Free Wild Oats by Veronica Henry Page B

ignore the fact that the boys would be heading for bed any minute; he really didn’t fancy going home yet. Zoe would definitely be on the second bottle by the time he got there, and he’d have to pretend to himself that she wasn’t slurring her words. By bedtime she would be tearful, apologetically tearful, and he couldn’t bear that. He’d prefer aggressive, because at least then he wouldn’t feel so awful. What could he say to her? Get a job? A hobby? A life? He wouldn’t feel so guilty if he didn’t feel so right himself.
    ‘Penny for them.’ Tiona nudged him gently with her elbow.
    ‘I was just thinking how pleased I am to be back.If I was still in London I’d be battling my way home on the tube, stuck in a tunnel, probably, with a drunk on one side of me and a beggar on the other. This is definitely the life.’
    Tiona smiled sweetly, taking that as a compliment. As she sipped at her drink, her eyes wandered over to the bar, where an absolute vision had just entered and was chatting up the barmaid. Tall, tanned, a little bit scruffy but probably deliberately so. Perfect peach of a bum in faded jeans. Amazing eyes, blue as a bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin. She looked for his watch. You could tell a lot about a man by his watch. Interestingly, he wasn’t wearing one, and there was no telltale white stripe, which could only mean time didn’t matter to him. So he was either absolutely loaded or unemployed. Tiona’s eyes wandered over him lazily. Wouldn’t mind a bit of that, she thought to herself. Then she dragged herself back to what Christopher was saying, chiding herself for taking her mind off the job in hand. Christopher’s watch was plain gold, with no-nonsense Roman numerals and a crocodile strap. Discreet, probably a couple of grand’s worth if you bought it today, but he definitely didn’t have that kind of money to spend on a watch, so it was probably handed down.
    Christopher was looking at her strangely and she realized she was staring at it. She apologized hastily.
    ‘I was just thinking… what a nice watch.’
    ‘My grandfather’s. I couldn’t afford to buy myself one like this.’ He looked at it, and in doing so noticedthat another half an hour had slipped by rather pleasantly since he’d last looked. ‘I really ought to be going. Supper will be…’
    Beyond hope. Beyond repair. Beyond even the dogs. Tiona smiled her thanks at him. The Chablis had brought a dainty little flush to her cheeks and put a sparkle in her eye.
    ‘Thank you for the drink. It made a lovely change. I’d usually be watching Coronation Street with the cat on my lap.’
    Christopher drained his pint, and they walked out to the car park, where Tiona reached up on her tippy toes to give him a peck on the cheek, just so he could be sure how very tiny and vulnerable she was, then slid into her Golf and drove off. Christopher watched her go, then sat in his car for a moment before switching on the ignition, steeling himself for what he might find when he got home. Not that Zoe was a nag who would have a whinge at him for being late, not at all. No – she’d probably welcomed the chance to get another half-bottle of Jacob’s Creek down her neck without his watchful eye upon her.
    Perched on a highly polished wooden stool with his elbows on the bar, Olivier decided that this was definitely his favourite time of the day. The pub always had a pleasant flow of traffic between six and half-seven as people dropped in for a quick drink after work on their way home, so there was usually someone to pass the time of day with and get thelocal chitchat. A lot of business was done at the bar on a handshake and the purchase of a pint. If you wanted something doing, there would always be someone who knew someone, and Toby the landlord acted as a facilitator-cum-messenger service. The pub had been bought recently by a small Cotswold-based brewery, Honeycote Ales, who were looking to expand their portfolio of country hostelries.