Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Darlene gasped. “How dare you?”
“Quite easily. Now, you listen to me, Darlene Brown.” Penny flattened her hands on the bar, glaring at her. “I don’t care if you’re thirty years my senior, and you should thank your lucky bloody stars I haven’t banned him yet. The only reason I haven’t is because this pub is the only place he gets any kind of human interaction, and I’m not going to take that away from him. But if you’re going to come in here and mouth off like I’m the one responsible for him, I’ll ban you both.”
Darlene stared at her for a moment before she turned to Harry. “Come on, Harry. Let’s go.”
I grimaced as Darlene helped a very drunken Harry through the pub. The chatter gently rose back to where it was before she’d arrived as the two of them left, but the uncomfortable air didn’t fully disappear.
“Well,” I said to Penny when she walked back over. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”
She smiled wryly. “It happens every day, but Darlene is usually smarter than to run her mouth at me.”
“I thought Harry had kicked the habit.”
“Same story as usual. He sees the doctor, he does group therapy, he kicks it for three weeks, then something happens that makes him pick the bottle back up again. Last time, it was witnessing a bird get caught by a cat. This time, it was his goldfish dying.”
“Forgive me, but neither of those seem like they’re devastating enough make one spiral into the depths of alcoholism again.”
Pen leant forwards. “He doesn’t have a goldfish.”
“Ah.” Strangely enough, that made rather more sense than a goldfish dying. “I see.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t get triggered by events, more that he uses things as an excuse.” Pen shrugged and pushed off the bar. “It’s just one of those things. Nobody can help him until he helps himself, and the one person who probably could stand a chance at helping him is a self-centred old hag. Oh, look, there’s my new friend. Hi!”
My head snapped around to see who she was talking about, although it was a stupid thing to do.
I knew who she was talking about.
Ellie smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hi, Pen. I—” She caught my gaze and paused. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Pen snorted.
“Are you making it a habit to befriend all the female members of my family?” I asked.
Ellie frowned. “What?”
“She’s my cousin.” I nodded towards Penny.
“Oh. Well, I’ve only met two of them. Are there some I’m missing?” she asked brightly.
Was she always so chipper? “No. There’s only Grandma and Pen.”
“Well, then, I suppose I am making it a habit.” She smiled and leant against the bar, turning her attention away from me. “I heard something about someone shagging their married toyboy. I didn’t want to ask, but the writer half of me is utterly shameless, and so I must.”
Pen laughed. “Shameless is my favourite personality trait, so don’t worry about that.”
She wasn’t kidding about that.
There was also a part of me that was thankful Ellie had asked—and in front of me—so I didn’t have to.
I, too, wanted to know about Darlene’s toyboy.
Maybe I did need to get out more.
“Oh, I’m not a gossip,” Pen lied. “But as it’s for research…”
“She didn’t say it was for research,” I muttered, lifting my beer.
She shot me a dark look. “I didn’t ask you.”
I held up my free hand for her to continue.
Sheesh.
“Darlene is fifty-four, she’s been married four times, no kids, and is sleeping with the husband of the nursery teacher,” Pen reeled off. “She thinks nobody knows, but everyone knows.”
“I didn’t know,” I grumbled.
“You never asked,” she replied, then returned once again to Ellie. “Everyone knows.”
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “Even the wife?”
“Even his wife.” Pen nodded sagely. “I don’t know how she lives with it.”
“Does he know his wife knows?” Ellie tapped furiously at her phone.
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t. Then again, the man is dense as hell, so there’s every chance he thinks he’s a complete secret.”
I eyed Ellie. “What are you doing?”
She glanced at me, still tapping away. “Writing it down. How else will I remember it later?”
“You’ll forget it that quickly?”
“There are a lot of voices up here.” She tapped two fingers to her temple. “The new ones have to be written down.”
I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that.
Pen grinned, ignoring what I was sure was a very confused expression on my face if I looked the way I felt. “This village might be small, but they’re the ones with the wildest stories. Haven’t you ever watched Midsomer Murders?”
“That was a fictional place,” I said, looking at her.
“For the love of God, why are you in this conversation?”
I motioned to them. “You’re standing right there.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re invited, Maximillian.”
Ellie’s lips twitched.
“Max,” I ground out.