Jane Linfoot - The Little Wedding Shop by the Sea

Rafe lifts up his coke. ‘And I’m driving too.’ Despite Gav the barman’s jokey banter, and the free pork scratchings by the till, Rafe still hasn’t cracked a smile.

‘That’s a very nice jumper you’re wearing,’ I say to Rafe. Given he has more cashmere sweaters than anyone I’ve come across, and that he also keeps sheep, I reckon wool’s a good subject to start with. And it works, because his mouth twitches into an almost smile.

‘A present from my mother.’ His embarrassed shrug softens him. ‘She’s always turning up with them.’

‘Trying to make you presentable no doubt, so you’ll catch that elusive woman she’s so desperate for you to meet.’ Immie laughs, and gives him a surprisingly free and friendly pat on the knee.

‘Does she live nearby?’ I ask. Somehow, despite Immie talking about her, I can’t imagine Rafe having a mum.

‘We built her a bungalow at my brother’s farm, but right now she’s travelling in the States.’ From the grimaces he and Immie exchange, it looks like a relief all round.

‘She loves country music,’ Immie chimes in. ‘At least it gives you a couple of months off from her matchmaking.’ She follows that with a loud guffaw as she sinks the rest of her drink, and adds a matey dig in the ribs for Rafe. ‘Anyone for another?’ She raises her glass, gets up and sets her sights on the bar. So far so good. Immie and Rafe are surprisingly relaxed with each other, and it looks like Immie’s hell bent on drinking enough for both of them.

I glance at my phone, knowing we should be moving this into town.

‘The next one’s on me.’ I jump to my feet. ‘And I promised to meet Cate.’ I rack my brains, imagining how Jules might put it if he wanted everyone to drive ten miles to the next drink. The knack is to say it like there’s no alternative. ‘We’re having the next round at Jaggers.’ Despite my inner doubts, I manage a big grin, and it comes out pretty damned forceful. ‘I hope you like mojitos.’ Whoop, I’m on a roll here.

No idea if this is going to work, but I don’t wait for them to argue. Immie’s banter is getting a great response from Rafe. Cate’s right, if we can pour enough cocktails down him, he’ll soon feel the friends to lovers vibe.

‘Jaggers it is then!’ Without a looking back, I pick up my coat and head for the door.

‘Great evening then, thanks a lot for dragging me along.’ Rafe’s cheek is almost rubbing on mine as he puts his mouth up to my ear, and he still has to yell for me to hear him over the shouting and the techno music.

Thursday night’s Cocktail Happy Hour was in full flow when we got here, and the place was heaving. I have no idea about the hour, because it already seems to have lasted forever. As for the cocktails, they’re strong enough to make your head spin with the first slug. Then you man up. Unlike everyone else in the place, I’m just having the one. But you know those times when the more you drink, the more you want?

‘Quick, grab those seats!’ Rafe’s grip is tight on my shoulder as he steers me through the crush of bodies, and shoves me up onto a purple plastic bar stool.

I take it he’s being ironic when he says about a great evening. No-one could actually be enjoying this mayhem.

At some point he’s stripped off his jumper, and now I’m sitting beside him, I can see that under his ragged T-shirt, he’s pretty ripped. I squint as I try to make out the logo on the fabric folds.

‘If found return to the farm,’ Rafe says helpfully, then sighs. ‘Not what I’d usually wear out, I wasn’t expecting anyone to even see it, it’s supposed to be a joke.’ Which is so funny for someone as un-funny as Rafe that it sends me into a fit of giggles.

I know what he means though. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see my skimpy vest either, but it’s so damned hot in here, it was a choice between stripping down and showing off half my bra, or expiring.

‘Top up of margarita?’ Cate squeezes in from behind with a jug as I put down my glass. One slosh later, my glass is full again.

So much for not drinking. The last thing I remember eating is a banana at breakfast time, which is probably why I’m feeling a bit light headed now. ‘Last one.’ I yell, as Cate whirls out of view. As for Rafe getting legless, he hasn’t actually started drinking yet.

‘That has to be the sixth time you’ve said that.’ Rafe’s lips twist into a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll carry you home.’

‘No.’ That really doesn’t sound right. Seven cocktails? Maybe that’s why the neon signs around the walls are beginning to blur. I lean over a little unsteadily to Rafe, and end up grabbing his arm to get my balance. ‘You’re supposed to be carrying Immie home, not me.’ As I release my grip on his biceps, it’s the most natural thing in the world to share this with him. I grab his knee, as I push myself back into position on my stool, and stage whisper. ‘You know, you two are supposed to be an item,’ I confide.

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