‘Or perhaps you could have asked him instead of me?’ I suggested, thinking that would have been the easier option.
Her face was a picture, and not one I was sure I wanted to see.
‘Me?’ she squeaked, before throwing a cautionary glance over her shoulder. ‘What difference would that have made?’
All the difference in the world if the evidence she and Joe had unwittingly presented me with so far was any sort of benchmark and I couldn’t help thinking that it was.
All the colour might have drained from Joe’s face the night he spotted her in the pub, but there was no denying the loving look in his eyes, or the way he had subsequently flushed when I told him that Hope had thought that the plan for tonight was a good one.
It was more than obvious to me that the pair still felt some connection and that was even without taking into account Hope’s wistful tone when she told me all about her first love down at the beach huts or the cosy chat in the lane that I had witnessed.
‘Well,’ I said, stating the obvious because she seemed to have missed it, ‘having known Joe for so long and been in a relationship with him, you might have known how to put the idea of coming here to him in a more appealing way.’
‘Hardly,’ she said, now avoiding my eye. ‘And besides, I knew him years ago. I have no idea who he is now.’
‘Did you not get any sort of clue when you spoke to him yesterday?’
The way she shuffled from one foot to the other and focused on fiddling with a loose thread on her top, rather than answer me, confirmed what I suspected. She and Joe might have broken up after the crash and she might now be in a relationship with Sam, but there was definitely unfinished business between the pair. Hope might have said she had no idea who Joe was now, but I would have bet good money on her being willing to spend more time chatting to him to find out.
‘Anyway,’ I said, coming to the point because I felt bad for bringing up a moment she would clearly rather keep to herself, ‘it wouldn’t have made any difference, because he’s had to leave. There’s nothing we could have done to get him here.’
‘Leave?’ She said, sounding aghast as her gaze snapped back up to my face. ‘You mean he’s gone?’
Was it not for my concern about how, given her dramatic reaction, this particular love triangle had clear potential to develop, I would have been enthralled. By the looks of it, there was a real-life soap opera about to play out in front of my eyes, but feeling the way I did about all three members of the cast, I wished I could switch channels to something more soothing.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘did he not say?’ She ignored the question. ‘But don’t panic. He’s going to be back in a few days.’
‘I wasn’t panicking,’ she said defensively. ‘Good riddance.’
She wasn’t very convincing, this female lead in the love triangle.
‘So, you wouldn’t have minded if he’d gone for good then?’
‘Of course, I wouldn’t,’ she said, making a marginally better attempt at it. ‘It would have been a relief. There’s nothing I want more than to be able to get back to normal again.’
I was about to ask her to expand on that thought but didn’t get the chance.
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Sam unexpectedly hissed.
His voice was unnervingly close to my ear and my hand flew up to my chest.
‘Jesus!’ I snapped. ‘Where the hell did you spring from? You scared the life out of me!’
He looked somewhat taken aback by my reaction but not as surprised as I’d been by his silent approach and badly timed interruption.
‘The pair of you look positively furtive hidden here in the dark,’ he said accusingly, stepping around to look at us, his green eyes darting from me to Hope and back again. ‘What are you up to?’ he suspiciously demanded.
Fortunately, Hope was more on the ball than I was and ready with a quick answer.
‘We were just working on our strategy and tactics for thrashing you at Scrabble,’ she said without missing a beat.
Sam shook his head.
‘If the lad who’s supposed to be covering for me behind the bar doesn’t turn up,’ he grumbled, ‘that won’t be an issue because I won’t get the chance to play. Not that either of you could thrash me of course.’
‘Oh, is that right?’ I tutted, recovering enough to join in.
Hope looked at me and winked and I knew we had got away with it, but only just.
*
Before long, the pub had filled up nicely and I found myself teamed at the Scrabble board with George.
‘I usually play with my sister,’ he told me as we picked out our first seven letters and I tried not to show my disappointment with what I had selected, ‘but she’s gone to the prize bingo in the next village with a friend from the WI.’
He didn’t sound particularly impressed to be left high and dry by his regular gaming partner, but then given the way Sam had shouted at Skipper, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d opted not to come to the pub at all.
‘There’s a big cash pot tonight apparently,’ he expanded, ‘and Gladys is usually pretty lucky so it’ll probably be worth the trip.’
‘You didn’t fancy it yourself then, George?’ I asked.
‘I did think about it,’ he said, leaning down to stroke Skipper’s head, ‘but Sam called round this afternoon to apologize for shouting about the water bowl incident so I thought I’d head here as usual instead.’
I was pleased that Sam wasn’t so caught up in his own head at the moment that he hadn’t realized that he’d upset one of his most regular and loyal customers. It said a lot about him that he had bothered to make amends.
‘Well, I’m pleased you did decide to come,’ I smiled at George. ‘Because I didn’t much fancy having to play opposite him myself.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ George sympathetically carried on, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear, ‘but we all know the real reason why he’s in such a bad mood these days. Not that we’d dare to mention it in front of him, of course.’
He cast a quick glance over at the bar where Sam was putting the relief lad who had finally turned up through his paces. Neither of them looked particularly happy so I daresay Sam was bending the guy’s ear about being so late, which I supposed was fair enough when he should have been at his post at least an hour ago.
‘Obviously I wasn’t a Wynmouth regular when the crash happened,’ George carried on, pulling my attention back to him, ‘but it doesn’t take a genius to understand that something like that has a lifelong impact. And I’m not just talking about Sam’s leg.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I said, leaning further over the table. ‘His head’s suffering as much as his body right now, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is, my dear,’ George agreed, laying down his first tiles and scoring seventy-five speedy points with ‘squeeze’.
How he’d managed to draw those letters and focus on putting them together so quickly given the conversation we were having was beyond me and, of course, his score was doubled because he’d won the chance to start the game off. I had the feeling I was in for a masterclass in the art of pulling words out a hat or, in this case, a little cotton drawstring bag.