pumps.
‘Afternoon,’ he said, after a pause.
‘Hello, again,’ Colin answered, with slight emphasis. ‘It’s pretty quiet this afternoon.’
‘That’s Meddlett for you,’ the man replied, slowly, as if they were foreign enough for him to be doubtful about their levels of English comprehension.
They chose glasses of wine from the options chalked up on a blackboard. Polly was already telling the barman that no, they were not passing through. They had come to live here. A flicker of interest animated his face.
‘Is that so? At Mead, is it? I’d heard about that. Planning issues, weren’t there, to do with building a new house?’
‘All sorted out now. Aren’t they, Katherine?’
‘It’s my husband’s house.’
Why not say it’s yours too? The discordant new voice niggled in her head.
Colouring slightly she added, ‘Work’s about to start. It’s very secluded. It’s not going to spoil anyone’s view or anything like that.’
‘No? Well. Live and let live, I say, in any case.’ Three glasses of wine were passed over the bar. ‘I’m Vin, by the way.’
They introduced themselves. Polly took the glasses of wine and put them on the window table.
‘We don’t see much of Mrs Meadowe,’ Vin remarked. ‘Her late husband used to come in, after I took this place on. He always said I’d made big improvements. It was a proper dump before that, the old Griffin.’ He was leaning on the bar now, settling in for a talk.
‘We are all old friends of Miranda’s and Jake’s,’ Polly said.
Katherine understood that unlike herself or Colin she was used to the rhythms of country pubs. She knew how much chat to exchange and when to make a cheery move aside. Polly steered them to their table now, closing a deft bracket on the conversation.
The window gave an oblique view of the green. Cars and passers-by in the middle distance now seemed to move very slowly, as in a film playing at the wrong speed.
Polly took a satisfied swallow of her wine.
‘Look at you,’ she said to Katherine.
‘What?’
‘You look beautiful.’
Katherine was startled. After their damp walk she knew exactly how her hair would be frizzing and her nose shining like a fog lamp. Instinctively she put up her hand to fluff out a chunk of hair over one ear.
‘She does,’ Colin agreed. ‘You do.’
Katherine heard a click , like the shutter of a camera. She wished that she might have a picture of this moment, if a camera could have captured the surge of warmth that ran through her blood and loosened her muscles, the unlooked-for buzz of pleasure at finding herself drinking wine in the afternoon with Polly and Colin for company, with a view through the window of amber and crimson leaves, and a word like beautiful in her ears. She couldn’t remember anyone having applied it to her, ever, not even Amos.
How disconnected have you been? the voice chimed in.
‘I don’t think so,’ she began to murmur, but Polly leaned forward and briefly covered Katherine’s hand with hers.
‘It’s all right, you know. You can be beautiful, it’s allowed. You don’t need Amos’s permission. Does she, Colin?’
‘No,’ he agreed.
Katherine thought for a moment. Her instinct was to deflect the compliment, but then, why? She sat forwards, smiling, her fingers lacing around her glass of pub merlot with the chain of purple bubbles at the meniscus.
Everything is going to change.
What did that mean? She was taken aback by the idea.
A burst of loud music suddenly poured through the pendant strings of brown plastic beads and bamboo tubules that separated the back of the bar from the kitchen. Thank you for the music , a woman’s voice warbled.
‘Oi, Jess,’ Vin called over the din. ‘Turn that down, customers can’t hear themselves think.’
There was quite a long interval, and then the volume diminished a little.
One of the pale couples was leaving. A girl appeared in the doorway, where Colin had previously glimpsed the man in
‘Afternoon,’ he said, after a pause.
‘Hello, again,’ Colin answered, with slight emphasis. ‘It’s pretty quiet this afternoon.’
‘That’s Meddlett for you,’ the man replied, slowly, as if they were foreign enough for him to be doubtful about their levels of English comprehension.
They chose glasses of wine from the options chalked up on a blackboard. Polly was already telling the barman that no, they were not passing through. They had come to live here. A flicker of interest animated his face.
‘Is that so? At Mead, is it? I’d heard about that. Planning issues, weren’t there, to do with building a new house?’
‘All sorted out now. Aren’t they, Katherine?’
‘It’s my husband’s house.’
Why not say it’s yours too? The discordant new voice niggled in her head.
Colouring slightly she added, ‘Work’s about to start. It’s very secluded. It’s not going to spoil anyone’s view or anything like that.’
‘No? Well. Live and let live, I say, in any case.’ Three glasses of wine were passed over the bar. ‘I’m Vin, by the way.’
They introduced themselves. Polly took the glasses of wine and put them on the window table.
‘We don’t see much of Mrs Meadowe,’ Vin remarked. ‘Her late husband used to come in, after I took this place on. He always said I’d made big improvements. It was a proper dump before that, the old Griffin.’ He was leaning on the bar now, settling in for a talk.
‘We are all old friends of Miranda’s and Jake’s,’ Polly said.
Katherine understood that unlike herself or Colin she was used to the rhythms of country pubs. She knew how much chat to exchange and when to make a cheery move aside. Polly steered them to their table now, closing a deft bracket on the conversation.
The window gave an oblique view of the green. Cars and passers-by in the middle distance now seemed to move very slowly, as in a film playing at the wrong speed.
Polly took a satisfied swallow of her wine.
‘Look at you,’ she said to Katherine.
‘What?’
‘You look beautiful.’
Katherine was startled. After their damp walk she knew exactly how her hair would be frizzing and her nose shining like a fog lamp. Instinctively she put up her hand to fluff out a chunk of hair over one ear.
‘She does,’ Colin agreed. ‘You do.’
Katherine heard a click , like the shutter of a camera. She wished that she might have a picture of this moment, if a camera could have captured the surge of warmth that ran through her blood and loosened her muscles, the unlooked-for buzz of pleasure at finding herself drinking wine in the afternoon with Polly and Colin for company, with a view through the window of amber and crimson leaves, and a word like beautiful in her ears. She couldn’t remember anyone having applied it to her, ever, not even Amos.
How disconnected have you been? the voice chimed in.
‘I don’t think so,’ she began to murmur, but Polly leaned forward and briefly covered Katherine’s hand with hers.
‘It’s all right, you know. You can be beautiful, it’s allowed. You don’t need Amos’s permission. Does she, Colin?’
‘No,’ he agreed.
Katherine thought for a moment. Her instinct was to deflect the compliment, but then, why? She sat forwards, smiling, her fingers lacing around her glass of pub merlot with the chain of purple bubbles at the meniscus.
Everything is going to change.
What did that mean? She was taken aback by the idea.
A burst of loud music suddenly poured through the pendant strings of brown plastic beads and bamboo tubules that separated the back of the bar from the kitchen. Thank you for the music , a woman’s voice warbled.
‘Oi, Jess,’ Vin called over the din. ‘Turn that down, customers can’t hear themselves think.’
There was quite a long interval, and then the volume diminished a little.
One of the pale couples was leaving. A girl appeared in the doorway, where Colin had previously glimpsed the man in
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