I laugh at that. ‘Good luck to you.’ I have enough trouble sleeping as it is as my mind goes into overdrive the minute my head hits the pillow and, anyway, it feels ridiculous to have decaf espresso. Isn’t the very point of an espresso to make you wired?
He pours out half of a diet Coke and pushes it across the bar to me. I get a straw and try, unsuccessfully, to look cool while I sip it. Mason rattles about with the cups and coffee machine, pulling levers, pushing buttons, until it spits out a double espresso. I hate the blasted thing and try to avoid it as much as possible.
‘Sit?’ He nods to one of the tables. ‘You’re not in a rush to get away?’
‘No.’ I wonder if he’s checking out whether I’ve got a husband or a family waiting for me and then I think I’m maybe a bit too jaundiced by Charlie’s opinion of him. I’d say that Mason Soames is no more than thirty-two or thirty-three at most, so I’m a good few years his senior. He looks like the type of man who likes his women younger and preferably of supermodel status. And why not? In his enviable situation, I’d probably be exactly the same.
We sit at the nearest table and Mason stretches out his long legs. Even with him wearing a suit, I can tell that his thighs are made for skiing. The thought of which makes me gulp down my drink. He takes a mouthful of his coffee and stretches back, comfortably. Whereas I’m not entirely sure what to do myself at all. I fuss with taking off my apron, then I’m not sure how to arrange myself in the chair. It’s clear that I’m being subjected to his scrutiny and, while I’d like to tell you that I couldn’t care less, I find myself hoping that I meet with Mason’s approval.
‘So,’ he says. ‘How are you finding it working here?’
I shrug. ‘I like it. It’s very different to what I was doing before.’
‘Which was?’
Even if he read my CV, he’s clearly forgotten. It was Jay, our manager, who took me on. ‘I was in finance. At the local council.’
Mason nods sagely. ‘Is that as interminably dull as it sounds?’
‘Yes,’ I admit.
He gives a guffaw and, call me stupid, but it makes me glow to think that I’ve made him laugh.
‘I only watched you in action for a few minutes,’ he says, ‘but I liked what I saw. You’re a natural.’
‘Thanks.’ My cheeks burn and I’m glad that the lights in the bar are turned down low.
‘Why the sudden change of course?’
‘Oh, you know.’ I’m a bit reluctant to reveal my mid-life meltdown, my divorce, my lack of direction. ‘New year, new me. All that. Thought it was time for a change.’
‘Well, I’m glad that you ended up here in the Butcher’s Arms.’ He makes it sound terribly salacious. Is he flirting with me?
‘I can’t think of a better place,’ I bat back.
Mason checks his watch and swigs back his coffee. ‘I’d better be making tracks or I’ll be in trouble.’
A very large part of me thinks that someone like Mason Soames is probably in trouble quite a lot. And likes it that way.
‘Sure you won’t change your mind?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘I’m going to be around much more from now,’ he says as he stands. ‘I want to develop the business here. We could do so much more. We’ll have time to get to know each other better.’
There it is again.
‘I’ve got to grab my bag and my jacket from the staffroom.’
‘I’ll wait,’ he says. ‘We can lock up together. I’ll get the lights.’
So I go through to the back of the pub and gather my belongings, such as they are. Back in the bar, Mason has turned off the lights and is standing waiting for me in the darkness. I tell you for real, his bloody eyes are still twinkling.
‘Ready?’
I nod. Which is stupid because he probably can’t see me clearly at all.
As I pass, he rests his hand gently on the back of my waist and steers me towards the door which he holds open. Outside, the night air is cold, the moon full and bright. Mason walks me to my car and I try not to fumble with my keys as I open the door.
‘Enjoy your party,’ I say.
‘I’d rather be going home to bed,’ he replies and, again, it’s ridiculously loaded. He winks at me. ‘Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’
In a moment, he’s back in his own car and roaring out of the car park. I sigh. I know which of the residents will come in and complain about that tomorrow.
I sit in my own less sleek and less shiny Mazda, gripping the wheel, waiting for the rapid beating of my heart to slow down. He was cute, I think. Young and cocky, but also cute. I feel myself smirk into the darkness.
This is bad, Ruby Brown. Very bad.
Chapter Six
I’m not on the same shift as Charlie the next day. Which is a good thing, I think. I’d have to confess to her that my thoughts about Shagger Soames aren’t exactly in keeping with her own. He seemed nice. Too smooth, I’ll give you that. Though he was much more charming and entertaining than I’d imagined him to be. Flirty even. But then Charlie said he flirts with anyone with a pulse. It wouldn’t do to tell my friend that I was actually quite taken with him.
In keeping with my recently divorced status, I told you that I’d rashly booked a course of scuba-diving lessons – which, of course, I am now slightly regretting. Actually, very much regretting. Still, in for a penny, in for a pound. I’ve paid up now and won’t get a refund if I bottle it, so I might as well give it a go. I could have gone for a Discover Scuba-Diving taster evening – that would have been the sensible thing to do. Right? Try it out, see if I like it. But no, fool that I am, I signed up for a full-on PADI Open Water Diver Course. Why did I do that? Because I was feeling reckless and independent and wanted to show the world that just because my man had left nice loyal me for a total slapper, I wasn’t through with life. Great plan! Though I’m currently wondering why I didn’t prove that I am a rock chick by joining the local knit-and-natter club or booking Indian cookery lessons.
My first session with the Wolverton Sub-Aqua School is tonight after I’ve finished work and anxiety is gnawing at my stomach already. Lunch and afternoon service goes without a hitch. No breakages, no complaints, no hissy fits from the chef. Fabulous. I’m out of the Butcher’s Arms on time and head straight to the leisure centre, bag ready and waiting on the passenger seat. Organised or what?