Authors: Veronica Henry
Honeycote (51 page)
And Mickey himself was feeling better for the first time in weeks. The black glooms that had been descending upon him seemed to be getting fewer and fewer, he was in less pain and was actually managing without painkillers – just a couple to help him sleep at night. He felt hope rising in his chest, a green shoot as optimistic as the crocuses that were nudging up through the earth outside the window.
Mickey reached out and slid a bottle of Chablis towards him. He studied the familiar label, looked at the greeny-gold liquid in the bottle and imagined its flinty dryness, not to mention the welcome relief it would bring, the feeling that every responsibility was falling away from his shoulders. He wondered if anyone would notice if he sloshed a couple of inches into his glass – surely they were all too well-oiled to see or care? It would be the first drink he’d had for months. He tried to ignore the consultant’s warning tones. He’d only have a taste, he argued to himself. He wasn’t going to get drunk; merely propose a little toast. It was a celebration after all: everything was going to be all right…
He poured a good couple of inches into the glass nearest to him and tapped it with his fork to get everyone’s attention. Chatter stopped and faces turned to him, surprised. He cleared his throat, slightly self-conscious. He wasn’t usually given to displays of sentimentality.
‘We’re all back here together again and I just wanted to propose a toast. I wasn’t sure who to, or what to – there are so many choices. James and Caroline, of course. But also to Keith, who has brought so many possibilities to the future of Honeycote Ales. Then there’s Patrick, who’s done so much to help me while I’ve been recuperating… the list goes ever on, so I thought I’d just make it a simple one.’
He put two fingers either side of the stem of the glass, as if to lift it, then slid it over towards Lucy. She took it from him, smiling her thanks, and he raised his tumbler of Malvern water in a toast.
‘To everyone here round this table. To us.’
James caught Lucy’s eye as she raised her glass. To her amazement, he gave her an almost imperceptible, but definitely conspiratorial, wink. She felt a sudden fizz of excitement, like champagne bubbles escaping over the edge of a glass. Confused, she looked away, sought Mickey’s warm, proud gaze and smiled as she joined in the toast.
‘To us.’
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