Wild Oats by Veronica Henry

Toby was young to be in charge of a pub, but he’d served his apprenticeship in the Cotswolds and the Royal Oak was flourishing under his watchful eye – superficially, nothing had been changed, but the food had been improved beyond measure. It didn’t try to compete with the gourmet establishments that had made the area so renowned, but concentrated on a simple menu perfectly executed: the Aberdeen Angus steak and chips were legendary, making it incredibly popular for a midweek meal out amongst the locals. Added to which, the staff were exemplary and Honeycote Ale itself was acknowledged to taste like nectar.
    Jack and Olivier habitually wandered down the road just after six to prop up the bar for an hour or so, but today Olivier was quite happy to nurse a pint on his own and contemplate the latest turn of events.
    Just as he’d told Jamie, he’d spent the past few years alternating winter and summer as a skiing instructor and tennis coach. And it had been an idyllic existence for a young, free and single bloke who loved the outdoors. But it was starting to lose its charm.Olivier had been to several weddings in the past couple of years; close friends of his with whom he’d enjoyed many wild nights. At first he’d thought it was strange they’d gone down the marriage route, and had exchanged much elbow-nudging and muffled guffaws with the other single male guests. But by the third one, he was starting to feel like the freak. Everyone seemed to be tying the knot, even the most committed bachelors. On their stag nights, they claimed to envy Olivier his freedom and independence, and made out they were heading for the gallows. He knew that was just window-dressing. They wouldn’t be walking up the aisle if they didn’t want to be. At the most recent nuptials he had actually felt like a bit of a sad bastard. Everyone had if not a wife then a ‘partner’; some of them even had kids. At the evening do, there was no question of copping off with someone; everyone was spoken for, even the bridesmaids.
    The problem was that his lifestyle didn’t leave room for a great amount of commitment. Every few months or so he would move on: he didn’t like to stay in the same resort two seasons running. He wanted to explore as many countries as he could. His references were always good, so he had his pick of the best resorts. There weren’t many girls who would be willing to trail round after him, bunking up in the single room hotel accommodation that usually went with the job. And he certainly wasn’t prepared to settle down in one place just for the sake of a committed relationship.
    He’d felt a little tide of panic rise when he turned thirty. Realistically, in five years’ time, would he be such an attractive proposition? A ski or tennis instructor hurtling towards forty didn’t have quite the same cachet as one ten years younger. It was part of the job to be young and gorgeous. Old and gorgeous didn’t quite cut it in the same way.
    And he didn’t seem to have the stamina for partying any more. The slopes didn’t look as inviting after a night on the tiles as they once had. He needed his lie-in. He wanted his lie-in, which was more worrying. Olivier Templeton was feeling his age and realizing that perhaps his existence was bordering on the shallow and self-indulgent.
    Then, eighteen months ago, a knee injury had intervened. It hadn’t even been a dramatic accident, involving black runs and avalanches and mountain rescue teams. He’d quite simply turned too quickly and ripped a cruciate ligament. Three operations later his specialist told him that if he didn’t want to end up a cripple he would have to stop skiing. Of course, he hadn’t been insured. Medical insurance, yes, to cover the cost of the hospital bills, but nothing that would compensate him for loss of earnings. He had no rights, as his contracts were always casual.
    Totally broke and feeling utterly useless, he’d gone back to his parents to contemplate