How condescending can he be? ‘Truly, that’snotgoing to happen.’
From where I’m standing, it couldn’t be any worse, but I’m not going to let this beat me. In the real world I wouldn’t go within a country mile of a guy like Miles, and just because we’re thrown together, there’s no reason for that to change. He’s so annoying, we’re likely to have awful disagreements, which is why it’s vital for me to take control and make sure I’m the one who calls the shots here. And I might as well start now.
‘As long as we avoid each other entirely, we’ll be all good.’ I turn my high wattage smile up to the max and beam at him. ‘So what are you waiting for? Off you go! Enjoy the rest of your summer. I promise I’ll find you to say goodbye before we leave.’
He pulls a face. ‘So long as we agree that we’ll let Scarlett and Tate find out about the arrangements from each other rather than us, the rest is up to you.’
A few strides later he’s back in the kitchen, and a few seconds after that, I hear the sound of his tyres crunching on the pebbles as he drives away.
I flatten my palm and hold out a last carrot for Pumpkin. ‘Not quite what we’d planned, but we won’t let this hold us back.’ He chomps on his snack while I scratch him on his favourite place above the white star on his forehead, and give his ears a tug. ‘Guys like Mr Appleton keep their suits at the office and work really long hours. We have nothing in common, our paths won’t cross, he won’t be bothering us anymore– so let’s get on with our summer.’
In an hour’s time Zofia will be here to clean. I’m not getting my hopes up, but she might be able to tell me where Miles has sprung from. I’m not going to let this guy take up any more of my time, but knowing a bit more about him can’t do any harm.
5
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Rainbows and designer labels
Monday
‘Are you Zofia?’
It’s ten on Monday morning, so it’s the right time for Scarlett’s help to arrive, and the woman by the door has let herself in. But her Rag and Bone jeans and pricey Tod’s loafers are throwing me off.
‘IamZofia.’ A grin spreads across her face. ‘You’re thinking my white Prada shirt is not right for a cleaner?’ Her navy-blue padded velvet hair band is like the one Kate Middleton was wearing on the Woman and Home website, and she catches hair the colour of Pumpkin’s winter straw into a scrunchie.
I’m not going to pretend. ‘It was more your shoes.’
She stares down at immaculate beige suede toes. ‘Those too. I am in a good disguise, yes?’ She puts her hands on her hips. ‘Long story short, my husband, Aleksy, is the builder here. I clean all his sites when he’s finished the dirty work, and this place was too nice to leave so now I’m here every week. But no worries, I’ll change my shoes before I begin.’
‘Lucky Scarlett.’ I grin. ‘She’s my sister.’
‘If you are Betty, I’m very pleased to meet you.’ Zofia holds out her hand and laughs as she shakes mine. ‘See, my nails are the giveaway, they are not matching the clothes. When I am not cleaning up after builders, I am working in my borders.’
My ears prick up. ‘You have a garden?’
Her eyes get even brighter. ‘It’s my favourite place. I’ll show it to you if you ever have time.’
‘Yes please!’ I’m always happy to visit a garden. Years ago it was to find pretty corners I could include in my freelance work, but now I go for the love of it. ‘Do you live nearby?’
‘We have a wreck I call the Bird’s Nestthat we bought for a song a couple of miles along the road to Rosehill. Most builders’ homes are never finished, but ten years on ours has barely begun.’
I smile. ‘Our next-door neighbour in the village where we lived with Mum was a builder. He’d reconstructed most houses in the area, but his wife still grumbled about the holes in their own walls.’
Zofia rolls her eyes. ‘I am always the last in the queue, but as I am mostly outside with my flowers, I don’t mind so much.’ She smiles. ‘Has Scarlett arrived safely?’
I nod. ‘I’ve had a message to say she’s landed.’
Zofia sighs. ‘Central Park, Macy’s, Tiffany’s. I know them all from my modelling days.’
This sounds like a good way to prolong our chat. ‘You and Scarlett must have a lot in common with your fashion backgrounds.’
Zofia looks over her shoulder and sniffs. ‘We do, but I do not share her love for minimalism.’ She comes a step closer and drops her voice. ‘Clean lines are good for dusting, but hand on my heart… for me this kitchen is very bare.’
‘For me too!’ I glance along the empty monochrome counter tops then look down at my dress with purple, yellow and blue stripes, two sizes too big, layered over my on-show fuchsia bralette and shorts, topped with an oversized green cardi. ‘I should probably get a whole new toned-down wardrobe so I fit in better with the architecture.’
Zofia reaches out and pats my hand. ‘You are cheering up my day. Your put-together look is dazzling in a good way.’
