‘Bloody hell, Cleo. You need to aim higher.’
Cleo laughed. ‘He’s the university lecturer I mentioned. I’ve been coaching a couple of his star art students and I’m loving it.’ She really did look different when she talked about it.
‘That’s great.’
‘Is everything all right at the studio then?’ asked Cleo, trying to peer behind Regan.
‘Yes, it’s all tickety boo.’When had she ever used that phrase before?
Cleo laughed. ‘Only four weeks and I’ll be heading home.’ The words hit Regan like a medicine ball to the chest. She had been counting down to when she could take up the market stall; the fact she would have to move out of the studio in four weeks had almost passed her by. ‘You all right?’ Cleo was giving her an odd look.
‘Yes. Fine. I’m fine. I should probably lock up here and go,’ she said, making her way to the door, keeping the camera angled upwards so as not to reveal her stuff, which was mainly on the floor. Old habits died hard.
‘Are you dashing off to this new bloke? Has he got you peeling grapes for him yet?’
Sadness instantly swamped Regan at the thought of Charlie. ‘We’re not … He doesn’t want a relationship.’
‘Why ever not? You’re amazing. But I can’t help thinking you’ve had a lucky escape. It didn’t add up to me.’
‘You were wrong. He really is dying, Cleo, and he can’t handle the guilt of messing with my head when he goes … you see, I was kinda falling for him.’
Cleo looked shocked and a little teary. ‘I’m so sorry. I should come home.’
‘No.’ Regan shook her head. ‘This tour is important and I’m fine. Really. There’s nothing you or anyone can do.’
A knock on the door made Regan jump. Cleo frowned hard. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Good question. Let me see.’ Regan held the phone tight to her chest while she opened the door a fraction.
‘Oh, hello. I thought Cleo was back.’ A grey-haired man in dark blue overalls was scanning Regan. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Perfect,’ said Regan. This neighbour’s timing couldn’t be better. ‘I’m a friend of Cleo’s and here is Cleo herself to tell you that I am allowed to be here.’ Regan showed the phone screen to the man.
‘Hello, Brian,’ said Cleo, with a wave. ‘Regan is getting something from the studio. I hope it didn’t alarm you.’
‘Well, the other night—’ began Brian.
‘Anyway,’ cut in Regan, ‘I expect you’re busy, Cleo. We won’t keep you any longer. I’ll have a chat to Brian here and sort everything. You get off to your party.’
‘It’s one o’clock in the—’
‘Byeeeee,’ said Regan and she ended the call with relief. She turned to Brian, who was frowning a little. ‘Brian, you are an excellent neighbour for checking on Cleo’s property like this. She is very lucky to have you.’ Brianlooked chuffed about the comment. ‘But you don’t need to worry, because I will be coming and going quite a bit over the next few weeks. Important stuff going down in Japan for Cleo, so I’m managing things at the Brighton end.’ Brian was looking frowny again. ‘She’s big in Japan …’ said Regan, losing where she was going with this and trying hard not to repeat the ancient 80s song lyrics that were now whizzing around her head.
‘Us small-business people stick together,’ said Brian. Far be it from Regan to point out that Cleo really wasn’t operating a small business from her studio, but there was something that might get him on side.
‘I agree. I’m a market stallholder myself.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. Just starting out.’ It wasn’t a complete lie. ‘Lovely Cleo has said I can store a few things here whilst she’s away, so you may well see more of me and spot a few lights on. Is that okay?’
‘Oh, that’s fine,’ said Brian, seeming far happier. ‘Open Market, is it?’
‘Yes. Sorry, Brian. Time is money, as you well know. I need to lock up properly and get on.’
‘Of course. Nice to meet you,’ he said, and he walked off to a unit a couple of doors down. Regan heaved a giant sigh of relief. Four weeks and counting. The clock was ticking and everything hinged on the market stall. Now was the time to get her arse into gear and make some jam.
Regan pulled a large saucepan out from the back of her dad’s kitchen cupboard and wiped it down. She paused. Her father was in the doorway watching her. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting off?’ she asked.
