‘You like her,’ Jenkins, the man in the flat cap observed, sucking on his unlit pipe. Although The Hen and Duck appeared to be firmly entrenched in the past, even that old-fashioned pub was subject to the laws of the land and Mads vigorously enforced the “no smoking” rule, much to Jenkins’s disgust. Which was why, Nick knew, Jenkins was usually found with his teeth clamped around the stem of the unlit pipe like a toddler with a dummy, as a form of silent protest.
‘I like who?’ Nick asked absent-mindedly. His thoughts were on the girl. He knew her from somewhere, but he simply couldn’t think where. Something about her red hair rang a bell…
‘The girl.’ Jenkins huffed out a sigh and Mads chuckled.
‘What girl?’ Nick took a swig of his pint. He’d only popped out for an hour. He needed to get back; Tia would be wondering where he was.
‘The one you just threw out of the bar.’
‘I didn’t throw anyone out of anywhere,’ Nick protested.
‘Escorted, then,’ Jenkins amended.
‘Her? Nah, not my type,’ he replied. She was very pretty and he admired her spirit, but there was no way he would admit it to this bunch. ‘Who is she, anyway?’ he asked. He rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. God, but he was exhausted. He should be getting ready for bed, not standing in a bar, gossiping.
‘I don’t know her name,’ Jenkins continued, ‘but she took over that café down the street.’
‘I can’t remember seeing a café there,’ Nick said, frowning. He didn’t venture into town too often though, and when he did it was usually only as far as The Hen and Duck.
‘It wasn’t open long. There was some kind of fuss or summat, I can’t quite recall. The last I heard, the owners put it up for sale, and your lass bought it.’
‘She’s not my lass,’ Nick pointed out.
‘She could be,’ Mads joined in. ‘I saw the way she was looking at you.’
Nick didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. It had been nearly two years since he’d had any interest in the opposite sex, not since Tia’s accident. And although his sister didn’t need him as much now as she had done in those first months after she’d been released from hospital, he still didn’t have any spare time to start dating again. He was rushed off his feet as it was…
There was silence for a while, then Mads asked, ‘How is Tia?’
Nick shrugged. ‘Not good.’ Unbidden, the guilt swept over him again and he closed his eyes for a second. Everyone said it wasn’t his fault, but how could it not be when he’d been the one to raise the top rail on the oxer, knowing Tia wasn’t too keen on jumping the fence. But damn it, she had been ready, the horse had been ready, and he had wanted to push her, to make her the best she could be, because that’s what he did, that’s what he was good at – training riders and horses alike, bringing out the best in them.
Instead, he’d destroyed her life when the horse, not liking the extra height, had baulked well before the jump and lost its footing, throwing Tia from the saddle. He could still hear her awful scream as the animal rolled on her.
‘Sorry to hear that, mate. If there’s anything we can do…?’ Mads trailed off, glancing around the bar for support. Muttered agreement and the nodding of heads was the response.
‘Thanks, lads, but I’m not sure anyone can do anything.’
‘I was under the impression she was doing OK. Although it can’t be easy, a youngster like her in a wheelchair.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Nick replied shortly, then sighed. Mads was only being friendly – there was no need to take his frustration out on him.
A few of the bar’s occupants cleared their throats or coughed. Someone called for another round of drinks and the sombre mood was thankfully broken. Nick could have kicked himself. He didn’t like airing his troubles, and the men didn’t come here to listen to them. He was normally so reserved – he didn’t know what had come over him tonight. He didn’t usually suffer from bouts of self-pity, but for some reason life had been getting on top of him lately. It was all work and very little play, as Tia had pointed out, especially now his sister wasn’t doing much of the paperwork. He hadn’t realised how much he’d come to depend on her until she’d stopped.
Perhaps he should tell her how much he appreciated her. Maybe that was the reason for her mood – she felt unrecognised and unacknowledged. I could take her out for dinner, or something. She’d like that, he thought and hoped.