‘Like I’d choose that if it’s not about mine.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I kept it simple, like your concept.SEA SAND SALT.AndSAND SALT SURF.’
As I look at the rolls of paper in the box, I’m grateful for his foresight rather than cross about the intrusion. ‘We could sell posters!’
‘That too.’ His smile widens. ‘Forget the worrying, you could be about to have the most fun you’ve had in years.’
There’s a pang of hunger in my stomach. ‘You’ll call me when the buns are ready?’
He nods. ‘And you call me if you need me to hammer in the nails and hang the frames in the meantime.’
With all this agreement, it’s a relief he’s finally said something I can argue with. ‘Milo, it’s the twenty twenties. Women use tools.’
He shakes his head. ‘I’ll try that again. Call me if you need me to hold the frames up to decide the position.’ He’s staring at the stairs again. ‘That’s a very big staircase to only lead to a cupboard. With all this height, you’d think they’d have made a room up there.’
My jaw drops, but I go for the double bluff. ‘If Malcolm would consider a loft conversion, I could sublet to you.’
That stops him in his tracks. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Go on.’
He gives a sheepish glance. ‘Tate has asked me to stay on at the cottage definitively, to safeguard his stake in the property.’ He hesitates. ‘As his loyal friend,whateverother accommodation I’m offered, I won’t be taking it.’
I give a sniff. ‘Funny you should say that. I’ve had the same from Scarlett. Only stronger.’
He blows out his cheeks. ‘At least we both know where we stand now.’
I let out a wail. ‘Locked in the houseshare from hell due to someone else’s property wrangle!’
‘It’s surely not that bad?’ He sounds hurt.
I pull a face. ‘If you say so.’ If I’m fighting Scarlett’s corner, I may as well be open. ‘Just so you know, I will not be taking this lying down.’
The corners of his mouth are twitching. ‘I’m pleased to hear that. If the attack was horizontal, I’m not sure I’d resist.’
I give that the eye roll it deserves, and go again. ‘I will be maximising every opportunity to get ahead on Scarlett’s behalf.’
He nods enthusiastically. ‘Okay, I’ve got that. Shall I get on with the buns?’
My eyes flash open as it hits me. ‘The baking’s strategic! It’s part of your grand plot to get me out of the cottage! I’m right, aren’t I?’
He stops again. ‘No, Betsy B, the baking is simply me wanting to help out a friend.’
I wince. ‘I’m not sure I’d go as far as calling me that. Especially with our new battle lines. But okay, carry on.’
He finally heads off, and a few seconds later I hear the clatter of tins and the thud of dough on the work surface.
When I thought the shop would be the hard part, I was seriously underestimating Miles’s capacity to add complications. It also looks like we’ve started a whole new war. To think I was looking forward to a nice quiet afternoon selling postcards.
31
The Net Loft, St Aidan
Crowded houses and a lot of sparkles
Thursday
Whatever negativity I have felt about Miles, his picture hanging suggestions are bang on, and I can’t fault his pecan and toffee bun intervention either. By half past ten the studio is filled with the scent of vanilla and hot pastry and I’m sipping coffee and working my way through my own personal bun stack. I’m biting into my third when Zofia arrives, carrying a galvanised bucket of blooms in each hand.
She comes over, drops a kiss on my cheek, and stares at me hard. ‘Not too nervous for your first day?’ Then her worried expression moves into a beaming smile. ‘For the cut flowers I have begun with mixed bunches, and I also have boxes of garden produce in the car.’
