‘Then how can you ask him about made-up words?’ Sadie looked confused.
‘You can’t, but he wrote a poem called The Jabberwocky and it’s full of them.’ And to Beatrice’s astonishment, he recited the whole poem whilst the children ate their chocolate sundaes and she sipped her coffee.
The kids were enthralled, despite not understanding most of it and when he finished, she gave him a round of applause and he gave a mock bow.
‘Bravo!’ she cried, impressed.
In fact, she’d been impressed all evening by how good he was with the children, and she thought it such a pity he didn’t have any of his own – he would make a great dad.
When Sadie started to yawn and Beatrice announced it was time to go, he insisted on walking them home, despite her protestations of it not being far.
As the girls trotted ahead, the adults followed at a more sedate pace. It felt surreal to Beatrice. How many times had she walked along this very street with him, their arms around each other’s waists or holding hands? It was almost as though she’d gone back twenty years, and she had to stop herself reaching out to take his hand.
Beatrice shivered, but not from the cold. It was from a longing so intense that it stole her breath.
You can’t turn back time,she told herself.
But it wasn’t a longing for the girl she’d once been and the life she had yet to lead that was making her feel this way – it wasMark.
Sadie’s giggle broke into her thoughts, and she brushed them away. It didn’t do to dwell on the past and no good ever came of it. Anyway, it wasn’t as though she could have changed anything. Even if she had told him she loved him, he still would have left, and she still would have been dumped. The only difference was that she would have had a generous dollop of humiliation to go with her heartbreak.
‘I think they enjoyed themselves, judging by the amount of food they packed away,’ she said, trying to rein in her wayward thoughts. ‘Thank you for inviting us.’
‘I did have an ulterior motive, if you remember.’ His shoulder brushed against hers as he dodged around a lamp post with a flashing snowman at the top of it.
‘I don’t think Taya will allow me to forget. She was quite taken with your tablet.’
‘There are cheaper options on the market, ones that will do roughly the same job,’ he said quietly.
‘That’s good to know.’
‘Do you want me to send you some links?’
‘It wouldn’t hurt to take a look,’ she replied, thinking that Mark’s version of cheap mightn’t be the same as hers. Maybe if she and her parents clubbed together, they could buy Taya one between them?
Beatrice came to an awkward halt outside her house, wishing he hadn’t insisted on walking her home. Even with the children present, it felt too much like a date, and she hoped he wasn’t expecting to come in.
She said, ‘I’d better get Sadie into her PJs. If I don’t put her to bed, she’ll be fit for nothing tomorrow.’
‘Speaking of tomorrow, Dulcie has roped me into playing the Grinch again. I can’t believe I let her do that.’
‘Green suits you.’
‘Why do I get the feeling that’s not a compliment? See you at the farm tomorrow, Bea. Bye, girls.’
And with that he was off, striding back along the street, leaving Beatrice standing on her doorstep, wishing that she had asked him in after all.
The evening was still young so Mark had two options: sit in his room and watch TV, or return to the bar and people-watch. He chose the latter.
Perching on a stool, he ordered a pint and took out his mobile. After a bit of scrolling, he found what he was looking for and pinged off the promised links to Beatrice, then he leant against the counter and tried to marshal his thoughts.
He’d done what he’d set out to do in coming here; Picklewick had well and truly got his creative juices flowing, and although there was a great deal of flesh to be put on his new book, the bones of it were there. The artwork was rough and the story a ghost of what it would eventually be, but the hardest part, the premise – which was what he had been struggling with – was done.
He needn’t stay in Picklewick any longer. He could return home, where it would be far more comfortable and much lessexpensive. Nothing was keeping him here, he had no reason to hang around.
However, an image of Beatrice flashed into his mind and it gave him pause. But only for a moment and then he pushed it away. Even if he did stand a chance with her, he wouldn’t try. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them. She was firmly rooted in Picklewick and he lived in Bristol.
He would keep his promise to Dulcie to play the Grinch tomorrow, then he’d head off home.
