Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,93

had in you, no, in us, is over.’

Chapter Forty-Eight

Two weeks later

Monday 23rd November

It’s been a painful couple of weeks. It’s strange how I can be happy about the pub finally having enough customers to pay the bills, while also feeling such extraordinary pain. The fact I caused harm to Clooney, the last person who deserves that kind of treatment, breaks the last piece of my surviving heart. I haven’t seen him since that night and I doubt I will again.

I don’t have the guts to ask any of my customers if they’ve heard from him, or if they know what’s going on. I just know I’m going through the motions of living. Getting up, getting ready, stocking the bar and putting on a smile for the customers.

‘Phew,’ Ella says, the second we have a slight lull in customers. ‘This being busy lark is tiring as hell.’

I laugh. It sounds fake even to my ears. ‘Tell me about it.’

She starts fidgeting, playing with her jeans pocket. ‘Look, I’ve been trying to find a good time to tell you this, but there’s never a good time to deliver shitty news.’

‘Oh god, what is it?’

Just what I need right now. Another blow. I don’t know if I can take much more.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Don’t hate me, okay?’ She stares up at me, her brown puppy eyes already begging for forgiveness.

‘I could never hate you. Just hit me with it.’ I brace myself. Whatever it is I can deal with it. Nothing can be worse than how I feel right now.

‘I’m leaving.’

Well shit, I didn’t expect that. Maybe it can get worse.

She grimaces. ‘I’m so sorry, Phoebe, but I’ve got to find our sisters.’

‘Our sisters? You mean Dad’s love children?’

‘Yes.’ Her face contorts apologetically. ‘I just can’t carry on, knowing that there’s parts of us dotted around the country. I have to find them and get to know them.’

Well, shit. I’d almost succeeded in imagining they didn’t exist, but apparently Ella has other ideas.

‘I mean,’ I sigh, ‘I don’t blame you. Part of me has been wondering whether we should sell up soon, now that business is booming again.’

She smiles hopefully. ‘Well then come with me. We can do it together?’

I bite my lip. I know it’s stupid but I don’t feel like I can leave yet. Being here, although painful, still makes me feel like I have some sort of connection with Clooney. Moving to another country, well it would just feel so final. Strangely Ireland is home now. It would feel unnatural to leave.

‘But you want to stay for Clooney,’ she says, reading me like a book.

I smile sadly. ‘I know it’s stupid.’

Her face lights up, a devilish grin on his lips. ‘Well, would you look who just walked in.’

I turn round to follow her line of vision to see Clooney walking up to the bar. He looks as gorgeous as ever, but those shadows under his eyes are still there.

‘Phoebe,’ he says quietly, hands in his pockets, his broad shoulders rounded over. ‘Can I speak with you please?’

‘Err… yeah…’ I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.

I can’t believe he’s here. Is he asking for his old job back? Maybe things with his dad have turned sour again.

He walks hurriedly round the bar, takes my hand, as if no time at all has passed between us, and leads me to the kitchen. Just feeling his warm skin on mine again lights my entire body up with a desperate yearning. The door slams behind us, the echoing sound the only one in the quiet kitchen. He lets go of my hand. I look down at it, mourning the loss of his touch.

‘Hi,’ I say with an awkward wave.

He smiles, like all of his worries have now been lifted from his shoulders. ‘Hi.’

‘So…’ God, he really needs to say something before I lose my mind. Right now, in this silence, all I can do is inhale his signature scent and pray he’s not here with more harsh words. I don’t think I can take it.

‘Right, sorry.’ He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. ‘Phoebe, I want to apologise for how I behaved. Both at you mistakenly accusing me of taking the money and outing my dad. But say what you want about the man, he’s paid for me to have CBT and talking therapy these last few weeks. I wanted to finish my course before I came to see you.’

Oh, I see. It’s like one of those twelve steps. Apologise