‘Well, thank you, Betsy, I appreciate your honesty. I’ll give it some thought.’ She sounds completely deflated, then she tenses again. ‘Was that a dog?’
As a volley of barks bounces off the walls there’s nowhere to hide. I run across the lounge and push my way out into the field.
Then I close the French window firmly behind me and try to explain what should have been dealt with weeks ago. ‘That was Fudge, he belongs to Miles’s mum. He sometimes comes along the beach with Pumpkin and me.’
‘I’ve met Fudge.’ Scarlett looks dreamy. ‘Tate and I talked about getting a dog when we got back from New York. That won’t be happening now.’
At least I can commiserate with that. ‘Dogs aren’t all a walk in the park. Recall can be a nightmare, and they eat footwear.’
‘They eatwhat?’
‘Shoes. Pumps. Anything with a sole that’s chewy.’
She lets out a cry. ‘Shit, Betsy, don’t let himanywherenear my wardrobe, it’s stuffed with Manolo Blahniks.’
My jaw drops. ‘You wear thoseto the beach?’
‘No, Bets. I put my favourites there for safekeeping.’ There’s a pause. ‘So let’s make sure they stay that way.’
She stops and smiles. ‘Miles’s mum is lovely, she found us Boathouse Cottage.’ Scarlett’s tone hardens. ‘Let’s make sure her son shows you respect. I don’t want Miles pushing you into things you’re not comfortable with. You’re keen to please and easily convinced, I don’t want him taking advantage.’
I grin. ‘I’ll certainly pass that on to him.’ Then I stop and think. ‘I’ve learned a lot since I got here, Scarlett. I’m less of a pushover than I was.’
If nothing else, sharing a cottage with a horror like Miles forced me to stand up for myself. I might have been easy at the start, but I seriously doubt he’d describe me as that now.
‘Would you like to say hello to Pumpkin?’ I hold up my phone so she gets a view of him silhouetted against the sunset.
Scarlett sighs. ‘I miss it all a lot more than I thought I would.’
I smile. ‘With constant crowds to make a fuss of him and a field of his own, Pumpkin would stay forever.’
Scarlett laughs. ‘How about you? Has St Aidan won your heart yet?’
Ever since I arrived I’ve tried to only think of the day we’re in, and even that small reference of the future is enough to remind me that the bit beyond October is stretching like one big empty, scary void. I’ve never minded living day to day before, so I don’t know why it should feel so uncomfortable now.
I smile at Scarlett. ‘You know me, I go where the wind blows. I can’t afford to form attachments.’ I might also need to remind myself of my own mantra about not getting attached. If I’m feeling settled and making friends, I have to remember it can’t last. As for me feeling like I might need a plan for the winter–when did I ever have one of those?
I turn to give Scarlett a view across the bay behind me, and glance back towards the cottage. If the bakers are on their feet I need to get Scarlett off the line before she spots the party through the window.
‘I’d better go and get my pastry rolled out.’
‘You can’t talk for longer?’
I have one chance to get these over-sixties on the baking team. ‘Honestly, I’d better go.’
It’s odd that I’m the one ending the conversation. It’s odd that Scarlett’s still on the line when she used to make the world’s briefest calls. It’s even odder that I just managed to say ‘no’ to her.
Scarlett bites her thumbnail. ‘Thank you, Bets. For all of this. Talk soon.’
Scarlett taking time to say thank you? That’s the strangest of all.
44
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Rocks and rolling pins
Saturday
