Easy answer. ‘Sorry, those were for orders. And I ate the rest.’
After everything he’s said too. Some people’s sweet tooth is way stronger than their ideals. Which is always worth remembering when you’re holed up with an enemy as embittered as Ross Bradbury.
14
At Clemmie’s flat
Dry mouths and bad judgement
A week later, the early hours of Monday morning
With another three baking evenings in the next few days without Ross’s help there are times when my shoulders ache so much from heaving boxes around St Aidan I feel more like a delivery woman than a baker. I’m still a long way from a gym bunny, but let’s just say, I’m firming up in places I never knew I had muscles. Nell tried her best to fill the gap left by Ross, and brought along a volunteer care assistant from the home to pitch in with carrying, banter and washing up, but as a first-timer he was bound to need more direction than Ross.
Having let the team’s main powerhouse go, it made sense to cut down the effort at my end too. With that in mind I spoke to the builders working in Clemmie’s venue downstairs at Seaspray Cottage, so I now have a small room for storage there which at least saves me dragging every single item up and down the stairs every time there’s an event.
If I sound like I’m regretting losing the help, I admit giving it up was an emotional reaction that I didn’t fully think through on a practical level. What not having Ross around has made clear is that if I’d tried to do this entirely on my own I’d have been in big trouble. I must have been crazy to ever think that would have worked! What it’s mainly highlighted for me is how lucky I am to have Sophie, Plum and Nell, all so willing to be involved.
They all have busy lives of their own, but we’ve talked about it again; as this is only for a few weeks at most, they’re willing to pitch in and cover the help I need between them. In return, I’ll make a donation to the Kittiwake fund to cover the work they do each evening. And by making a donation for every bake box I sell too, that should keep the interest going and bring more cash in for me and Kittiwake.
As for Ross, since the night of Charlie’s bad news I’ve hardly seen him at all. Tonight, by the time I’ve finished unloading after this weekend’s second event, and Diesel and I are passing the harbour car park on the way back from his late-night leg-stretch, I’m checking the cars and thinking how warm it is considering it’s almost midnight.
‘There’s still no sign of Ross’s beaten-up estate, Diesel.’ As I pull my cardigan round me and watch the moonlight splashing on the waves as they ripple up the beach I’m remembering the open bottle of prosecco I stowed in the fridge on my last trip up the stairs. ‘Maybe I’ll risk a glass of fizz out on the balcony under the stars, as a Sunday evening treat.’ That way if Ross makes his way back, I can spot him and do my usual disappearing trick.
It’s not only a treat. It’s also a commiseration for something less good I’ve been too busy to acknowledge until now.
One of my biggest advertising sponsors has been wavering, but late on Friday I finally heard for certain that due to the ‘negative publicity’ surrounding me they’ll be withdrawing from my platforms for the ‘time being’, which probably means for ever. Sure, we have a contract, but their get-out clauses are water-tight. Given the serious grovelling I had to do to get them on board in the first place, their loss should be gut-wrenching. But somehow it hasn’t hit me yet. Due to being here, not in London, and up to my neck with The Little Cornish Kitchen, it still feels very distant. As if it’s happening to someone else, not me.
The wonderful thing about dogs is, they mostly agree with you. From the way Diesel’s wagging his tail he thinks drinkies on the balcony are a great idea. The drawback of sparkling white is how easily it slips down, especially when you’re knackered. Four large glasses later I learn that fizz fired down really fast won’t revive me or my future. Instead it knocks me out. As my head hits the pile of downy pillows and I turn out the light the room is spinning like it did when I was a tipsy teenager.
Four hours later as I wake up to the dawn light seeping through the muslin curtains, my head is pounding and my throat is like sandpaper, and there’s one thought in my brain – ice-cold fizzy water.
My eyes are still closed as I pull on the doorknob and stumble into the half-light of the corridor. I’m bumbling towards the kitchen when my head smacks straight into something warm and hard.
‘Cressy! What the hell…?’
Damn.As Ross’s strong fingers close on my shoulders, I’m breathing in a mix of hot skin and some familiar body spray that’s even more heady up-close than from across the room. My cheek is rammed against his bare chest, and my knee is somehow all tangled up with hard-muscled legs under soft denim jeans.
‘It’s half-past four in the morning, Ross.’ I try to sound less like Alexa telling the time. ‘What the hell…? back at you.’
He’s still hanging onto me. ‘I just came in from an out-of-hours call. Elise was struggling with an abdominal torsion in a Doberman. I went to help out.’
I haven’t got the first clue what he’s talking about, but I’m still getting a picture flashing through my brain. Him and Elise, their heads bowed together under surgical lights, his tousled curls brushing against her sleek dark bob cut. Which is bloody ridiculous, because surely if they’d been operating they’d have had head coverings on. And there’s no reason it should feel as much like the end of the effing world as it does.
‘Where’s your shirt?’
He nods down at the knot around his waist. ‘No one told me I was going to run into the dress-code police. I took it off in the living room. How about you, out in your PJs, what’s your story?’
‘I had too much left-over fizz and now I’m getting a glass of water.’ There’s no need for me to be hanging onto him. Even less for my knees to be sagging so much he’s actually propping me up.
‘It’s really important to stay hydrated after drinking.’ There’s a short pause. ‘Would you like me to get your water for you?’
And have him deliver it to my bedroom? ‘Hell no!’ That woke me up fast enough to sound decided.
He’s staring down at me, surveying me in the shadows. ‘So long as you’re safe. We don’t want any alcohol-related accidents.’
Sure, I’m leaning on him hard enough to feel the indent of his belt in my hip, but I’m not about to fall over. ‘I’m thirsty, Ross, not off my face.’
‘That’s good to know. One last thing while we’re here.’
