Starting early and long legs
Sunday
Despite the frenzy of anticipation, when Sunday morning comes there are less early risers than expected. Dale had a last-minute call-up to a first team football match, and Zara’s ankle, twisted at breakdance, swelled up like a balloon, so Nemmie and I make our way across the harbourside on our own. In my sparkly shorts I feel more like I’m coming home from a night’s clubbing than heading out to breakfast, but apart from acouple of seagulls strutting on the cobbles there’s no one around to see.
The boats are bobbing on the inky water, and the rigging is clinking against the metal masts as Lando appears from his front door. He hurries to an SUV with ‘Silver Meadows’ written on the side, waves us over and swings up the tailgate. Then he pushes his bags into the back and opens the doors.
‘It’s roomier than mine if everyone had come,’ he explains.
The only good thing about this morning’s excursion is that it can’t run on; we’ve got to be back to prep for the summer extravaganza prize winners’ vow renewal, which is this afternoon. While I was using the shop steamer to get a million creases out of my playsuit late yesterday, Tia was Googling boutique hotels around the coast and came up with a shortlist of four that Lando might take me to, all of them gorgeous, all of them scaring the pants off me, even if it’s only for a brief visit.
If I ever needed proof of how unsuited we are as a couple, Lando’s choice for our date has provided it ten time over. For starters, why would I want to do anything that didn’t include Angel, which was also a request. What is he thinking parading me through the kind of luxury establishments I despise? If he’s hoping that once I see them, I’ll get a taste for them, he’s in for a big disappointment.
Once Nemmie’s settled in the back of the car I slide into the front and immediately notice Lando’s eyes locked on my bare legs.
I sniff. ‘Is there a problem?’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Only that your skin might stick to the vegan leather.’ He jumps out of the car, and when he comes back a few moments later he hands me a sweatshirt. ‘If you sit on this, you’ll be more comfortable.’
I realign, realise he’s right again and get out my phone. ‘I know it’s your date, but if we play my Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?” mix on repeat Nemmie might sleep.’ It will also give me some sense of control, even if it’s fake.
‘Great idea.’ Lando spins the car and we slowly move across the quayside. ‘Feel free to do the same. I’ll wake you when we’re there.’
With Dale and Zara still at home in bed, it’s alarmingly like a family outing. As I lean back in my seat I can’t get over the absurdity of it all. Lando’s strong tanned fingers on the steering wheel, his thigh close enough for me to flop my hand onto as we race between high hedges then out along the coast road. Am I tempted? Of course I bloody am, but I wrap my arms around my chest so I don’t completely embarrass myself, and concentrate on the way the rising sun is slanting across the sea and making the water luminous. As I listen to the sound of regular breathing from the back seat, and the whispering words of the song I feel my eyes closing, then I snap them open again.
‘What if I snore?’
Lando turns to me slowly. ‘That wasn’t a problem last time.’ One eyebrow goes up. ‘I seem to remember you asked the same question back then.’
I sigh. ‘I’m sorry for being predictable and boring.’
He stares down at my shorts, and his eyes darken. When he speaks his voice is so low it’s barely there. ‘No one could ever say you’re that, Maeve.’
Just as I give in and let my neck relax, it hits me that Lando’s wearing denims. But by this time I’m too far gone to come back.
41
The middle of nowhere (fifteen miles from St Aidan), Cornwall
No surprises
Sunday
‘Okay, I give in. This place must be so boutique, it’s not even on Google!’
Lando drove us half an hour to beyond the middle of nowhere, parked the car, and now we’re tramping across a grassy area that’s so huge even Nemmie doesn’t know the word for it. And out beyond the edge of the land, the sea is shimmering all the way to a sky the colour of duck eggs.
The smile lilting around the corners of Lando’s lips suggests he’s enjoying the tease. ‘It’s not a hotel.’
Nemmie chips in. ‘Give her another clue.’
Lando looks even more pleased with himself. ‘We might be lying on our stomachs.’
I’m frustrated. ‘But you already ruled out spa treatments. And anyway, where’s your tux?’
Lando pulls a face. ‘I was wondering when you were going to ask that.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘How would you feel if I told you the shorts were a red herring to throw you off the scent?’
I don’t pull him up on mixing his metaphors, but I look down at my outfit and consider. ‘Apoplectic. Furious beyond belief. Hoodwinked and betrayed.’
