***

"We should order," she said hurriedly and took a few steps away from him.

She found her phone in her handbag, unlocked the screen, and started scrolling with her left hand. She could feel him looking at her, and she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Her cheekbone and her neck on the side facing him felt flushed.

"What are we eating?" he said, his voice still a bit raspy.

"I don't know," she said without lifting her eyes. "What would you like?"

"What would you like?" he asked, and she finally glanced at him.

He was pale, and deep shadows lay under his eyes.

"Rhys, I think I'll go, and you should order something for yourself, eat, and go to bed," she said. "You're exhausted, and I don't think you need to deal with my food related issues right now."

He gave her a confused look. "I asked you to come," he muttered.

"Yes, you wanted to talk," she said. "And we did. And I hope it helped. And now you need to rest."

"But– this is what helps. You being here," he answered.

She chuckled humorously. "We just see it so differently. For me, navigating eating with you is– challenging. We, together, with our relationship in this sort of a state of flux? That's an even bigger challenge," she said and smiled at the view of his bewildered face. "Clearly, you see it differently."

"I do," he said quietly. "You make me feel better. Being with you here makes me feel–" He stopped himself and shook his head. He frowned, mulling something over, and then met her eyes. "You're right, you should go," he said firmly. "I asked for your help, and you came. And making you stay would be– selfish."

For a second she didn't know what to say.

"That's– an unexpected level of emotional awareness and empathy from you, Rhys," she said and bit her bottom lip. "It's as if you'd just gone through an emotional shock that forced you to question how you treat other people's wishes and needs," she added in a teasing tone.

He tilted his head, and gave her that fake narrowed-eyed exasperated look that she always found so sexy. His lips pursed - and she knew a saucy remark was coming.

"And before you say anything, I'll take my leave," Viola said, pushed her phone into her handbag, and then quickly stepped to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything special," he grumbled, turning his head slightly. His lips were just a few inches away from hers now. "But you can thank me again."

"You're right," she said, moving away. "You've simply demonstrated basic human decency. It wasn't exactly that much of an achievement."

"Harridan," he murmured.

Viola snorted. "That's an oddly old-fashioned term, but it's better than 'wishy-washy,' I suppose. Have a good night, Rhys."

He chuckled. "Have a good night, Vi."

***

The next day Viola left the surgery on her lunch break and walked to Miss Rosa's tearooms.

"I'll need a table for two," she said to the owner, and Miss Rosa perked up. "My friend is coming from the city to see our Festival," Viola added in a nonchalant tone.

Miss Rosa made an innocent face, poorly hiding her disappointment. Viola had an entertaining thought that if Miss Rosa knew Yolanda Roel, she'd rejoice at the prospect of a much juicier gossip than Viola having lunch with her ex-husband.

Yola was half an hour late, but it was pretty much on time for her.

"Viola!" she shouted from the door and gave Viola a mad wave. Everyone in the tearooms turned to look. "Hiya!"

Yolanda's short hair was coloured violet, and her freckled face was even more tanned than usual. She was dressed in an oversized camel coat, and a large shawl with some colourful ethnic pattern was wrapped around her neck and hid half her face and her ears. Viola caught a glimpse of Yola's wide cuffed corduroy trousers, of mustard colour, and some sort of chunky green boots.

"It's brass monkey's!" Yola announced, leaned in, and kissed Viola's cheek. "Blimey, how do you always smell so good? Like Christmas!" Yola dropped in the chair, pulled off her gloves, and started unwrapping her shawl. "So, this is your Fleckney." She looked around and laughed. "It looks like a setting for Midsomer Murders. Wait, wait, let me guess, it's the vicar in the library with a candlestick!"

Viola smiled at her friend. "Apparently, soon one of the Holyoakes will become the vicar here."

"Oh, that's shocking! Did your former paramour finally see the light and repent?" Yola made a little grimace.

"Not Rhys. That would be his cousin Oliver," Viola said.

"Is that the one who's the hottest of them all? The one with the white strand above his forehead?" Yola asked, studying the menu. "I do listen when you talk about your Holyoakes." She threw Viola a cheeky grin. "Except one of them. I filter that one out."

"You never liked Rhys," Viola drew out, hiding behind her menu.

"Of course not! The man's a twat," Yola postulated and waved the menu in the air. "I'm ready!"

Miss Rosa materialised in front of their table. Viola had always marvelled at the effect Yola had on people: she was loud, often inappropriate, pushy, and outspoken - and everyone loved her for it! She always got the best service anywhere she went. She was offered discounts and given samples in every shop she visited. She won every time she bought a lottery ticket and in every raffle at a wedding. Yola was a magnet for cash and good luck - not that she needed it having inherited a fortune from some distant Aunt in Australia she'd never heard of before the reading of the will a week after Yola had turned eighteen, which had made her legally able to inherit. She routinely found cash on the ground, and once she'd gotten three hundred quid reward for returning a wallet she'd discovered under her backside in a cab. Dogs and cats adored her. Children followed her like the Pied Piper. Put simply, Yolanda Roel née Yolanda Natalia Aurora Reyes Carrera was everything Viola wasn't.

