By the time the crowd thins out a lot later, I’ve lost count of how many Polaroid film packs I’ve got through and the corkboard hanging on the shop wall is covered in cute retro-tint photos. Poppy came to help too, which was great, all the way to the last customer. But truly, I could do without the eyebrow action she’s giving me as she ushers windcheater guy into the corner. By the time he finally sidles towards the curve of the white-painted seat, his coat is over his arm. I’m staring at a dark, hand-knitted jumper and frantically checking around to see if he’s got anyone with him.
‘So is it …’ not meaning to discriminate against people on their own, but for the sake of the picture I need to check ‘… just you?’ Behind him Poppy’s eyebrows have switched into overdrive.
He pulls a face. ‘It was, last time I checked. That’s still good for the discount?’
Poppy jumps in. ‘No worries there.’
He laughs. ‘If I’m planning a big spend, I can’t say no to an offer like that.’
Poppy’s eyes widen. ‘Maybe you should be having a chat with Jess?’
His nose wrinkles. ‘I do have quite a few weddings on the horizon. But there’s no rush.’
I can’t ignore a boast that’s even bigger than his yacht one. ‘Well, let’s hope all your wives will be very happy.’ As for where the hell that came from, I’m as shocked as anyone. I don’t wait for a reaction, instead, I nod at the loveseat and lift the camera. ‘Well, make yourself comfortable for now, I’m ready when you are.’ I’m just lining up the angle when there’s a whoosh from across the room and the camera is wrenched out of my hands.
As Jess shoulders me out of the way, she’s beaming down at windcheater man. ‘It’ll spoil the composition if we don’t use the whole seat. Why don’t you pop on there too, Milla?’
If I wasn’t so surprised, I’d already have given her a thousand very good reasons. As it is, the best I can do is to grab hold of Poppy and drag her down with me. ‘One of us either side of you, how’s that?’ I flash a smile at Jess. ‘Three for the price of two. What’s not to like?’
It’s only as we wedge our hips down between the chair arms that I realise my big mistake. With two on the seat there’d have been space for a gap between us. As three of us crash down there’s a muffled crack somewhere under my bottom, but so long as the seat’s holding up I’m not mentioning it. As I aim for my best selfie face I’m rammed so hard against a certain woolly jumper that I’m not only getting the pattern of the stitches printed on my skin through my playsuit, I can also feel every single torso muscle underneath it.
‘Big smiles all round!’ Jess is properly purring. ‘Then hold that for a couple more clicks. Okay, it’s in the can. You can relax!’
All I can say is, it’s good that I’ve spent the last year perfecting smiling when I’m hating every second. A guy’s arm extending around my waist isn’t what I’d meant to allow in my life again, even if does ease the crush. And I hadn’t planned to have stubble pressing against my cheek either. As for his delicious scent, with a lungful instead of my earlier noseful I’m practically passing out. I’m also close enough to see I wasn’t the only one with pink smudges on my ear.
Poppy is first to unwedge herself. ‘Hey, nice aftershave. Is that Paco Rabanne?’
As I try to stand up, there’s a resistance that’s a lot more than my hair wisps catching in his beard. Then, instead of an answer to Poppy’s fragrance question, there’s a loud squawk. Windcheater guy yelps and clutches his side as I’m finally on my feet.
His voice rises in protest as he points at a stick that’s appearing from the loose knit of his jumper. ‘Hey, Cupid, I thought you said you weren’t firing? You just scored a bull’s-eye!’
Oh crap. My stomach drops so fast I feel sick. When I look down at my pouch my arrows are splintered and I’m definitely one short. At least that clears up what the cracking sound was. On balance, the seat collapsing under our weight might have been better. ‘I’m so, so sorry! Have I impaled you? Are you hurt?’
He lifts his sweater and stares at his ribs. ‘No worries, it’s only a scratch.’
There’s the six pack I already knew about. As for the bronzed stomach I get an eyeful of as well, that’s just another given that goes with the territory. Then I take in a slick of red sliding downwards, huge and bright against his tan. ‘Shit, you’rebleeding!’
You know that thing with emergencies? Sometimes you freeze. And sometimes you leap into action but it’s like someone else is moving your limbs. That’s what happens to me now. Before I know it, I’ve jumped up and snatched a handful of tissues from the mother-of-the-bride decorated hanky box. By the time I’m back my hand is already so far up his jumper to mop up the blood that most of my arm’s disappeared too.
I’m not sure if it’s due to the warmth inside his sweater or the flush of embarrassment, but, whatever, I’m super-heated, puce, and there are sweat rivers trickling down inside my sequins.
Sera, the dress designer, wanders over, her thumbs through the belt loops of the ripped denim shorts she always wears. She pushes back an armful of sun-streaked curls and laughs as she starts to gather up the blood-streaked hankies. ‘What’s going on here? It looks like something out ofCall the Midwife. Hang on, I’ll get the first-aid box.’
Windcheater guy’s shaking his head. ‘I just sailed the Atlantic single-handed, I think I can manage without the paramedics.’ As he turns to look up at me, he’s grinning. ‘In any case, I’m being very well looked after here.’
Don’t ask me how, but I manage to grab more tissues with my spare hand, and ram them into his. But in the end it’s just easier to let him lean back and pull up his top, while I take the largest plaster in the box from Sera and stick it into place.
He lets his top drop again and passes me a piece of splintered stick. ‘You were firing with a broken arrow, no wonder you were six inches too low. If you’re aiming for my heart, you’ll have to try again.’
I’m smiling like a crazy person despite wishing I could crawl into a hole. ‘Maybe next year?’ Like I’ll be around – of course I damn well won’t.
It’s definitely not that he’s smouldering – that’s just the colour of his eyes. ‘I might have sailed off into the sunset by then.’ As he stands and squares up to me, I can’t be the only one to have noticed the width of his shoulders. His low-slung jeans. The bulge below that scuffed leather belt. ‘One last chance to take aim while I’m stationary … It’s a lot harder to hit a moving target.’
I snap my eyes shut to close out the view, then flash back at him. ‘And it’s even more impossible if I’m driving at top speed in the opposite direction.’ Hashtag, camper van in a hurry, me getting the hell out of here. Just saying.
Jess is beaming. ‘Except you might not be, Milla.’
‘Cupid’s honour, I will.’ That’s one thing I’m certain of.
