Page 51 of Stranded with the Surgeon

Maureen, the pub manager, was only too happy to replace Jennifer’s missing glass when she approached the bar sometime later. Guy was drinking orange juice, she noticed, and she would follow his example, but it would have been nice to be able to have a sip or two of wine. It might have even chased away the knot of misery lodged deep within Jennifer.

Maureen had noticed the direction her glance had strayed in. ‘He’s a wonderful man.’

‘Yes, he is.’ Jennifer had no argument with that.

‘We’re so lucky he decided to come back here to live. He could have had a high-flying career in the city, too, if he’d wanted.’

‘I’m sure he could.’

‘He hated the city.’

‘Yes.’ Jennifer wished Maureen would pour the orange juice she’d asked for a little faster, but she was putting some ice into the glass first, one cube at a time.

‘He was married once, you know.’

‘I did know that.’ Jennifer was sure he wouldn’t want it being discussed over the bar, but something in Maureen’s glance made her actually lean a little closer.

‘She didn’t fit in,’ the older woman confided. ‘She was always dressed to the nines and looking down her nose at us all.’

Jennifer was suddenly very pleased she was wearing her jeans with the hems still damp from where she had sponged off the mud.

‘He deserved better.’ Maureen handed Jennifer her glass and smiled. ‘He still does.’

Jennifer stared down at the glass in her hand. ‘I don’t think he’s very interested in getting involved again. I think it might be once bitten, forever shy in his case.’

Maureen just smiled. ‘What about you, love?’ she asked softly. ‘It’s as plain as the nose on your face how you feel. You like him, don’t you?’

Jennifer simply returned the faintly knowing smile. Let them all gossip, she decided. She had a funny feeling that they might support her side of the situation, and that couldn’t hurt, could it?

Music from a live band that included fiddlers started up and it wasn’t very long before Jennifer found herself dancing. With the ancient and bearded Mack, of all people, in a fairly riotous square dance. When she apologised for her lack of expertise, his considered response of ‘You’ll do’ made her feel ridiculously pleased with herself.

At some point much later in the evening, Jennifer was balancing a plate laden with a chocolate eclair and a raspberry slice when she found herself back in a group of local women who had clearly taken advantage of the celebratory drinks Phil had supplied.

‘Such a shame Digger isn’t here,’ one said sadly. ‘He did love a good knees-up. Especially here, in his pub.’

‘I thought Guy’s mother used to own this place.’ Jennifer’s aversion to gossip had been overruled given that they were discussing one of the few people Jennifer actually knew about in this gathering.

‘It was Digger whoreallyran it.’ The speaker lowered her voice to let Jennifer know she was about to receive confidential information. ‘For years and years. The further Diana Knight slid into the bottle, the more he took over.’

‘Lucky for Guy that he did.’ Another nodded. ‘That boy would have ended up in prison otherwise.’

‘Or dead.’

‘He was a real father to him. Only one he ever had.’

Jennifer took another sip of her juice. ‘He… was fond of Guy’s mother, wasn’t he?’

‘Worshipped the ground she walked on.’ The speaker sniffed eloquently. ‘He was never going to be good enough for the likes of Diana, though. She had her sights set on some flash job in the city. Finding herself a millionaire. She hated this place.’

‘Why did she stay then?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Had no choice really. She’d got herself into trouble and headed home.’

‘As they do,’ another woman said knowledgeably.

Do they?Jennifer wondered. With her mouth full of eclair, there was no need for her to respond, but she found herself thinking about the comment as the gathering finally dispersed.

Was that what she was doing? Heading back to her roots, having got herself ‘into trouble’?

---