‘Yeah. He had no right to kiss you behind my back.’ He juts his chin out. ‘I was pissed off.’
‘So, you gave him a black eye?’
‘He’s lucky that’s all it was,’ retorts Jackson. ‘Now he’s flirting with you all over again.’
His attitude is seriously pissing me off. ‘You weren’t even around then. You’d fucked off overseas. I hadn’t seen you in years when it happened. What about if I asked him to kiss me?’
That floors him and his brow creases. ‘Did you?’ he asks, uncertainly.
‘No. But that’s not the point.’ It’s my turn to glare at him. ‘And why are you threatening to do it again?’
‘He has no right to be calling you beautiful.’ Jackson’s eyes flash towards his brother.
‘I can flirt with who I like, thank you,’ Milo butts in, but then his tone softens. ‘Bro, stop being angry at the world. You’reburying your head in the sand, but that’s not going to change things. You’ve got to face reality.’
‘Face what?’ Jackson’s eyes are dangerous now and I can see the tight line of his jaw.
Sophie’s voice drifts across the green. ‘Boys.’ It’s faint, but loud enough that it stops their bickering. She begins to wheel herself towards us.
‘See what you’ve done now,’ Jackson snaps at Milo and he goes to help his mum. ‘Hey, stop that,’ he says with feeling, jogging over to her. ‘I’ve got you. Your drink’s coming.’
I look at Milo. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I can’t do this now. He’ll kill me. I’ll talk to you later.’
Milo makes the drinks and soon we’re all sitting around one of their little black tables. The atmosphere is strained. The two brothers are still unhappy with each other and I’m back to trawling my head, looking for something safe to say.
‘How did you get on with the permits at the council?’ Milo asks eventually.
Jackson pushes his chair away so he can stretch out his legs. ‘Disaster. They are so unorganised. I swear I sent the right paperwork at the time. But they claim I didn’t.’
‘What paperwork?’ I ask, my heart sinking.
‘Oh, some bloody busybody complained about the Camper Café being here. Now the council’s making noises about shutting us down,’ says Jackson.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. ‘They can’t do that surely?’
‘They can if they’ve got no proof I submitted the permit,’ he says bitterly.
‘It means we might have to close.’ Milo’s fingers are white as he grips his glass of water.
I stare at the table, praying I’m wrong, that it wasn’t my letterthat started all this. My act of desperation is going to bring the whole tower of cards tumbling down.
‘I’ll sort it,’ Jackson says. ‘Although if I could get my hands on whoever it was, I’d give them a piece of my mind.’His anger switches from Milo to the complainant and there’s no way I’m coming clean when he’s in this mood. ‘We mind our own business. We tidy up after ourselves every night. I’m telling you, if I find out who it was …’ His voice is beginning to rise.
‘Shhh,’ says Milo, nodding towards their mum. Sophie’s head has lolled sideways against the back of her wheelchair and her eyes are shut. Milo moves to tuck the blanket around her again, pulling it further up her body. ‘The sea air must have wiped her out.’
‘Can I ask you a favour?’ says Jackson, his voice bordering on a whisper. ‘I have to go back to the council tomorrow for round two with Ms Officious. Milo will be here and Dillon can’t get off work. Would you sit with Mum for a bit while I’m away?’
‘Of course. Anything you need.’
The brothers are sitting quietly now, both looking at their mum, their eyes full of emotion. I want to pull them into a big hug and tell them it’ll all be OK. But after the end of that argument they’ve just had, I’m beginning to suspect things are going to be anything but OK.
Chapter Fourteen
Jackson asked me to be at his for eleven thirty and I’ve timed my bike ride to perfection because it’s eleven twenty-five. I should be thankful for a reason to get up. If it hadn’t been for this, I’d still be under the covers, staring up at the ceiling. Instead, it made me drag myself out of bed and get a wash. Thankfully, the weather is warm and sticky, so the shower felt like a relief instead of freezing my bits off under icy cold water.
I lean the bike against the side of his mum’s cottage and take my satchel out of the wicker basket, hooking it onto my shoulder. The house is well cared for and one of three, all connected. They look like former farm worker houses, grey stone walls, slate roofs and white window frames. Sophie’s is one of the end houses and has a large portion of land to the side. It houses a driveway which currently has a gleaming navy blue Mini standing on it and a pale blue, painted wooden garage. The front garden has borders full of tall flowing wildflowerssurrounding a small patch of grass and a concrete path that leads to the front door.
