‘Oh, well done, George,’ I said sportingly as I scribbled down his score.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he beamed, diving back into the bag to replenish his tiles.
He looked at me again once he’d finished arranging them, no doubt in some sort of impressive order.
‘I understand you and the chap responsible for our landlord’s loss of humour have struck up a bit of a friendship,’ he said casually.
‘That’s right.’
‘Only natural I suppose,’ he sniffed. ‘Two new folk in the village being drawn to one another.’
‘Joe’s hardly new to Wynmouth,’ I pointed out. ‘His family have been here longer than most.’
‘True,’ nodded George. ‘And they’re not exactly having an easy time of it either, are they?’
‘No,’ I said, grateful that he sounded sympathetic. ‘They’re not.’
‘Anyway,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, ‘that’s enough of your distraction tactics. You’re trying to stop me from focusing by talking.’
‘You’re the one chatting,’ I laughed.
‘Well, whatever,’ he smiled, nodding at my tiles, ‘let’s see what you’ve got.’
Just as I had thought, I did come in for an intellectual thrashing, but in my defence, I had a lot on my mind and with George continuing the conversation, I found it hard to concentrate. At least, that was what I kept telling myself as he relentlessly laid down one triple word score after another.
‘That was a good game, Tess,’ he smiled, once we had finished, ‘but I can’t help thinking you were a little distracted this evening. Either that, or you thought you’d let the old-timer win this one.’
‘Oh, definitely the second option,’ I laughed. ‘I just didn’t want to show you up, George.’
He laughed along with me and gave me a kiss on the cheek before picking up Skipper’s lead from where it had been secured around his chair leg, just to be on the safe side, and wandering off to say his goodbyes.
‘Where’s Hope?’ I asked Sam, who was stacking the rest of the game boxes in a pile on the bottom of the bookshelf.
I had felt a little light-headed when I stood up and realized that throughout the course of the evening, I had drunk more wine than I usually would and, because I’d had no reason to move, I hadn’t noticed the impact. Perhaps that was another reason why I had struggled to stay focused on those tiles?
‘She went a while ago,’ Sam told me, straightening back up and wincing as he did so, ‘she wasn’t feeling too well.’
I watched him rub his leg, massaging the area around his knee in particular. I don’t even think he knew he was doing it.
‘I’ll finish putting the last of these away if you like,’ I offered.
‘No, it’s all right. I can manage,’ he said, but he let me carry on nonetheless.
‘I hope she isn’t coming down with anything,’ I said, as I tried to focus on the task I had volunteered for.
I soon found that the boxes didn’t want to stack in as orderly a fashion for me as they had for Sam and I had to pull them all out and start again.
‘Are you all right?’ Sam asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it’s just a bit of a tight fit. Did Hope say what was wrong?’
‘Just a headache,’ he said. ‘But a bit of a thumper and it was rowdy in here tonight so I don’t think that helped.’
From what I had heard, there had been more than one heated conversation across the tables but for the most part they had been good-natured. It was good to see that the competitive spirit was alive and kicking in the usually sleepy village, but obviously not if you had a sore head.
‘Sophie came to pick her up,’ Sam told me. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Tess? You’re making a right bloody hash of that. There were only three more to stack when I was down there and now there’s seven!’
I couldn’t hold in the giggle which bubbled up when I looked at the mess I had made and before I knew it, I had fallen back on my heels with a bump and was sitting on the pub floor.
‘Are you drunk?’ Sam asked, sounding amused.
‘No,’ I said, scrabbling around and eventually grabbing his outstretched hand so he could pull me to my feet, ‘just a tiny bit tipsy. Definitely not drunk.’
As I came to stand upright, the whole world had shifted on its axis, not just the bar, and it felt like I was on the deck of a ship. A ship that was leaning first to the left and then to the right. I closed my eyes, which I quickly gathered was not a good idea, and then gasped when I felt Sam’s hands come to rest on my waist. My senses must have been heightened because I had my eyes shut and therefore the thrilling shiver which ran through me was more than justified. I slowly opened one eye and then the other.
‘You aren’t going to throw up, are you?’ he frowned.
It was hardly a romantic question, even if he did look concerned, but the close proximity made it feel like an intimate moment. I looked up into his tanned face, taking in the dark blonde stubble, the lines around his eyes which crinkled when he smiled and the unruly sun-bleached hair which topped the vision off.
‘Of course not,’ I smiled goofily up at him, ‘like I said, I’m just a bit tipsy.’
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ he said, releasing me and stepping away, ‘because I have a “clear your own vom” policy here at the Smuggler’s.’
Definitely not a romantic moment or a question asked in concern.
‘And I’ve just had this carpet cleaned,’ he added for good measure, leaving me in no doubt where his fears lay. He was undeniably thinking of his décor.
There were only a couple of regulars left now, they were all ensconced in the snug and didn’t offer to help, so I carried on with the tidying up. That said, I was probably more of a hindrance, but Sam bore my efforts with good grace and I didn’t smash anything or spill too much.
‘I think that’s the lot,’ I said, looking around, but taking care not to turn my head too fast.
I had drunk a pint of water but I wasn’t feeling much better for it. I thought I might have to break out the paracetamol before I went to sleep, just to be on the safe side.
‘Thanks, Tess,’ said Sam, ‘I appreciate the help.’
‘My pleasure,’ I hiccupped. ‘You know I can’t resist helping out if I can.’
Given how quickly I had become involved in the goings-on in the café, pub and village in general, no one could be in any doubt of that. The thought of having to pack up and leave made me suddenly feel even more nauseous than my hangover was going to.
‘Is there any chance, do you think,’ I blurted out, ‘that you might extend my time in the cottage even longer? If I wanted to stay on, would that be a possibility?’
‘Do you think you might then?’ he frowned, as well he might, given that I had already jumped from visiting for a couple of weeks to a couple of months.
‘Perhaps,’ I shrugged. ‘I’m not sure if I could, to be honest, but right now, I don’t much like the thought of having an end date to my time in Wynmouth.’
‘You’re enjoying being here that much, are you?’