The Forgotten Village. Lorna Cook

the fridge door open and enjoying its cool temperature.

      ‘What?’ He sounded harassed. ‘Oh, I’ve already eaten.’

      Melissa was taken aback. ‘Really?’ She closed the fridge. ‘I thought we would eat together.’

      ‘We didn’t say we would, did we?’ The tapping had resumed.

      Melissa’s eyes widened and she looked at the back of his head. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose not.’ She folded her arms, trying not to rise to the argument. ‘What did you have?’

      ‘Crab cakes, those sexy skinny chips, sticky toffee pudding. And a fabulous bottle of Sauvignon.’

      ‘Wow. Where’d you get all that?’

      ‘The Pheasant and Gun.’

      ‘Oh.’ Liam had eaten at the swanky gastro inn a few miles down the road that Melissa had been wanting to visit since they’d driven past it at the start of the holiday. ‘I thought we were going to go there together?’ she asked pointedly.

      He finally put the phone down and turned to her. ‘I was hungry.’ He shrugged. ‘We can still go there another day. We’ve got plenty of time before real life beckons and we head back to London.’ He picked up his phone again, indicating the end of his participation in the conversation.

      Melissa shook her head. Unbelievable. She was too livid to speak. When it was clear Liam wasn’t going to look back up and engage, Melissa stalked over to the table where she’d thrown her car keys, grabbed them and slammed the front door behind her. She needed some thinking time.

      Her stomach rumbled. In a fit of annoyance, she decided that, for the first time in her life, she was going to have dinner in a swanky restaurant by herself.

      On the drive over to the Pheasant and Gun, she tried to work Liam out. Who goes to a top gastro pub on their own, on a Saturday, when they are on holiday with their girlfriend? What on earth? It was like she wasn’t really there. Like she wasn’t actually on holiday with him. He didn’t seem to care what she did with her days or whether they actually spent any time together at all. This was turning out to be the worst holiday she’d ever been on, but, as she thought this, she remembered two weeks in Magaluf with her parents when she was eighteen. Perhaps this week in Dorset was coming in a very close second.

      By the time she pulled into the car park of the Pheasant and Gun, Melissa was starting to question her impulsive move. She was nervous. Other than a quick sandwich in a café, Melissa had never eaten out by herself before. Catching sight of herself in the rear-view mirror, she pulled out her make-up and made her face presentable.

      On the walk across the gravel car park, she hastily pulled the band out of her long brown hair and let it fall down around her shoulders, fluffing it up a little for good measure. She’d never walked in anywhere and asked for a table for one. Maybe she could eat inconspicuously at the bar. She wished she’d brought one of her glossy magazines so she had something to read.

      As she pulled open the door of the inn and walked through, she regretted her decision to dine solo. The bar was heaving with drinkers and all the dining tables were full. What was she doing? She should have just gone to the fish and chip shop.

      ‘Can I help you?’ the lady behind the bookings desk asked.

      ‘Table for one?’ Melissa asked uncertainly.

      ‘Have you booked?’ The woman eyed Melissa’s outfit of jeans and T-shirt with a look of disdain.

      Melissa’s face fell. ‘No, sorry.’ Oh, what was she doing here?

      While the hostess spent a long time looking through the diary in front of her trying to find a vacant timeslot, Melissa looked around self-consciously, mentally preparing herself to leave. As she did so, she caught the eye of a man sitting at one of the window tables. She glanced back and did a double take when she realised it was the TV historian.

      Guy waved hello and gave her a look that said ‘what are you doing here?’

      ‘We don’t have anything available until 9.30,’ the fierce woman behind the desk said.

      Melissa looked at her watch. That was hours away. ‘Okay, don’t worry.’ She turned to leave, shrugged, mouthed a goodbye to Guy and gave him a small wave in return.

      He shook his head and mouthed, ‘No, come here.’

      She stopped, confused, and gave him an awkward look.

      He stood up and said loudly, ‘Yes, come here.’ Melissa saw him visibly cringe when he realised he was drawing attention.

      She approached his table, feeling equally awkward.

      ‘Hello,’ he said, still standing.

      ‘Hi,’ Melissa replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

      Guy looked behind her. ‘Are you on your own?’

      ‘Yes, but they’ve got no tables for ages, so I think I’m going to have to head to a takeaway.’

      ‘Well, I’ve got a spare seat here and I’ve not ordered yet,’ he said, glancing at the dark wooden chair opposite his.

      ‘Oh no, I couldn’t,’ she returned. That would be too weird. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, wondering why she’d taken it out in the first place. She hated her hair being down. It just got in the way and she longed to shove it back in a ponytail again.

      ‘Have dinner with me? What’s the absolute worst that can happen?’ he asked. ‘You get a decent meal while being bored rigid by history chit-chat?’

      Melissa laughed but couldn’t think of a valid excuse. Plus she was really rather hungry now. ‘Okay. Thanks,’ she said on impulse.

      They both sat down and a waitress appeared instantly. She fawned over Guy as she discussed their drinks options and thrusted Melissa a menu. The waitress looked at Guy almost the whole time, even when asking what Melissa wanted. Melissa ordered water and Guy ordered a glass of Sauvignon.

      ‘Are you having one?’ Guy asked.

      ‘Why not?’ she said, then added, ‘I’m driving, so just the one.’ Something struck her then. Liam had said he’d had a bottle of Sauvignon at dinner earlier. Who orders a whole bottle of wine to themselves? Why had it not occurred to her to ask Liam if he’d had dinner alone or if he’d been with someone? And had he driven the little car he always kept in Dorset or had someone else driven him home?

      No. She was being silly. He hadn’t mentioned dining with anyone. And it was perfectly feasible to drink a whole bottle by yourself. She’d done it, more times than she cared to admit. But then drive home? No way.

      ‘I take it you’re feeling better now?’ Guy interrupted her thoughts.

      She nodded. ‘Thank you for walking me back down the hill. How was the presentation?’

      They were interrupted by the waitress again, who came back to give them their drinks and take their food order. With no time to look at the options, Melissa panic-ordered what Liam said he’d eaten. ‘Crab cakes and skinny chips please.’

      ‘That was quick,’ Guy mumbled. ‘You haven’t even looked at your menu.’ He quickly looked at his and ordered a steak.

      When the waitress had gone, Guy continued, ‘The presentation was good actually. Fascinating. Even for someone like me, who thinks they’ve heard it all before.’

      Melissa studied him while he spoke. His brown hair fell over his eyes and he pushed it back every few seconds. Melissa thought he was good-looking – in a posh boy kind of way.

      ‘I didn’t get to look at the schoolhouse though,’ he said. ‘I didn’t leave enough time. I think I might nip back tomorrow, just to satisfy idle curiosity. What did you think of the school? There’s meant to be some of the children’s work still on the walls, exercise books and coat pegs with their names