Tia gives a shout. ‘Don’t move! And thank you! That’s another fabulous shot in the bag.’ She takes a few more, then grins at us. ‘Great! Tear yourselves away from the paint! We’ll do the lighting aisle next, then floor tiles, and after that we can move outside to the garden area.’
We must be on a roll, because the next few takes go without a hitch. Half an hour later we’re on our way outside and as we pass the pallets of plaster bags and the cement mixers, they flip my mind back to the next-door cottage.
I stop again and turn to Lando. ‘So have you ever done anything practical?’
He shrugs. ‘I’ve done bits on boats, obviously.’ His smile widens. ‘Enough to know a Black and Decker Workmate is a table not a person.’
I sniff. ‘There’s no plaster on a boat. It’s all perished in the place next door; tradies cost a fortune, and that’s if you can find them.’
Lando clears his throat. ‘Salvador’s still got his team; we’re not short of contacts.’
I’d forgotten that, but I might as well go for broke while I’m here. ‘It’s a shame it’s not on the quayside, when you’ve waited so long to live there.’
Lando frowns. ‘Smugglers End is pretty busy, and it’ll only get worse as the season goes on.’ He stops and looks at me hard. ‘Do I sense you’d rather I didn’t look around?’
I’m shrivelling under his gaze, because I’ve always been blaming this on not wanting him anywhere near Nemmie. But suddenly I have a whole new set of warning bells jangling in my head. It began when he snuck Angel a Hobnob that day in his living room, and it’s been building with every shop we’ve visited this morning. I’m kicking myself for spending so long so close to him; I mean we’ve been touching so often, it’s almost becoming easy. Since the first day he turned up on the harbour, I’ve always acknowledged feeling a draw, but now it’s growing to the point that I’m back to how I was as a teenager, when it was agony to keep my hands off him. Having him dangling next door, in touching distance but further out of reach than ever, would be like a living torture.
Then his eyes go wide and he slaps his fist into his hand. ‘How have I been so stupid? You want to buy the cottage for yourself!’
This is typical Lando: adding two and two and making fifty-three. It’s not helpful, but at least it gives me thinking time.
I stare up at him, knowing it’s time to give him a reality check. ‘Lando! With the mortgage Mum’s saddled with, I can barely afford a viola plant. I don’t have the money to pay for a house!’
He bites his lip. ‘Sorry. I keep forgetting.’
That we can’t dip in our back pocket and pull out a few hundred thousand pounds loose change.
I go for the double bluff as usual. ‘Take the viewing, you’ll probably love it. Let’s go and buy you some geraniums in case you need them for your window boxes.’
I march out towards the racks of pink petunias with my head held high.
Tia hurries after me and slides her arm through mine. ‘On the upside, we’ve done a whole morning surrounded by coffee, paint, small children and hibiscus juice, all without mishaps.’
I whirl into the circular space in front of the hydrangea display, catch my skirt in my hand and spin around. ‘And the dress is still as good as new!’
Lando’s eyes lock onto my legs. ‘So there are slits after all!’
Tia laughs. ‘The hidden ones are the most exciting.’
My eyes slide down the snowy shirt inside Lando’s open jacket, past his thumbs looped through his belt hooks and stop on the bulge of his fly. My stomach clenches for what feels like a lifetime and the colourful flowers in the background blur, then my rational head kicks in. I do a sideways jump to get as far away as I can in one leap, but as I land my ankle tips. As a pain shoots up my leg, my knee buckles and I sink down onto the ornamental pavers.
‘Maeve!’ Tia stoops and kneels beside me. ‘What happened! Are you okay?’
I can’t confess I threw myself onto the floor to stop myself perving on Lando’s groin. The flash of silver leather on the bricks beyond my hem gives me a rock-solid excuse.
‘I slipped off the edge.’ I reach to unbuckle my sandals so at least I have some chance of getting up again. ‘It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last.’
Tia finds my hands, helps me to my feet and hands me my sandals. ‘Please promise me we’ll still be falling off pavements when we’re eighty.’
I smack my palm against hers in mid-air and grasp her fingers. ‘Too right we will, Mrs.’
When I finally glance down again, I’m staring at grey suit shoulders and a mass of dark brown curls. ‘Lando, why are you on the floor?’
His reply comes from somewhere around my knees. ‘Sprains can be very debilitating. You could even have a greenstick fracture. Let me check you have full mobility in your joint before you walk on it.’
He sounds a lot like Nemmie when she and Zara are playing ‘Operation Ouch’, but sometimes the quickest way out is to play along.
‘It’s my left one.’
