His tone is rueful. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen, Maevey.’
I sigh. ‘I know.’
His frown deepens. ‘So long as you don’t let Lando pressure you into anything you don’t want to do.’
My indignance rises. ‘Like that would ever happen!’
‘Great. Just making sure.’ He takes me to the door and points to a cluster of tents. ‘We’ve allocated the one on the right for you to change in. Would you like me to carry your luggage from your car, or show you to your accommodation?’
I roll my eyes. ‘It’s a few yards, I’ll manage.’
‘I can look after your mobile if you’d prefer to stay off grid?’
I despair. ‘Now you’re being really stupid.’
He grins at me. ‘You could try to sound more like a grateful guest, as this is a freebie.’
‘It’s promotional photography, not a handout.’ I try again, this time channelling my inner calm. ‘And I’ll keep my phone, thanks.’
When he properly smiles, he looks a lot like Mum and Nemmie. ‘In that case, I hope you enjoy your time with us. Anything else you need, I’m here.’
I find that less reassuring than I should.
19
Silver Meadows, Unicorn Creek, St Aidan, Cornwall
Routemasters and awkward fastenings
Tuesday
‘I’m here outside whenever you’re ready.’
It’s a good half hour later when I hear Lando’s voice coming through the peach-coloured canvas, and I’d be closer to joining him if I’d spent less time wandering around my tipi with my jaw on the floor examining the decor.
This tent is better furnished than our house, with brands so posh that we don’t even get the fake versions. Every upmarket box is ticked from the White Company bed linen to the Jo Malone candles and the Hypnos mattress.
I pull back the door flap.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Lando since we called on him. When he doesn’t immediately talk about the brownies, I look down at my drifty tulle skirt and satin sash and start with an apology.
‘I feel slightly underdressed; I had no idea camping on the beach would be so red carpet.’
Lando looks beyond my strappy sandals. ‘The flooring’s actually organically grown sisal. And the furnishings are sun-bleached reclaimed timber with a limed finish.’
I smile at the crazy details. ‘It’s luxurious and outrageously over the top all at the same time. That dressing table could have washed up off a pirate ship.’
Now it’s here in front of me, I’m not sure how I expected anything less. For all his conservation credentials, with his moneyed background, Lando is a natural high-spend consultant.
He’s pursing his lips. ‘I’m a long way out of my comfort zone dealing with homes and gardens.’
This earnest distress is such a new side of Lando, I’m biting back my smile. ‘I’d definitely say this is a beach not a garden, but I live with my mum so I’m not the best person to ask.’ I try to be more helpful. ‘If you’re struggling to make the country house vibe work under canvas, you could try for a military campaign feel. Or cottage-core may work better.’
‘I have zero idea what any of that means, and I doubt I ever would.’ He smiles. ‘I’m pleased you approve anyway.’
I laugh. ‘I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I suspect you’ve nailed your market.’
He carries on. ‘As every tipi is different, we could start with a few shots to showcase the interiors? Angel might look good chilling on a vegan sheepskin next to the bed with the folding screen and giant potted palm in the background.’
