‘I’ll be over in a moment,’ said Eric. He wanted to make sure Reg told Maggie in advance and she was comfortable with the idea.
*
‘Here you are ladies,’ Reg said as he approached the table. ‘Cindy, we’re needed for a game of arrows.’
‘Thank you, Reg,’ Maggie said. She had known that Reg wouldn’t sit with them but felt suddenly alarmed that Cindy was about to leave her also.
‘Oh, don’t thank me, it was bought for you by an admirer, Maggie,’ said Reg.
‘An admirer, already? Who?’ said Cindy, amazed, and craned her neck towards the bar, but it was Maggie who spotted him first, raising his glass to her. Eric!
‘Oh, God, it’s the milky, I thought you meant a real fella then, I thought your luck had changed, Maggie.’ Cindy laughed before picking up her own drink and taking a sip, then continued, ‘Imagine his Gladys letting him out. I told him he needed to get out to the pub – he’s another one letting his life slip past him. He’s a really good man, is Eric, but I swear to God, that wife of his will see him into the ground, she makes his life that miserable.’ Cindy leant forward and whispered, ‘Everyone knows he lives a dog’s life with Gladys and I think the poor man is on the edge.’
Maggie raised her drink to her lips and recalled her conversation with Eric that morning. ‘Are you watching that show, Coronation Street, on the television tonight?’ Eric had asked as he walked back to the cart.
She had hesitated before she replied, her first instinct not to speak out loud her betrayal of martyrdom and admit she was going out to the Anchor with Cindy and Reg. ‘No, not tonight, I don’t think so,’ she had faltered.
‘Why not?’ he’d asked. ‘Got other plans?’
She had taken a breath, pushed the cat back indoors, smoothed down her sleeve, avoided his eyes and then decided to be truthful; she had no idea how she had been so bold, ‘Well, actually, I’m going to the pub with Cindy and Reg.’
Eric had looked so surprised she thought he was about to faint. ‘Which one? The Anchor?’
She nodded, her mouth dry. He didn’t speak either and, instead, picking up the reins had said, ‘Walk on, Daisy,’ leaving her feeling incredibly foolish. But now here he was in the pub and he had known she would be there too. He was smiling at her, he had bought her a drink – and there was no doubt about it, admiration was shining from his eyes. She felt her heart pounding as he walked towards their table.
‘Eric, what a sight for sore eyes you are,’ said Cindy. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come.’
‘Well, a suggestion is as good as any order from you, Cindy,’ said Eric.
‘Right, Cindy,’ Eric laughed, ‘they need our help. They want a woman on the arrows.’
Cindy inclined her head towards Maggie. ‘Reg, I can’t, I’ve got Maggie with me.’ Cindy would never leave Maggie on her own.
‘I’ll sit here with Maggie and look after her, if you would like to play, Cindy,’ Eric said.
Cindy looked to Maggie for approval. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked.
Maggie shook her head. ‘Of course not,’ she replied as she took another sip of her drink.
Eric smiled down at her. He was wearing a cable knit sweater and unlike the other men in the bar who wore caps, his head was bare. His shoulders were broad and Maggie realised that his hat had hidden his good looks; with his dark hair and beard, he was a very handsome man. Maggie gulped on her port and lemon and had to stop herself when she realised she had swallowed almost half a glass. As Cindy walked away to join the arrows team, only Babs saw the wink that passed between Reg and Eric and the pat Reg gave Eric on the shoulder.
Eric placed his pint on the upturned barrel. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said as he sat and straddled the seat. The noise of the chatter swirled around them and Maggie felt as though they were sitting in a bubble, because all she could hear was Eric… She managed a smile.
‘No, not at all, not just this once,’ she teased as she raised her glass. ‘Thank you for the drink.’ He raised his own pint glass and clinked it against the side of her own. ‘You are a married man, after all,’ she said.
Eric had no response to that. He had stolen money from his own house to be here, had to run like a thief in the night to escape. He took in Maggie’s hair, her make-up. ‘You look stunning,’ he said. ‘Nothing like the Mrs Trott who gives me my tea each morning. Mind, she’s a looker too.’
Maggie grimaced. ‘It’s Maggie,’ she said quickly, ‘you know that.’
He smiled. ‘I was only teasing,’ he said. ‘So, here’s another question: who is it I will be seeing in the morning, Mrs Trott or the new Maggie?’
With an audacity Maggie did not know she possessed, she returned his gaze full on and his eyes never wavered from their target.
‘Maggie, if you like,’ she said. Her mouth was dry, her head light, she wasn’t sure who was talking, her or almost empty glass of port and lemon. His brown eyes devoured her face, and she felt their approving appraisal bore into her very soul.
‘Just once is it, did you say?’
She sipped the last of her drink before she replied; she knew exactly what she was committing to and she was ready. ‘Yes, just once. I’ll try anything, just the once,’ she replied. ‘You never know, it might be enough.’
The frisson between them sizzled and to Maggie it felt as though the air had left the room. Her breath froze as her pulse raced.
‘I’ll refill these,’ he said as he picked up her glass. ‘We can have another before we leave.’
Maggie’s breath caught in
