I give a sniff. ‘Or you could give weddings a miss and target high-end city types who want an entire beach to themselves for their holidays?’ I give another shrug. ‘Bankers with more cash than common sense. You should know that market back to front.’
Something about the unfairness of this has turned me back into a teenager.
Lando’s voice rises in protest. ‘That’s very discriminatory, Maeve.’
I laugh. ‘If you’re going to tell me hedge fund managers can’t help being loaded, tell me something I don’t know.’
It’s a random retort, and I’m not expecting an answer, but the second it’s out, the look on Lando’s face tells me I’m going to regret it.
He tilts his head on one side. ‘Funny you should say that because I do have other news.’
My stomach is already clenched in anticipation of what’s coming. ‘Go on…’
His faces brightens and the words tumble out. ‘I’ve rented a cottage on the harbourside.’
‘The harbourside here?’
He stares at me sideways. ‘I’d hardly choose another one when my main development site is so near.’
‘But those places are minute!’ I’m blinking in disbelief. I was struggling to cope with Lando visiting St Aidan once, and now he’s going to be here every day. As the seagulls fly, he’ll literally be yards from our house.
‘There’s only me. It’s up by the cut through, you’ll pass it whenever you go to your beach hut or up to the school.’
I try to divert him. ‘Can’t you go and live in your parents’ castle?’
He gives me a look. ‘Stately homes aren’t that welcoming. Why do you think I always came to yours as a kid?’
I ignore that and carry on. ‘Somewhere bigger, higher up the town, might work… if you’re staying a few years.’ I’m voicing my worst fears out loud, hoping they’ll go away. ‘They have lovely carbon-neutral shepherd huts up on Saltings Lane. Or there are some superbly insulated new executive homes down by the station.’
He’s blinking at me with a bemused expression. ‘I’ve always wanted to live on the quayside. I thought you knew?’
I’m incredulous. ‘You haven’t been near the place for a decade!’
He studies his knuckles. ‘I’ve been now and again, but maybe not long enough for you to notice.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ve always kept a mooring here.’ The corners of his mouth twitch. ‘We have moorings all around the coast, but I never saw dancing brides anywhere else.’
I change tack. ‘A mere eight days ago you said you hadn’t put down roots!’
His shrug is inscrutable. ‘For ten years I haven’t. But now I might. Sav and I had a long-standing agreement that I’d give him space, but now that’s no longer a priority, I have the green light to settle in and live the dream.’
It’s hard to believe he’s talking about the same, one-up-one-down cottage I think he is.
‘Let’s hope it lives up to your expectations.’
Tia cuts in. ‘And here come the ice creams! Let’s hope they’re as good as they look!’ She turns to me and gives an imperceptible shake of her head.
As the waiter slides the tall, colour-filled glasses towards us, I try to block out the last ten minutes and make my voice airy. ‘If you want sundaes the size of your head with five flavours of ice cream and more whipped cream than a trifle factory, you’ve come to the right place, Lando.’
Tia gets to her feet. ‘Dig in when you’re ready, and I’ll capture the joy.’
I’d usually demolish one of these in minutes, but as Lando and I lift our spoons towards the sundaes I’m not sure I’ll manage a mouthful.
One look at Angel staring at my sundae, and I have a better idea. ‘Hold it there! Let’s give Angel his first.’ I look up at Lando. ‘Angel licking his dog-friendly frozen yogurt is so cute it would be worth moving to Cornwall just for that.’
Let’s face it. Pictures of a bride and groom with their dog slurping ice cream were always going to work better than me looking daggers at Lando. As for my sundae, I crunch on the end of my wafer but hardly touch the rest.
