No time for eating, then, she’d better unpack the car, sort out the bedraggled mess that she was, and get down to the pub. Start learning the ropes.
She hauled one of the bags up the stairs, into her bedroom, and plonked it on the bed. Before doing anything else, however, she couldn’t resist peering out of the window again, having to imagine Gull Rock this time as dusk had now hidden it completely. A year, she thought. That’s all I’ve got, a year. Enough time to get over anyone, surely?
Taking in a deep breath then letting it slowly out, she bloody hoped so.
Chapter Five
“LAYLA! LAYLA! OVER HERE.”
Pulling a pint with one hand and waving frantically with the other, Hannah handed the glass to its eager recipient and hurried round to the public side of the bar.
As she practically threw herself into Layla’s outstretched arms, she felt the same surge of excitement at her friend’s arrival as she’d had in childhood.
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me, too,” replied Layla, laughing along with her.
“You found us okay, then?”
“Yeah, it finally stopped raining, so I walked down. Needed to stretch my legs after being in the car all day. It’s not that far at all, is it. It only took me about fifteen minutes. And you’re right; nothing seems to have changed much out there. Just a few of the gift shops perhaps, but this pub is exactly how I remember it and, more to the point, where I remember it.”
Hannah looked around fondly. “It’s probably a bit more tired than it used to be. I might get Jim to repaint it soon, but it’s got a good atmosphere, and the bar staff, of course, are amongst the best in Cornwall.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Layla said with a smile. “I just hope I don’t spoil things.”
“No way. You’ll be our finest asset, I’m sure. Now, let me look at you. Good, you’re looking good. He’s done no lasting damage, I can tell.”
Hugging her close again, Hannah could actually tell he, whoever he was, had done quite a bit of damage. Layla had a look in her eyes that she’d never had before. Hannah was used to them being full of life and vitality. If she had to describe them now, she would say they were haunted.
“Come on.” Hannah released her at last. “Come and meet the gang.”
Leading Layla past the jukebox and over to a table in the furthest corner of the room, Hannah explained who the “gang” were.
“Jim, of course, you know, but sitting next to him are Curtis and Ryan. Do you remember meeting them briefly when we came down to Brighton? They’re his band mates: Curtis on bass guitar, Ryan on drums. The redhead, that’s Mick, our local fisherman, and still to come is Joseph, carpenter and cabinet maker extraordinaire. There’s plenty of others too,” she continued, “locals you’ll get to know well over the coming months, especially as you’ll be the one responsible for pouring them their favorite tipple. We’re like one big family down here. We all look out for each other. You’ll feel a part of it in no time.”
As they neared the table, Jim jumped up. “Hey, Layla, how are you?”
“Fine, thanks,” Layla answered, but Hannah could tell her friend was feeling overwhelmed at being the center of attention. A drink, that’s what she needed.
“Glass of wine, Layla?”
“Oh, God, yes.” Relief was evident in her voice. “White, please. Whatever you’ve got.”
Hannah returned to the bar. Where was Joe? He knew Layla was arriving today, that they were getting together en masse to welcome her. Surely he’d turn up? Then she stopped herself. Why the heck was she worrying? Of course, he’d turn up. He always did. Eventually.
It wasn’t overly busy in the pub, the winter weather still discouraging most people from leaving their firesides. But it would get steadily busy as the weather got warmer, as spring arrived and then summer, both seasons bringing with them the tourist hoards. She’d need to get several more paintings done by then to make the most of the influx and swell her coffers. She’d get Layla up and running in the pub as soon as possible, but despite joking about it earlier, she wouldn’t do so tonight. Tonight Layla just needed to relax, get herself acquainted with everyone.
“There you go, Layla. It’s a large one,” said Hannah, seating herself beside her whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on the bar.
“Thanks, I need it.” Layla took a few sips before turning back to chat to Mick.
Hannah looked across at Jim talking to Curtis and Ryan, no doubt about their next gig at the Admiral’s Arms in Port Levin, further along the coast. His band had developed quite a cult following in these parts, and it was something he took very seriously. Along with his girlfriend, that is, she thought affectionately. Catching her watching him, he smiled—a cheeky smile, a smile that held a night full of promise.
