We fall silent.
‘Well, hello, stranger,’ he says with amusement.
I glance up to see that he’s on his phone and has found my message on Instagram.
‘Yes, that was a surprise, seeing your comments on my posts,’ I say drily.
He kisses my temple. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he murmurs against my hair.
I pull away and look at him.
‘You did it,’ he says. ‘Your parents. Sculpture. Everything’s taking off.’
I’m full of warmth as I smile back at him. It means so much to me, his acknowledgement.
‘Tell me about you,’ I prompt.
‘Later. I want to know how all this came about.’
I fill him in about the exhibition in May and then have afreak-out when I realise the time. I leave him in bed while I get ready to go down to Seaglass.
When I come out of the bathroom, he’s buttoning up his jeans.
‘You off?’
‘Yeah, I should probably get back.’
‘When will I see you again?’
The nervousness that has been plaguing my insides ramps up. I suddenly feel as though I’m on shifting sands, not really sure where I stand with him any more.
‘Later?’ he asks.
‘Tonight?’ I check.
‘If you’re free.’
‘I’m free.’ I’m sure I’ve failed to hide my relief.
He smiles at me, but his dimples are suppressed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
With everything that’s happened over the last twenty-four hours, I completely forgot that I’d told Michael I’d drive him to a dance at his social club tonight. I’d made do without a car for so long, but it was all getting a bit ridiculous, and when Arabella commissioned me to make a sculpture of her, she asked if she could sit for me at her place. With the amount she was paying me, it was the least I could do – and it proved a pleasure to get out of the house each day. It also made me long to sculpt in my garden studio again. I’m determined to use it this autumn, once my guests have left, although I’m not sure for how long. I suspect it might not be warm enough once winter hits.
When I tell Finn about Michael’s dance night, he offers to come with us for the drive.
‘Maybe we could grab a bite to eat in Perranporth.’
I’m surprised he’s suggested it, but I’m pleased, considering he’s steered clear of his home town over the years.
We take a shortcut up past Michael’s terrace of nine tiny cottages and knock for him, figuring he can walk up to my car with us. I’ve taken to parking it on the quiet street where Dan and Amy live.
Michael bursts through the door in high spirits, wearing a smart black shirt that Shirley must have ironed for himbecause I know from experience thathecertainly wouldn’t have. At the sight of Finn, his happy expression morphs into one of mild repugnance.
He has the most expressive facial features of anyone I know.
‘Is Timothy going to be there?’ Finn asks him as we walk up the hill together.
