“Absolutely.” I indicated and pulled into the community centre carpark, which was busier than normal for a Friday in October. “What’s going on here? Want to wait in the car while I check this out?”
She nodded, pulling out her phone. “I hope it’s nothing to do with me. If the Mitch-girls have worked out where I am, they’ve got here fast.”
“I meant to ask, did you call them the Mitch-girls or did they call themselves that?”
“They did. I’m hoping they transfer their adoration onto the next big thing soon.” She scrolled down her phone. “Nothing on here so I don’t think it’s me. I’ll come in with you.”
As it happened, it was almost the opposite of the Mitch-girls but with a similar flavour.
Amelie was working at the counter, putting down a cake slicer as soon as she saw us and heading our way.
“What’s happening?” I nodded my head discreetly in the direction of five tables pushed together, women and a couple of men in their seventies or eighties, craning their heads to listen to a glamorous looking woman of the same age who was doing all the talking.
“That’s Moira Shepherd, queen of jam making.” Amelie directed us over to a table on the opposite side of the space, near to the kids’ party area. “Those are her disciples. Apparently, they have a secret message system so they know where to find these pop up events, which take place with no notice given to the venue.” She raised her eyebrows. “Still, they’ve eaten half the cake and I’m out of scones. But there is a problem.”
She transferred her attention onto Zoey.
I winced, wondering what was going to happen next.
“One of the ladies here thought she’d booked a room at the Puffin Inn, but it mustn’t have gone through. Long story short, I’ve had to give her one of the two you’ve booked, so Caleb, you might have to sleep in the flat.”
“I can’t. They’re using cleaning products that you’re not meant to inhale.” I messed with my hair in frustration. “Yes, I am having it fumigated.”
“I’m not going to ask. I don’t want to know.” Amelie looked at the ceiling. “You’ll have to share with Zoey then because we have the Callaghans arriving at ours in a couple of hours and there’s no spare bedrooms. Or you can see if you can stay with Finn or Cassian. You could use Mavis’ house but I think someone’s staying there.” She patted my shoulder. “Someone will have you.”
“Not when I’ve finished at ten o’clock and need hosing down.” I patted Zoey’s hand. “I’ll build a pillow wall in between us so you don’t keep trying to maul me.”
“Trust me, I don’t need that.” Zoey smacked her other hand on top of mine. “It’s fine, Amelie, half the time I stay I end up falling asleep with him on the sofa. I know how he snores and farts in his sleep by now.”
They both looked at me.
I held my hands up. “I don’t know what I do in my sleep, do I? It’s only one night. We’ll be fine. What’s so special about Moira’s jam?” Because the gathering was listening very intently to what she was saying, and she was speaking in hushed tones.
“There’s a secret ingredient that your grandfather would’ve approved of.” Amelie’s smile was soft like it was every time we talked about him. He’d died five years ago now, a ripe old age and at peace with life and everything in it. I missed him daily, but it was a sweetness now.
“Some good old herbal extras.” Which was one of the ways he explained his cannabis growing hobby.
“Indeed. In fact, if he was here, he’d be at that table now doing a few deals.” She shook her head. “I suppose you want lunch?”
“Please. Caleb needs to keep his strength up with all the cleaning that’s to come.” Zoey batted her lashes at me. “Because I’m not helping.”
“I don’t expect you to.” I glanced at Amelie. “Besides, I don’t think she can take any more discoveries of women’s underwear.”
Amelie shook her head and glared at me. “I never realised how insane some women were until I noticed your revolving door. I don’t know why you’re friends with him, Zoey.”
Zoey was laughing, definitely at me. “Some days I’m not sure either.”
Project “Become an Adult” commenced at three in the afternoon, just when it would’ve been a perfect time to take the boat out on the Strait. It was a smooth day, the wind just what you’d want and the horizon clear. I actually could’ve done with sailing out to a certain point to take some water samples, but I could do it tomorrow and having realised what a hazard my flat was, I needed to clean it up.
I wasn’t sure what the motivation was apart from the mouse family which had been relocated humanely: Zoey had stayed before and the flat had possibly been worse, so maybe it was because I was getting closer to turning thirty-one and feeling like I should be living somewhere other than the flat I’d been in as a teenager. Or it could be a sudden urge to impress her and erase the kid she saw me as and replace him with an adult she could rely on.
And nothing saidrely on melike another woman’s underwear stuffed down the side of the sofa.
I’d already done a quick tidy of my bedroom this morning. The spare room where Zoey was staying was clean – I wouldn’t have put her up in there if it wasn’t, but the lounge and kitchen hadn’t experienced a deep clean for – I had no idea. I should’ve done this before Zoey got here, but I had my reasons why I hadn’t thought to.
I still felt bad though. I was a crap host.
I spent the next five hours working around the two cleaners who Amelie had persuaded to help me out, tidying up, filling bin bags and then putting them in my car to take them to the co-operation tip in the morning, while they pulled out furniture, cleaned the carpets and steam cleaned the bathroom and kitchen. I had cleaned sometimes, just not like this.
