Page 27 of Joker in the Pack

“Oh, I’ve got candles. It’ll be like camping.” Far better to brush off the situation than admit the truth; that I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else.

Maddie helped me out too. “We used to love camping when we were kids.”

We did, if you counted the blanket fort in Maddie’s bedroom. My mother refused to stoop lower than a five-star hotel, and as our budget wouldn’t stretch to that after my father left, we stayed at home while Maddie’s family made their annual trip to Butlins.

The stranger’s expression suggested he didn’t believe my story, so I tried to change the subject. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Olivia, and this is Maddie and Mickey.”

He held out a hand for us to shake. “Warren Hannigan. Artist and taxi driver extraordinaire.”

“An artist? What do you paint?”

“Landscapes, mainly. There’s plenty of inspiration in the countryside around here.”

“Have you lived in the village long?”

“My parents moved here when I was fifteen.”

And I guessed his age at twenty-five now, so he’d been there a while.

As we chatted, I could feel eyes on me from all around the pub, and being honest, it creeped me out a little. In London, people kept themselves to themselves, and this attention felt unnerving. Anyone making eye contact in the city was immediately branded a pervert or a nutter.

I risked a glance behind, and the couple at the nearest table studiously averted their gaze.

“Everyone gets curious about strangers,” Warren said, following my line of sight. “It’s not often an outsider moves in.”

An outsider. The interloper. The new girl at school. Still, at least Warren was talking to me, and in time, hopefully the rest of the crowd would too. I had to think positive. The other option was to move back to London and live on Maddie’s sofa.

Mickey’s stomach grumbled, and that reminded me why we’d come to The Cock and Bull in the first place. Food. And we needed to eat soon because Maddie and Mickey had to drive back to London this evening.

I mustered up a smile for Warren. “Well, I hope I’m not an outsider for long. Do you know where we can find a menu in here?”

He reached behind the bar and came back with a handful. “Here you go.”

“Is the food good?” Maddie asked.

There was a long pause before he answered. “It’s…different.”

“Different in a good way?”

“Uh, you’ll see.”

We did indeed see. It was as if Heston Blumenthal had visited the local supermarket with his eyes closed, then taken LSD before he started cooking.

“What’s oat risotto?” Mickey asked.

I peered over his shoulder. Oat risotto with celery. Oat risotto? Porridge. “Celery porridge.”

“Who puts celery in porridge?”

“The same person who pickles octopus,” Maddie muttered. “Where are the chips?”

I quickly scanned the rest of the page. “Fillet steak with mushroom ketchup and sweet potato fries?”

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

Warren tapped me on the shoulder as I headed for a table with Mickey and Maddie.

“Just a tip—come here on Wednesdays. Wednesday is curry night. Barry tried to do away with it, but there was a mutiny, so it’s here to stay.”

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