‘Then maybe slow things down a bit.’ My voice is too sharp, even to my own ears.
Jackson comes to stand beside me, closer than I’m comfortable with, and my whole body tenses up.
‘You in a better mood now?’
‘I was in a great mood earlier, thanks,’ I say, shaking my hair back from my face.
‘Could’ve fooled me.’ His eyes sweep across my face and the very pit of my stomach fizzes.
Tippi is off her lead now and wandering around at our feet, her nose snuffling in the grass.
‘You’ve been really busy all day.’
‘You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing? Isn’t that the point?’ He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Or is that not allowed unless it’s your café?’
That jibe hurts more than it should. ‘No, it’s not that.’ I can hear my voice pitch upwards. He’s right. We should all be celebrating how popular the fete has been. Aaron is going to be thrilled, but the pile of unpaid bills sitting on my table at home and the fact I can’t even afford to heat my own hot water is eating at me.
‘You’re too loud,’ I blurt out. ‘You talk and joke and charm everyone over here. And then they buy from you. You’re not giving anyone else a chance.’
He takes a step away from me. ‘So, I’m guilty of being … friendly?’ His voice has an edge to it now. ‘Nice guys never were enough for you, were they?’ He swings a look at Milo, who’s staring at the pair of us.
His last statement stings, but I ignore it.
‘This isn’t about you,’ I snap, my arms flailing around as I talk, a sure sign I’m losing my cool. ‘I’m just saying, maybe give the rest of us a shot.’
‘By … not selling?’ He scowls. ‘Ellie, we’re a jaffle café. Not a confession booth.’
‘You’ve got ice cream,’ I snap, jumping towards the little trailer. ‘Sell that.’
‘You think I should stop doing well so you don’t feel bad?’ Now he’s properly annoyed with me. I bite at my bottom lip.
Milo flips open the van counter and comes down to join us. ‘Ellie, everyone’s looking. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing’s going on. Do you know what? Forget it. I’ll be fine,’ I almost shout. I spin around to march back to Reeni. Gregis back and the two seem to be giggling about something. I’m so distracted I trip over Tippi. I hadn’t even noticed she was loitering behind me.
The little dog yelps, startled, and I pitch forwards, my arms flailing like windmill sails.
‘Oh, Tippi, sorry!’
In the split second it takes me to regain my balance, she’s already bolted across the field, shooting in between the van and the trailer.
Jackson swears. ‘Tippi, Tips. Come back.’
There’s the sound of tyres skidding on the grass and a large yelp, followed by a high-pitched whine, and we all stand and stare at each other, stunned.
Chapter Eight
We don’t stand still for longer than a couple of seconds before all dashing around to the back of the food trucks. A black BMW is stationary, the driver’s door wide open with a lady kneeling at its front wheel. She looks up at us, the whites of her eyes stark against her drained face.
‘The dog came out of nowhere. I didn’t see it.’ Her hands are shaking as they hover over Tippi. The little dog’s eyes are open and her tongue is poking out between her teeth as she pants.
Milo calmly guides the woman to her feet, and Jackson and I crouch down next to the stricken terrier. He runs a hand down Tippi’s neck gently, then moves further down her body, feeling for anything untoward underneath her fur. When he gets to her back legs, Tippi gives a sharp, high-pitched whine.
‘Sorry, Tippi. Sorry,’ he murmurs.
‘What do we do?’ A huge cloud of guilt is hovering over me. I let my problems take over, and this is the result.
Jackson stands. ‘We’ll have to get her to a vet. I can’t take her in the van. It’ll take too long to pack away.’
