by J.M. Cagle
“As opposed to Bobby Robert, of course,” he finished, sitting on the bench in front of her and stealing a chip.
“You realize you’ve been saying the exact same thing for a week, don’t you? The line, Mr. Stiles, is growing old.”
Joey grinned. “Has it been a week already? Gosh, time flies.”
“It feels longer, I’ll admit.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing, Miss. De Niro?”
Bobbi raised her eyebrow at Joey’s latest name for her before replying. “I’m not so sure. I like it here, don’t get me wrong.”
“But you miss the extravagance of Los Angeles,” Joey interrupted. “It’s normal. You’re not a born and bred country girl. It’ll take some getting used to, I’d imagine. It took Chris a long time to adjust, as well.”
“Chris?”
“Aye, Christopher. You met him the other day.”
“No, I - I remember. I just didn’t realize that he wasn’t from around here.”
“It’s the accents, isn’t it?” Joey laughed. “I was born in Ireland. Dublin, in fact. My daidí, that’s my father, he was born there, as was my daideó –”
“Grandfather?”
“Aye, you got it in one. And his daidí before him, and his before that.”
“And you left all that heritage for Nottinghamshire? What for? The history?”
Joey gave a reminiscent smile. “That I did. But not for Nottingham itself. For the love of a woman.”
“Your ex-wife?”
“Ah, I see April has told you about her already.”
Bobbi froze. That conversation had been private. April wouldn’t forgive her if she knew that she had gone and told Joey that she knew. “I guessed,” she covered. “But I must be right if you think April’s told me something.”
“Aye, you’re right about that, too. I was married once, to a friend of April’s actually. But things didn’t work out.”
“Can I ask why?”
With a sad smile, Joey stared at the table in silence for what felt like an age. Bobbi’s stomach lurched painfully. It wasn’t her place to ask. April had told her the basics. It wasn’t for her to judge or ask for more ‘gossip’. Because that’s what she was doing, wasn’t she? Looking for more gossip. She shouldn’t have said anything.
“I’m sorry; you don’t have to answer that.”
“No, it’s fine,” Joey said, looking back up at her. “I was 16 and had gone to visit my brother at university. She was there, too, visiting one of her many friends. Incredibly popular, she was. We were there for just under 2 weeks and I couldn’t live without her afterwards. I followed her here to Loxborough. Within 3 years, we were married, all for about 22 hours. Not even an entire day! As soon as the reception had finished, we jumped on a plane and flew to Malibu. She had always wanted to go there, Annabeth. That night, I was getting the room ready for… the wedding night,” he raised an eyebrow at Bobbi before continuing, “and she had gone to get some champagne, and met a bartender she took a fancy to. Stephen was his name, if I remember right. She never came back after that.”
“Oh, that’s horrible.”
“I thought so, too, back then, but I’m thankful for it now. It may be cliché, Bobbi, but when one door closes, another one opens, and always for a very good reason.”
Bobbi smiled. She loved Joey’s way of looking at things. Was this the way Tommy was looking at things? That one door closed and another one opened? Was she the old door closing?
“April isn’t originally from here either, is she?”
“Aberbargoed.”
Obviously confused, Bobbi stared at him.
“Wales. April’s from Aberbargoed in Wales.”
“Oh!” Bobbi laughed. “For a moment there I thought you were swearing at me or something.”
“Now why would I do that? No, April moved here about 17 years ago now.”
“17 years?” Bobbi couldn’t contain her shock. “But that makes her…”
“32. You thought she was older?”
“No, younger. I thought she was my age.”
“And how old are you, little Bobbi?”
“23.”
Joey laughed and, for reasons Bobbi didn’t understand, she joined in. Perhaps his laugh was just that infectious.
“April Lafferty is definitely not 23 years old, Bobbi Roberta. Although, now I’m curious why a 23 year old born and raised in Los Angeles has decided to move here to Robin Hood County.”
“It’s a long story, Joey.”
