You And Me, Always(34)

‘I just don't know. I mean, it's nice to know it's there  … '

‘OK, I don't think we mentioned it before, but in case you were  wondering, if you did decide you liked the idea, we'd prefer to go the  turkey baster route.' Sean lowered his voice and added, ‘You know,  rather than  …  au naturel.'

‘Oh! Yes, of course. I hadn't even thought of doing it that way,' said  Patsy. ‘I'd assumed it'd be turkey baster from the word go.'

‘Right. Well that's good. So long as we both know how it would happen.  But like we said before, no pressure.' Sean gave her hand a reassuring  squeeze. ‘Plenty of time to decide.'

Patsy nodded. Of course she'd prefer to have a baby with a partner of  her own, someone who loved her for herself. But look at tonight's date  –   what if she ended up with someone who refused to tip because he was  such a cheapskate?

Sean, meanwhile, was still holding the bottle of Chablis. ‘Sure you don't want one? On the house?'

‘I'm sure.' She smiled at her ex-husband, touched by his kindness. ‘I'm just not in the mood for a drink.'





Chapter 27



Dan was in the mood for a drink. He was in the mood for several. On his  way down to the shop this afternoon he'd stopped to talk to Maggie  Bennett, who was taking her hyperactive three-year-old grandson out on  his new tricycle. The boy, desperate to get to the playground and losing  patience with his grandmother, had taken aim and cycled furiously into  the back of her legs, causing Maggie to lurch forward in shock and hang  on to Dan for support.

Which wouldn't normally have been a problem, except she'd grabbed him by  the shoulder and, in an effort to stay upright, simultaneously stepped  on his foot. Needless to say, it was his bad foot and his strapped-up  shoulder. If she'd also managed to punch him in his black eye, she'd  have achieved the hat-trick.

Plus poor Maggie was so mortified and apologetic that Dan had then been  forced to pretend everything was fine and it hadn't hurt a bit.

At least her grandson had found it funny. That boy was definitely a Hannibal Lecter in the making.                       
       
           



       

The pain had been intense; it had carried on making itself felt all  afternoon and on into the evening. Banned from the pub because Patsy was  meeting another of her internet dates there, Dan dosed himself up with  painkillers and stretched out on the sofa to watch Star Wars.

But for once, even his all-time favourite film didn't have the desired  effect; it wasn't managing to distract him from thoughts of Lily with  Eddie Tessler. And the more Dan thought about it, the more it bothered  him. Lily had had boyfriends before  –  not many, but a few  –  and he'd  been able to accept the situation, maybe because he'd looked at each of  them and known instinctively that there was no need to worry; they  wouldn't be around for long.

He'd always been right, too. Within a few weeks Lily would invariably  lose interest and end the relationship; as soon as it became apparent to  her that they weren't The One, she saw no reason to carry on seeing  them simply in order to have a boyfriend in her life.

The only one who'd lasted any length of time had been Phil, but even  then Dan hadn't been concerned. Phil had seemed on the surface like a  nice enough guy, but Dan had known he would reveal his true colours  sooner or later. It had happened following Nick's sudden death, when,  sure enough, Phil had completely failed to understand why Lily would  want to support Coral in her grief rather than carry on socialising with  him. His lack of empathy had killed the six-month relationship stone  dead and Dan had been glad, because Lily deserved so much better than  someone like Phil.

That another relationship hadn't materialised in the last couple of  years was purely down to the fact that she'd been so completely  uninterested in meeting anyone, and somehow Dan had got used to this  being the situation, had been lulled into a false sense of security.  Although the logical part of his brain was aware that at some stage in  the future it was bound to happen, the illogical part had been hoping it  never would.

Except now the false sense of security had been ruthlessly ripped away  and it felt as if a bottomless sinkhole had opened up beneath his feet.  At the moment he was still hovering at ground level, like a character in  a cartoon stepping off a cliff into thin air, but any moment now  gravity would set in and he'd go plunging down, down, down  …

Because while none of the other boyfriends in Lily's life had felt like a  threat, Eddie Tessler did. He was in a different league altogether, and  Lily was clearly both flattered and smitten.

