One Christmas Morning, One Summer’s Afternoon: 2 short stories. Тилли Бэгшоу

was that the awkwardness of this afternoon had vanished, replaced by the sort of easy intimacy only ever enjoyed by very old friends.

      ‘Well,’ Daniel began, ‘the divorce is grizzly. But in a very boring way. You don’t want to know.’

      ‘I do!’ Laura insisted. His face looked even more handsome now there was two of it. ‘Did she cheat on you?’

      ‘Actually, I cheated on her.’

      ‘Oh!’

      ‘Yes. Oh. That was what she said, obviously with a couple of other expletives thrown in. Then she took the house, and the children, and anything else she could stuff into her pockets.’

      ‘You did sort of deserve it, though.’

      ‘Yes.’ Daniel refilled his glass. ‘I was a dick.’

      ‘Who did you sleep with?’

      ‘The au pair. I was a dick and a cliché.’

      ‘Oh!’ Laura said again. She couldn’t seem to think of any other response. ‘Well, er, you’re very honest at least. Do you still love her?’

      ‘The au pair?’

      ‘Your wife.’

      ‘Honestly? No. I’m an honest, clichéd dick who doesn’t love his wife. Let’s talk about you.’

      ‘Let’s definitely not,’ said Laura, picking up a leftover chip from Daniel’s plate and dipping it into the gravy on her own. She was enjoying this evening more than she should be. Good food, good wine and good company had been sorely lacking in her world of late. It was as if God had decided to jolt her out of her miserable stupor by sending Daniel, dropping him back into her life like an unexpected early Christmas present. ‘Trust me, you’d be deeply bored. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep at the table before the sticky toffee pudding arrived. The butterscotch sauce here is to die for.’

      Right on cue, the puddings arrived, delivered to the table by none other than Lisa James, the Nativity play’s Virgin Mary. Judging by the giggling and complete lack of concentration at rehearsals this past week, she and Gabe Baxter were definitely having a fling.

      ‘Here you go.’ She set the bowls down on the table, affording Daniel an excellent view of her ample cleavage. Turning to Laura she said, ‘Sorry about rehearsals yesterday. I know we was messing about.’

      Laura resisted the impulse to correct her – ‘were messing about’. I must not become my mother. ‘That’s all right. It’s still early days. Nearer the time, though, you are going to have to take it seriously if you want the play to be a success.’

      ‘I know,’ Lisa said sheepishly. Under all the spandex and foundation, she was a sweet girl. ‘It’s Gabe. He’s always been one for the practical jokes. He’s a bad influence on me. But I’ll get him into line, I promise.’

      ‘Friend of yours?’ asked Daniel, watching Lisa James’s miniskirted bottom as she walked away from the table.

      Laura explained the connection.

      ‘That’s the most virginal girl in Fittlescombe? I truly must get my act together and move here.’

      Laura laughed. ‘That’s the girl who was stupid enough to accept the starring role in a production full of live cattle and snotty primary-school children. And this is the girl who was stupid enough to agree to write and direct it.’ She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘I must have been out of my mind.’

      ‘I hear you’re going to the Furlings Hunt Ball.’

      Gabe Baxter had walked up to Laura’s table and interrupted her meal without so much as an ‘excuse me’. From the look on his face it was clear that his comment about the ball was an accusation rather than an observation.

      ‘That’s right,’ Laura said defensively, putting down her knife and fork. ‘Why, is there a problem with that?’

      ‘A problem? Why would there be a problem?’

      ‘I have no idea. Perhaps you weren’t invited and you’re irritated that I was. Is that it?’

      Gabe laughed loudly. ‘Please. I wouldn’t go to that love-in for show-offs and posers if you paid me. Who’s your boyfriend, by the way?’

      He nodded rudely at Daniel, a snide smirk plastered across his handsome face.

      ‘Boyfriend? I should be so lucky,’ said Daniel, languidly extending his hand but not getting up. It was a power play, albeit a subtle one, and Laura loved him for it. ‘Daniel Smart. I’m an old friend of Laura’s. And you are?’

      ‘Gabe Baxter.’ It was unspoken, but Gabe seemed suddenly to be on the back foot.

      ‘Gabe plays Joseph,’ Laura explained. ‘When he’s not playing the fool.’

      ‘Lady Muck here doesn’t approve of a bit of fun,’ said Gabe. ‘This is Fittlescombe, not the BBC or the Oxford Bloody Footlights.’

      ‘Actually, the Footlights are a Cambridge society,’ said Daniel. Laura could have kissed him. There was just a hint of amusement in his voice, but it was enough to make Gabe’s cheeks colour. ‘Laura’s a brilliant director. A brilliant writer, too. You lot are lucky to have her.’

      It was said light-heartedly, and with a broad smile that made it impossible for Gabe to disagree without sounding churlish.

      ‘Yeah, well, maybe. Enjoy your supper.’

      I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get the better of him, thought Laura. And Daniel does it in a sentence and a half.

      ‘He seems a bit chippy,’ said Daniel, tucking into his delicious butterscotch-soaked sponge. ‘What was that business about the ball? Have you two fallen out?’

      Laura rolled her eyes. ‘We don’t know each other well enough to “fall out”. But he’s an arse. And you just made him look like one. So, thanks.’

      ‘You’re welcome.’ They clinked wine glasses. Daniel’s hand lightly brushed Laura’s and she felt her libido switching back on like floodlights in a stadium. She was so buzzed, she was surprised the rest of the pub couldn’t hear her humming. ‘You’re not off the hook, you know,’ said Daniel. ‘I still want to know what’s been happening in your life. Why you left London to hide out here.’

      ‘I’m not hiding,’ lied Laura.

      Daniel paid the bill. Up at the bar, Gabe Baxter had pulled Lisa James onto his lap and was whispering filthy nothings into her ear. Laura didn’t want to watch them, but it was hard not to. Everything Gabe Baxter did was designed for an audience. He simply had to be the centre of attention.

      ‘Let’s go home,’ said Daniel. ‘Leave the Holy Family to it.’

      * * *

      After the noise and bustle of The Fox, Briar Cottage felt eerily quiet. Only Peggy’s asthmatic snores broke the silence.

      ‘You must be exhausted,’ Laura babbled nervously. ‘Would you like a cup of hot chocolate before bed or should I—’

      Daniel stopped her with a kiss so forceful she toppled back onto the sofa. The next thing she knew he was on top of her, kissing her passionately and with a fervour she hadn’t experienced since … well, not for a long time. He smelled of wine and butterscotch and aftershave and sweat. The most delicious smell in the world. Laura felt a jolt of desire so powerful it made her gasp. Then, inexplicably, she blurted out, ‘I had a miscarriage. I was pregnant and he dumped me and I got fired and then I lost the baby. That’s why I came here.’

      Daniel stopped and looked at her for a moment, cupping her face in his hands. ‘Poor darling,’ he said softly. Without another word he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her bedroom, laying her down gently on the bed.

      ‘Do you want