It’s more about grabbing anything from my jumble of a bag than a style, but I’m hoping we have bonded enough for me to slip in a question. ‘Do you know much about my housemate, Miles?’
Zofia shrugs. ‘Only that he arrived out of nowhere with his foot in a pot while I was away visiting my mother, and has serious good taste in toiletries.’
That’s an interesting summing up. ‘So when would that have been?’
She frowns, as she slips her feet into some trainers and snaps her hands into plastic gloves. ‘Three weeks ago. Maybe four.’
There’s the clunk of the side gate closing, then footsteps on the gravel, and when a tall figure appears behind Zofia, we freeze, knowing we’ve been caught talking about him.
I’m the first to break the silence. ‘I thought you’d gone out for the day?’
He pulls a face. ‘I left my Ray-Bans on the island, but it could be your lucky morning.’ He tucks them into his shirt pocket and turns to Zofia. ‘Betsy Beth would like to know, is there a fruit bowl?’
Zofia nods. ‘High cupboard in the mud room. Made from iron.’
Miles’s eyebrows go up as he backs towards the doorway. ‘It’s more likely to be hammered steel, but thanks for that. You can knock yourself out buying bananas, Betsy Beth.’
I’m more confused than ever. ‘Where the hell is the mud room?’
Miles gives me that ‘lesser being’ look. ‘You might know it as the boot room, or the laundry?’
I’m trying for clarity. ‘The utility?’
He’s biting back his smile. ‘Yes. But no one has those anymore. They’re very last century.’
As he heads back out again Zofia chuckles. ‘He’s averynice boy. Like Henry Cavill on a playful day. He smells good too.’ She sees my look of disbelief, and laughs. ‘You’ll like him once you get to know him better.’
‘I definitely won’t.’ When she’s so obviously smitten, there’s no point filling her in on the backstory.
She takes out a pile of dusters from the cupboard and rolls up her shirt sleeves. ‘I’m guessing you’re here on holiday?’
I pull a face. ‘If only. I write for holistic lifestyle blogs and publications, which means anything that’s pretty, sustainable and original.’
Zofia nods her approval. ‘That sounds like a dream job.’
I’m constantly running to keep up, and I only get paid when I place a piece, but I’m very lucky to have the work, so I agree. ‘It’s easy when I write about things I love myself.’
Her eyes are shining. ‘Flexible working hours too. Except working for yourself, you may end up working all the time.’
That makes me smile. ‘My trouble is not working enough. Today I’m reading up on sirens.’ Now I’m out in the real world I need to push up my income with speculative pitches. It’s not that I’m lazy– I just need to do more writing and less dreaming.
‘I’ll leave you to your mermaids, then.’ Zofia reaches into a tall cupboard and comes out with a vacuum cleaner. ‘Scarlett has already given you my number for the spare keys. Call me whenever you’d like to visit; the blooms are at their best now, so don’t put it off too long.’
I laugh. ‘Thank you. In the meantime, I promise Iwon’tbe locking myself out.’ That’s a promise to both of us. I have a sudden thought. ‘Do you happen to have an outside shower I could use for some pictures?’
‘I wish. I don’t even have an indoor one!’ She gives a chortle. ‘Don’t look so disappointed, I do have some very nice marigolds.’
‘It’s fine.’ I should have known better than to get my hopes up. That’s the rule about good ideas for pieces, you rarely find them where you expect them.
She waves as she heads towards the bedroom. ‘You can bring Miles to see the garden too; he can give you a lift in his racing car. Zooming around country lanes together, you’ll be best of friends before you can say hair-pin bend.’
‘No, no, and no! To all three!’ My protest is loud, but no one hears because it’s drowned by the noise of the vacuum cleaner.
As for Miles, I’ve seen enough of him already to last me a lifetime. My aim for the rest of the day is to stay out of his way. If I head for the top of the garden, I should be safe there.
6
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
