I pull a face. ‘Like what?’ There’s another ping. ‘It’s Kit again.’
Florence Flapjack, if you’d be up for some low-key parental surveillance at the High Tides bar, I’m happy to come as your cover? Tomorrow night at eight would work x
I’m trying to hide that my heart is banging against my ribs hard enough to be heard in St Aidan. ‘He’s suggesting we go for drinks at the hotel and do some covert monitoring.’
Sophie punches the air. ‘A spying date! Brilliant!’
I wince at the words. ‘Except we won’t really be spying…’
Clemmie butts in. ‘And youdefinitely won’t be on a date!’ She laughs. ‘If you and James Bond grab every opportunity with both hands, I’m sure you’ll get a great outcome.’
But by the time I should be replying to that I’m already down on the beach, filling up fizz flutes.
30
The Reef Bar, High Tides Hotel, St Aidan
Fried eggs and forced errors
Tuesday
‘Can I get you a drink?’
Arriving at the Reef Bar early the next evening was meant to give me a chance to stake out the territory, so Rye behind the bar in his sharp suit loading up the glass-fronted fridges is a surprise.
I look along at the reed-woven stools tucked under the polished timber bar as I think about what to order. The creamy lime-plaster walls are punctuated with panels of exposed stonework, and the clusters of easy chairs and low tables in front of narrow vertical windows give views across the bay and reinforce the atmosphere of luxurious calm. ‘I’ll have a glass of Prosecco, please.’
Rye stows away the last bottle of sparkling water and turns. ‘We have rosé or white, with alcohol or without?’
Spot the deliberate mistake. It’s four years since I last drank, yet I’m so nervous I forgot to specify alcohol-free. Given how much my hand is shaking as I reach in my bag for my payment card, straight Prosecco might be exactly what I need to relax me. ‘White, with, please.’
The place where I’m standing as I take my first sips of wine gives a three-sixty view of the bar area with glimpses of the lofty reception hallway beyond – good enough to keep an eye on incoming traffic. I pull out a stool, clamber onto it and start to arrange my dress. The silky dark-blue leopard print midi was the most discreet I could find, so now isn’t the ideal time to discover that the full skirt has a hem-to-thigh split up one side.
‘There you go, Floss. And Kit’s here too now, so I’ll put it on his tab.’
So much for surveillance. Given that Kit’s only a couple of feet away without me having noticed him arriving, I may need to brush up on my observation skills.
Kit comes in for a kiss on each of my cheeks and whispers in my ear, ‘Just so we look authentic.’ Then he stands back and pulls out a stool for himself. ‘Another nice dress, Florence Flapjack-face.’
I look down to see my skirt has already slipped. ‘Me showing a thousand acres of thigh was not intentional.’
He laughs. ‘Once I sit down no one else will notice.’ He glances at the one other couple at the far end of the room. ‘As most people are in the restaurant, we pretty much have the place to ourselves.’
Rye brings Kit a bottle of Peroni he didn’t order, and as he moves away I murmur to Kit, ‘Is that wheretheyare?’
Rye laughs and turns to us again. ‘It’s okay, I’m in on this too.’
Kit nods. ‘Rye is as anxious as you are to know what’s going on. That’s partly why we suggested you came.’
This has thrown me. ‘So are you saying your father doesn’t make a habit of coming on to guests?’
Rye looks appalled. ‘Absolutely. Which is why it’s so strange your mum has got her hooks into him when others have all failed.’
‘Hang on!’ I need to put him right on that. ‘My mum won’t be the pursuer here–ithasto be the other way around.’ If this really was just about her getting an insider view for my sake, I might need to think up a smokescreen and fast. As for Kit and Rye, those two seem so close they’re practically finishing each other’s sentences.
Rye blows out his cheeks. ‘I don’t understand it. David was so devoted to his wife, he didn’t even come looking for me until after he lost her, and he hasn’t looked at another woman in the ten years since then.’
I glance at the lobby. ‘Are he and Mum eating?’
