Damage by PJ Adams

was instantly pulling pints. She didn’t have a shift tonight, but she knew how much Robert loved lording it over his quizmaster duties, which always left Sally and Sean rushed off their feet.
    And it took her mind off what had just happened with Blunt. His apparent confusion when she confronted him over the eviction notice. The tension in the way he held himself. The hesitancy of his manner.
    The wounded look that had flashed across his face before he was able to bury it, and the way she actually felt briefly guilty for challenging him.
    “You’re miles away, Holly. I said ‘a pint of SA, please’.”
    Tommy.
    She poured his beer. “Sorry, Tee,” she said. “Get you anything else?”
    “How about a drink with me later, when it’s a bit quieter?”
    §
    She’d forgotten how easy it was to talk with Tommy. How there had been times when they’d be chatting over a coffee in town and suddenly their drinks would be cold and it would be growing dark outside and they’d have lost two or three hours, just following where the conversation went, by turns intense and light and serious and fun.
    “Thanks, Tommy,” she said now. It was late. Robert had already taken last orders and now there were just a few drinkers left. She and Tommy had a small table in the window. Just when exactly had they grown up like this?
    “Thanks? What for?”
    “Oh, just you know. Thanks.”
    “So, you going to tell me why you came in all flustered earlier? Was it him again?”
    They’d talked and talked since the pub had grown quieter but until now Holly had steered clear of her encounter with Nicholas Blunt.
    “Oh, just problems at home,” she said now. “Problems with home.”
    He had a way about him, a way that invited her to open up, to keep on. “Turns out Dad hasn’t been keeping up with the rent, so we’re having problems with the Estate.”
    “What kind of problems?”
    “Eviction kind.”
    “Jeez, Holly. Why didn’t you say something sooner? I could have–”
    “Could have what?”
    “I don’t know. Where will you live?”
    “We’ll work something out,” said Holly. “Because we’ve not been paying rent the council don’t have any obligation to re-house us if we’re turfed out. Karen’s said we can stay in one of the holiday lets for the off-season, though. Give us time to get sorted out. I’m thinking I might have to drop uni. Get a full-time job.”
    “Jeez, Holly,” he said again. “So why wasn’t the old man paying rent? Are things really that bad?”
    Holly shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so. He doesn’t talk about that kind of thing. Since Mum died he’s not been the same. A bit... detached , if you know what I mean.”
    His hand on hers felt good. Reassuring. Normal . She let it rest there for a time, before slipping her hand out to reach for her glass.
    §
    They left together, a short, awkward distance between them.
    Had something changed between them? Something that had snuck up and hijacked them?
    Halfway across the green, Tommy slipped an arm around her waist, his hand resting lightly on her hip.
    She put her hand down, covering his, squeezed briefly, and then lifted his hand clear.
    “Thanks for listening, Tee,” she said. “But...” She didn’t know what to say without hurting him. I don’t want to step back into a relationship that’s like a comfortable old pair of slippers .
    Old Tommy would have let it go. He’d have realized he’d pushed things too far and stepped back, bided his time like... like the relentless dripping of a tap.
    But new Tommy: his hand flipped out of hers and locked tightly around her wrist.
    “Holly.”
    His voice was strained, more of a gasp than an utterance.
    “Tommy?”
    He really had changed.
    His grip was hard, unyielding. He drew her against him, his other arm snaking around her back.
    “Holly. We were good, Holly. We can still be good. Will you just give me a chance, Holly?”
    Repeating her name like a magical spell designed