I jump and press accept. ‘Scarlett! You’ve started early! How are you getting on?’ Somehow I’ve also accidentally switched on speakerphone, because my voice is echoing back at me.
When she replies her voice is so loud it’s bouncing off the ceiling. ‘Super busy. I’ve been doing calls since six.’
There’s no hope of privacy, so I’ll keep this simple. ‘And how’s Tate?’
Miles is shaking his head, mouthing ‘not now’ at me across the kitchen.
Scarlett sniffs. ‘Straight off the plane and into the office.’
I’m so dismayed for her I blurt out more than I should. ‘What happened to taking time for the two of you? That’s why you wanted to go!’
She ignores that and moves straight on. ‘I’ve organised a hay delivery. They’re dropping it in the outhouse later in the week.’ She turns the spotlight back onto me. ‘Since when did you play Britpop, Betty?’
I’m pointing at the mini speaker further along the island unit, making cut throat actions to Miles but Scarlett’s on to us. ‘I distinctly heard a line from Champagne Supernova just before.Issomeone there with you?’
I’m stamping on the ember before it bursts into flames. ‘Alexa’s gone rogue, or maybe Zofia left it on.’
‘Zofia came yesterday, Betty.’ She has a point there, but the music is off now. ‘I meant to warn you– I bumped into Miles Appleton last time we were down.’
I take a gulp.
‘You know, he’s the one who?—’
I need to stop her! ‘Sorry, you’re breaking up. I can’t hear you, talk again soon…’ I end the call with a shout, and turn to Miles.
His eyes are wide with curiosity and laughter. ‘I’m the one who what?What did I do?’
I move on quickly. ‘I’m not comfortable lying to Scarlett.’
That distracts him. ‘There’s no point making unnecessary problems. Tate and Scarlett are bound to compare notes soon.’
I watch him make meticulous folds in his T-shirts, then glance at my own clothes tumbling out of my bag beyond the sofas. ‘Why aren’t you at your office?’
He hesitates then he grins. ‘Working from home today.’
My phone rings again. ‘If this is Scarlett calling back, I might be best just to tell her now.’
When I look, it’s not her number, but I answer it anyway.
‘If you just sent me an email from Cornwall, you must be Betty? This is Fenna Weaver, editor ofInspiremagazine.’
She actually rang me!My mouth falls open with shock, then it hits me I need to get my shit together. ‘I am. I did. How can I help?’
‘How wonderful that you’ll be holidaying for so long! I’m looking for six hundred lyrical words on the theme of “Garden”. I recall you write well about fairies?’ She sounds as confident, well-spoken and pleased with herself as Miles.
‘I have done.’ My mind is racing. ‘I could do some tips on how to attract them– a bit like you would do for blackbirds or bees? By Friday?’
‘By four this afternoon would be better. And after that, if you could make me a list of local makers and their specialities. You know the kind of people we like to spotlight?’
Inspire’s submissions requirements are imprinted on my brain and I rattle them off. ‘Ordinary yet remarkable, simultaneously relatable, interesting and photogenic.’
‘That’s it. We’ll see how they fit with future themes, and take it from there.’
‘Fabulous…’ I’m pondering how many thank yous would be too many, but I’m saved the trouble, because she’s already gone.
Miles is unplugging the iron. ‘Looks like you’re working from home too.’ He pulls a face. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing. Maybe take your phone off speaker next time.’
The way Fenna and Miles come across, I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to feelthatentitled! It’s seriously not the kind of club I’d ever want to join. But if Fenna needs bulletins from the real world, that’s something I can do. I have three short hours to prove to her that I’m up to the job.