“Well, I want to hear it, and you’ll get to share it with me tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Joey stood up and got ready to leave. “Yes, tonight. Believe it or not, I came here with a purpose.”
“To find me? How did you know I’d even be here?”
“April told me you’d be here, not that it matters. I’m throwing a beag party tonight in celebration of the first Nottingham folklore I was ever told.”
“Beag? Nottingham folklore?”
“Beag, small,” Joey replied. “And as for the folklore, Google “Guy of Gisbourne” and see if you can work it out. I’ll be testing you on it tonight, just before you tell me why you’re here. See you then!”
And with that, he was gone. Bobbi pulled out her phone from her pocket and typed ‘Guy of Gisbourne’ into her Google search bar.
“Sir Guy of Gisbourne is a character from the English folklore of Robin Hood,” Bobbi read. “According to the Child Ballad 118, Gisbourne was hired to kill Robin Hood by the Sheriff of Nottingham but was himself killed, instead, by Hood. Later depictions show him as a rival to Maid Marian’s love. Hmm, interesting.”
* * *
It took four outfit changes before Bobbi settled on a pair of skinny jeans, a gypsy style black and red top, knee high boots, and the silver hoops that her stepfather had gifted her for graduation a few years ago. She stared at her reflection in the new full-length mirror she had brought, inspecting every choice thoroughly. Yes. She looked appropriate for a Nottingham party, she was sure.
“You ready, lovey?”
“On my way down now!”
Grabbing hold of her shoulder bag, Bobbi ran down the stairs, where April was waiting dressed in a simple baby pink dress.
“You look lovely, Bobbi!” April said with a big smile. “Oh, I wish I had a pair of heels like those,” she added when she caught sight of Bobbi’s 4-inch heels.
“What shoe size are you?”
“I’ve always been big footed. A size 6, that’s me.”
Bobbi grinned. “Then you’re in luck! I’m big footed, too. A big old American size 8 1/2. I’m sure that’s a UK 6, isn’t it? Feel free to wear anything you fancy.”
“Really?”
“Of course! Whenever you want. No need to ask.”
The look on April’s face, the sheer childlike excitement, was enough to make Bobbi’s entire day.
Joey’s cottage was only a ten-minute walk from April’s if you were to cut through the fields, but it took more time because they were both wearing four-inch heels. Bobbi was a little hesitant at first, assuming that the farm animals would come towards them to say hello. In fact, the exact opposite happened. The cows, especially, decided to walk further and further away from them as though annoyed that their personal space was being invaded. To Bobbi’s amusement, April felt the need to assure her that they were a lot more sociable during the day.
“You better not be bringing any cow pies with you!” Joey called from his front door when he saw April and Bobbi leaving the fields.
“Cow pies?” Bobbi asked.
“Pats,” April replied. When she didn’t hear anything to suggest that Bobbi understood, she explained further. ‘It’s what we call cow dung, Bobbi.”
“Oh!”
He must have heard their discussion because, when they reached the door, Joey had doubled over in a fit of laughter. “I like you, Miss De Niro!” he said, putting his arms around the two of them. “Come on
, let’s go in.”
Music played loud enough for the party goers to hear each other over; a mix of pop, indie and RnBwhich shocked Bobbi. Part of her had expected country music or maybe even an Irish jig. In the hallway alone, Bobbi counted six people, and she assumed that that would mean that it was a party of 30 minimum. It was then that Bobbi consciously realized that the cottage’s interior wasn’t at all what she had expected. Unlike April’s, which she’d been told was stereotypical of cottages in the area, Joey’s home wasn’t open planned, and each room was cream with modern brown furnishings, which reminded Bobbi of her uncle’s house in London.
“It’s not all modern,” April whispered to her as though reading her thoughts. “The fireplaces are all traditional stone, and the upstairs bathroom has a wooden toilet like in our place.”
Our place. The words sent a warmth through Bobbi. She hadn’t ever had someone say ‘ours’ to anything before, especially not for something as big as a home. Not even her parents’ house was ‘ours’; it was ‘theirs,’ and she was just a guest lucky enough to have a place to stay rent free during the holiday season.
