Chapter 23

The thing to do was to keep telling yourself it wasn’t a real date.

Evie waited outside Brown’s and realized without enthusiasm that she was going to have to insist on paying half the bill. Since it wasn’t a proper date, she couldn’t land Ethan with the whole thing; it wouldn’t be fair. Plus, add in a couple of decent bottles of wine and it might well come to more than he earned in a week.

OK, and relax. For the next couple of hours she and Ethan were going to chat together like two normal people who weren’t out on a date. And as soon as the meal was over she could leave.

There wasn’t going to be a good-bye kiss either.

Oh look at the people sitting at the tables outside; they were all so glamorous and stylishly dressed. Please don’t let Ethan turn up in his manky old khaki combats and that faded T-shirt with the holes in it.

He didn’t have her phone number but when her mobile began to ring, Evie experienced a rush of hope that it could somehow be Ethan calling to tell her he couldn’t make it after all. Right now she’d positively welcome being stood up.

But the name flashing on the screen was an altogether more familiar one. Unable to ignore it, she answered and said evenly, “Hello, Joel.”

“Mum just called. She told me you’re out with some bloke tonight.”

Thanks a lot, Bonnie.

“So?”

“So who is he?”

Evie checked her watch; if he wasn’t going to do the decent thing and stand her up, Ethan would be here any minute now. “Look, it doesn’t matter who he is.”

“It matters to me.” Joel sounded hurt.

“We’re having dinner, that’s all.” It was secretly gratifying to hear his concern. “I’m allowed to do that.”

“What’s he like?”

Oh yes, another mini frisson of power. Evie said, “If he wasn’t nice, I wouldn’t be meeting him.”

Joel said, “Where are you?

Like she was going to tell him that. “I have to go now,” said Evie. “He’s here. Bye.”

And she ended the call.

Yay, just like Madonna.

Best of all, she wasn’t even lying. Ethan was making his way down the road toward her. Sadly still scruffily dressed though less so than before. He was wearing crumpled navy chinos and an olive-green shirt worn unbuttoned over a faded purply-gray T-shirt. Oh well, these could be the best clothes he owned. Maybe he didn’t possess an iron.

And he had made an effort, she noted as he reached her. His hair might be overlong and unstyled but it was freshly washed. He was wearing aftershave too; whatever it was, it smelled nice. Maybe his mum or sister had bought it for him for Christmas.

“Hey, you’re here.” He didn’t, thank goodness, attempt any form of hug or air kiss by way of greeting. “Thanks for turning up. I’m not late, am I? Have you been waiting long?”

“Just a couple of hours,” said Evie.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “That’s good. And I’d tell you how nice you’re looking if I thought you wouldn’t mind. But I’m going to err on the side of caution and not say it.”

“Thanks.” He had a dry sense of humor, she’d give him that much.

“Hi there.” Ethan caught the attention of a passing waitress. “We have a table booked for eight o’clock, name of McEnery. Is it OK if we sit outside?”

Evie opened her mouth to protest then shut it again. It was a stunning evening, perfect for eating alfresco; if she objected, he’d think she was embarrassed to be seen with him in public.

“Is that all right with you?” Ethan turned to check with her.

“Fine.” He was a gardener; it stood to reason he’d like fresh air. She smiled and nodded at him. It didn’t matter if they were seen. They were shown to a table and Ethan pulled out a chair for her. He had nice manners; he’d definitely been well brought up.

“So tell me about working in a costume shop.” Once the waitress had taken their drinks order and left them, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table between them. “What’s the weirdest outfit anyone’s ever asked for?”

“That would be a fleet of lime-green Daleks. Not blue,” said Evie. “Not silver, not pink. They only wanted lime green. Six Daleks. They were unbelievably annoyed when I told them we didn’t have any.”

“What did you do?”

“I persuaded them they’d rather be Teletubbies instead.”

“The mark of a good saleswoman.” Ethan gave her a nod of approval. “I’m really sorry about the modeling thing at the hotel, by the way. Didn’t think it through at all. You were meant to be working in the shop that day, weren’t you, that’s why you couldn’t tell your boss the truth?”

OK, she was going to have to explain. Evie sat back as the waitress returned with their drinks. If she was honest, being mistaken for a model had been something of an ego boost. She wasn’t deluded about her appearance; on a scale of prettiness she was a notch, possibly two notches, above average. But no more than that. And figure-wise, she was average with a slightly big bum. She didn’t wear makeup or model-type clothes. In her whole life, no one had ever before mistaken her for a model.

And it secretly felt… great.

“Something like that.” She smiled and dismissed his apology with a shake of the head; what the hell, did it really matter if she skimmed over the truth? “Anyway, not a problem. Bonnie was fine about it.”

Ethan looked relieved. “She seems nice.”

“She is.” Telling fibs, Evie discovered, made her mouth dry. “What’s it like working at the Ellison then? Have you always been a gardener?”

He hesitated. “Well…”

“Sorry, gardener-handyman.” Hurriedly she made it sound more important. “I bet you have to do all sorts to keep the place together! Always busy with a job like that… cutting the grass one minute, mending stuff the next, fixing anything that needs to be fixed… they couldn’t manage without you!” Oh help, did that sound patronizing? She hadn’t meant it to come out quite so kindergarten-schoolteacherish.

Luckily Ethan didn’t appear to have taken offense. He sat back and said easily, “That’s true, I bet they couldn’t.”

“And have you always been good with your hands?” Ergh, no, accidental double entendre…

But once again, thank goodness, he seemed not to notice. “I like mending things,” said Ethan. “Fixing stuff.”

