“Isn't this chuffing' dandy?” she snarled, “300 quid of vintage attire ruined!” Her hat had been blown away somewhere into the night. Her umbrella was no less bedraggled and blathered up than was her very soul at this juncture.
Damn that taistral, Ian! He’d bollocked things up good and for all tonight!
There they’d been, all huggered together with a round dozen of their besties. The pints had flowed no less freely than their laughter, until he’d brought it all to a screaming halt.
With nary a warning, he leaned across and kissed Gwen squarely on the lips. The whip-crack slap of her hand to his cheek left the lot of them sitting in awkward silence.She’d fled into the night. The sole saving grace of the rain was that it masked her bitter tears, tears shed for a bell forever rung and for a lifetime friendship forevermore destroyed in the blink of an eye.