Joey steered them into the kitchen, where he pulled out three beers from a small fridge beneath the counter; another thing that Bobbi wasn’t used to, small fridges. She took the bottle that was handed to her and leaned against the island.
“Between April and I, you’ll meet every person in this house, I promise you that, Bobbi Roberta. But first thing’s first,” Joey pulled himself onto the counter and made himself comfortable. “This story you promised earlier. Tell me all!”
Bobbi looked from Joey to April and back again. “There’s not really much to tell,” she said hesitantly.
“Everyone has a story to tell, Bobbi,” April said, receiving a nod from Joey in return. “You’re with friends. You can tell us. We’re not here to judge.”
“No, just to have a bit of a drunken giggle at your expense!” Joey added.
Despite her nerves, Bobbi laughed. She nodded slowly. Then she began. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. 36 agents and publishers rejected my second book one after the other. They all said that maybe the success of my first one was down to beginners luck…or maybe because my dad’s a big shot New York lawyer. This one lacked heart and wasn’t worth the light of day. They put it more politely, though, of course. Anyway, the girls took me out to a nightclub, you know, to let me to drink away my troubles. But alcohol doesn’t get rid of troubles, does it? It just creates new ones!”
Subconsciously, Bobbi began to rub the inside of left wrist as though massaging a pain away. Upon noticing it, Joey shot April a slightly worried look.
“He was on the other end of the bar when I went to get a refill. He was nice. Older than me. By at least 20 years, I think. His kids were teenagers, for God’s sake! He brought me a drink, and before I knew it we were in the club toilets and then I woke up in my apartment with his arms around me; and my boyfriend, Tommy, standing at the foot of the bed.”
“Oh, Bobbi!” April put her arm around her friend as Bobbi’s eyes clouded over.
“I screwed up really badly. I managed to get Tommy to agree to come see me the next morning, but then he showed up on my doorstep with a suitcase and told me that he’d left his wife and kids for me. Tommy walked in and that was that. I booked my tickets that very afternoon and three days later I was in the Grantham Hood with the two of you.”
“Running away from your problems doesn’t help anything.”
Bobbi shot around to face the door at the sound of Chris’ voice. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?
“As I told my best mate, I didn’t just leave because of a guy!” she shot back.
“Sounds like it,” Chris said, entering the kitchen, running his hand along the island until he was standing directly in front of her.
“I needed a change. LA and I were a toxic combination. I needed to figure out who I really was.”
“Oh, so you’re on an Eat, Pray, Love mission? So much better than just running away, don’t you think?”
“Rein it in, Chris,” Joey said.
“Come on, Joe! You’re telling me that that story made you feel sorry for her? You, of all people?”
Joey jumped off the counter and stood between Chris and Bobbi. “Whatever Bobbi just said, she said among friends. We’re not here to judge, Christopher.”
Chris shot a dirty look at Bobbi over Joey’s shoulder. He laughed, sending a shiver up her spine and tingles in places she knew shouldn’t be tingling. She unintentionally parted her lips and began sucking in air faster. How could someone being so outright rude make her body react so hungrily?
“You’ve had a little too much to drink, Chris. Why don’t you head off home,” April said with a small smile.
Chris laughed once again, quickly kissed April on the cheek, and walked out of the kitchen.
After a moment of everyone staring at the now empty doorway, Joey turned back to Bobbi with a grin. “So, you’ve figure out why we’re celebrating today?”
* * *
“He doesn’t want to talk to you, Bobbi,” Gem told her. “I tried to explain what happened, but he just - he doesn’t want to know anymore. He didn’t even want the box you left for him.”
“You told him that… that him showing up with his suitcase had nothing to do with me, right?”
“Of course I did, Bobbi! I told him everything that happened in the club, everything the agents and publishers said, everything! It makes no difference to him.”
“He won’t even pick up my calls, Gem.” Bobbi refused to cry, no matter how desperately she wanted to.
