Pixie stiffens. ‘Flowers! Where the hell are they for?’
Nic sighs. ‘No need to flip out, they’re mostly for the tables and the window sills.’
Pixie’s eyes are like saucers. ‘We’re havingtables?’
Nic’s lips are twisting. ‘To rest your drinks on. That’s okay isn’t it?’
Pixie laughs nervously. ‘Yeah, I s’pose.’
Nic pulls a face at me. ‘You have no idea how hard she’s making this.’
I’m aiming to say the least possible and get the hell off the phone before I make it any worse. ‘Other than that, probably just hair slides. Oh, and shoes.’
‘Shoes?’ She’s leaning into the screen. ‘Whatkindof shoes?’
‘The usual.’ I’m thinking of the glass cabinet in the White Room. ‘With ankle straps, labels, sparkly bits. And wellies for meadows.’ That just about covers it.
‘Labels? In St Aidan? Which labels?’ She’s suddenly concentrating. ‘Don’t stop!’
I’m reeling them off. ‘Rachel Simpson, Manolo thingy, Alexander McQueen, Gucci, Louboutin, Dior, Jimmy whatsit …’
Pixie’s face is so close to the screen she’s practically bursting out of Nic’s phone. ‘You haveJimmy Choos?’
Nic’s laughing. ‘Well done for finding Pixie’s Achilles’ heel, Milla. She must be the only sailor I know to have more cupboards full of shoes than ocean-going kit. How many pairs have you got now?’
She gives him a dead eye. ‘I don’t ask you how many boats you own, or how many staff you have on your books.’
His whoop is gleeful. ‘Enough to have taken over an entire spare room from Ewan.’
She sniffs. ‘My legs don’t work, but I still have feet. Shoes are essential.’
‘Great reasoning.’ I shrug. ‘Not that you ever need an excuse for another pair.’
‘Exactly, Milla.’ Pixie wheels herself backwards and grins. ‘Well, some of us have work to do. If that’s everything, I’ll let you two bunnies get on with your evening.’
Nic holds up his jam jar. ‘We’re doing a hard night of cocktail selecting.’
‘My heart bleeds for you.’ Pixie lets out a throaty laugh. ‘Don’t let him give you a hard time, Milla. He’s very well trained, find the right commands and he’s like a lamb.’
Nic shouts. ‘Stop shattering my manly image.’
Pixie’s looking gleeful. ‘Okay, make safe choices, see you soon – oh and that itinerary you’re sorting, Nic, make that shop my first stop when I get off the plane.’
‘Okay, bye-eeee.’ I’m waving madly, then the screen goes blank and I turn to Nic again. ‘The name Pixie really suits her.’
He’s blinking. ‘She’s always been the same – a total handful, making it up as she goes along.’
I can’t help smiling. ‘I can see she runs rings around you.’
He gives a hurt sniff. ‘And what the hell happened to sibling loyalty?’
‘I suspect sisterly solidarity won out.’ Then it hits me what I’ve just said – because if he takes that the wrong way, me implying I could ever be her sister-in-law is like the biggest gaffe ever. I’m so mortified I’m colouring up under my freckly wind tan and I’ve gone so sweaty my shirt is sticking to my spine. I’m blurting to cover my confusion. ‘I can tell she’s a woman without limits.’
Nic’s face falls. ‘You didn’t see her before. The world is a much smaller place for her since …’ He tails off, then he pushes his gimlet jar across the table and gets up. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this now.’
It’s like a switch has flipped and I’m floundering to help, kicking myself for being so thoughtless. ‘How about we get fish and chips?’ I’m thinking of the hole in my stomach where I skipped lunch because I was too busy writing copy. But mostly I’m thinking that it’s comfort food for Nic. From the hunch of his back as I follow him towards the harbour, it’s going to take a lot more than cod in batter to fix this.
Chapter 30
