“You’d really do that?”
“Absolutely. I told you, Bobbie, I’ve been dreaming about this for years. This is my chance to make a difference and I’m going for it heart and soul.”
I looked into his passion-kindled eyes. He was really prepared to fight for this, wasn’t he?
I thought about the money I had sitting in my building society account. Jess and me had never known our dad, but he’d left us each £10,000 in his will when he passed away three years ago. I’d never been able to bring myself to touch it; it felt dirty, somehow. But the lighthouse project, something for the town…
“I’ve got cash I can invest too,” I said. “My dad left me ten grand.”
He stared at me in surprise. “Really, that bastard left you money?”
“Yeah. Deathbed guilt, I think.”
“But Bobbie, this is my dream, not yours. Your dad left that for you.”
“I don’t want his money. Let it go to a good cause; I’ll never spend it.”
“But –”
I raised an imperious hand. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Mason. There’s no point arguing when I get the bossy face on.”
He smiled. “So I remember. Seriously though, you don’t want to talk it through with Jess or your mum first? I won’t hold it against you if you back out.”
“Look, we shook on it, didn’t we? If we do this, we do it together. Musketeers never say die.”
“That’s Goonies. But I take your point.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Well, lass, if you’re really positive, I can match that. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”
“Are you sure you can afford it, Ross? I know freelancing can be unsteady.”
“Oh, I’ll cope. Anyway, there’ll be the equity from my old flat once it finally sells, plus some joint savings of mine and Claire’s. I won’t have access to those until the divorce goes through, but at least it’s on the horizon.”
I stiffened under his arm.
“What?” I said quietly.
“There’s nearly six months yet until we can get the ball rolling. Even when these things are amicable it has to be two years’ minimum legal separation. Don’t worry though, I’ll have enough in the meantime with a bit of careful budgeting.”
Divorce… oh Jesus Christ, he was married! Oh God, I didn’t snog a married man!
Ross frowned at my glazed expression. “Everything ok, Bobbie? You’ve gone all quiet.”
“Yeah.” I summoned a smile. “Yeah, course. Just thinking.”
“Look, about last night. I mean, kissing you and everything – sorry. I shouldn’t have done it when we were like we were.” He grinned. “Obviously under the influence of tequila your charms just overwhelmed me.”
“Last night was last night,” I mumbled. “Nothing to beat yourself up over.”
“So can we go out again, do things properly this time?”
God, I needed to bail out of this conversation. Married! How could I not have known he was married? That changed everything.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea while we’re working together,” I said at last. “And while you’re – your personal life. Let’s just focus on the lighthouse for now.”
“My personal life… with Claire, you mean?”
“Yeah. Better to wait for your divorce till you plunge back into the dating scene, don’t you think?”
He frowned. “Never really thought about it like that. We’ve been separated 18 months… I suppose the actual paperwork just feels like, well, paperwork.”
“Still, it doesn’t feel right to me. I’m sorry, Ross, I can’t; not now. Maybe ask me again in six months, eh? That is, if you still want to.”
“We’re friends though, aren’t we?”
I shook my head. “More important than that. We’re partners.”
Back at the cottage, Jess had finally dragged herself out of bed and was enjoying Chillout Sunday in front of the telly. I chucked myself down and dropped my head to her shoulder.
“What’s up with you?” she asked, giving the wind-tangled strands tumbling over her PJs a vague pat.
“Hangover. God, Jessie, I’ve had the weirdest 24 hours.”
“Tell me about it. Hey, want to play ‘Guess where they stuck the vegetable’ with last night’s A&E loiterers?”
“Let’s do news first. How’d it go with Gareth?”
She pinkened slightly. “Not bad. I mean, he didn’t get lucky or anything, just a bit of a fumble. Seems a nice lad, for a rugby player.”
“One night nice or second date nice?”
“Second date nice,” she said with a soppy smile. “We’re going for a drink tonight. Proper drink this time, I’m not working. Maybe I’ll get to find out why he’s got ‘Tripod’ on the back of his rugby shirt.”
“Heh. Knowing your luck he’ll just be a really keen photographer. All right, let’s do the thing.” I lifted a hand for her to high five. “Ow! Not so hard.”
She looked down at my head on her shoulder. “So now your news. What did you and Ross Mason get up to last night, apart from what by the state of your eyes I’d say was a pretty heavy session?”
“You had to ask. Listen, Jess, this is going to sound bizarre, but… I may have just slightly, I mean accidentally, while I was pissed…” I groaned. “Me and Ross’re going into business.”
When I’d filled her in on the lighthouse plan, I was expecting a pretty vocal reaction. But Jess just stared.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
She didn’t answer. I picked up an open box of Maltesers from the table and waved them under her nose like smelling salts.
“Helloooo? Is my sister in there?”
Eventually she picked her phone up from the arm of the sofa and started tapping at the screen.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Googling what I need to do to have you sectioned under the mental health act, since you’ve clearly gone totally off your chump.”
I sighed. “It does sound a bit insane, doesn’t it?”
“A bit?” Jess looked up from her phone to twitch an eyebrow at me.
“It’s just… well, it’s some excitement, isn’t it? I’ve been bored stiff for months. Bored of my job, bored of blokes, bored of this stupid small town…”
She snorted. “If you’re bored get a hobby. Take up bloody… I don’t know, decoupage or bondage or something. Better still, finish your damn book.”
I flinched at the reference to the long-neglected novel.
“Honestly, Jessie, I really want to do this.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This is about him, isn’t it?”
“Who?”
“Come on, don’t play innocent. You’re talking to someone who’s known