Miles hands me a sheaf of cards from his back pocket. ‘Here you go. You do the price tickets, and there are boxes and bags in the kitchen to wrap them for takeaway, and I’ll go back to my baking.’
I push the plate towards Clemmie. ‘Try one of these, they’re pecan and toffee.’
She picks one up ‘A real, live boathouse bun! I’ve heard a lot about these but they’ve always been devoured before I could get anywhere close.’
Zofia and I take another one each and I groan. ‘As someone who shares a house with the baker, I despair at how easy they are to eat.’
‘I can see why they’re legendary.’ Clemmie toasts the air with her bun then looks around at the tables. ‘Having so little in here actually makes things stand out more! The postcards are amazing, but the real icing on the cake is you joining forces with Miles. That is inspired, well done for that.’
I can’t believe how wrong this has gone. First, my random comment about a postcard rack gets so out of control that I end up with a shop, and Istilldon’t have a bed to call my own. But more importantly, this should have been me cutting ties with Miles for good and forever– and look how it’s ended up! Far from a separation, it’s turned into a public coming together.
I blow out a breath. ‘It’s only for today.’ I look at Clemmie. ‘I’m truly not planning to steal your customers.’
After that, I promise myself I’ll be standing on my own.
32
The Net Loft, St Aidan
Sandcastles and deep blue oceans
Thursday
Plum finishes her bun, picks up a posy and a bay plant, then crosses to the postcard stand and pulls out a card.
She grins at me over her shoulder. ‘I’m glad I came early, I reckon this card is going to sell out very fast.’
Before I have a chance to reply the door opens and Carol and Paul from The Crow’s Nest come in, followed by three more of their friends from the Yellow Canary, then Malcolm, and Edie’s Aunty Jo. What happens next is crazier than anything I could have imagined.
There must be something attractive about a crowded shop, because before I know it the place is full of people who aren’t regular customers, and that’s how it is for the rest of the day. The buns are decimated, and there are so many people to serve that Zofia stays to help until mid-afternoon, when she goes to get more plants. And when I finally shut the door and leave at four, rather than going back to the cottage, Plum meets me at the barnyard so I can pick up more supplies. While I’m there, Edie’s Aunty Jo pops over and offers to run up some calico cushions with appliqué letters sayingSURF,SAND, SEA, SUN and SALTto tie in with the wall posters, and the first thing I do when I finally get back to the cottage is to order more postcards.
Then I flop down on the sofa with a glass of elderflower cordial, open my laptop and try to pull together some lines for Fenna. After the afternoon I’ve just lived through, writing’s not a chore. It’s a relief to dive in, to imagine myself with shimmering scales parting the seaweed fronds to swim with the deepest fish shoals. Then I rise and break the water surface. I’m just shaking my shell-encrusted hair in the starlight when a huge crash in the kitchen drops me back into the Boathouse Cottage living room.
I whip round to see three of the stools by the island unit slam onto the stone floor one after the other. Haring away from them there’s what looks like a flying fur rug, and staggering after it, picking up the furniture in his path, is Miles. At some stage the rug must reach the end of the kitchen and turn, because it appears again, careering past the other side of the island unit, leaps up towards the sofa end, flies past my shoulder, and lands in a heap sprawled across my shins.
I grab a cushion for defence, clamp my laptop to my chest, and go in for a closer look. There’s a lolling pink tongue, a light brown nose, and a mass of curly hair a very similar colour to my own.
‘You’re a dog!’
Miles pushes the last stool back into place. ‘This is the surprise I mentioned yesterday.’
‘It’s less a surprise, more a tornado.’
Miles shuffles. ‘There was an emergency. I’ve offered to look after him.’
If this is part of the tactics to get me to leave, however effective it is, I’m not going to rise.
‘Well, that’s nice.’ I think of myself as a mermaid, unhurried and unbothered, gliding thorough the waves. ‘Anything else I need to know?’
There are deep furrows in Miles’s forehead. ‘I’m hoping it won’t be for long. You’re not allergic?’
I have to say it. ‘A considerate housemate asks that questionbeforethey bring in a dog, notafterhe’s here.’
‘Right. I’ll remember that for next time. As you specialised in sanctuary animals, I assumed you’d like dogs.’
I’m despairing that he thinks we’ll be around long enough for it to happen again. ‘It depends on the individual dog and how they are with Pumpkin. Not all dogs like horses; some will chase them.’
‘Shit.’ Miles’s face is white.