They were a good bunch; she was sure Layla would grow as fond of them as she was. Curtis and Ryan were a few years younger than the rest of them, in their mid-twenties and just as laid-back as Jim, just as good-natured. Mick was a real laugh too, the joker of the pack with an eye for the ladies. Clearly, an eye for Layla, by the looks of it. Hannah would have to have a quiet word in his ear at some stage, tell him not to get his hopes up as Layla was off men at the moment. And then there was Joe. What would she think of Joe? What would he think of her? Friends as well as neighbors, she mused.
It was nearly an hour later when Joseph arrived, spotting them straightaway but going to the bar before joining them.
Hannah got up and went to serve him.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked as casually as she could muster.
“I’m fine thanks, Han,” he replied. “How are you?”
“Yeah, good, good.” She nodded. “What have you been doing? Working?”
“Yeah, sorry I’m late. It’s all a bit frantic at the moment.”
“Is that why we don’t see so much of you lately?” she said, immediately annoyed with herself for asking.
“Er, I’m not sure.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t realize I was being elusive.”
“I’m just saying,” she mumbled, not quite able to meet his gaze. “Anyway, come on over and meet Trecastle’s newest resident.”
When they reached the table, Hannah started to introduce them. “Layla, this is Joe. Joe, this is—”
“We’ve already met,” said Joseph, extending his hand and smiling.
“Have we?” asked Layla, baffled.
“Have you?” said Hannah. This was news to her.
“Yeah, we have,” continued Joseph. “A couple of hours ago. On the road into the village. You tried to kill me, remember?”
“Kill you?” Layla gasped. “You’re the biker? The one I knocked over?”
“You knocked him over?” repeated Hannah in horror.
“I didn’t mean to,” explained Layla quickly. “It was an accident. I was going to tell you about it. I just haven’t had the chance yet.”
Hannah turned to Joseph. “Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”
“Well,” he replied somberly, “apart from my right arm, which I’m not sure is ever going to work again, I’m fine.”
Layla’s jaw dropped open, and he added, “I’m joking. Really, it’s just a joke. I’m fine.”
“Right, well, in that case,” Hannah continued, “as I was saying, Layla, this is Joseph Scott. Joe, this is Layla Lewis, your would-be killer, next-door neighbor, and my best friend. She’s house-sitting whilst Lenny’s in Scotland.”
“Next-door neighbor, huh?” Joseph took a swig from his pint glass. “That could prove interesting.”
“Really? Why?” said Hannah, unable to keep aloof.
“Why?” Joseph said, his gaze still firmly on Layla. “Because every time I step outside my front door, I’ll be taking my life in my hands, that’s why. Just as well my other vehicle is an armored tank. I’ll have to get it out of retirement, make good use of it.”
They all laughed at this, Layla, Jim, Curtis, Ryan, and Mick. Hannah laughe
d too, but not as hard as the rest of them. Since setting eyes on Layla, Joe had barely looked away. Come to think of it, the reverse could also be said. Was that a spark of something bursting into life between them or was she being paranoid? She didn’t know. Pain, so familiar it was almost like a comfort blanket, flared up inside her. She tried hard to quash it. Too late. Jim had already noticed.
He was looking at her again, but this time the cheeky smile had gone. His face now showed concern, not for himself but for her. Always for her. In the moment their eyes locked, she hated herself. Why couldn’t she be happy with what she had? What was wrong with her? No man had ever loved her like Jim loved her. Which was, of course, part of the problem.
As much as she adored living in Trecastle, perhaps a move to the next village really would be a good idea when they finally got round to buying a house. Not too far. She didn’t want to move too far, but far enough to avoid this daily torture. Smiling at Jim, she went over to him and ruffled his hair, hoping to silently reassure him before returning to the bar and the handful of customers that were waiting for her.
Chapter Six
SO THIS WAS THE MAN Layla had nearly killed. She should have known. His face may have been hidden by his helmet, but those eyes were unforgettable. She’d never seen a blue like it. They were as blue as the sky on a perfect summer’s day.
