Honor moved on to the other likely source of friction. ‘So, where’s your mother?’
He scowled. ‘Upstairs. Arguing with Crusty.’
Aha.
He yanked on the chain to the plug, the grey water running away as if being gulped down by the drain monster. Finally, he looked up, eyes hard. ‘She’s trying to get Kirsty to look after the Teapot while she goes to the Global Gathering.’
Honor felt her brows shoot up. ‘Isn’t Kirsty still too sick? When is the Global Gathering? It’s just a music festival, right?’
Ru laughed, rinsing the sink with the tap’s trunky hose attachment known as ‘the elephant’. ‘Yes, she’s way too ill because the Global Gathering starts tomorrow — and there’s no “just” where my mum’s concerned, about music festivals. We all realised weeks ago that Crusty wasn’t going to be well enough to look after the Teapot but Mum seemed to think that there was a miracle on the horizon. She’s all packed up, ready to go. So now she’s sulking and whinging because the miracle hasn’t happened.’
Watching the fresh water pour into the sink, creating white suds and a million spherical rainbows from the sunlight streaming through the window, Honor frowned. ‘Are you disappointed because it means that you can’t go, either?’
Eyes saucers of amazement, he laughed. ‘No! I don’t want to go, I’ve had enough of tents and queuing for disgusting pooey toilets. But Mum will give everyone stress because she can’t go if Crusty won’t run the Teapot. Even Mum knows the Teapot has to be open to pay the bills so she can’t just shut up shop because she’s keeping that in reserve for the end of August, in case Crusty doesn’t get better in time for Reading Rock Festival. It’ll hurt her to miss the takings from the whole bank holiday weekend but if Mum has to miss Reading she’ll probably throw herself offthe cliff.’ To demonstrate, he dropped a stack of plates into the water, flopping water and suds everywhere.
‘So where is this Global Gathering. Here in England?’
He nodded. ‘Stratford. They have it in other countries, too.’
‘Stratford where William Shakespeare came from?’
He looked vague. ‘Dunno. Did he?’
It was another half hour before Robina flew back into the Teapot with a face of thunder and a tongue full of spite. Ru kept his eyes on his washing up and Honor glided off amongst the tables, taking care not to get any closer to the kitchen than the counter.
Poor Sophie looked ready to burst into tears at being trapped between a Robina who spat like the coffee machine and the silent back of Ru as he jabbed and scrubbed with his washing-up brush. It was a tense morning.
At two, Honor took her break, grabbing a scone and spreading it with jam. The Teapot didn’t do coffee ‘to go’, so she took a bottle of chilled water and prepared to put some distance between herself and the Teapot. But Robina caught her as she tried to swing out through the door and head for a bench on the cliff top. ‘Honor, I’m really stuck for some extra help this weekend—’
‘I know and I’m sorry I can’t help,’ said Honor, quickly. ‘It would mean me working three twelve-hour shifts, at least, when it’s meant to be my weekend off, and I’ve never run the place.’ And she gave Robina’s arm an apologetic squeeze and skipped out.
‘No freakin’ way,’ she muttered, rounding the corner of the shops at Starboard Walk and dodging the Marine Drive traffic, rather than pressing the button at the crossing, intending to jog on across the grassy cliff top to an iron bench to watch the sun dancing on the waves and let her back relax.
It was only as she popped out between a bus and a truck that she saw Martyn on the pavement, waiting to cross in the opposite direction. ‘Are you trying to kill yourself?’ he demanded.
Honor had had about enough of other people’s bad temper. ‘No. I could find much more efficient ways. What’s it to you?’
His snow-white shirt hung out over his jeans and his hair streamed from one side of his head then the other on the whims of the wind. Honor willed herself not to colour up — just because Martyn had kissed her on Friday night as if he was going to drag her off for wild, nightlong sex. But hadn’t. And had then apparently forgotten that she existed.
Today was Thursday, which was awkward. Last Thursday, he’d given her and Ru a ride to and from self-defence class and he’d kind of talked as if that’s what he’d meant to do this week, too. So, if she took the bus then he turned up it would be really rude. But if shementionedthat she was going to take the bus then he might think she was hinting for him to drive her.
His eyes fell on the napkin-wrapped package in her hands. ‘Lunch?’
‘Got to be some perks to the job.’ She smiled politely and began to move on by. She’d take the bus. Chill and Remote Martyn had probably forgotten about the classes.
She trod across the rippling grass, the wind rushing in her ears. At the bench she tried to juggle with the scone and the water to free a hand to brush the seat without dropping anything or letting the wind mix her ponytail up with the jam oozing out of the sides of the napkin. A hand descended over her shoulder and took the water. ‘Let me.’
‘Oh!’ She turned to look at Martyn. The wind must have drowned out the sound of him following. ‘Thanks.’ With a hand freed up, she was able to tuck her ponytail into the back of her black T-shirt and settle the scone on the napkin, on her lap.
Martyn sat down and perched the bottle on the bench between them. He looked out over the cliff. The tide was in and the ocean was its most beautiful blue.
She broke the scone in half and offered one half to him.
Slowly, he turned to look at her. He’d shaved. Really close shaved so that he looked smooth and touchable. If anything, he was more mouthwatering without theGQstubble. His jawline was a blade. ‘I shouldn’t.’
‘I guess life would be more comfortable for us all if we were never tempted.’
He snorted a laugh and took the proffered half. ‘Or if we were better at resisting things. This is your lunch.’
