Miles’s eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Genius! A retail outlet is a great way to get a second income stream.’
I’m nodding furiously. ‘The best bit is I’ll be able to write while I look after the shop.’ I can’t see myself being tied up here all day every day, but this is make-believe after all.
He tilts his head on one side. ‘You’ll be able to stock boathouse buns!’ His smile widens. ‘That’s what I came to tell you. There’s another load ready for you to sell. Banana custard, and blueberry and white chocolate.’
I swallow hard, my mouth watering. I need to decide how I’m going to play this.
He carries on. ‘There are more pecan and toffee too.’ He looks at me more closely. ‘Theyareyour favourites, aren’t they?They’re to say sorry.’
I’m bemused. ‘What is there to apologise for?’
He’s frowning. ‘You must know?’ His frown deepens. ‘Okay, as you obviously don’t, I’m going to have to tell you. The very inappropriate clinch in the corridor yesterday morning… I’m extremely contrite. It was way too long, and I promise it won’t happen again.’
‘Excuse me?’ My jaw is on the floor, because as I saw it, all he did was to stop me falling over.
He shakes his head. ‘I wanted to clear the air as soon as I could.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Hopefully this way we can avoid any excruciatingly embarrassing moments when our eyes meet across the mud room.’
I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing, but he’s got more courage than I have. In his place I’d have rather sofa-surfed at the parental bungalow than bring this out in the open and talk about it. Myself, I was so mortified, I found a place to rent rather than face him out, but that’s a whole other story.
Then my heart skips a beat. This could all be part of Tate’s dirty tricks campaign. Who knows what they’re planning with that, or what depths they’d stoop to. All I know is, I’m going to need to be super vigilant from now on. I can’t take anything relating to TateorMiles at face value.
So one impossible situation slides into another.
And to make matters worse, Miles still looks disgracefully shaggable. Considering my history, that’s puzzlinganddisturbing.
‘Consider it done, Miles, and let’s move on.’ I make my smile very bright, and ignore the flutters in the pit of my stomach. ‘How many buns have you made to sell?’
He gives a shamefaced grin. ‘Only sixty.’
I beam and put my hands on my hips. ‘Lucky for you, St Aidan’s heaving, and Pumpkin needs a walk. What are we waiting for?’
Miles gives a cough and wrenches his eyes away from my hem. ‘Maybe for you to put on some shorts that aren’t see through?’
I cough back at him. ‘Good point well made, Mr Appleton. Give me a minute.And no looking up my T-shirt as I go upstairs.’
If this is the start of their campaign, whatever it is, they’re already playing a blinder.
I can’t take this lying down. I’m going to have to up my own game to expert level. Starting from now!
26
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Angels, fish and seahorse tails
Monday
Once Miles and I came back yesterday afternoon, I took charge of the buns which he’d already boxed, and sent him off to get on with his day. That left Pumpkin and me heading for the beach to meet the crowds and sell our wares. We came back a couple of hours later with empty bags and a pocket full of cash.
With that job done, I spent the evening going through my photos to see if any of my sand-writing quoteswouldwork as postcards. I start by thinking there won’t be any, but in the end there are so many it’s hard to narrow it down. By the time I remember it’s not supposed to be real, I’ve already found a fabulous online deal, and I’m too invested to pull back. When I get to the checkout, I’m so impatient to see the results, I sod the expense and chose the fast-track delivery option. And while I hold my breath for Wednesday, I’m trying to make up for my rash spend by chasing down other ideas for magazine pieces.
Monday is the day Zofia comes. She likes to have the place to herself, so I make sure Pumpkin and I are out when she arrives. When we get back a couple of hours later she’s already back in her beige suede loafers and is in the kitchen chatting to Miles.
She rushes over, drops a kiss on my cheek, and steers me towards a row of plants lined up on the work surface.
‘Betty Beth, I’ve brought you some living herbs to liven up your summer salads.’ She stops and points. ‘Curled parsley, flat-leaf parsley, chives, thyme, oregano, basil and summer savoury.’
I’m despairing that she’s followed Miles’s lead and doubled up my name, but I’m smiling at the mass of bushy green leaves and terracotta pots. ‘Thank you, Zofia, they’re way too pretty to eat, but I bet Fenna would love herb growing too!’
