He grasps my foot firmly, and wiggles it around, and I breathe in sharply as I feel a twinge.
‘Did that hurt?’
I wriggle my toes. ‘Hardly at all.’
He stares up at me. ‘Shall I get the shop first aider to bandage it for you?’
‘Absolutely not.’ I let my shout subside. ‘I’ll lean on Tia and hop to the car.’
He looks up at the sky. ‘Like I’d let that happen.’
A moment later one of his hands slides around my waist, the other slips under my knees, and the next thing I know my feet are sailing through the air and I’m lying back in his arms.
‘What the actual eff, Lando?’
He ignores my protests and is striding back towards the shop when there’s a cry from Tia. ‘Hey, wait up by the lobelia! Our bride of the summer in her groom’s arms at last; I can’t waste that!’
After that she stops us at every significant junction and photo opportunity, so it takes an equally significant time to reach the car. I wish I could say I hated every second, but much to my complete disgust, I gave in. Rammed against his suit, bundled against his chest, I breathed in his scent and let myself be wowed by his strength. It was five minutes of my life; it’s never happened before and it’ll never happen again. If I let myself get entirely carried away in the moment, no one ever needs to know that.
As for how poor Lando kept me up in the air for so long, all I can say is this: if he learns from experience, he’ll know better than to go sweeping me off my feet in future.
One other strange thing: with the kids, we often say that if you take their minds off their ailments, they mysteriously get better. Well, the same happens to me today. Somewhere between the plant displays and the car park, my injury improves so much that as Lando lowers me by Tia’s Fiat 500, I don’t even feel a twinge.
He sets me down on the tarmac and steps away while I lean my hand on the car wing and call. ‘Hey, look at me! I’m weight-bearing!’
Tia gives an eye roll. ‘At least pretend to hobble or he’ll think you faked the whole thing.’
Then it hits me. ‘We left your pounds with the trolleys in the shop, Lando.’
He shrugs. ‘I’ll take the hit.’
And that is the chasm between us. Our family would already be running back to get them.
I clap my hands. ‘And damn it! For the second time, we left without geraniums!’
Lando pulls a face. ‘I’m good without plants. On reflection, you’re right about restoration projects; Smugglers End is a much better fit for me.’
Result! I’m mentally punching the air, running around the car park doing silent whoops in my head. I’ve done three laps when I stop to look around and notice Lando’s downcast expression. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him looking anything but exceptionally pleased with himself. I can’t think what he’s got to look so sad about here, but I’m shocked to feel a pang in my chest. Maybe he minds about his lost pound coins more than he’s letting on.
30
Windflowers, St Aidan, Cornwall
Flying without wings
Saturday
‘The bride and groom will be here in seconds. They’re out by Oyster Point.’
While Lando shades his eyes with his hand and squints at the sky, I’m still trying to convince myself our first wedding at the beach hut is really happening.
I groan to Poppy. ‘I feel sick!’
Poppy squeezes my arm. ‘I was exactly the same with my first wedding at the farm. Once they touch down, it’ll be over before you know it.’
We’re standing in a group beyond the beach hut ready to meet the bridal party as they land, and as the helicopter’s whirr comes closer, my heart starts to race. ‘It rubbishes low-key weddings when our first-ever bride and groom arrive in a chopper!’
Lando nods. ‘This could be our only one so let’s make the most of it.’ He has a faraway look in his eyes. ‘My uncle had a helicopter when I was a teenager.’
