He’s staring at me as if he can see straight into my soul. ‘And how is that idealised, impossible-to-achieve, better-than-everyone-else image working out for you?’
I shoot him the most withering look I can manage while still sneaking a finger full of meringue mixture off the beater. ‘Itwasgoing amazingly, thank you. And as I told you, there’s a good chance itwillagain so long as I’m patient and don’t try to go back too soon.’
Ross swallows, and when he starts talking again his voice is really low. ‘I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot; maybe it’s time to stop pretending. Maybe you’d be betteras yourself?’
For a few seconds all I can do is open and close my mouth. Then I find my voice. ‘Frigging heck, Ross, don’t hold back, will you?’
The wrinkles in his brow show how hard he’s thinking about this. ‘On this clip you’re more like you used to be—’
I have to break in here, and it’s more of a wail than I mean it to be too. ‘I’d been out chasing sheep with no time to get ready, I didn’t make my nose shine more than my hair on purpose!’ And then something else strikes me. ‘It’s pointless comparing me to how I was in the past, I was a different person then.’ Even at twenty-one when I almost became a mother, deep down I was still more a child than an adult.
Ross’s frown deepens. ‘I’m not saying you aren’t fabulous as Cressida Cupcake. It’s just for me, personally, you’re more relatable when you’re bubbly and beautifulbut real. Other people may think that too.’
That’ll teach me. I should never have fessed up to him about my failures. I can see him looking at his phone. ‘Me watching it again won’t change my mind; that’s my final decision.’
His eyebrows have shot up. ‘No, this is something else. I’m going to have to go, there’s an emergency finance meeting at Kittiwake Court.’
‘How’s that anything to do with you?’ It’s out before I can stop it. He’s not even a full-time resident here, yet he seems to push himself into everything.
He blinks. ‘Don’t ask! Sorry, I have to rush. I’ll send you the clip, it’s obviously up to you what you do with it. But have a think, Bertie – it’s something about your expressions and the timing, it gets a perfect from me, every time. Sophie, Nate and Millie all agree, you’re the only doubter.’
Five minutes ago I was fixating on his thighs, and now listen to him. It just shows, you should always go with your judgement and your gut. Lean, muscled legs and dreamy come-to-bed eyes count for nothing. What’s worse, they can blow you right off course.
I bundle some brownies into a box and push them across the table. ‘Take these for the journey, have a fabulous evening, I’ll see you later.’
He hesitates in the doorway. ‘I’m not sure when – I mean, best not wait up.’
As if I’d do that, I’mtotallyoblivious to when he comes and goes. I give a mental eye roll that a few brownies can make him feel so obligated. ‘Good luck with balancing those books.’
And if I’m feeling a slight sense of anticlimax that he’s leaving so fast, that’s crazy. As I’ll be telling Diesel the minute Ross is gone, I have a hundred and one jobs to be getting on with; there’s no space in my life for anything other than the next thousand meringues. Especially not anything Ross-shaped.
He’s still there in the doorway. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’
‘Let go of the architrave, and bugger off, Bradbury.’ It was fleeting, but I’d almost swear I saw a grin as he finally strides off across the living room.
‘Laters, Bertie.’ The words echo across the room, then the flat door closes with a bang.
WhenIcasually said, ‘See you around’ on my first day here he practically had a meltdown. I know a lot can change in seven short weeks, but such relaxed banter from him is confusing for lots of reasons. And I’m not sure any of them are good. It would have been so much easier if we’d kept to what we agreed the first day, and our paths had never crossed again.
As for the clip, three batches of meringues later, I’m out on the balcony, treating myself to a Sunday evening mini-bottle of prosecco because I’ve also decided on my final inclusions for my meringue chapter. As I watch the moonlight washing the sea with silver, the wine bubbles are tickling my nose. And I’m also having a rethink. I know I hate taking Ross’s suggestions, on principle. But however much I protested earlier, I waved goodbye to my ‘perfect’ reputation the day the soggy bottom TV show went out. However much I’d love to get back to being goody-two-shoes Cressida, I’m afraid she’s long gone. I really have very little to lose by putting this clip up. And if Millie and Sophie get a thrill from Millie’s film collecting a few likes, it would be mean of me to stand in their way.
And if I’m the one unleashing this on the world, I might as well have fun with the hashtags and give it an honest launch. It is what it is. #TheLittleCornishKitchenOnTour #CressidaCupcakeCalamities #WeLoveKittiwakeCourt #HowNotToMakeMeringues!
I’m just about to press upload when a message pings into my phone. It’s from Ross.
Things aren’t great for Kittiwake Court – promised you’ll have loads of ideas for BIG fundraisers. They’re counting on you, Bertie Buncase.
My heart is breaking as I think of Walter, Pam and the others. As I tap out a quick reply my mind is already racing through the possibilities.
Okay, Cakeface, I’ll have a think.
Obviously I don’t mention it, but given how balmy the evening breeze is, Imightstill be here when he gets home. A brainstorming session on the balcony could be just what we need. Then my phone pings again.
Elise has a difficult out-of-hours calving, just off to help her through. This may take a long time.
And damn damn damn for that. And even more damns that I even mind. And still more to the bitter twangs in my chest when I think of those tight jeans, squatting beside Elise. And how many more excuses she’ll have to big him up after this.
I nudge Diesel, who’s asleep with his head resting on my foot. ‘Sometimes there really is nothing to lose, Diesel.’
