‘I’m fine, honestly.’
‘Ice cream on the side?’
‘No, Jack. It’s too naughty.’
‘Right so.’ He beckoned to Ryan. ‘I’ll just ask for my usual two portions then, at the risk of ruining my girlish figure. And if you change your mind, I’m sure I can spare one.’
He bloody did as well, he got two portions. Ten minutes later, he’d twisted my arm with no great effort and we were both tucking into a plateful of moist sponge bathed in caramel sauce.
‘My mum’d go spare if she saw me eating this,’ I told him, chasing a spoonful round my plate.
‘Aren’t you a bit big to have your mam telling you you’re not allowed afters?’
‘Mmm,’ I said, fork hovering halfway to my mouth. ‘She’s obsessed with calorie-counting. Always watching her figure.’
‘What, and yours?’
‘Yeah. She’s… well, you’d really have to meet her to get it.’ I swallowed a mouthful of pudding with a liberating feeling of defiance. ‘But let’s not talk about her.’
‘Okay, you pick a conversation topic.’
‘Tell me about you then, dark and mysterious man,’ I said, smiling. ‘Are you allowed to just drive around the country drawing? Thought you had to have a visa or something.’
‘Not for Ireland. Anyway, I’ve got British and Irish passports.’
‘Really? How come?’
‘My mam’s English.’ He glanced warily around the pub. ‘Although I like to keep it quiet, obviously.’
‘Cheekiness. Where’s she from?’
‘Hackney. She moved to Ireland when she was tiny though. Lives up in Scotland now.’
‘Ha!’
‘What do you mean, ha?’
‘You’re a cockney.’
He drew himself up. ‘How dare you. I am as full-blooded an Irishman as you’ll meet today.’
‘I knew it was all an act. I knew I’d seen you earlier at the bar.’
‘Seen me what?’
‘Doing the Lambeth walk.’
‘I don’t even know what the Lambeth walk is.’
‘I bet soon as you’re back in the camper, you’ll be guzzling jellied eels and having a knees-up round the old Joanna.’
‘The old what?’
‘And I spotted those Chas and Dave albums hidden in the sofa earlier, by the way.’
Jack grinned. ‘Okay, you’ve got me there. I do love Chas and Dave.’
‘Who doesn’t?’
‘See, I knew sticky toffee would do the trick,’ he said, laughing. ‘If you’re teasing me about East End folk duos, you must be feeling better.’
‘I am.’ I smiled at him. ‘You’re good at this, aren’t you? Cheering people up. After the day I’ve had, I never thought I’d be able to laugh again.’
‘When the stormclouds gather, pudding. Ancient Irish proverb.’
‘Ancient cockney proverb.’
‘Oi. Less of the backchat, my girl, or I might rethink my offer of a sleepover.’
I frowned. ‘Sleepover?’
‘Well, yeah. I’m not going to let you walk the streets, am I? You might get eaten by a feral Herdwick. Vicious feckers, the sheep round here.’
I hesitated. When he said sleepover, did he mean sleepover or did he mean, you know… sleepover? I mean, I did trust him, but… well, he was still a stranger. And a man.
He smiled, reading my expression. ‘No ulterior motive, I promise. I’ll put a camp bed up in the awning for me. And if you want to stay a few days while you make a plan, you can. I’ll look after you.’
‘Why though?’
‘Because you’ve got no money and nowhere to go and I’m not a complete bastard.’ He glanced at my sore palms. ‘And not to be personal, but I’m not sure your mental state’s any too stable right now either. I don’t want to leave you alone.’
‘I’m not your problem.’
‘I’m making you my problem. Just until you get back on your feet.’
The sense of relief that there was someone in my corner, someone who wanted to help, was palpable. The feeling that it wasn’t just me against the world any more surged through me like warm caramel.
‘Thank you,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I’ll pay you back for all this. Just as soon as… as something happens. I don’t know what, but something.’
‘Nothing happens but what we make happen.’ He pushed his plate away and stood up. ‘And tomorrow is the first day of making the rest of your life happen, superhero Kitty Clayton. Come on.’
Chapter 5 (#ue6f429e3-3d8c-5e0b-b594-8af9a731feee)
So this was my wedding night. Walking by the banks of a star-spangled lake with an almost complete stranger who’d just offered to save me from a life of vagrancy. It wasn’t the one I’d dreamed of, but it was certainly interesting.
‘Is it far?’ I asked Jack.
‘Just a half-mile from here.’ He glanced down at my wellies. ‘How far have you walked in those things today?’