Dan's mouth was dry, his mind in unaccustomed turmoil. While all he  could do was endure it and pray for the relationship to crash and burn,  he had the awful feeling it wouldn't.

Basically, why would Eddie Tessler lose interest in someone as funny and  original and quirky and lovable as Lily? Let's face it, the attraction  between them was already there; he'd heard about it from Lily and Patsy,  and now he'd seen it with his own eyes.

And why wouldn't it exist? She was perfect. Hadn't he himself spent  years, after all, trying to find someone who could successfully take his  mind off her? He had tried, over and over again, and had failed  miserably.

The film was still playing on the TV screen but Dan was paying it no  attention. Instead he reached once more for his laptop and fired it up,  like some kind of masochist. Because it wasn't as if all the photos of  Eddie and Lily together weren't already seared indelibly into his brain.

Yet still he was compelled to look at them again, scrolling awkwardly  with his left hand, clicking on link after link and experiencing a fresh  stab of jealousy with each photo in turn. It was just so clear, so  visible, the connection between them. The cameras had caught it  perfectly, damn their miracle lenses  …  the way Eddie was looking at Lily  as if he couldn't believe his luck, and the way Lily was glowing with  the kind of happiness that only-

A key turned in the lock, the front door opened and Dan hurriedly closed  the lid of the laptop, as guilty as if he'd been caught watching porn.

One look at Patsy's face told him the evening hadn't been a success.

‘Oh dear,' said Dan. ‘Marks out of ten?'

‘Minus four hundred and seventy-six.'

He felt for her. ‘That's a disappointing date.'

‘Just your average disaster. Story of my life.' Patsy turned to look at the TV screen. ‘Are you watching that?'

Which was shorthand for: please tell me you're not watching that awful  film again because I'd quite like to put on The Holiday to cheer me up.

‘No, you go ahead.' Switching off the laptop and hauling himself  awkwardly to his feet, Dan winced at the pain. ‘If I'm allowed back in  now, I think I'll head down to the pub.'                       
       
           



       



It was eleven o'clock and Sean was calling last orders. Dan held up his empty glass. ‘Yes please.'

Because eleven o'clock was far too early; he hadn't come out until 9.30 and was nowhere near finished yet.

‘Are you sure?' Sean was raising an eyebrow at him in that knowing, landlordy way landlords had.

‘Sure I'm sure. Absolutely. And have one for yourself.' Easing his  wallet out of his jeans pocket with his left hand, Dan dropped it on the  floor. ‘Bugger.'

‘Here, let me.' Sean came out from behind the bar and retrieved the wallet. ‘Were you drinking before you came out tonight?'

‘No, nope, not me. Well, yes, I was drinking,' said Dan. ‘But only orange juice. Nothing in it, I swear.'

‘You've only had four drinks here.' Sean started to wash glasses. ‘You shouldn't be this far gone. What else have you taken?'

‘Just painkillers. Oh,' said Dan. ‘That could be it. We ran out of  paracetamol so I had some, you know, other stuff instead. Not that kind  of other stuff.' He shook his head and wavered for a moment on his bar  stool. ‘It was a prescription Patsy had for painkillers that time she  did her back in.'

‘Well that was intelligent,' Sean said drily.

‘No other choice. I was in agony.' Dan grinned. ‘Maggie Bennett threw herself at me this afternoon.'

‘I know. You already told me.'

Had he? Ha. Dan looked at the clusters of lights behind the bar, noticed  that there appeared to be more of them than usual and belatedly  realised he was seeing double. It was pretty. Christmassy. He said, ‘The  lights look nice.'

Amused, Sean said, ‘Do they?'

‘Yes. And you have lovely eyes.'

‘Thanks.'