After Hannah had introduced him to her, Joseph pulled up a chair beside her and joined in the fun and banter. Bantering mainly with her, she had to admit. She was surprised to see how quickly Hannah had retreated back behind the bar and wondered if she should go and help. But Hannah had told her not to just enjoy herself tonight. And she was; she really was. These were lovely people. Warm and welcoming. So different from the corporate types she was used to back home.
Jim was a real catch; Hannah must be very pleased with herself. He was good-looking in a thrown together kind of way with his shoulder length hair, loose jeans, and battered but oh-so-cool brown leather jacket. It was obvious from the way his eyes followed Hannah around that he adored her. Mick was also great. He trawled the high seas with his dad, his wind-reddened cheeks a clue to his profession and almost exactly the same shade as his unruly mop of hair. And then there was Joseph, tall and lean with dark blond hair that flopped every now and then over those eyes of his, those incredible blue eyes. He was actually breathtaking if you liked that kind of man, which of course she didn’t.
No, as she told him on their way home later that evening, the pair of them stopping every now and then to marvel at how brightly the stars glittered in the night sky (brighter than she’d ever seen them shine before), she wasn’t into men at all. Nor was she into girls, she hastened to add, in case he got the wrong idea—she was from Brighton, after all.
“I just want to be on my own, to find myself.” She hiccupped. “That’s what this year is all about. Straightening myself out.”
“Quite right, too,” he said, rushing to grab her elbow, even though she was sure she wasn’t staggering in the slightest.
“Indeed.” She nodded, pleased he so readily agreed with her. “What about you? Do you like it here?” she continued merrily.
“I do, yes,” Joseph replied, his voice suddenly thoughtful. “I didn’t at first, wondered what the hell I was playing at, moving here from London. But gradually I came to like it, love it, in fact.”
“Oh?” nudged Layla, intrigued.
“It’s different than where I’m from—Hammersmith, by the way—but a good sort of different. The pace is slower, easier to live with. It changes you too, living in a place like this. Back in London, whatever I had never seemed enough. Like everyone else, I wanted bigger, better, more.”
“Like what?” she asked, cursing the slur that had crept into her voice.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He laughed now—at the slur or the question she didn’t know. “The latest LED-LCD HD TV, for example, with 3D kit and Blu-ray player. Back there, it would have been essential. Down here, I don’t even own a TV!”
“Gosh.” Layla was horrified and impressed at the same time. “No TV? I can’t imagine.”
They had reached her front door. Fumbling for the key in the pocket of her jeans, she made two attempts at inserting it in the lock before finally managing to open it. Before going inside, she swung back round to say goodnight to this newfound friend of hers. As she did so, something peculiar happened. Face-to-face, their eyes locked and the rest of the world vanished, just melted away, glittering stars and all, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, leaving the two of them alone and stranded in the universe, staring at each other.
As she stared and stared, the word pheromones popped into her head and floated tantalizingly around. Metaphorically grabbing hold of it as though it were the key to enlightenment, she decided, That’s it. That’s all this is. An attack of pheromones, nothing more.
She knew from past experience how much havoc a few stray pheromones could cause, particularly after one glass of wine too many. And she’d certainly had one glass of wine too many tonight, more like four or five in fact, with Hannah not exactly sticking to the rules regarding pub measures. She liked Joseph. He was nice. Funny and seemingly kind. But paramour material he was not. Probably around twenty-eight or twenty-nine, he was not in her preferred age bracket. She liked older men, men with character, men who had experienced something of life. Men like Alex, she thought, his name having the effect of several strong espressos. Coming to, she tore her gaze away, mumbled a flimsy excuse, flung the door shut, and rushed in to collapse at the kitchen table.
What the hell am I doing? she thought. I’ve been here one night, and already I’m coming home drunk and making eyes at the boy next door.
That was not why she’d come to Trecastle, as she had only been pointing out a few minutes ago. Getting friendly with the locals was okay; getting more than friendly was certainly not. Rebound action had never been her style, and that’s all it would be. A bit of rebound action.
She was single, and single she would stay, until she’d worked Alex out of her system at least. Which didn’t look likely to be happening anytime soon. No matter how much she’d enjoyed talking to Joseph tonight—to Mick, to Jim, to all of them—she craved Alex, as though he were a drug and she the addict. And little wonder, they’d only been apart three weeks. The wounds he’d inflicted were still suppurating.
