I unleash my grip on his ribs, and blow my nose. His arms are still around me and as he reaches across and pushes my hair out of my eyes I catch sight of his watch. ‘Haven’t you got surgery at six? And I’ve left a wet patch on your chest.’
His eyebrows lift, and he lets out a low curse as he takes in the time. ‘Patients know, emergencies take priority over routine appointments.’
I smile at how his professional head is never far away, but all the same it’s cool to think he’d put this first. ‘I appreciate the chat, but you’re good to go now.’
He’s staring down at me, searching my face. ‘Only if you’re sure? If I’m going to make tonight’s brownie evening for eight, I will need to get a move on.’
He’s not the only one being sensible; I’ve got my practical head on too. ‘Diesel and I will cadge a lift up to Walter’s with you to do the animals, then I’ll walk him back along the beach, and get up to Honeycombe Cottage.’
‘Good plan. I’ll change at the surgery when I’ve done, and meet you there.’ He takes a breath. ‘Don’t worry about the tears, I’ll change my shirt.’
Then Ross takes one step back and as his arms leave my side the warmth and comfort drop away, and we’re back to where we were earlier. It’s like the time at the meringue evening. Everything is the same, but so much has changed. I can’t begin to think about the enormity of it now.
For starters it’s enough to remember – I may be prepped and ready to go for this evening’s gig, but we’re running almost an hour late. I need to get my ass into gear.
34
A blondie evening at Kittiwake Court
Winding down and winding up
Friday
‘What happened to the cake-on-string clip of you and Ross from Honeycombe Cottage? It isn’t up online yet!’
We’re coming to the end of a really busy evening at Kittiwake Court. Millie and her friend Luce are spearing strings through the iced buns, and I’m hanging them from a tube suspended above my head. And I know the answer to her question is going to disappoint her.
‘I’m afraid Ross had to rush off to help Elise with a golden doodle that needed a caesarean that night. Everyone else did the buns, but we didn’t.’ After the emotions of the baby sprinkle I was feeling like a wrung-out dishcloth, so it was a relief when Ross took the call and headed off. Even if it did mean a few more journeys up the stairs on my own, I’d hate to have lost a buns-on-strings battle this close to leaving.
‘Damn.’ Millie looks so like Sophie when things don’t go her way. ‘We’re getting so many views for them, it’s a shame to miss out.’
I know I should be teaching her there’s more to life than getting views, but I’m hoping I can make up for it. ‘I thought it would be fun to film the residents here doing the buns-on-strings challenge tonight. They’ve all been on the clips we’ve put up for Walter, so our online followers already know them.’
Millie puts down her bun and flings her arms around me. ‘That’s a brilliant idea, they’ll go down a storm!’ To be fair, everything with Walter in gets lots of love. He delivers a wonderful combination of bluntness and honesty, and when you add in his farmyard references and the double dose of Cornish accent, he’s bound to be a winner.
It’s only what Millie deserves too, because lately she’s proving herself to be a social media whizz. Not only has she been filming a lot of the various events and making clips that are hugely popular; she and her friends have also started a blog of their own. She’s so good at editing now, she’s uploading clips to my channel without my help.
If there’s an end-of-term feeling to tonight’s event, that’s because there really won’t be time for too many more. So when Jen suggested putting on a mega friends and family Blondie Special here, we all agreed; it will be a great way to bring in the cash and involve the residents too. And then we’ll build up to a final hurrah for the St Aidan recipe book launch in two weeks’ time.
Earlier today I made blondies in every variety known to baking bloggers. The Kittiwake residents have front-row seats in the Sea View Lounge and behind them there’s pretty much all of St Aidan and most of Cornwall too. I’ve cooked up white chocolate blondies and Bakewell tart ones while they watched, and in between we’ve had tasting sessions. And now we’re coming to the end of a raffle so large we may still be here at midnight.
So while Sophie and Jen take charge of drawing the numbers, and George and Nate and Ross go round the room delivering the prizes, we’re putting the final touches to the hanging buns game so a few brave volunteers can round the evening off with a bit of fun.
A shout goes up from Walter, who’s just won a spa day for two at the Harbourside Hotel, and under cover of the cheers Nell sidles up to me, talking out of the side of her mouth. ‘Heard anything back from your agent yet?’
That’s the other big thing about today that everyone’s aware of, because the moment one person in St Aidan knows, everyone else does too. At nine o’clock this morning, after working late into the night checking the manuscripts of my own speculative baking book, I decided it was time to press send and waved goodbye to three months’ work. SoCressida Cupcake’s Best Bakes Everare now on Martha’s laptop, waiting for her to see if they’re anything like good enough to take further. She replied straightaway to say they’d arrived, but I’ve no idea how long it’s going to take for her to get back to me again. At best I’m expecting her to ask for a shedload of changes, at worst they may be no good at all, so there’s a lot riding on this.
I grin at Nell. ‘Ask me again in a month and I might have news.’ I wave at Walter. ‘Well done, Walter! Which lucky person is getting to go to your spa day with you?’
Jen turns and gives me a wink. ‘He’s going to be even more popular with the ladies now he’s won that!’ Then she holds up the next prize and shows it to the room. ‘And now for the final four tickets, we have a car washing set, a Cressy Cupcake apron, a dozen freshly laid eggs, and then a meal for two at The Yellow Canary.’
Sophie’s taking the bucket of tickets around the room so the winners can pick out the next ticket. As she moves towards Walter she turns to me. ‘Have a look on your phone, you never know what might have landed from Martha.’
I hold up my icing-covered hands. ‘Sorry, I’m way too sticky. My phone’s in my apron if anyone wants to check for me.’
A nanosecond later Nell dips into my pocket. ‘My hands are clean, let me look.’ She’s frowning at the screen, then she gives me a nudge. ‘Hey, you do Natural Cycles too!’
She just announced my fertility app to the whole room, but so what? I’m well past being embarrassed. ‘Along with most of the rest of the female population of the UK under fifty-five.’
