“Hi, Beth. Hi, everybody. It’s good to see you all. Hope you don’t mind me crashing your family lunch, Sylvia?”
“I said you’d have cooked plenty, Mum,” said Mark.
Sylvia came over to kiss Smithy’s cheek. “I have. And of course it’s all right. Of course. It’s lovely to see you after all this time.”
“I was so sorry to hear about Richard.”
Sylvia patted Smithy’s hand. “Thank you, dear. Yes, it was . . . well, you know, I’m sure. But, Mark, fix Smithy a drink, will you? I just need to get the vegetables on.”
“How are you, Beth?” Smithy asked me while Mark searched out a beer and Rosie helped her mother to peel potatoes.
I couldn’t stop smiling at him. It was so good to see him again. As far as I knew, this was the first time he’d been back to this country in years. “I’m fine,” I said. “How about you? You look great.”
Smithy smiled, a slightly lopsided smile that took me right back to our time in Belize together. “I’m okay, thanks. Just back to visit family. Still working overseas. Mark says you’re volunteering at a youth centre?”
Curious that Mark had picked that particular fact about me to mention to his friend. “Yes, it’s in Dalston, near where I live. I really enjoy it.”
In the distance, we could hear Mark speaking to Sylvia, asking about a bottle opener.
“You’re still single, then?” Smithy asked me softly.
“Well,” I said, “I have a boyfriend at the moment, but it’s nothing serious. So yes, I’m still single.”
“You never . . .” Smithy gestured towards the kitchen door—and Mark—with his head.
I shook mine. “No.”
“You do know you might have saved him a broken marriage if you’d said something. I didn’t get to meet Grace, but she sounds like a right piece of work.”
I pulled a face. “Let’s just say I never really warmed to her.”
“Why would you?” Smithy began to say, but I could see Mark coming from the kitchen, so I shushed him.
He joined us, handing Smithy a bottle of beer. “Here you go, mate.” He put his arm round Smithy’s shoulders and looked at me. “So what d’you make of my big surprise, Beth? Good, eh? You two always did get on well, didn’t you? Belize buddies and all that.”
“It’s a fantastic surprise,” I said, meaning it, looking in Smithy’s direction. “I’m looking forward to hearing all about your life in Dubai.”
“Why don’t you come over and experience it for yourself instead of me telling you about it?” Smithy said.
I stared at him. “What?”
“I’ll give you my contact details. You can come and visit whenever you like.”
“Whoa!” said Mark. “Beth’s got a boyfriend.” He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Or so I’m led to believe?”
Rosie chose that moment to join us. “A boyfriend she badly needs to dump,” she said. Then, to me: “Haven’t you done it yet?”
I sighed. “No. But I do really have to.”
“Just tell him straight,” said Mark. “That’s my advice. This isn’t working. What’s his name?”
“Tom.”
“This isn’t working, Tom. I suggest we split. Oh, and while you’re at it, throw in a puppy gift rejection if you can. In my experience, that really helps to underline a person’s true feelings.”
“Not that you’re bitter or anything, mate,” said Smithy.
“Me? Bitter? Whatever gives you that idea?”
We all stared at him. He sighed, shaking his head at himself, looking in my direction. “Sorry, Beth. That was insensitive of me. I know you’ll be gentle with the poor guy when the time comes.”
It was distressing to see him like that, hollow eyed, pale, obviously a bit drunk. If there hadn’t still been that awkward post-kiss hangover between us, I’d have hugged him.
Either that or given him a good shaking.
“I’ll do my best to be gentle,” I said, looking straight at him. “But rejection is never easy, is it?”
Our gazes connected for a charged moment. Mine fell first, and I stood there, trying to pull myself together, wondering whether things would ever be right between us again. Possibly not.
“Well, this is all very cheerful,” Rosie said into the tension.
“Isn’t it?” said Smithy. “How’s your love life going, Rosie?”
Mark answered for her. “My sister has been swept off her feet by a tall, dark Italian.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s particularly tall,” said Rosie. “More medium height.”
“But totally gorgeous,” I said, and she nodded.
“Oh yes, he’s definitely that. What about you, Smithy? Not married yet?”
“I’m married to my job,” he said, looking happy about it. “Hence my ability to invite gorgeous women to come and stay with me whenever they care to.” He glanced in my direction, and although he was smiling, beneath it, his expression was every bit as intense as it had been on the beach in Belize two decades ago. I blushed. I couldn’t help it.
Mark was scowling. “A job’s the best thing to be married to, in my opinion. Though you’d have to like what you do for a living for it to work, I suppose.”
“Are you not happy with your work, then, mate?”
“Oh please, don’t get him started on the woes of self-employment, Smithy,” groaned Rosie. “Grace made him give up his job to become an entrepreneur.”
“Nobody can make you do anything,” said Smithy. “Not unless you let them.”
Mark knocked back more of his beer. He looked as if he were formulating how to respond to this, but before he could, there was a knock at the door.
“Could someone get that, please?” called Sylvia. “I’m just checking the casserole.”
“I’ll go,” I volunteered, keen for some respite.
When I opened the door, Gary, Richard’s fishing friend, was on the doorstep. Dressed up in smart trousers and a freshly ironed shirt, he was holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. Obviously invited by Sylvia.
“Hi, Gary, how lovely to see you,” I said.
“Hi, Beth.”
Sylvia was suddenly there at my side. “Hello, Gary,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Come in, come in. Are those for me? How sweet of you.”
Rosie and I exchanged glances as Sylvia ushered Gary down the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Is that what I think it is?” Rosie whispered.
“Depends what you think it is,” I said.
“A date?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, speaking vaguely because I was also listening to what Smithy was saying to Mark.
“Sometimes what’s best for us is staring us right in the face, and we can’t see it.”
Oh God. Smithy’s hints were so unsubtle. If only I could sink into the floor. Vanish in a puff of smoke. Turn back time so I’d stayed in bed this morning instead of coming to Enfield.
“Why do I feel as if I’m on the receiving end of some weird cross between a pep talk and a bollocking?” Mark complained.