Read Online Barefoot in the Dark by Lynne Barrett-Lee - Free Book Online Page A

.’
    ‘You just did.’
    ‘Yes, but appallingly. And not to him.’
    ‘You said it just fine.’
    ‘I said it like a dork. Doesn’t matter how hard I try to say “me foo-ee” in a restaurant situation it always comes out all wrong. I’m no better with rognon . You’d think a writer would have a better handle on pronunciation, wouldn’t you? But there you go.’
    Hope handed her menu back to the waiter, and wondered why he’d brought her somewhere so cold and pretentious. To impress her? If so it was a shame, because it didn’t.
    Though his words did. ‘Wow. I didn’t know you were a writer as well.’
    He widened his eyes. ‘Didn’t you? I can see I’ve made a spectacular impression on you all round. You don’t follow the sports pages in the Echo, then?’
    ‘I don’t, I’m sorry. Is that what you do then? Write for the Echo ?’
    ‘Among other things. I do all sorts of freelance. Though in this case, more for love than money, it has to be said. I cover the junior leagues.’
    ‘Football?’
    He put his palms up and pulled a face. ‘Oh, dear. Guilty as charged. Yes. I’m afraid so.’
    ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Hope, meaning it. ‘I like football.’
    ‘You do?’
    ‘Well, OK, only up to a point.’ He looked disappointed. ‘But my son plays.’
    He looked pleased again. ‘Who for?’
    ‘Well, it used to be the Cefn Melin Greens, but they’ve split into three teams this season, or something. It’s hard to keep track. You know, I’m not actually sure what they’re called any more.’
    ‘Well, if it is the Greens, then you should read the Echo . I gave them an excellent write-up last week. I run the Cougars.’
    ‘Really?’ she said politely. She hadn’t heard of them. Football was Iain’s thing, not hers. But it could be… Oh, God. Job in hand. Job in hand.
    ‘Absolutely. And we’re going to win the league. Remember, Hope, you heard it here first.’
    He leaned back as the waiter reappeared to splash a dribble of wine into Jack’s glass. ‘Oh, go on,’ he said, flapping his hand. ‘You look like an honest enough kind of guy.’ The waiter looked mortified, but did as he was told. Even so, Hope decided she really didn’t like him. Or this kind of restaurant. Too full of itself. Too altogether snooty. She looked around and wished she’d worn something else. Was someone else. The someone else she’d been way back before she’d met Iain, who’d never worried about such rubbish. Where was she now she was needed so badly?
    Jack raised his glass, so Hope did likewise.
    ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Here’s to us.’
    ‘And the fun run,’ she added.
    ‘Oh, go on then, if we must,’ he answered. ‘To the fun run. Though I was thinking more along the lines of a toast to our divorces.’ His eyes twinkled fetchingly. Must be the light, Hope decided. Or the wine. Or… well, something.
    ‘Seems a funny thing to be toasting.’
    ‘You had a party, didn’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but that was then. This is, well, now.’
    ‘Now it’s sunk in, you mean? But you’re wrong. We should toast,’ he said, clinking glasses with her again. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’
    Oh, dear, thought Hope. How did she respond to that?
    ‘We’re both here,’ he said quickly, as if reading her reticence. ‘Weary fellow travellers along life’s rocky road. So tell me,’ he asked her. ‘How was it for you?’
    Hope had never expected to find herself talking about her divorce in those terms, least of all with a man she knew so little about. Though she did know, because he’d told her, that his wife had left him, and not the other way round. Perhaps that was it. Here was someone who knew how it felt. Hope knew no one, she realised, who knew how it felt.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said now. ‘It’s difficult to say without a yardstick. Same as it is for everyone, I suppose. Grim.’
    ‘Was it messy?’
    She shook her head. ‘Remarkably uncomplicated, actually. Straightforward infidelity. He had