Adam here, your little husband, eh?’ He grinned in delight. ‘That’s what she used to call him,’ he told Francesca.

      Adam rubbed his head with his fingers. ‘Oh, God,’ he said, in mortification.

      ‘These two,’ said Mick, jabbing his pencil in the air with delight. ‘When they was little, well—you couldn’t see the daylight between them! Like a little pair of Siamese twins. Her so dark, him so blond, riding their bikes down that lane there.’ Mick’s rich, slow voice was like the scene-setting narration at the beginning of a nature film. ‘It were ever so sweet. We all thought so.’

      ‘Mick,’ Adam said firmly, coming up for air. ‘Leave it.’ He smiled shamefacedly across at Tess and she shook her head, smiling back at him in embarrassment.

      ‘Aah,’ Francesca said, and patted them both on the back. ‘That is so sweet. Now, Mick,’ she said, getting down to business. ‘This roast with all the trimmings, what is it?’

      ‘Chicken, did it myself this afternoon,’ said Mick.

      ‘Great,’ said Francesca. ‘I’ll have just the chicken, and a green salad—no iceberg please—and some of that potato salad you made for lunch if you can lay your hands on any? And I want a glass of the Chablis—shall we just get a bottle?’ Adam and Tess nodded mutely at her. ‘That’s that, then!’ she said happily, as Mick scribbled away and then turned to Tess.

      ‘Er…’ Tess said, at a loss. ‘Er…Same for me?’

      ‘No problemo,’ Mick said, scribbling it down with a flourish.

      ‘I’ll have the fish and chips, please, Mick,’ said Adam. ‘And a pint of Butcombe when you’ve got a minute, but I’ll have a glass for the wine just in case. Need a hand?’

      ‘No, you’re all right,’ said Mick, and he walked off. Francesca turned back to them.

      ‘That’s adorable. So you were boyfriend and girlfriend?’

      ‘No,’ said Tess, a little bit too quickly. Adam glanced at her.

      ‘No,’ he echoed. ‘Just—when we were little, five or six. That’s what some of us—’ he glared at Tess, before grinning at her—‘used to go around saying.’

      ‘So the two of you never…’ Francesca made a strange flapping gesture with her hands. Tess and Adam both stared at her, then at each other, in bewilderment.

      ‘Joined a hand puppet society?’ Adam said. ‘No. We never joined a hand puppet society together.’

      ‘You know what I mean,’ Francesca said.

      ‘No, I don’t,’ Adam said, shaking his head at her wickedly. ‘What?’

      ‘I don’t know…’ Francesca had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Had a little teenage romance when you were younger. I don’t know,’ she repeated. She looked at Tess. ‘Come on, you must have thought about it, at one stage or another.’

      ‘Not really,’ said Tess.

      ‘Er—no,’ said Adam. He shook his head.

      ‘So you never had a moment? You’ve just always been friends?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s weird.’

      They were both silent.

      ‘It may be, but it is true,’ said Tess eventually, aware she sounded very prim.

      ‘Yeah, nosy girl,’ Adam told Francesca, and she nodded.

      ‘I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’ Tess took a sip of her drink, and Adam did the same. As if realizing the conversation needed changing, Francesca said, ‘So. It’s always quiet around here, you say? No crazy rock festivals down the road or anything?’

      ‘I don’t knew about that,’ Tess began, and then there was a loud noise, and the door to the pub across the bar flew open, banging loudly against the wall, and a middle-aged man burst in, palming his hair firmly onto his shiny forehead as he hurried into the bar.

      ‘A’right, Mick!’ he called loudly to the landlord, pushing a stool out of the way and knocking over a chair.

      ‘A’right, Ron,’ said Mick.

      ‘Meeting’s starting in five minutes, that all right with you?’

      ‘No probs,’ said Mick. ‘Not many people in tonight, anyway, you can have the place to yours—’

      ‘Save the water meadows!’ Ron shouted suddenly, with enormous vigour. Francesca jumped; Tess dropped the fork with which she had been toying. Even the more stoic Adam

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