in front of all the doors.’
‘That must’ve been terrifying!’
‘It was. A couple of my mates’ houses burned down. Luckily I didn’t know anyone who’d been killed.’
‘How did Josh’s mum die?’ I ask out of the blue.
‘Drink-driving accident.’
‘No way?’ I glance at him in horror. I thought it must have been cancer or a serious illness. Not an accident. That’s one of the worst ways to go. ‘What happened to the guy who did it?’ I ask.
‘She was the one who’d been drinking.’
There is a silence. I’m too shocked to respond.
‘She ploughed the car head on into a tree,’ he goes on.
‘Shit.’ My reaction sounds so feeble. ‘Was she an alcoholic?’
‘No. She’d been on a work day out to some of the wineries. None of her colleagues thought to make her take the bus home.’
‘Bloody hell. I can’t believe Josh still drinks and drives.’
Ben sighs. ‘Neither can I. Take a left here.’ I make the turn and then he says, ‘Hey, do you fancy a coffee?’
‘Sure.’ Are you kidding me? That’s practically a date!
‘Have you been to Hahndorf yet?’
‘No. I’ve barely been anywhere.’
‘Come on, then. We have to jump back onto the highway.’
Hahndorf, I soon discover, is a small historic town situated not far from where we live. It was settled by Lutheran migrants and you can see the German influence in the architecture and cuisine of many of the old shops, cafés and restaurants.
‘This is a great pub.’ Ben nods ahead as we walk towards the Hahndorf Inn. People are seated at wooden bench tables on the pavement drinking beer.
‘Would you rather go here?’ I ask.
‘Would you ?’ he bounces back, before immediately dismissing the idea. ‘Actually, no, Michael wouldn’t be too impressed if I dragged you to a pub.’
‘I do drink alcohol, you know,’ I say narkily.
‘That was clear from the other night,’ he replies meaningfully. I’m too annoyed to respond. I didn’t want a bloody drink, anyway. I’m learning to drive, for crying out loud!
I’ve been forgetting it’s Christmas in a few days, but the decorations adorning the street lamps and shop windows serve as a frequent reminder. Ben points to an old-fashioned sweet shop across the road.
‘We’ll have to go in there on the way back. I’ve been addicted to their sour peach hearts ever since I was a kid.’
Moments later we come to a stop outside the Hahndorf Kaffeehaus.
‘Here we are,’ he says. ‘This place does the best Kitchener buns.’
‘What’s a Kitchener bun?’
‘It’s a bit like a doughnut with jam and cream. They do nice ham and cheese croissants, too. Are you hungry?’
‘A little.’
‘You’re not a vegetarian, are you? Great pastries, if you are.’
‘No, I’m not. Are you a vegetarian?’ He strikes me more as a meat-and-two-veg kind of guy.
‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘Do you want to sit outside?’
‘Okay.’
I take a seat on the green-picket-fence-enclosed terrace, and gaze down the busy main street. There are two horses pulling a cart filled with people. The horses’ reins have been decorated with tinsel.
Ben returns a moment later from ordering our croissants inside and pulls up a chair. He reaches across and fiddles with the salt-shaker. He hasn’t shaved this morning and there’s sexy sandy-coloured stubble on his jaw. He looks up to catch me staring.
‘Who’s looking after the joey today?’ I ask quickly.
‘I dropped her into work on the way to you this morning,’ Ben replies, still meeting my gaze with those dark-blue eyes of his. ‘Janine’ll feed her.’
‘We really should give her a name.’ I pick up the pepper-shaker and put it down again because I don’t want to look like I’m copying him.
‘Yeah, I was thinking that. What do you want to call her?’
‘Me? Oh, I think you should do the honours.’
‘No, no, you found her – you should.’
I think aloud. ‘We could name her after one of my sisters?’
‘Or
‘That must’ve been terrifying!’
‘It was. A couple of my mates’ houses burned down. Luckily I didn’t know anyone who’d been killed.’
‘How did Josh’s mum die?’ I ask out of the blue.
‘Drink-driving accident.’
‘No way?’ I glance at him in horror. I thought it must have been cancer or a serious illness. Not an accident. That’s one of the worst ways to go. ‘What happened to the guy who did it?’ I ask.
‘She was the one who’d been drinking.’
There is a silence. I’m too shocked to respond.
‘She ploughed the car head on into a tree,’ he goes on.
‘Shit.’ My reaction sounds so feeble. ‘Was she an alcoholic?’
‘No. She’d been on a work day out to some of the wineries. None of her colleagues thought to make her take the bus home.’
‘Bloody hell. I can’t believe Josh still drinks and drives.’
Ben sighs. ‘Neither can I. Take a left here.’ I make the turn and then he says, ‘Hey, do you fancy a coffee?’
‘Sure.’ Are you kidding me? That’s practically a date!
‘Have you been to Hahndorf yet?’
‘No. I’ve barely been anywhere.’
‘Come on, then. We have to jump back onto the highway.’
Hahndorf, I soon discover, is a small historic town situated not far from where we live. It was settled by Lutheran migrants and you can see the German influence in the architecture and cuisine of many of the old shops, cafés and restaurants.
‘This is a great pub.’ Ben nods ahead as we walk towards the Hahndorf Inn. People are seated at wooden bench tables on the pavement drinking beer.
‘Would you rather go here?’ I ask.
‘Would you ?’ he bounces back, before immediately dismissing the idea. ‘Actually, no, Michael wouldn’t be too impressed if I dragged you to a pub.’
‘I do drink alcohol, you know,’ I say narkily.
‘That was clear from the other night,’ he replies meaningfully. I’m too annoyed to respond. I didn’t want a bloody drink, anyway. I’m learning to drive, for crying out loud!
I’ve been forgetting it’s Christmas in a few days, but the decorations adorning the street lamps and shop windows serve as a frequent reminder. Ben points to an old-fashioned sweet shop across the road.
‘We’ll have to go in there on the way back. I’ve been addicted to their sour peach hearts ever since I was a kid.’
Moments later we come to a stop outside the Hahndorf Kaffeehaus.
‘Here we are,’ he says. ‘This place does the best Kitchener buns.’
‘What’s a Kitchener bun?’
‘It’s a bit like a doughnut with jam and cream. They do nice ham and cheese croissants, too. Are you hungry?’
‘A little.’
‘You’re not a vegetarian, are you? Great pastries, if you are.’
‘No, I’m not. Are you a vegetarian?’ He strikes me more as a meat-and-two-veg kind of guy.
‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘Do you want to sit outside?’
‘Okay.’
I take a seat on the green-picket-fence-enclosed terrace, and gaze down the busy main street. There are two horses pulling a cart filled with people. The horses’ reins have been decorated with tinsel.
Ben returns a moment later from ordering our croissants inside and pulls up a chair. He reaches across and fiddles with the salt-shaker. He hasn’t shaved this morning and there’s sexy sandy-coloured stubble on his jaw. He looks up to catch me staring.
‘Who’s looking after the joey today?’ I ask quickly.
‘I dropped her into work on the way to you this morning,’ Ben replies, still meeting my gaze with those dark-blue eyes of his. ‘Janine’ll feed her.’
‘We really should give her a name.’ I pick up the pepper-shaker and put it down again because I don’t want to look like I’m copying him.
‘Yeah, I was thinking that. What do you want to call her?’
‘Me? Oh, I think you should do the honours.’
‘No, no, you found her – you should.’
I think aloud. ‘We could name her after one of my sisters?’
‘Or
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