Undertaking Love

Chapter 6

Emily looked at her watch. Ten to eight. In a little over four hours, she’d be thirty. There were no balloons or banners, just a small clutch of cards arranged in a sad little line on the fireplace. She got up and scraped her barely touched ready meal into the recycling bin and reached down for the bottle of Shiraz she’d stashed in the wine rack earlier on in the week. It was gone. Crap! Bloody Tom, he’d probably stuck it in his bag for his business trip. Pity he couldn’t have given as much thought to being here for her birthday, rather than at a conference somewhere up in the wilds of Scotland. But then, he was away more than he was at home these days so she shouldn’t really have been surprised. She glanced down at her pyjama bottoms and Uggs, and made a snap decision. They’d have to do for a run around to the corner shop, because there was no way she was leaving her twenties stone-cold sober.

She grabbed her purse and keys and let herself out, breaking into a desperate half-jog to get there before Bob and Audrey closed up for the evening. They were famously erratic, 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?’