‘How was your aperitif?’
Mr Nicholls gazed at his empty cocktail glass. ‘Delicious.’
‘Well, the main course is on its way. I’m afraid it’s just the two of us this evening, as the other guests had prior arrangements.’
‘Waterloo Road and some completely insane algebraic equations.’
‘You know us too well.’ Jess sat down in her chair and, as she did, Mrs Deakins picked her way across the lawn, the Pomeranians yapping at her feet. With the same care as a head waiter holds up cordon bleu dishes in a five-star restaurant, she held aloft two plates upon each of which sat a huge foil-clad pie and chips.
‘There you go,’ she said, placing them on the table. ‘Steak and kidney. From Ian up the road. He does a lovely meat pie.’
Jess was so hungry by then she thought she could probably have eaten Ian. ‘Fantastic. Thank you,’ she said, laying a paper napkin on her lap.
Mrs Deakins stood and gazed around, as if seeing the setting for the first time. ‘We never eat out here. Lovely idea. I might offer it to my other customers. And those cocktails. I could make a package of it.’
Jess thought about the old men in the bar. ‘Shame not to,’ she said, passing the vinegar across to Mr Nicholls. He seemed temporarily stunned.
Mrs Deakins rubbed her hands on her apron. ‘Well, Mr Nicholls, your wife is certainly determined to show you a good time on your birthday,’ she said, with a wink.
He glanced up at her. ‘Oh. There’s never a quiet moment with Jess,’ he said, letting his gaze slide back to hers.
‘So how long have you two been married?’
‘Ten years.’
‘Three years.’
‘The children are from my previous marriages,’ Jess said, slicing into the pie.
‘Oh! That’s –’
‘I rescued her,’ said Mr Nicholls. ‘From the side of the road.’
‘He did.’
‘That’s very romantic.’ Mrs Deakins’s smile wavered a little.
‘Not really. She was being arrested at the time.’
‘I’ve explained all that. God, these chips are delicious.’
‘You have. And those policemen were very understanding. Considering.’
Mrs Deakins had started to back away. ‘Well, that’s lovely. It’s nice that you’re still together.’
‘We get by.’
‘We have no choice right now.’
‘That’s true too.’
‘Could you bring out some red sauce?’
‘Oh, good idea. Darling.’
As she disappeared, Mr Nicholls nodded towards the candle, and the plates. And then he looked up at Jess and he was no longer scowling. ‘This is actually the best pie and chips I’ve ever eaten in a weird bed-and-breakfast somewhere I’ve never heard of on the north Yorkshire moors.’
‘I’m so glad. Happy birthday.’
They ate in companionable silence. It was astonishing how much better a hot meal and a fearsomely strong cocktail could make you feel. Upstairs Jess could hear Nicky watching television, occasional growls of frustration echoing through the open window when the static electricity interrupted his programme. Crows cawed obscenely from a nearby telephone wire. Norman groaned and flopped over onto his side, releasing Mr Nicholls’s foot. Mr Nicholls stretched his leg speculatively, perhaps trying to see whether he still could.
He looked up at her, and raised his refreshed cocktail glass. ‘Seriously. I do feel better. Thank you.’ Without his glasses on, she noticed now that he had ridiculously long eyelashes. It made her feel weirdly conscious of the candle in the middle of the table. It had been a bit of a joke when she’d asked for it.
‘Well … it was the least I could do. You did rescue us. From the side of the road. I don’t know what we would have done.’
He speared another chip and held it aloft. ‘Well, I like to look after my staff.’
‘I think I preferred it when we were married.’
‘Cheers.’ He grinned at her. And it was so genuine and unexpected that she found herself grinning back.
‘Here’s to tomorrow. And Tanzie’s future.’
‘And a general absence of more crap.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’
The evening crept into night, eased by strong alcohol, and the happy knowledge that nobody had to sleep in a car, or needed frequent, urgent access to a bathroom. Nicky came down, ate his pie and chips, gazed suspiciously from under his fringe at the men in the snug, who gazed equally suspiciously back at him, and retreated to his bedroom to watch television. Jess drank three glasses of acidic Liebfraumilch, went inside to check on Tanzie and take her some food. She made her promise she would not revise later than ten o’clock. ‘Can I keep working in your room? Nicky has the telly on.’
‘That’s fine,’ Jess said.
‘You smell of wine,’ Tanzie said pointedly.
‘That’s because we’re sort of on holiday. Mums are allowed to smell of wine when they’re sort of on holiday.’
‘Hmm.’ She gave Jess a severe look and turned back to her books.
Nicky was sprawled on one of the single beds watching television. She shut the door behind her and sniffed the air.
‘You haven’t been smoking, have you?’
‘You’ve still got my stash, if you remember. You said you were going to throw it away.’