‘That was ridiculously yummy, Rhodri,’ she said, pushing her chair back. She made no move to get up and rested her hands on her belly like a satisfied statue of Buddha. ‘Thank you. What are you up to tonight then?’ It was a Friday night, after all; she guessed he’d have plans.
Rhodri sat back down at the table. ‘I’m off to the cinema to see the new Bladerunner movie.’
It didn’t escape Isabel’s attention that he hadn’t mentioned who he was going with. She debated picking up her plate and licking it but decided that would be going too far. Instead, she did her usual trick of tracing her finger around the rim of her plate to scoop up the remains of the yellow sauce. He’d make some lucky lady a fantastic husband, she mused. I mean he was good looking, housetrained, and he could cook. What more could a girl want? So why was he single? If indeed he was single. Nico flashed to mind once more. ‘So, Rhodri,’ she angled slyly seeing confirmation of her suspicions. ‘You’re off to the movies. Are you going with anyone special like Nico for instance? Feel free to tell me to mind my own business, by the way.’
He looked amused. ‘I wouldn’t say “special” with an inference of romance. If that’s what you’re getting at.’ He carried on eating for a minute before taking a serviette from the container he’d placed on the table. He wiped his mouth before speaking, ‘There was someone before I moved to Wight, but it didn’t work out. I suppose you could say I ran away like you did.’
Something in his tone told Isabel he’d said all he was going to say on the subject. ‘Ah well, her loss,’ she murmured, getting up from the table to fill the sink. It took her a moment to figure out why she felt disgruntled, and as she squeezed the detergent into the hot water, it dawned on her. She’d poured her heart out to him as to what had happened with Ashley and Connor the other night, but he didn’t feel he could confide in her. It irked her and turning off the hot water tap she set about washing up with more gusto than usual. With her back to the table, she missed seeing Rhodri’s bewildered look as she banged a pot upside down on the bench to drain.
͠
‘You wouldn’t happen to have anything for relieving bunion pain would you?’ Brenda hopped from one stiletto hoof to the other. She’d hobbled around calling last orders twenty minutes ago, and the pub was slowly emptying out. Isabel had been giving her daily updates on her eczema treatment. She’d just finished telling Brenda she’d phoned Don and had arranged to meet him in the morning to pass on the same ingredients she’d tried to his granddaughter. ‘And don’t tell me to get a pair of sensible shoes because it ain't happening.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ The thought of Brenda in flats was an anomaly, but a boss with bunions was not an ideal scenario. They were bound to affect her mood and not for the better. She’d have loved to have a look through Molly’s journal to see what she suggested, but for now, Google would have to do. She fished out her mobile and keyed in the search. ‘Well Brenda, according to Google, castor oil is a good idea as it contains anti-inflammatory products.’
‘Gordon Bennett. I remember me old mum shoving that stuff down my throat as a kid.’ Brenda raised an expertly filed fingernail to her mouth and tapped it as she frowned, thinking. ‘Hang on a minute, maybe it was cod liver oil. Either way, it was horrible.’
‘It says here that if you heat half a cup of castor oil in a pan, and soak a thin cloth in it before wrapping it around the bunion, it will help. Oh, and put a towel over the oily cloth to keep the heat in. It should reduce the swelling, and you can do it up to three times a day to relieve the pain.’
‘It’s worth a try, I suppose.’ Brenda rearranged her face and turned her attention to the stocky chap who’d placed his empty glass on the bar top. ‘Ta love, mind how you go now.’ He nodded his good night before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and shuffling forth into the dark outside.
It wasn’t long until it was just the two of them and Brenda and Isabel settled into what had become their end of night routine, whipping through the cashing up and clearing up in next to no time.
‘While I think of it, I’ve hired a karaoke machine for the last Friday night of the month. If it goes over well, we might make it a regular thing. What do you think?’ She moved toward the door to let Isabel out.
‘Sounds like a good idea. It should get a few more punters in the door.’
‘I’m glad you think so because I’d like you to kick it all off with an introductory song. You know, get them queuing up to request a number themselves.’
‘Ah, no way Brenda. I’m not getting up on stage.’
Brenda flapped her hand, holding the door open to the cool night outside. ‘You’ll be fine, the star of the show. I’ll see you tomorrow night.’
Isabel knew her boss would not let her off the hook. There was no point standing here arguing and besides she was bushed. She shook her head signalling defeat, before saying goodnight. Brenda reiterated the sentiment and shut the door, Isabel heard the bolt slide into place behind her. She was about to stride off when a man materialised from the mist, seeming to emerge from the stonework of the shop frontage he must have been leaning up against. Isabel faltered