“I’m sorry, honey. There’s nothing more I can do. And I don’t think there’s anything more you can do, either. Give up, it’s over. Tommy’s moving on with his life, and it’s time you do the same.”
The sound of the doorbell going off downstairs made Bobbi jump.
“There’s someone at the door, Gem. I’ll call you later.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up and made her way downstairs, wiping away a few stray tears.
Bobbi looked around for April before remembering that she had mentioned going out for coffee with Joey. She had invited Bobbi to go with them, but after the party last night, Bobbi hadn’t been in the mood to be entertained. After the kitchen incident, Joey and April had introduced Bobbi to all their friends in the village. They’d all seemed pleasant enough, but Chris’ outburst had been enough to make Bobbi want to run out of the cottage, crawl into bed, and not bother getting up for at least a week.
The doorbell rang again and this time she opened it. Chris had his back to the door, muttering to himself as though rehearsing some speech.
“April’s not here,” Bobbi said, startling him into turning around. “She’s gone down to the Grantham Hood with Joey. Should still be there if you wanted to go find her.”
She was about to close the door when Chris held his hand out to stop her.
“I didn’t come to see April,” he replied. “I came here to see you.”
The knot in Bobbi’s stomach tightened. His words echoed inside her ears. I came to see you. Chris pushed his way into the cottage, leaving Bobbi holding onto the door handle. She turned to face him, realizing that he wasn’t leaving, and shut the door. The act felt like she was entering territory she knew she had no reason being in.
“Everything that I said to you yesterday, the whole Eat, Pray, Love thing, the running away, all of it. It was a bad move on my part. It was rude and unforgivable. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The speech was rushed, confirming Bobbi’s assumption that he had been rehearsing something outside. She nodded slowly.
“No, Bobbi, it wasn’t. I was having a really bad day at work and I took it out on you…”
“It’s okay, really,” she replied. “I think, to some horrible degree, you were right.” Chris looked shocked. “I am running away. But I’m running away from a person I don�
��t want to be anymore. Hopefully, to someone a lot better.”
A strange smile appeared on Chris’ face. He seemed to appreciate what she’d just said. He nodded slowly, like she had, and his smile grew.
“Got time for a coffee? April keeps a stash in the top cupboard.”
Bobbi smiled back and nodded. “Sounds good.”
It occurred to Bobbi, upon noticing how well he knew his way around the kitchen, that he and April must be extremely good friends. Before long, they were sitting opposite each other at the dining table in silence, steaming mugs of hot coffee in their hands.
Chris opened and closed his mouth a few times, as though about to say something but thinking better of it.
“So,” Bobbi said, pulling a funny face accidentally.
“So,” Chris repeated.
“So, this is fairly awkward, right?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what happens when you’re stuck in a kitchen with a total prick.”
Bobbi’s mouth fell open. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I’m not a prick!”
Chris’ smile was a sight to behold - innocent and shining through his eyes like a child. And when a laugh followed, Bobbi felt her stomach do a somersault so high that she had to grab hold of it.
“You weren’t the prick I was referring to,” Chris said between laughs. “The prick would be me.”
“Oh,” Bobbi blushed. “Sorry!”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s nice to know that you don’t think so highly of yourself. A lot of American girls I know are too stuck-up and self-obsessed to realize that they’re not perfect.”
“You don’t know me very well then,” Bobbi replied, taking a sip of her coffee. Her thoughts went immediately to Tommy. Surly he would think that she was stuck-up and self-obsessed.
“You’re not that bad. A little self-obsessed, sure, but you don’t seem stuck-up.”
Strangely, out of Chris’ mouth, the words seemed complimentary. Bobbi could feel her body temperature rise, the tingling sensation return, and her lips part involuntarily all over again.
“So you know my story.” Bobbi ran her fingertips nervously around the brim of her mug. “What’s yours?”
“Not much to tell, really,” Chris replied, earning a laugh from Bobbi. “What’s so funny?”
