Undertaking Love Page 0,18

prone to shutting up shop early to watch the soaps.

Bugger.

The lights were off. The door was locked. Horror of all horrors, the sodding bloody shop was shut, and Emily could just hear the strains of the Eastenders duffers floating down from the open upstairs window. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, defeated and stupidly close to tears. She didn’t hear the car come to a standstill next to her, but suddenly she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

‘Hey, Emily from the chapel.’

She turned around and found herself looking right into Dan’s crystal clear blue eyes. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once. Christ, he’s gorgeous. Shit, I’m wearing PJs. I’m going to cry if he’s nice to me. ‘You’re out of luck if you wanted beer. They’re shut.’

Dan didn’t want beer. He’d been on his way to drop the hearse back at the funeral parlour when he’d spotted Emily and hit the brakes.

‘Pity. You look like a girl who really needs a drink.’

Emily sighed and leaned her back against the glass. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘The pyjamas kind of give you away.’

She looked at the floor and half-shrugged, half-laughed. He must think she was a total flake. First she’d cried on his shoulder, and now he’d caught her running around the street in her nightwear like a desperate alcoholic.

‘Listen … I could run you out to the supermarket if you like?’

She cast an apprehensive glance towards the hearse. ‘In that?’

‘It’s just a car, Emily.’ He laughed, opening the passenger door in invitation. ‘Your chariot awaits.’ He performed a low bow.

Emily knew full well in the back of her mind it wasn’t just a car, and this wasn’t just a mercy mission to the supermarket. But faced with the lonely alternative of an empty house, an empty wine glass and an empty bed, she willingly climbed into the passenger seat. Dan got in and clunked his door shut, and Emily noticed that he wasn’t in oil-splattered jeans tonight. Jeans, yes, but clean, and there was a woody, warm hint of masculine shower gel about him.

‘Were you going out?’

‘Nowhere special.’ Dan grinned. Gabe was a big boy; he’d be fine on his own in the pub for a while. This was a far more interesting option.

Emily fell silent as Dan turned out of the village towards the supermarket.

‘So, Emily from the chapel. What makes you desperate enough to cry over wine?’

Emily sighed and twizzled her rings around on her fingers as she debated how to answer. Because I’m thirty in a few hours?

Because I just felt like throwing myself an almighty pity party?

Because I can’t get pregnant?

Because my marriage is dead in the water?

‘Can we just not talk about it?’ she eventually managed.

‘Not talk about the serious stuff?’ Dan grinned. ‘You’re talking my language, lady.’ He turned INXS up loud on the stereo and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I can go in for you, if you like.’ He cast a pointed look at her pyjamas as he manoeuvred the hearse into a parking space. Emily grimaced. She really didn’t want to cruise the aisles of Sainsbury’s in pale pink fluffy trousers with love hearts on them, but then she didn’t especially want to be on her own in the hearse either.

‘What will I do?’

‘Stay here and creep out the locals.’ Dan jumped out and jogged across the car park without giving Emily a moment to protest. She sat for a few seconds and tried to be rational. It is just a car. An estate car, maybe, with lots of room in the back for shopping. She screwed up her courage and glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see a coffin, even though she’d double-checked it was empty before she got in.

Still empty.

When she looked forward again she spotted Kev, the chapel’s part-time Elvis impersonator heading out of the supermarket stuffing biscuits into his face. Did the man not know anything about tempting fate? He’d be keeling over on the toilet next if he wasn’t careful. She ducked as he passed her window so he wouldn’t spot her fraternizing with the enemy and mention it to Marla.

Or, God forbid, to Tom.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Dan slid back into the driving seat and passed her a bag clinking with bottles. ‘Red, white and sparkling. My treat.’

Emily laughed. ‘Now you’re talking my language.’

Dan winked and gunned the engine. ‘Do you want me to take you home?’

His directness caught her off guard and the smile slipped from