The Heart Whisperer by Ella Griffin Page B

‘It’s so weird bumping into you, today, after all this time.’ A tear streaked down her face. It hung on her chin for a moment and then dropped on to the front of her dress.
    Jesus, Ray thought, this was all he needed. He put his hand on Ash’s back and propelled her out through the glass doors on to Wardour Street. It was raining. She pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights out of her bag and her hands were shaking when he lit her cigarette for her.
    Ray had thought he’d be unfolding a starched napkin and drinking champagne with Paul Fisher right now, not standing in the rain with some weepy girl he’d had a one-night stand with seven years ago. He needed to get drunk, he decided, very drunk. ‘Do you want to get a drink?’
    The pub was deserted and gloomy with a row of flashing slot machines. The beer-stained carpets stuck to the soles of Ray’s shoes when he went to the bar. He ordered two double Jameson and Cokes and brought them over to where Aisling was sitting.
    She picked out the straw and took a gulp of her drink. ‘I’m justhaving a bit of a weird time. I broke up with my fiancé last week. I resigned from my job, and now I have to go back to Dublin, where I know nobody, to live with my parents.’
    Ray swallowed half of his whiskey in one sour gulp. ‘You know me. I’ll give you my number. We can meet up.’
    She poked at the ice in her glass with a finger. ‘Like you’ll call me back.’
    â€˜Sure I will,’ Ray said, though that was a lie.
    â€˜You didn’t last time. I must have left about a hundred messages.’
    Did she have any idea how many girls left messages on his machine back in those days? ‘I’m sorry.’ He finished his whiskey.
    â€˜I needed to talk to you.’
    Ray signalled for another round. ‘Talk to me now.’
    She stared down at the greasy table while the barman made their drinks. A fly landed on the collar of her denim dress and then on the rim of her glass. She brushed it away. Then her eyes filmed over with tears again. She opened her bag. He thought she was looking for a tissue but she took out an iPhone and handed it to him.
    The screensaver was a photograph of a kid, a little girl. ‘She’s beautiful.’ Unlike most people’s children, she really was beautiful with a heart-shaped face and a halo of dark hair and the most incredible blue eyes. ‘Is she your daughter?’
    Ash nodded. ‘And yours.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Her name is Willow. She’s six.’
    Ray dropped the phone onto the table. ‘You tracked me down, to tell me this ?’
    â€˜I had no idea till twenty minutes ago that I was ever going to see you again.’
    Ray stared at her and then stared at the door. Imagining himself crossing the sticky carpet, pushing it open, standing out on the street taking a lungful of fresh air. But the whiskey had thickened his blood. He couldn’t move.
    â€˜I don’t even know why I told you.’ Ash put her hand over her mouth. Her dark red nail varnish was chipped. ‘I told her last week that my partner wasn’t her real father. She asked me aboutyou. When I saw you earlier it just seemed like, I don’t know, fate or destiny or something.’
    â€˜Destiny?’ Ray gave a hollow laugh.
    Ash stuffed her phone back into her bag and stood up. ‘Forget we met. Forget I told you.’
    â€˜How do I even know she’s mine?’ Ray called after her but she didn’t turn around and he didn’t need her to. There was only one other person he knew with eyes like the little girl in the picture.
    Claire’s second scene on The Spaniard didn’t involve sheep or Emma Lacey but she was hoping that it would involve Shane. She spent most of the morning sitting in a shady spot in the courtyard waiting to be called, waiting for him to appear.
    At lunchtime she finally saw him, sitting two tables away from her,