Her head falling forward in her hands, the brave face she’d tried to wear ever since she found out about Sarah-Jane finally cracked. Now that she was hundreds of miles from Alex, she could admit how much she missed him. His soulful brown eyes, his impressive confidence, and, yes, she had to admit it, his incredibly sexy aura of power. He had made her feel special, like she was “the chosen one” or something. Now she just felt stupid. Alex didn’t want her, perhaps had never wanted her. Taking off into the wild blue yonder with another (younger) member of staff and leaving nothing but a Post-It note by way of explanation pretty much told her that this was the case.
The tears began again, and instead of brushing them away, she let them fall, hoping they’d bring with them some kind of relief. They didn’t.
Without Alex, without Penny, even without her mother, she felt lonely, perhaps the loneliest she had ever felt—which was saying something. She missed Brighton and wanted to wrap its familiarity around her like a cloak. Although she knew Trecastle from childhood, she was effectively a stranger in a strange land. Being here felt wrong. The edge of nowhere, as she’d called it, a stone’s throw from oblivion. Perhaps Penny was right: running away was not the answer. She should have stayed, toughed it out. A thought, of course, which only made her cry harder.
Chapter Seven
“HEY, YOU’RE SOUNDING BRIGHTER,” Penny said. “Settling in at last?”
“Yeah, I think so,” replied Layla. “It’s taken a few weeks, but I’m getting used to life in the sticks. Even catch myself enjoying it at times.”
Penny laughed. “And what about the job? Do you think you’ve found your callin
g in life?”
“That’s going a bit far,” Layla said, a smile in her voice, “but it’s okay. It serves a purpose. It pays my way, at least.”
“Good, glad to hear it. I’ll be down tomorrow, late afternoon. Is that okay?”
“Okay?” yelled Layla, forcing Penny to hold the phone at a distance in order to safeguard her eardrums. “It’s brilliant! I can’t believe I’ve got you all to myself for a whole seven days. We’ve got so much to catch up on.”
Quickly changing the subject, Penny asked, “Anyway, what are you up to tonight? Working?”
“No, I’ve got the week off in your honor, starting tonight, in fact. Joseph’s coming round for a bite to eat.”
“Again? That’s becoming quite a habit, isn’t it?”
“Not really.” Layla’s voice was prickly all of a sudden. “It just makes sense. He only lives next door, we get on well, and it’s more fun cooking for two than one. It’s only been a handful of times, anyway.”
It’s been a damn sight more than that, thought Penny. But not wanting to upset Layla’s mood further, she said, “Have a good time tonight. Don’t drink too much, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too, hun. Drive carefully, won’t you?”
Assuring Layla she would, Penny hung up before shoving the phone back into her jacket pocket. As she crossed the road to the deli, intent on getting some lunch before rushing back to finish the day’s work, she thought, We certainly have got lots to catch up on. But how much Penny was going to reveal, she hadn’t yet decided.
Regarding Richard, there wasn’t much to say. Things hadn’t improved, although she had let him back into their bedroom. Not because she wanted sex or anything, far from it. Rather, she couldn’t bear his constant moaning and groaning about how uncomfortable the bed in the spare room was. They hadn’t had sex for ages—since she’d told him about Dylan, in fact. Sometimes she wondered if they ever would again.
After the incident with Diane Tyrrell, they hadn’t spoken for over a week, although one heck of a lot of door banging had gone on during that time (mainly by her, she had to admit). After a while though, they had gradually softened from downright hostility to formal politeness, both of them realizing that if they were to continue living under the same roof, they had to at least pass the time of day every now and then. How much longer they’d carry on living under the same roof, though, was debatable. The thought of severing ties completely was too painful to contemplate, but neither could she bear the thought of living like this for weeks, months, or even years to come. She was still so angry with him. She couldn’t help it, and certainly he was angry with her. Where had all this anger come from? It seemed to have crept up on them like some sort of comic book monster, ensnaring them in its vice-like hold. Why didn’t they fight back instead of giving in to it? Join forces and banish the monster forever.
The Runaway Year Page 5