‘Don’t mind him,’ Ryan said, as he settled into a chair opposite me. ‘He’s the strong and silent type. He’ll warm up after a couple of pints. Hope you don’t mind us gate-crashing your night like this, Milly? Sorry, I mean Mally – can’t get used to that!’
‘Just call me whatever’s easiest.’
‘Ha, Miss Fuel it is, then. It’s just that Carly said on the WhatsApp group that you were here on your tod, so we thought it would only be fair to join you, especially since it’s quiz night and all.’
So, the WhatsApp rumour mill about a returning Allister was indeed working at full throttle. Great. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Tom was also in the group in question. I hoped not. There was no way of knowing what he might’ve told everyone about my floundering last night.
At that moment a slosh of beer landed in my lap.
‘Sorry, love,’ mumbled Darren as he slammed the pint on the table in front of Ryan.
‘Um, no worries. I’m just going to get this dried off in the loos. Back in a sec.’
Locking myself into a cubicle felt like a reprieve. I wondered how long I could get away with being in here before anyone noticed my absence. The thought made me ponder whether anyone in Scarnbrook had actually noticed my absence in the last twenty years. Probably not, otherwise I would’ve heard from them, surely?
By the time I got back to the table, a couple more members of the WhatsApp group had turned up – women I recognised after a moment as being Gemma Winters and Amy Cook. Or whatever their surnames were these days. The pub in general was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t exactly bursting at the seams.
I took my seat next to Darren, who – judging by the empty glasses in front of him – was somehow already on his third pint. He took another large gulp before belching loudly and turning to me.
‘So you’re related to Josh Allister, then?’
There was a distinct thud from under the table.
‘Fucking ouch, Seldon. I was asking about herbrothernot her sister—’
Ryan kicked him again and my stomach plummeted. I’d been back for just twenty-four hours and here I was, sat in a pub next to a rude stranger, and he’d mentioned my sister in his very first interaction with me. I pulled a beermat to the edge of the table and attempted to flip and catch it on repeat in the hope that it would give my frayed nerves something to focus on.
‘Um, yeah, that’s right…’
‘Ah, awesome. So you must know Saskia Barnard, too. She’s well fit. How’d those two meet, then?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest.’
‘Oh. You’re not close?’
The whole table was listening now. This was exactly the kind of scenario that Elle had warned me about whenever I brought up the subject of coming back. It annoyed me no end that she’d been right.
I shrugged as I drained my glass of its remaining Prosecco. There was more in the glass than I was expecting, which gave me extra time to formulate a response. ‘He’s just really busy with his work and everything. In fact, if you follow him on social media you probably see him more often than me.’
‘You don’t follow him yourself?’
‘I don’t do social media full stop,’ I said, pouring myself the dregs of my bottle. I needed another one, and quickly.
‘Huh. That surprises me.’
‘Why?’
‘Y’know, I kind of assumed you’d be pretty tight after everything that happened. He seems like a decent bloke.’
Silence descended around the table once more. Thankfully Darren kept talking, my ears ringing protectively as he rambled on about big pharma and individual freedom. The thing was that Joshwasa decent bloke – he always had been. And he was usually right about most things – like climate change and the vital role of veganism in resetting our reliance on unsustainable food sources. The trouble was that he was starting to blur the boundaries between ‘asking important questions’ and ‘questioning medical professionals and scientific experts about every word they’d ever uttered’. Elle had even noticed that Saskia was sharing her husband’s content less and less.
‘Hey, I said, can I get a selfie with you?’
Darren’s repeated question brought me back to the room. He was already holding his phone aloft, arm outstretched, but before I could figure out how to say no in the nicest way possible, another cold blast of wind diverted the table’s attention. A solo figure looked quickly around before heading our way. I didn’t know if I was relieved or nervous to see him. Somehow, both?
It was Tom.
Chapter 13