Free Whispers in the Village by Rebecca Shaw Page B

her proposal was the answer to a prayer. The rest of the café was a blur, except for Anna sitting opposite him offering him the chance to have contact with her. He was filled with joy, great heaps of it, and felt like springing up from his chair and dancing. Such bliss.
    ‘There you are, couldn’t see you at first, tucked away here at the back.’
    The accent he couldn’t fix, but the blur had disappeared and, pulling out a chair and sitting down between Anna and himself, was a very tall thin man, meanly dressed, bearded, slightly unkempt. Anna introduced him. ‘This is Paddy. Friend of mine. Paddy, this is Rhett. No, sorry, Dean, from the church.’
    Dean offered to shake hands but Paddy ignored his outstretched hand, so after a moment, Dean said, ‘Pleasure to meet you.’
    Pleasure? A pleasure? Who was this man? Friend? Fellow priest? Lover? Dean cringed from head to foot. Surely not. He needed to know. ‘Are you in the church? You know, a member of the clergy?’
    A wry smile crossed Paddy’s face. ‘Nothing. That’s what I am, nothing. Never met someone who’s nothing, have you?’
    That seemed to be the end of the matter, and Paddy began to roll a cigarette.
    ‘Not in here. They don’t allow smoking.’ Dean was glad of an opportunity to put him down but it didn’t appear to affect Paddy in any way. He simply closed up his little tin box and stowed it away in his trouser pocket.
    Anna asked, ‘Coffee, Paddy?’
    Paddy nodded and, as Dean was facing the café and could catch the eye of the waitress, it was left to him to draw her attention.
    ‘What can I get you?’
    Paddy replied, ‘Coffee regular, black as night.’
    Anna explained. ‘I’ve known Paddy a long time. He’s staying with me at the rectory for a while.’
    That gave nothing away at all. Dean finished his coffee and got to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Friday, seven-thirty. OK?’
    ‘Thanks, Dean, I do appreciate you deciding to help.’ She took his hand and gave it a squeeze, they smiled at one another, and Dean left, his heart racing, his face flushed with delight. As he strode away from the table he heard Paddy say, in an unpleasant, sneering tone, ‘What’s that little pipsqueak going to help you with?’
    Boiling over with humiliation, Dean went out of the café door and bumped straight into Michelle as she was coming in. ‘What are you doing here?’ He stooped to pick up a carrier she’d dropped.
    ‘Coming in for a coffee. You’ve had yours, I assume? You look as if you’ve lost your wallet. Whatever’s up?’
    Dean shook his head. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
    ‘So, you’ve no shopping with you.’ She peered at him suspiciously. ‘Did you come to meet someone and she hasn’t turned up? That’s it, isn’t it?’
    ‘Leave it. Leave it. How did you get here?’
    ‘Bus, seeing as my darling brother wouldn’t give me a lift in. I wouldn’t have spoiled your assignation. You only needed to say.’
    ‘I didn’t have an assignation . I’m going home now. Want a lift?’
    ‘No, thanks. I’ve still got Grandad’s birthday present to buy, though I can’t think what to get him. What have you got him?’
    ‘Nothing.’ Dean studied the thronging High Street, rattling his small change in his pocket. ‘I’ll get something during the week at lunchtime. I’ll be off, then.’
    Before she could stop him he’d disappeared into the mêlée. Too late he realized he’d left Anna to pay for his coffee. What an idiot he was. That loathsome Paddy wouldn’t pay, oh! no not he. He had sponger written all over him. And now he, Dean Jones, had foolishly volunteered to help with the youth club. He must be mad.
    As he swung through the main gates of Turnham House, and up the drive to the Head Gardeners House, he had to smile. He’d got what he wanted, a chance to make contact with Anna, and his new clothes. So altogether it had been a successful morning.
    Then he remembered Paddy. Just who was he? He couldn’t