Free Never Can Say Goodbye by Christina Jones Page B

furniture. ‘Well, except for the
     rustics, of course. They’ll never set foot in here again. They all get taxis out to the pubs in Fiddlesticks and Bagley-cum-Russet.’
    ‘Can’t say I blame them.’ Dexter stared morosely at the Toad’s solitary nod to the festive season – one very minimalist white
     and blue artificial Christmas tree. ‘This is a bit of a travesty for a coaching inn.’
    ‘A lot of a travesty. I’ve no idea how they got planning permission to mess about with it. And how it stays in business is
     something of a mystery to everyone in Kingston Dapple.’
    ‘Yeah, I can see it’s not exactly heaving.’
    ‘It’s always empty. Rita and Ray campaigned against the changes – loads of the villagers did – but it went ahead anyway. All
     anyone wants round here is a proper pub, serving proper pints and pub grub that involves recognisable things with chips.’
    ‘They do sell beer?’
    ‘Mmm, I think so. But it’s not in casks or kegs or barrels or anything. It’s in little dinky bottles with funny names.’
    Dexter laughed as they approached the blue-lit bar. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something, but what would you like? No, let me guess.
     White wine? You look like a girl who knows her way round a nice Chardonnay.’
    ‘A pint of snakebite, please. And a double Cointreau chaser.’
    ‘
What
?’
    ‘Don’t assume anything about me.’ Frankie smiled. ‘Don’t stereotype me, please. Just because I’m a female of a certain age,
     it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m congenitally attached to a wine bottle.’
    ‘Er, no.’ Dexter looked slightly nonplussed as they negotiated the spindly-legged bar stools. ‘OK, so I’ve learned my first
     lesson. What was it again, snakebite and … ?’
    ‘Actually, Chardonnay would be lovely, thanks.’
    Dexter laughed. ‘I can see you’re going to be a worthy adversary.’
    Several nattily dressed and very bored bar staff stood in a row behind the gleaming chrome and looked hopefully at them. Customers
     were, as always, very thin on the ground. As soon as it was clear they were going to order drinks, a sort of Mexican wave
     of barmen moved forwards to serve them.
    Frankie thought it was sad that the bar staff never greeted any of the customers by name, and the customers had no idea who
     the bar staff were. Everything in the Toad was carried out with antiseptic anonymity. She was determined that when Francesca’s
     Fabulous Frocks was open she’d make a point of knowing names and using them.
    Once Dexter was armed with the wine and a bottle of extremely expensive and unrecognisable beer, he peered round the Toad’s
     emptiness. ‘I don’t know if we’ll manage to find a seat – oh, look, there are about thirty over there.’
    Frankie laughed, following him to the deserted island of chrome and glass and spiky legs.
    ‘Here’s to us.’ Dexter raised his bottle once they were perched precariously on high chairs with very tiny, shiny seats. ‘And
     the success of our new ventures.’
    They clinked drinks.
    ‘And,’ Frankie said, having taken her first delicious glug of wine, ‘to you settling in to your new home. Welcome to Kingston
     Dapple.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Dexter drained half his beer and examined the bottle. ‘Oh, great, I’m not sure what it is, but I needed that.’
    ‘So.’ Frankie looked at him over the rim of her glass. It was no hardship. He was very, very beautiful. ‘What really made
     you leave Oxford and take over Ray’s flower stall?’
    ‘Oh, you know … ’ Dexter shrugged. ‘This and that. Time for a change. Things had gone stale. Honestly, it’s part of my lifethat’s over and behind me now. I’m just moving on and starting over.’
    Frankie sighed. Whatever the Oxford badness had been about, Dexter clearly had no intention of divulging it to her. It
must
have involved a woman, she decided. Oh, well, she had things in her past that she wouldn’t want to make public knowledge
     either, didn’t