"I rented a room in something called the Chestnut Manor B'n'B," Yola said piling up clotted cream and jam on her scone and taking a giant bite. She hummed and shimmied her shoulders. "Yum! It's all very Downton Abbey there. I was told to go to the Oak and Shield for tickets. There is some sort of a play, a dance, and a karaoke night, did I get it right?"

"Yes, the festivities start Thursday evening and last till eleven at night on Sunday when there are fireworks," Viola answered. "I want to see everything," she said and laughed at her own unexpected enthusiasm. "I missed the Festival."

"Well, count me in!" Yola saluted her with her second scone. "Let's paint this town red!" She chewed and asked pensively, "And it's John Holyoake, the publisher, that you're dancing with, right? The posh one, the one married to Evelyn Cox?"

Viola nodded. "Clementine Popplewell. And his brother Will's pen name is Will Tuagh."

"Blimey! The author of The Enemy in the Sand?!" Yola choked on her Turkish coffee. "I need to get in the middle of that! It's decided, Vivi! You're getting back together with your wanker of an ex, so I can impose my overly enthusiastic, bumptious self onto Evelyn Cox and Will Tuagh!"

Viola sipped her coffee, and wondered if perhaps, that was a good moment to inform her best friend that, oddly enough, the above scenario wasn't out of the realism of possibility these days. On the other hand, a more secluded location might be a wiser choice, considering Yolanda's most probable reaction.

"Blimey!" Yola leaned back in her chair, licked her spoon - the way children did, flipping it over - and gestured wildly with it. "But all jokes aside, John Holyoake is exactly the connection I need these days, seeing I'm opening a bookshop."

"You sound certain," Viola said and took another sip of her coffee. "Last time we spoke, you were just 'brainstorming,' as you put it."

"Well, you know me, Vivi." Yolanda once again swung the spoon. "I have the Hunch."

"Oh, well, then you simply have to do it," Viola said with a soft laugh. "Only an idiot would ignore your hunch."

"Exactly," Yolanda said. "And most importantly, I saw it in a dream, the whole shop, and in such detail! And you know my dreams: they are even more precise than the hunch. The shop will have two halves, one side will be for new books, another one - for used ones. And I saw some mental signage, don't ask me why! I'll collect and buy some vintage signage on Etsy and eBay. And also, in this dream, I saw a dragon!" Yola stuck the spoon in her mouth and splayed her hands in the air. She then moved them around, probably mimicking wings. "A dragon, Vivi!" she said, jerking the spoon out. "I don't know what it was made of but it hung right under the roof and watched over my books! A bad-arse red dragon! I wonder if there's an artist in this county who can make me one! I even saw the building it'll be in. I just need to walk around and find it."

Viola looked her friend over, suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for the woman. She'd quite forgotten how warm and joyful she always felt around Yola.

"Alright, and now tell me, what's up with you these days?" Yola said. "How's the village surgery treating you? Are you going all Doc Martin these days?"

"It's treating me very well," Viola said. "It feels really good to be back."

"Oh my, 'very well' and 'really good,'" Yola drew out. "That's a shocking amount of adverbs for you, Vivi. The country life must be properly working for you."

"And what about you, Yola?" Viola asked with a chuckle. "What's a city bird like you doing opening a shop in this cosy corner?"

"I'm just following my dream, Vivi, just following my dream," Yola said, pressing her hand to her chest. "My abuelita would come back from beyond the grave if I didn't. So, how about we have a stroll through this lovely town, when you're done at–"

And suddenly the woman was silent, her mouth half-open. Viola stared at her in shock - Yolanda Roel was never silent - and followed Yola's gaze through the window.

"Is that– Who's that?!" Yola asked and pointed at the man standing on the pavement outside the tearooms.

"That's Sam Holyoake," Viola said.

"But– He can't be!" Yola exclaimed and started rising. Viola gave her a shocked look. "He is– Wait, which one is he?" Yola asked, her eyes greedily roaming Sam, who was looking down at his mobile.

"Rhys' younger brother. He works in Rhys' company. Yola, what's the matter?" Viola asked, sincerely concerned by her friend's bizarre behaviour.

Sam must have felt that he was being watched. When he lifted his face and glanced at them, Yola made an odd croak-like noise and shrank back into her chair. Sam then noticed Viola and gave her a small nod and a shaky smile.

"Don't invite him in," Yola hissed.

"Are you alright? I've never seen you like that!" Viola said.

Considering the events of the past weekend, she wouldn't initiate an interaction with Sam, leaving it to him to decide whether he was ready. Besides, Yolanda suddenly reacting to a male in any way - and especially, almost with panic and dread - was a much more pressing matter.

"Is he gone?" Yola asked, pressing lower and lower into her chair.

"He is," Viola answered after a glance through the window. She assumed Sam was going to get his usual coffee in the tearooms, but decided against, avoiding her. She didn't hold it against him. "Yola, you're worrying me."

"It's–" Yola sat up and downed her coffee. "It's hard to explain. I mean, I will– Maybe– But let's just forget about this for now, alright?" She still looked rather pale, but her usual pizzazz was coming back. "Let's pay, and I'll walk you to your surgery. Is there some soft of a gift shop here, or something, where they sell guide books? I need to find my shop."