*
My phone buzzes as I’m straightening my hair in my room in preparation for the continued New Year’s Eve celebrations at the pub.
He’s here, Sascha’s text reads. He had car trouble apparently, which is why he’s so late but he’s here. Where are you?
My heart turns over in my chest and I look at my reflection in the mirror. He’s here, Ben is here and I still haven’t decided what I want to say to him.
On my way, I text back non-committally.
I finish doing my hair and add a swipe of red lipstick to contrast the black tea dress with a cherry pattern on it that I’ve chosen to wear for the evening.
If you wait for the right time you’ll be waiting forever, Sascha had said. And Sascha is an expert at waiting forever, waiting patiently for years to fall pregnant. And then there’s Marcus who went to the other side of the world to find something that wasn’t there, something he only started to find when he came back to Sanderson Bay, a place he’d always disliked.
Maybe there isn’t such a thing as the right time. Maybe there is just time. You can make all the plans in the world but the “right time” happens by chance when you turn up in the same place as somebody or something else. Some people call it fate.
I’ve never believed in fate, but when I look back at how my life has turned out, the big things have always happened when I’ve least expected them.
When I’m at rock bottom.
And when I’m least ready.
Like taking over the café.
Like meeting Ben.
I take one last look at myself in the mirror, switch off my hair straighteners and pick up my coat.
I’m ready.
32
He’s the first person, the only person, I see when I walk back into The Black Horse. Our eyes lock and he grins at me as my stomach fizzes. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and dark jeans. For a moment he takes my breath away.
‘Ellie,’ he says softly as he walks up to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry I was late. The car was playing up and—’
I place the flat of my hand on his chest and a rush of desire washes over me as I feel the planes of muscle under his clothes and remember the nights we spent together.
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.’
‘You look amazing,’ he whispers, dropping his hands by his sides.
‘Thank you. But are you ready?’
‘Ready for what?’
‘Ready to help The Teacups win this quiz of course. We haven’t won since you were last on our team.’
‘Won’t I be seen as a plant?’ He smiles at me, his grey eyes twinkling.
‘Who cares? Everyone will be too drunk to notice.’
I gently wrap my fingers around his and we walk towards the table where the other Teacups are waiting, pencils at the ready.
‘Come on,’ Sascha says. ‘Terry’s about to start. Thank God you’re here, Ben, we might stand a chance of winning now.’
‘So I understand,’ Ben says as we sit down, our hands still interlocked. Sascha notices and raises her eyebrows at me but I look away. It doesn’t matter if this isn’t the right time, for tonight it just is.
The quiz questions start coming thick and fast and we all write down the answers that we know without discussion – partly so nobody else can overhear and partly because there simply isn’t time for discussion as Terry is even faster than usual. He’s probably eager to have a New Year’s Eve drink himself.
Charlton Athletic, Oasis and Blur, Blue Peter, Edward Heath, we write in pencil on the answer sheet.
‘And now it’s time for the final question,’ Terry announces with his usual drama.
There is a groan throughout the pub.
‘Do you have to do this on New Year’s Eve?’ Eric shouts. ‘These awful final questions that only Ben Lawson can answer.’
‘Unfair advantage to The Teacups,’ Clara shouts playfully at us.
‘If you’d wanted him on your team you should have grabbed him before Ellie did,’ Sascha calls back. Ben and I exchange a glance, dropping our heads to hide the colour in both our cheeks. I give Sascha a gentle kick under the table.
‘What?’ she says innocently.
‘You know what,’ I reply. Ben squeezes my hand.
‘Quiet please for the final question,’ Terry says, and the pub falls silent. Terry clears his throat loudly.
‘Get on with it,’ someone shouts.
‘The final question is…’ Terry pauses. ‘Shopkeeper sounds ruder. I repeat, shopkeeper sounds ruder.’
We all turn to look at Ben who furrows his brow. Miranda pushes the answer sheet towards him.
‘This shopkeeper will sound ruder if you don’t quit these ridiculous questions,’ Clara calls to Terry.
The Teacups wait in anticipation as Ben taps his pencil on the table.
We wait.
And we wait.
Hardly anyone in the pub makes a sound. I wonder if any of the other teams have worked it out.
Ben grins suddenly and writes a word on the answer sheet.
GROCER.
Grocer? I look at him quizzically.
‘Trust me,’ he says.
Those two words knock the breath out of me. I can trust him with Terry’s final question but, as the quiz comes to an end and conversation starts up all around, I wonder if I can trust him in other ways too.
I look over at my aunt. Do I trust her?
Absolutely, is the automatic response in my mind. Even though she did exactly the same thing as Ben and kept something important from me in order to protect me.
If I can still trust Miranda then I can trust Ben can’t I? Even though I’ve only known him a few weeks.
I take a breath. There’s only one way to find out. I take his hand again and give it a squeeze and he turns to me, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment it feels like there is nobody else in the pub, just me and him.
‘How on earth did you know the answer to that question, Ben?’ my uncle asks.
‘It’s a homophone,’ Ben says.
‘A what?’ Sascha asks.
‘A word that sounds like another word,’ Ben replies. ‘Shopkeeper sounds ruder yeah?’
We all nod even though none of us understand.
‘So we’re looking for a word that sounds like shopkeeper and could mean ruder.’
‘OK,’ James says slowly.
‘Another word for ruder could be grosser,’ Ben goes on, writing GROSSER on a scrap of paper.
‘And grosser becomes grocer!’ Sascha crows as though it is her who worked out the answer.
‘Well hopefully,’ Ben says. ‘I could be wrong.’
‘You won’t be,’ I say quietly shuffling my chair closer to his. He wraps his arm around my waist and I rest my head on his shoulder. Sascha raises her eyebrows at me again but I just smile back. This is exactly where I want to be.
And we wait for the answers to Terry’s New Year’s Eve quiz.
*
Ben isn’t wrong of course and The Teacups win by just one point.
‘It was all in that final question,’ James says holding out his hand to Ben. ‘Well done, mate.’ There’s something about the way my uncle talks to Ben, the way he shakes his hand that makes me think he’s somehow welcoming him to the family and my heart turns over again.