‘Eleanor Knapley,’ Ash says significantly.
‘Yes, well done, now you know my last name,’ I reply caustically, giving him a round of applause.
My hands are filthy. I try to brush off some more dirt after I’ve finished my sarcastic clapping.
‘Well, it would have helped.’ There’s a bite to his tone. ‘If you’d told me that you were Eleanor Knapley of Knap Sofas, I would have found you sooner,’ he has the gall to add.
Wait a sec. ‘How did you know about Knap?’
‘I googled you yesterday. What, you thought I learned your surname just now?’ He shakes his head and frowns. ‘No.ObviouslyI looked you up on the payroll system as soon as I could. I’m a big fan of your Lisbon range.’
His tone is difficult to work out. I can’t tell if he’s toying with me or being genuine. There’s an edge there, as though he’s a little pissed off with me. But what the hell have I done wrong? Diddly-squat, that’s what.
‘I like the canary yellow,’ he says, still talking about sofas. ‘Inspired by the trams, I presume? But I couldn’t work out why you went for light brown.’
I’m damned if I’m going to tell him that the range was half inspired by his eyes.
Suddenly he looks baffled. ‘Whydidyou downplay your family’s business?’ Ah, so that’s why he’s put out. ‘Knap is huge. My mother has a copy of theSunday TimesHome section inside with a huge advert on the back cover.’
‘Let’s not get into how little we told each other about our families’ businesses,’ I reply darkly.
I only downplayed Knap because I didn’t want to rub hisnose in it after he told me that his family only had a small workshop.
‘Why didyoutell me that your family had a furniture business?’ I ask. ‘What was the point in that?’ I’mfuriousat the lie.
‘Theydohave a furniture business,’ he replies calmly, unashamed, walking a bit further on until he comes out at the front of the house. ‘There.’
I glare at him, but go to see where he’s pointing.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I mutter resentfully when I realise that he’s got the Victorian outbuildings in his sight.
There is no way he can claim thatthatis his family business!Thisis his family business!Thisrighthere, thishouse!
‘That is a furniture workshop, Ellie,’ he states. ‘In front of the sawmill.’ I can’t believe he has the nerve to sound annoyed. ‘I used to hang out there all the time with Taran. He used to work there.Iworked there too once. His uncle still runs it.’
I’m caught off guard. ‘Edmund is Taran’s uncle?’ I ask with surprise of the man in his late fifties with the warm handshake and kind smile. I met him at the barbecue on Sunday and have seen him around since.
‘Yes. Owain is too. Taran’s father, Gareth, used to be head ranger here. He’s retired now, but he and his wife, Carys, used to live here on the estate with Taran and Celyn.’
I shake my head, confused. ‘Celyn?’
‘Celyn is Taran’s older brother. He’s head ranger now.’
My head spins as all these threads connect. I can barely believe that I’ve ended up right here on Ash’s home turf. OnTaran’s.
‘We have so much to talk about,’ he states heavily.
‘I need to get back to work.’
‘Not yet. Wait.’
I meet his eyes. ‘Don’t wreck this for me.’
He recoils, shocked at my plea, and shakes his head quickly, as though denying that he ever could.
I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
‘I don’t want anyone to know about us.’
