Page 6 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

‘Ah, Kate likes the Dragon.’ Chris shrugged apologetically. ‘Says the meals are nicer.’

‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ Kate said. ‘And it’s not a meat market, which is why I happen to like it.’ She couldn’t quite believe she’d said that — but she was right. People like Jenna went to the wine bar. People like Kate went to the Green Dragon. Did that make her old? She was twenty-eight, which was hardly ancient.

‘Have it your way,’ said Jenna with a shrug. She stood up and stretched. ‘Well, that’s me done for the day then. My lunchtime cover has covered. I’ll be off now. And,’ she turned to Chris again, ‘I’ll be at the wine bar later. Guaranteed.’

‘We’ll be at the Dragon,’ Kate confirmed. ‘Because we’re old. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jenna.’

‘Yeah. Tomorrow. TTFN.’ She wandered out and Kate felt the atmosphere lift.

‘Thank God for that,’ she muttered and slid into her place behind the desk. ‘She’s too much at times.’

‘Ah, she’s fun,’ said Chris with a smile at her retreating back. ‘Not to worry. Anyway, I hope I’m not interrupting anything this weekend by coming up?’

‘No, I have nothing planned but work. Did you see the bicycle outside? I was going to do something with that. Cassie wants it for an event she’s doing up at the Hall, but it needs some TLC first.’

‘A bicycle? No, I didn’t notice. Sorry.’ Chris smiled his half-lazy, half-arrogant smile, and leaned against the edge of the reception desk, his hands in his pockets, his legs crossed at the ankles. ‘God, I need a break after this week. I have to tell you about this client . . .’

Chris clearly had a gem that he wanted to share with her, but as his professional life was a world away from Kate’s and Kate was anxious to get to the bicycle, her attention started to wander a little. Her eyes drifted towards the door and she wasn’t proud of that fact; but she really, really wanted to start on that bike.

‘. . . so like I said to him, it was never going to happen.’ Chris was still talking. ‘In fact, I just need to check the emails to see what they said about it. I’m pretty certain the figures they quoted were wrong. Forgive me, Kate?’

He pulled his mobile out and started messing with it.

‘No worries; take your time. Give me a shout when you’re sorted. I just need to look at that bike, okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Chris’s attention was taken by something on the screen, his brows knitted together over his sharp, grey eyes. ‘You sort the bike out. I just need to . . .’ He was lost to her.

Kate sloped out, sneakily happy that she could check the old bike. It really was in a sorry state.

Chapter Three

Theo found the campsite: a field was probably the best way to describe it. It was a decent enough field and pretty flat so it was easy to pitch his tent and get unpacked. But it was, at its heart, just a field.

He’d been in worse places. Fields with bunged-up portaloos and shower blocks inches deep in scummy water. Or fields with no portaloos and no showers. But this one, at least, seemed to have some proper facilities. Not that he minded a bit of roughing it. He’d travelled all over the world as a student — backpacking, hitch-hiking, camping. Everything had been an adventure to him and he appreciated it all.

One trip, rather more recently, had taken him to the Outer Hebrides; and that had led to meeting a group of people from Suffolk, among them Maeve. Maeve told him about Hartsford and the Folk Museum; and when they said goodbye, Theo decided to visit those places.

He had a feeling he’d love them. Maeve had told him about the pace of life in Suffolk; the little villages, the coastal areas, the heaths. From what he’d seen, the place had delivered on those promises already. It was all good, and exactly what he needed, just to take some time and get away from everything.

Theo checked his watch. It was two thirty. The Folk Museum wasn’t too far away. He could walk there in about fifteen minutes and scope it out, so he shrugged on his backpack and set off.

He was right. It didn’t take him long to get there, and soon he was standing outside the museum. It was a novel little place, a whole row of neat, stone cottages, just as Maeve had described.

There were some mangy-looking ducks running around a pond, and a circular green, and, opposite the terraced houses, a collection of barns which looked to contain old-fashioned farm equipment and tools. There was also some sort of vintage bicycle marked ‘Ice-cream’ outside the cottages. The bike was a bit of a sight, the sunlight showing up every little scratch and flake of the paintwork. It was what you might call a fixer-upper.

A girl was kneeling by the side of it. Her red hair was pulled back in an elastic band now, but there was no mistaking it was the girl from the café.

Theo walked up to her and stood beside the bicycle. ‘Is that how you transport fairy cakes around here?’

She looked up, startled; but then she laughed. ‘Hello again. Yeah. I could fit a few in there, couldn’t I? Delilah does make the most awesome fairy cakes.’

‘I was quite impressed with my own lunch, I must say. I went back for a slice of red velvet cake. You’d gone by then, so it was nice not to worry about anyone walking into me and wrecking it.’

‘Good choice. It’s lucky that nobody spoiled that experience for you.’ She stood up and wiped her hands down her jeans. ‘Sorry, did you want to come into the museum?’

Theo was thrown for a moment. ‘Yes. I do,’ he replied.

‘Okay. Come on then. I’ll get you a ticket.’