‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Gwen, meet Drew, Drew, this is my daughter, Gwen.’
‘Pleased to meet you at last,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
I shook his very strong hand while my mother pouted her lips and eyed him like he was a side of beef.
‘Drew moved here from Inverness a couple of months ago,’ she said, physically forcing him into the chair opposite mine, her tiny hands pressing down on his massive shoulders. ‘He took over the butchers in the village, you know the one at the crossroads? His dad grew up here before he met his mum and moved north of the border but Drew hasn’t been back here since he was a baby. Very funny, so charming, loves books, just like you. Anyway, let me go and get you both some drinks. You two sit here and … chat.’
I picked up my first cup of punch and threw it back in one gulp. So it was a set-up. My mother was trying to pimp me out to a charismatic butcher who had only just moved to the village with many sharp knives, knew how to carve up a carcass and had no friends or relatives in the area. It was almost as though she’d never seen anepisode ofLaw & Order: SVUwhich I knew was not the case because I’d bought her the DVD box sets for Mother’s Day two years ago (daffodils and bubble bath weren’t nearly as educational).
‘So, that’s my entire life story, what about yours?’ Drew sat back in his little wrought iron chair, making it look like dollhouse furniture.
‘I am so sorry,’ I said, forgetting his serial killer potential for a moment and instead wondering whether or not he could crush a walnut with his giant thighs. ‘I don’t know what my mum’s told you but whatever she’s said, I’m sure at least half of it is an exaggeration.’
‘Oh, she’s a proud mum.’ His biceps curled against the sleeves of his white shirt and I felt myself go weak. I wasn’t usually one for big burly men but I also didn’t spend a lot of time in their company. ‘She loves to pop into the shop and tell me what you’ve been up to.’
‘That must be scintillating for you.’ I paused and took a sip of my second cup of punch, marvelling at the sheer scale of the man. ‘Drew, you’re massive.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, hacking out a laugh. ‘I do try.’
‘I don’t know why I said that.’ I shook my head at myself, blushing crimson. ‘Sorry, I don’t get out much, I’ve forgotten how to talk to …’ Don’t say Greek gods, don’t say Greek gods, don’t say Greek gods. ‘People.’
Phew.
‘That must make working as a lawyer somewhat tricky?’ he replied. ‘I heard you’re running a big law firm in the city?’
He was truly enormous. Drew was so big, he made Gaston look drastically malnourished. How many eggs was this man eating every morning?
‘Something like that,’ I deflected eloquently. ‘So, aside from your dad being from here, what made you want to move all the way to Baslow?’
He scratched the underneath of his chin as he considered my question, a five-o’clock shadow already showing through his fair skin.
‘Like Bronwyn said, the shop was available and I’d been looking for a while. I’ve always worked for my dad and I was ready to strike out on my own, I suppose.’ Raising a giant hand, he waved around the room. ‘Moving this far from home wasn’t really in my life plan but I saw the listing, and you’ll have to forgive me for sounding like an inspirational quote, but it felt like fate. The perfect shop showing up in the village where my dad grew up? As soon as I came to visit, I knew I had to take a chance. We’ve got to take chances in life, haven’t we?’
‘I thought you were a butcher, not a cheesemonger?’ I replied, eyeballing my punch cups. How was I halfway through my second already?
‘Full-time butcher, part-time cheddar enthusiast and always appreciative of a good pun,’ Drew said, a bemused smile playing on his beautifully shaped lips. ‘Do you not believe in fate, Gwen?’
‘Fate? Me?’ I laughed, a Katherine Hepburn-style, femme fatale laugh that definitely didn’t make me sound like a senior donkey who had recently taken up vaping. I took another swig of punch and emptied my second cup. ‘I don’t know about that. I’d rather believe we make our own luck in life.’
‘If you say so,’ he smiled. ‘I know better than to argue with a lawyer, let alone a fancy one from that there London.’
‘That’s me, Gwen Baker, fancy London lawyer.’
As I spoke, I couldn’t help but notice my words were slurring slightly, as though my tongue had become slightly too big for my mouth. I stretched it out as far as it would go to investigate, ignoring the look of concern on Drew’s absurdly handsome face.
‘Gwen?’
I blinked and saw my mother standing over us with two fresh cups of punch.
‘Mother,’ I replied primly, tucking my tongue away. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘There’s almost always a problem,’ she set the drinks carefully down on the table without spilling so much as a drop, clearly more invested in my meeting The Hot Butcher than she was in arguing, at least for now. ‘Here you go, Drew, this’ll warm you right up.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked, pushing my glass away as the two of them clinked theirs together in a cheers. ‘Hiding from Dorothy?’
Mum shook her head and casually rested one hand on Drew’s shoulder, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable look of surprise on his face. ‘He took Nan home and went to fetch his surprise. And he said something about getting the camp bed out of the garage.’
‘Why would we need the camp bed out the garage?’