ChapterThirty-Seven
It started rainingas Lexie and Owen left the park, so they dived into a small supermarket for shelter and to buy some provisions.
‘I’ll be glad when the rest of our stuff gets here,’ Lexie said, shaking off the raindrops. ‘I could do with my heavy coat now, and you’re blue with cold.’ She rubbed Owen’s hands. ‘Will we have to collect our things from Heathrow?’
‘No, Kate’s arranging a courier. We’ll have to tell her tomorrow that mine should go to Brighton instead of Pimlico. That’s if you still want me there.’
‘Of course, I want you there.’
Owen picked up a jar of instant coffee and frowned at it.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Don’t you like that brand?’
‘What?’ He looked up at her, confused because he hadn’t been listening. He’d been contemplating the backlash when people, specifically Lexie’s people, learned he was at her flat. He had been imagining what the domineering Doctor Scott would make of it.
‘The coffee you’re holding.’ Lexie nodded at it. ‘You were scowling at the jar as if it offended you.’
‘Oh, sorry. I – was I?’
‘So, can we have that coffee?’
‘Yes, yes .…’ Still distracted, he dropped the jar into the trolley.
‘What’s worrying you?’
‘Hmm?’ Again, Owen was frowning. Glowering at the selection of teas.
‘I like Earl Grey, if you’re wondering.’
‘What?’
‘Tea, Owen.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He snatched a packet of Earl Grey tea bags (best brand) and then added some cheap black tea, supermarket’s own brand, to the trolley.
‘We only need to get a few things. Enough for today and tomorrow morning. When we get to Brighton, I can do a proper shop.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Owen removed the builder’s tea from the trolley.
‘Is this jet lag or hypothermia?’
‘Sorry – what?’
‘You don’t seem quite with it, Owen. Are you worrying about something?’
He chucked a jar of jam into the trolley. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘Emi seemed to like me even without the bird.’
‘Yes, she did.’ Owen took charge of the trolley and pushed it through to the freezer section. ‘Will veggie lasagne do for today? The microwave’s not up to a full Sunday roast.’
Lexie took hold of Owen’s arm and squeezed it. ‘That’s good. Sunday roast is not my favourite meal. So come on, out with it.’ She squeezed his arm again. ‘What’s bothering you? If it’s not how Emi took to me and not what food and drink we need, what’s wrong?’
‘Me coming to Brighton.’
