As we come to the end of the queue and I give the last of the sweets to Nell’s partner George to take to the helpers, I let out a sigh. ‘Sixty down, only another hundred and twenty left to go!’
Milla puts the top on the caramel ice-cream tub. ‘So what’s next?’
I take a breath to clear my head. ‘White chocolate cheesecake, fresh mango and grated coconut.’
Sophie nods. ‘If people like themhalfas much as the last ones, you’re onto a winner.’
I hold up my crossed fingers, and wriggle past them. ‘They’re in Kit’s fridge. If you two get the vanilla ice cream out, I’ll go across and grab them.’
The front of the van is darker as I head for the open sliding door. As I squeeze past the driver’s seat, I’m so busy looking over the crowd working out the best way to avoid Kit at the outdoor table that I launch myself off the top step without looking down. I’m in mid-air in full trajectory before I sense someone step right into the space where I should be landing.
All I can do is let out a cry. ‘Hey, look out!’
It’s a cross between a collision and a full-blown attempt to squish the person on the ground into oblivion,and it’s all my fault. As I come to a halt rammed up against some stranger’s chest I’m dying of shame, wondering how I’ll ever begin to apologise. Then, as a familiar scent engulfs me, and a very low voice reverberates all around me, I’m dying all over again.
‘Floss? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, Kit.’ I’m not. ‘Totally.’ In fact, I couldn’t be any worse. Of all the people here, he’s the last person I’d choose to crash into. The entire front of my body is crushed against his, his arms are wrapped around me holding me up, and there’s no escape backwards because my spine is rammed against a bloody ice-cream van.
The most hideous thing of all? My body feels like it’s woken up after a hundred years asleep, and every nerve end is jangling. My sensible brain is telling me to get the hell out of here, but another part of my head is overruling, forcing my legs to stay exactly where they are – rooted to the spot, so I can soak up the electric pulses that are surging through me for the maximum time possible.
I close my eyes and allow myself to sink against him. Then as my sensible self takes over again, he turns and now instead of being rammed against him I’m standing looking up into his eyes and they’re laughing.
‘That’s what’s known in the trade as a happy landing.’
Considering he took my full weight, he’s taking this very lightly. ‘I haven’t broken your legs?’
That makes him laugh even more. ‘I doubt it.’ He steadies me and I take a step sideways. ‘I was on my way to tell you your mum had to rush off unexpectedly.’
I hope she’s all right. ‘Was she called away?’
He shrugs. ‘She caught sight of someone in the distance, said to tell you she couldn’t stay, then she bolted.’ His hand is on my elbow. ‘Everyone’s wanting your cards, but I’ll manage on my own.’
However much my feet are opting to stay here for ever, I need to get a move on. ‘Great! I’ll let you get back to it.’
It’s not all bad news – at least I don’t have to go a long way round to his fridge to avoid him now.
I do two trips to Latitude Two, and by the time Sophie meets me at the van door to take the tray the second time, her face is like thunder.
‘Everything okay in Mr Whippy paradise?’ I ask.
She looks up at the van roof as I follow her inside. ‘Listening to Absolute 80s on the radioisn’ta crime, Milla. I’ve always loved Madonna.’
Milla shakes her head. ‘We aren’t even talking about music. You had a go because my T-shirt didn’t have any sides, and I asked why you never wear proper clothes. If you won’t buy me the styles I like, I have to customise with scissors. So what’s your excuse?’
Sophie pushes her back against the freezer and points down at her trousers and top. ‘It’s jeans and a sweatshirt, sweetheart. What’s not to like?’
‘The colour!’ Milla gives a snort. ‘As an ex-blonde with loaded parents it’s hard enough to maintain my credibility as it is. When my motherinsistson dressing like a mint mousse every single day, I may as well give up.’
Our entire life, Sophie has always come out fighting, but this time she looks beaten. And however much I secretly agree with Milla about the aqua-blue overkill, part of me knows I have to throw Sophie a lifeline.
I’m smiling into space, but my mind is on why we’re here. ‘Could we possibly talk about thisafterwe’ve prepped the next sixty desserts?’
Sophie’s tugging her apron strings and a second later she hangs it over the back of the driver’s seat. ‘I’m sorry to run out on you, Floss, but I’m going outside.’
I’m recalling what someone else said as I let out a wail. ‘But that will upset the balance.’
Milla’s already got the top off the ice-cream tub. ‘We’ve got this, Aunty Flo. You make them up and I’ll go to the serving window.’
