Torn by Gilli Allan Page B

music?’
    â€˜Or … would you like to go to the movies?’
    â€˜Movies?’ Slightly fazed by the suggestion, Jess stared at him. It was a long time since she’d had the kind of girlfriend-boyfriend relationship where she was asked out to the movies. She didn’t even know if there was a local cinema. Would it even be open on New Year’s Day? And was there likely to be anything on worth seeing?
    â€˜There’s an arts cinema in Warford, round the back of the supermarket. It used to be the train station. Once Upon a Time in the West is on.’
    Jess was now thoroughly bemused.
    â€˜Best western ever made, after Gunfight at the OK Corral ,’ he explained.
    â€˜You’re a Westerns buff! Look, Danny, it’s a sweet idea, but not really my thing. Anyway, it’s nearly midday, I’m still not washed and dressed and I have to collect Rory from Alison’s …’ She looked at her watch. She’d successfully suppressed her worries about him till this moment. Now her stomach gave an anxious lurch at the thought of her son. But surely Alison would have phoned if there’d been a problem? ‘She’s the heroine who had half a dozen three and four year olds to stay last night.’
    â€˜OK. You’ll be wanting to get rid of me. No need for a lift, I don’t live far.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly.’ Though collecting Rory was the perfect excuse, Jessica was surprised by how much she wanted Danny to stay a bit longer. ‘‘Course I don’t want you to go,’ she said truthfully. ‘Not yet anyway!’
    â€˜We could just go out for a walk?’ he suggested, tentatively.
    â€˜Think I’d like to stay in the warm. I’ll have a quick bath then I’ll phone Alison. You pick out some music. My iPod’s in its dock in the other room, or there’s a rack of old CDs.’
    When Jess came into the living room Danny was kneeling on the hearthrug pulling out CDs and staring at them.
    â€˜Alison’s giving them lunch. We’ve an hour before I need leave to collect Rory. Well done with the fire. I thought it had given up the ghost.’ Flames were beginning to lick up around the blackened bark of the large log she’d optimistically thrown into the wood-burning stove, hoping it might last the night. She saw he’d turned it and pushed some screws of the Radio Times , gleaned from the waste paper basket, around it. He frowned at the CD he held.
    â€˜I only needed to open the dampers.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t you prefer to look at what I’ve got on the iPod? I’ve more up-to-date music on there.’ Despite her suggestion he continued to look at the CDs, and the disc he eventually held out for her approval surprised her.
    â€˜Are you sure?’ It was older than she was, so to him must surely seem antique. It was one of Sean’s, which had found its way by accident into the pile she’d taken from the flat. But given Danny’s apparent enthusiasm for cowboy films, perhaps the choice wasn’t entirely surprising. Had she possessed a recording of Spaghetti Western themes by Ennio Morricone would he have picked that one? Now he seemed flummoxed by her music system. She took the CD from his hand. ‘Here, let me.’
    As they sat down on the sofa together he looped his arm around her. There could be nothing wrong with this, Jessica assured herself, sitting with a friend on a bank holiday, listening to country rock. Danny was slim, but it was the slenderness of a young man who’d not yet attained the muscle bulk of full maturity. Still, he was broad enough to recline against, and it was a long time since she’d felt this comfortable with anyone, a long time since she had felt this relaxed.
    â€˜Peaceful, easy feeling,’ sang the Eagles.
    â€˜Your hair smells nice. Tell me about him, Jess. That man outside the pub. Is he Rory’s father?’
    â€˜No,