Two girls at an adjacent table had overheard though. One of them stage-whispered, “I love it when they’re good with their hands,” and they dissolved into fits of giggles.

Thank God for a big menu. Evie hid her burning face and studied it intently. There was a cheese soufflé on the starter list and soufflés were her all-time favorite, but it stated that they’d take twenty minutes to arrive so she went for the prawns instead. The sooner this non-date was over, the better.

Having given their orders they handed the menus back to the waitress. Evie reached for her drink, sat back, and almost spilled the lot down her front. There, twenty yards away on the other side of the road, was Joel.

And he was standing there watching her.

“Whoops!” The cheery waitress handed her a napkin to dab at the splashes of rosé wine on her top. “Here you go, lucky it wasn’t red!”

“Thanks.” Evie dabbed and dabbed. Then she glanced up again. Joel was still there, not looking as if he were planning on going anywhere. She pushed back her chair and said to Ethan, “I’ll just get myself cleaned up. Back in a minute.”

In the ladies’ she phoned Joel. He answered on the second ring.

“What are you doing?” Evie hissed. “How did you know I was here?” OK, that was a stupid question.

“I asked Mum.”

And of course Bonnie had told him, because she wanted him to be jealous.

“Well, you can go now.”

“Who’s that you’re with?”

“Joel, just leave.”

“Why?” he protested. “I’m not doing any harm.”

“You’re stalking me!”

“I just wanted to know what I was up against. If you ask me,” said Joel, “I win, hands down. I’m way better looking than he is.”

This was so true Evie didn’t even bother arguing the point. She said, “Maybe he’s more faithful than you are.”

“You’re doing this to teach me a lesson. That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“It’s really not.” This was true; it was actually Bonnie’s plan. “Just leave me alone, Joel. Please don’t spoil my evening.”

Emerging from the restaurant, she stood and stared at him across the street. Joel stared back for several seconds. Finally he shrugged, turned away, and headed off in the direction of Pulteney Bridge.

So long as he didn’t throw himself off it, into the churning weir below.

“All better now?” Ethan smiled as she returned to him.

“Yes, thanks. Sorry to be so long.” What with talking to Joel then sponging and drying the front of her top under the hand dryer, she’d been gone a while.

“No problem. I bumped into someone I know. We’ve been chatting.” He nodded across the terrace and Evie politely followed his gaze. Before she could work out which one was Ethan’s friend, she spotted a familiar face she’d rather not have seen. Oh for heaven’s sake, Emily Morris was here; talk about bad timing. What was this, some kind of cosmic conspiracy?

The next moment Emily glanced up and saw her. She did a cartoon double-take and clearly mouthed “I don’t believe it.”

Seriously, what were the chances? And now she was jumping up, heading toward them, completely overdoing the look of amazement as she insinuated her long legs and narrow hips between the tables.

Evie braced herself and waited, because subtlety had never been Emily Morris’s strong point.

Bath might be a beautiful city but sometimes it wasn’t nearly big enough.

“Oh wow, Evie, I don’t believe it! I heard you were back!” Emily enveloped her in a hug so showbiz they barely made physical contact. “You poor darling, how are you? And you’ve lost weight… well, that’s hardly surprising. Oh dear, look at your face, it’s so gaunt.”

Bitchiness masquerading as sympathy, that was Emily Morris’s strong point.

“Hi, Emily. I lost a few pounds, that’s all.”

“When Ethan said he was having dinner with someone I had no idea it was you!”

It was Evie’s turn to be stunned. This was the friend Ethan had been talking to? She turned to look at him. “I’m surprised too. How do you two know each other?”

“Just through the hotel.” Ethan gestured casually. “How about you?”

“Oh, I’ve known Evie for years,” Emily jumped in. “I’m just amazed to see her out and about so soon after what happened… I mean, God, jilting someone at the altar’s a pretty major thing… when I heard about it I was like, wow. And so gutted I missed it! I’ve never been to one of those weddings where it gets called off at the very last minute. It’s like something out of Sex and the City!”

Oh well, it was out there now. Good job it hadn’t been a deep dark secret. Ha, and Ethan, bless him, was doing his best not to look shocked. Just as well they weren’t out on a real date. Handily, across the terrace, a waiter was delivering plates to Emily’s table. Evie pointed and said, “Your food’s arrived.”

“Ah, shame. Anyway, catch you later… we could join you for a drink after dinner! OK, ciao for now…”

Ciao for now? Did people really still say that? This one evidently did.

Emily left them, doing her wiggly model-walk all the way back to the table so that everyone would look at her.

Ethan murmured, “We’ll have to get out of here before that happens.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say. She might be one of my closest friends.”

“Except she isn’t.” He looked amused.

“How about you?” Evie countered. “Is she one of yours?”

“Not at all. I just know her from the hotel. I get the impression she’s what’s known as a man’s woman.”

“That’s the polite way of putting it.” Evie pulled a face; Emily regarded other women as rivals and liked to bring them down at every opportunity.

“So shall we pretend she didn’t mention the wedding?” Ethan paused. “Or do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m fine. It’s not a secret.”

“Now I understand why you weren’t keen on coming out to dinner with me. Can I just say, though, anyone who jilts another person at the altar deserves to be miserable for the rest of their life. That’s just a disgusting thing to do. Evil. And he certainly didn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, it’s nice of you to say so.” Evie looked suitably grateful. “Sadly, the disgusting evil jilter wasn’t him. It was me.”