‘Exactly. And dating hasn’t. And therefore, I’m out. Now what was it you were going to say before you were so rudely interrupted?’
‘Nothing,’ Adam said.
Twenty-Seven
Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. Do be afraid of how others will react when you do.
From behind the kitchen door, I could hear the beat of music and the hum of voices talking and laughing. The pub seemed to be alive to a different rhythm than usual. Its normal routine varied a little from morning to evening, from day to day and from week to week, but essentially it was the same. If you walked in through the door and saw the mums and babies finishing off their coffee and muffins, Maurice and his friends just getting started on their game of dominoes, Fat Don propping up the bar and a pay-what-you-can curry lunch advertised on the blackboard, you knew it was around eleven fifteen on a Wednesday morning.
That was how it was: consistent and predictable. There had been huge changes when Alice took over, of course, but it had been like the old place had given itself a shake, got some new clothes and then settled down into a new routine.
Tonight felt different, though. It was like the poetry evenings Drew organised occasionally, or like Maurice and Wesley’s wedding day had been. Although there were lots of disparate groups of people in the bar, together they made up one group, because they were all there for the same reason. And the reason was a celebratory one. No one was there because they were going to dump their boyfriend and thought they might as well do it over a drink. No one was drowning their sorrows after losing a job or a bet. No one was working, hunched intently over their laptop.
Over the course of the evening, the noise beyond the door had gradually built up, from the first hum of voices, the tap of a hammer stringing bunting over the beams and the rattle of crates of prosecco being delivered, to a buzz of conversation and laughter and the beat of music.
And Robbie and I were working to a rhythm of our own. Outside in the beer garden, which was littered now with fallen leaves and horse chestnuts that were keeping the squirrels busy, he was manning the barbecue, cooking not just shrimp but burgers and chicken and halloumi cheese and vegetable skewers, served with the salads and bread I’d made. In the kitchen, I was putting the finishing touches to a tray of chocolate and coconut cakes and four huge pavlovas, which Google had assured me were a New Zealand thing not an Australian one, but still a feature of just about any Antipodean celebration.
I was interrupted by a tap on the door, and before I could respond it swung open, and Adam’s face appeared in the gap.
‘Sorry to bother you, Zoë.’
‘That’s okay. Although strictly speaking you’re not allowed in here, you know. “Staff Only” – it says right there on the door.’
‘I know. But the Ginger Cat’s Dungeon Master kind of counts as staff, right?’
Adam looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. His denim shirt was undone an extra button, showing a tan line where it normally closed. His hair was sticking up a bit, like he or someone else had run their hands through it and mussed it. He had a beer in his hand and a big grin on his face.
‘I don’t know about that,’ I said, but I couldn’t help smiling back.
‘Everyone says the food is fantastic. They want to buy the chef a drink.’
‘What if the chef’s busy?’
‘She’s got backup.’ Robbie whisked into the kitchen. ‘The barbecue’s all done. You take a break, Zoë, and I’ll serve up dessert in a bit.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure. Seriously, there’s nothing more for me to do out there. Freddie’s clearing up and the coals are dead even if there was more food to cook, which there isn’t.’
‘Okay. Give me a second.’
Adam let the door swing shut behind him and I pulled off my apron, grabbed my bag off its hook on the back of the door and ducked into the ladies’ loo, where I ran my fingers through my frizzing hair and slapped a bit of mattifying powder on my face, which was all shiny from the heat of the kitchen. As I was considering whether to put on some lipstick or not bother, a woman emerged from the cubicle behind me.
She looked like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, no word of a lie. She was tall and slender, but curvy too. Her hair was sun-kissed honey blonde and tumbled down her lightly tanned back. She was wearing ripped mom jeans, a cropped white broderie anglaise top and trainers, but she was so stunning she made it all look like haute couture.
She looked at me curiously and said, ‘Hello.’
‘Hi. I’m Zoë. I’m the chef; I haven’t gatecrashed the party. But Adam said I should look in for a drink, so I’m just trying to make myself look a bit more presentable.’
‘It was you who made all that incredible food! I’m so grateful – it’s all been totally amazing.’ She folded me into a hug, smelling of some sort of expensive floral perfume and a bit of prosecco. ‘I’m Tansy; it’s me the party’s for. Well, me and my boyfriend Josh.’
‘Hi. Welcome home, I guess.’
Her beauty was downright intimidating, but her smile was warm and genuine.
‘Adam told us all about this place, and now we’re all getting to see it. It’s just incredible; I love it!’ she gushed, and then she fixed me with a beady stare. ‘So you play Dungeons & Dragons with him, right?’
‘That’s right. Well, me and a few others. Adam’s our Dungeon Master.’
‘He must be good at that.’
‘He is. He’s awesome. It’s like he’s got this whole world inside his head and while we’re playing, we’re all completely engrossed in it. Total suspension of disbelief. It’s great.’
Again, she smiled that lovely smile, but followed it up with a hard stare. ‘He’s a very special person. Come on, why don’t you have a drink, if you’re done working? And thanks again for everything – it’s been such a brilliant evening.’
I followed her out into the bar. It was strange to be in the Ginger Cat as a guest, and even stranger to be the guest of people I didn’t know. The pub was crowded. Everyone had drinks in their hands, a few people were still eating, everyone was talking and laughing. Frazzle was working the room, his fluffy tail held high, accepting admiration and fuss from all and sundry.
Tansy introduced me to her boyfriend Josh and a few other people whose names I couldn’t remember. Everyone was friendly and said nice things about the pub and the food. Tansy and Josh were so relaxed together, laughing and meeting each other’s eyes in a way that made me think wistfully how fabulous it would be to be properly in love. And then, with every single person I talked to, the same thing happened.
Someone would say, ‘So you know Adam through this place?’
And I’d explain about the D&D games.
Then they’d say, ‘I only know Adam through Tansy really, but…’ or, ‘I’ve known Adam for years – we used to share a house, and…’ or, ‘I don’t know how well you know Adam, but…’
And then all of them, every single one, went on to say more or less the same thing. Did I know that Adam had made a fortune mining Bitcoin and sold his position right at the top of the market? Did I know Adam had a first-class degree from Cambridge? Did I know Adam had been the lead developer on the first ever ride-hailing app in Iran? Had Adam met my cat, because Adam loved cats – in fact he loved all animals. Wasn’t it amazing of Adam to have organised this surprise for Tansy and Josh – but it was just typical of him, really because he was such a good friend and an all-round fantastic person. Adam might seem cold at first but really he was the most loyal, funny, wonderful guy you could ever hope to meet, didn’t I agree?