He’s so up himself I despair. ‘You’re not the only housemate on this beach, mate. And I’m certain I left my laundry in a neat little heap.’
His voice rises. ‘Neat? It’s more like a volcanic eruption! The lava flow spreads right across the tranquillity zone and out to the French doors beyond the sofa.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Let’s not overreact, it’s only a few items.’
He’s shaking his head. ‘It’s total anarchy in there. It’s the same with the vegetables.’
‘Excuse me?’ I’m blinking, trying to keep up.
He drags in a very deep breath. ‘Is there a reason why they’re next to the sink and not in the fridge?’
I make up the first excuse I think of. ‘I thought it would be good to have a veggie patch on the work surface– for vegetables we want at room temperature.’
He’s straight back at me. ‘Not on my watch! This is complete disrespect for Scarlett and Tate.’
My voice rises. ‘It’s three carrots and a cucumber, Miles! I was actually intending to put them in a salad box, but if you’re being this anal, I’m definitely not. It’ll do you a world of good to live with them where they are.’
He pulls his know-it-all face. ‘I’m trying to have an open and honest discussion here, Bethy Bets. There’s no need to be obtuse.’
Whatever that means, I may as well be honest. ‘I’m trying to be as tidy as I can here, Miles. I’m a naturally messy person, if you want to see proper chaos, I can easily arrange that. You’d be surprised how far a backpack of tulle can spread once it’s unleashed. I still have four more in the car on the harbourside.’
He holds up his hand. ‘No, no! I’ll take your word for that. I just hoped we could resolve our issues calmly, without an argument, that’s all.’
We both know that means I should shut the eff up and do everything he says, where I suggest he should back the eff off and stop being an arse. I’m opening my mouth to tell him exactly that when he breaks in.
‘Is your horse giving me side eye?’
I wouldn’t blame him if he were. ‘That’s his natural way of looking, Miles. An eye on each cheek lets Pumpkin see all around him.’
‘Three hundred and sixty degree vision?’ He sounds incredulous.
As Miles likes things precise, I carry on to give him the full picture. ‘Pumpkin can see everywhere except for a narrow blind spot the width of his tail at the back and another at the front directly in front of his nose.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.’ I sigh, because it’s impossible to talk about Pumpkin without softening. ‘You’re right though; youcanread a lot about his mood from the expression in his eyes. He’s everyone’s friend, but he’s also very shrewd. He can be disapproving, disbelieving or suspicious as well as happy.’
Miles glances at Pumpkin, who is chewing on a mouthful of grass a few feet away. ‘If you can read him so well, what’s he thinking now?’
I take a few moments to study him. ‘He’s got his ears pointing towards us, so he’s been listening. And you might have been right the first time– from that look you’re getting now, I’d say he’s decided you’re a bit of a dickhead.’
Miles takes a step backwards. ‘You’re making it up!’
I’m laughing, because I’m not. ‘The first rule of horse management: if you want to stay in a pony’s good books, don’t diss the owner.’ I laugh more. ‘He’s a Leo; he’s fiercely loyal and hugely charismatic. He actually shares a birthday with Yves St Laurent.’
As Miles turns and heads for the house he’s muttering, ‘What the actual…? Now I’ve heard it all!’
It’s very hard to get the same impact and satisfaction of roaring away up the road when your car is silent and electric, but from the spin of Miles’s car tyres on the gravel as he leaves, Pumpkin and I get the drift.
At least that hasty exit solves my problem of where to sit to work. Two minutes later, I’m fully installed on the lounger, checking through my research notes.
9
In Pumpkin’s field, Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Buckets, spades and transatlantic fantasies
Wednesday
