The drizzly rain that had followed her from Beacon Bay Heights stopped as Rosie turned off the road to Neptune’s Promise. The pub car park was overflowing, and Rosie struggled to get a space, finally squeezing her battered Citroën between two tank-like SUVs.
After a last-minute check in the mirror, she walked up the winding path and went inside, her tummy fluttering. Was it excitement, anticipation or nerves, she wondered, wishing it would settle. Or perhaps it was a combination of all three.
Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious, Rosie scanned the bar in case Ewan was already there. The pub was popular with locals and holidaymakers alike, but she managed to find a sticky table with a couple of seats in an alcove by the door. It gave her a vantage point of the entrance.
The pub wasn’t the most romantic venue for a date, she reflected, and this thought made her feel both relieved and disappointed. What if they couldn’t think of anything to talk about?
A queue had built up at the bar and, although she longed for a nice cold orange juice, Rosie was reluctant to risk losing their seats.
As time ticked by and her thirst grew, anxiety was replaced by irritation. Where on earth was Ewan? She checked her phone repeatedly, to no avail. Would it be pushy to send a text?
Unsure, she decided to wait a bit longer. After all, when she’d worried about Dylan’s unexpectedly late arrival, he’d simply got lost and not had
