Free A Song in the Night by Julie Maria Peace Page B

organisation, I trust?”
    Rosie hoped that he couldn’t tell how stupid she was suddenly feeling. “Be very afraid,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes.
    Gavin took her hands across the table and squeezed them gently. For the moment, his cool, confident expression had given way to one of bemusement. “Oh yes. I can tell I’m gonna have fun with you.”
    Rosie was relieved to see the look of good humour in his face. She felt herself beginning to relax. Poor old Gavin. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps he was just used to girls going totally gaga over him the minute they clapped eyes on him. Girls like Mel. But what was it Sadie at the nursery always said? Treat ’ em mean, keep ’ em keen? Obviously that didn’t extend to threatening to eat a guy on one’s second date, but there was a principle in there somewhere. All the same, Rosie noted to herself, for the rest of the evening she must at least try and zip her mouth until she was sure her brain was in gear. It would be a shame to lose a catch like Gavin over some silly culinary misunderstanding.
    They met again the following evening. This time they went for a drink and spent the time talking about London, Leicester and Ireland. London was the only place Gavin had ever lived. He was proud of it too. “It must be strange for you living so far from home,” he said suddenly.
    Rosie was caught off guard. “Sorry?” she returned, genuinely not comprehending his meaning.
    Gavin frowned. “You know – your being Irish and everything.”
    “Oh right.” Rosie forced a smile. Home? Where was home? She’d spent far more of her life in England. Even though it was the land of her birth, Ireland was something of a childhood blur, punctuated by vivid, yet disconnected recollections of various places and happenings. She hardly looked on it as home. Leicester certainly wasn’t either, even though she’d spent the biggest part of her existence there. No; if home was the place where one’s nearest and dearest were to be found, then the only home she had now was London. With Ciaran and Beth. At this stage, however, she hardly wanted to explain to Gavin the complexities of her family life. She smiled as disarmingly as she could. “I’m like a tortoise,” she announced, finishing her drink. “Everywhere I go, my home goes with me. My parents very nearly called me Michelle.” It was an old joke, but Gavin clearly hadn’t heard it before. He laughed loudly when it clicked.
    Later that night as they pulled up outside Rosie’s house, Gavin turned to her and took her hand. “I like you, Rosie.” His expression was gentle, almost serious. “You’re different. What my grandad always used to call a feisty lass .”
    Rosie was a little surprised at his directness. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
    Gavin’s face broke into a helpless grin. “Oh dear – don’t you like feisty?”
    Rosie shrugged. “Feisty’s fine by me.”
    “And it’s fine by me.” He leaned over and kissed her softly. Rosie found herself responding. Suddenly it was good to feel his arms around her, the brush of his face against hers, the smell of his skin. It was almost funny. Here she was kissing the most gorgeous guy in the world according to Mel – and he liked her. Could it be that life was beginning to look up at last?
    Raindrops drummed on the roof and ran in rivulets down the windscreen. Gavin pulled her close to him, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders. “This is nice, isn’t it, Rosie? Reminds me of caravan holidays when I was a kid.”
    Rosie glanced at him. “I can’t imagine you in a caravan.” Her own sole experience of a caravan holiday brought back memories of outside toilets and trips to the shower block. Gavin didn’t seem the type.
    “I used to love it,” Gavin reminisced. “Me and my older brother … you wouldn’t believe the things we got up to. I’d probably hate it now, mind. Not so keen on roughing it these days.”
    Now there’s a