Jake stood up. He suddenly felt dizzy and his vision was doing that in and out thing that normally only occurs after several pints of brewed hops. Pip would know what to do. He needed to talk to Pip. They couldn’t just get rid of him like that. Could they? He’d done nothing wrong. Everyone liked him here. He was a popular member of the team. No one would stab him in the back. As he reached Alec’s door, his blood chilled slightly. There was only one thorn in his side at Dunston & Bradley, and that was the woman who, up until this moment, he thought he loved.

Chapter thirty-four

Chapter thirty-four

The others are deep in conversation, but it’s passing me by. Dean rolls over and lies on his stomach facing me, toasting his toes by the fire. ‘It’s a good place to run away to.’

‘So transparent, hey?’

He leans on his elbow and studies my face in the firelight. ‘I recognise the pain from past experience.’

‘Ah.’

Dean pulls a bottle of San Miguel from the depths of his down jacket. He wiggles his eyebrows in a devilish fashion.

‘The alcohol route to curing pain?’

‘It never works,’ he says with a shake of his dark, messy hair. ‘I just think you’ve earned a small treat today. You haven’t come here to beat yourself up.’

I wonder what I have really come for. Dean rummages in his jacket again and from his Swiss Army knife extracts a bottle opener. I always wondered what people used these for, but now I know. It’s really a Swiss Army cocktail set. He flips the lid from the bottle, tips the remnants of our black tea from the metal mugs and refills them with frothing beer. We clank them together and raise our mugs.

Dean takes a draught. ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘There’s not much to say.’

My new-found friend takes my hands and examines my fingers. ‘No ring,’ he concludes. ‘Divorced?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Never married.’

‘Kids?’

I shake my head again, as my power of speech seems to have disappeared.

‘That’s something to be thankful for then,’ Dean says.

‘Yes.’ I can’t even consider complex explanations at this stage, and think that if Jake and I had managed against all odds to produce a child then something good might have come out of it. Of course, I voice none of this.

‘So what happened?’ Dean may have a convoluted accent, but he still has his American directness.

‘We wanted different things from life.’ I avoid his eyes. ‘Jake found them with someone else.’

‘Jake?’

I nod. ‘Boyfriend of four years. Blond bombshell–dropper and all-round bad egg.’

‘He’ll live to regret it,’ Dean tells me sagely. ‘Betty Jane Brightman did.’

I giggle. ‘Who the hell’s Betty Jane Brightman?’