Tilly took the bottle and its accompanying card, turned the card over, and read the looping description on the back. Not really sure about the qualities of English bubbles, Tilly didn't like to say no, said she'd take it, and the woman wrapped it neatly in tissue and a twist of brown paper, all the while chatting. 'You'll be the one in Margery's old Boat Shed, then. We did wonder who'd take it on. Well, you come back in when you're fully settled, and I'll do you a proper tasting through the back. Hadmany baskets on your doorstep? Welcome to Darling, my lover. You'll find it grows on you, this place, whether you mean it to or not. I haven’t had a chance to drop my basket off yet. It’ll be with you soon.'
Tilly beamed. ‘Ahh, yes, I am.’
‘Surprised we all know who you are?’
Tilly chuckled. ‘I’m getting used to it.’
‘How are you finding it? How did you fare in the storm? Otto said you were fine.’
So Otto had mentioned her. Bingo. An image of herself cowering under the duvet in the foetal position flashed through Tilly’s brain. ‘I was okay in the storm. It was a bit of an eye-opener.’
‘If you can survive a Darling storm, you’re a keeper. Anyway, I’d better get on. Say hello to Lucie and Shelly for me.’
Tilly nodded and pretended that she was used to people knowing where she was going. ‘Will do. Thank you so much.’ Tilly tucked the wrapped bottle carefully beside the platter and stepped back out into the Darling evening. So Otto had mentioned her to someone. Ring-a-ding ding.
34
Strolling past the old chain ferry, Tilly watched as it clanked up the slipway. Stopping for a bit, she looked down the estuary at the lovely hazy blue, not quite able to believe that a few days previously the sky had been an angry purple-blue, the rain had taken on a life of its own, and the wind had felt possessed. The opposite looked back at her. The water looked like a mill pond, and the sky was such a lovely colour that there was hardly any definition between top and bottom on the horizon. But it was the light of the place that got you. Tilly had been to quite a few far-flung parts of the planet, and she'd not seen anything like it. It sort of draped down from above on the inhabitants of Darling. Telling them they were home.
Peering down to her left, she could see a line of houses popping up into the hazy blue, one of which she'd worked out was Lucie's. Five or so minutes later, she'd made her way past the comings and goings of the ferry and was standing on the pavement with raised eyebrows looking at The Coastguard's House. How the other half lived, eh? The garden was a picture in itself. Lush green lawn, old roses by the bucketload, a lovely white swing hanging from a tree, a willow tucked over by a picket fence. Tilly couldn’t believe how picturesque everything in thegarden appeared. And there she was, pleased with three pots of herbs on her windowsill and the fact that she'd watered them. In fact, the whole building and road were lovely. Was she, in fact, about to enter a whole different world?
Going up the path, Tilly looked around for a doorbell but was only greeted by an old ship's bell to the right of the door. Just as she was about to yank the rope, the door opened. Lucie smiled and ushered her in.
'Hey! So glad you could make it. You found it okay?'
As if Tilly could miss the huge old white house with the flags on the top. 'I did. It's absolutely gorgeous. Thanks for inviting me.'
Lucie rolled her eyes. 'It was not like this when I moved in. Come through. Oh gosh, love your dress. Where's that from?'
Tilly felt rather pleased that her dress had made an impression. 'Actually, I got it on my travels. It was from a market in India.'
'Fancy! Ooh, the fabric is divine. Just right for the weather too.'
Tilly held up her gilet and chuckled. 'Thanks. I came prepared with this, though. We are in England after all, and I have a vest on.'
Lucie gestured for Tilly to follow her. Tilly trailed through a gorgeous hallway and tried to absorb as much as possible: stripped and bleached floorboards, a paisley runner on the floor, a huge old dresser on the left, a staircase presumably up to glorious bedrooms. A long way from the basic little flat she'd found herself in. The kitchen alone was fabulous. Lucie gestured around. 'This is my friend Jane, she lives on Darling too, Shelly, you've met on the tram, Tally, she's staying with me at the moment and my friend Anais.'
Tilly looked around, said hello and sat down next to Shelly. 'What a lovely house this is.'
Shelly nodded. 'I know, right? How are you getting on at the Boat Shed?'
Tilly nodded and smiled. 'Okay, yes, errm, there's a lot of hard work to be getting on with.'
'Nice part of Darling. Not too far from the tram but very quiet. You can't really go wrong over that way.'
Tilly shook her head. 'Nope, I guess not.'
'How did you fare in the storm? Held up well, did it?'
'Held up fine in the end.'
Shelly nodded knowingly as if she could read between Tilly’s words. ‘Your first Darling storm's always the worst, my lover. You'll not bat an eyelid at the next one. The Boat Shed's seen a hundred of them, and it's still standing, which is more than you can say for half the new builds on the mainland.' She took a sip and tilted her head. 'And you're right down by the oyster beds there. The Carrington beds.'
'I am.' Tilly felt a little ripple of something at the mention of the oyster beds, or more aptly, their owner. She kept her voice very light and very casual, the picture of a woman with no interest in the subject whatsoever. 'I've actually met the chap who runs them. Otto, is it?'
Something flickered across Shelly's face, a small, soft sort of knowing thing. Tilly clocked it instantly. 'Right you are. You've met him, have you?'
Tilly thought about the mud and the swing episode and decided not to elaborate on the specifics of her escapades. Although most probably the whole of Darling had heard about her antics anyway. She also omitted the fact that Otto had asked her to The Darling Arms, although knowing Darling people already knew anyway. 'A couple of times. Let's just say he wasn't falling over himself to be friendly. He read me the riot act about leaving a gate open and then again about wandering into his precious mudflats. I got the distinct impression he'd rather I'dnever set foot on the island at all.' Tilly had meant for her words to come out lightly, but they hadn’t. Her little throwaway dig, which she'd half expected to be met with a chuckle and that Otto was a miserable so-and-so and good luck to her, did not happen. Instead, there was the small pause where no one said anything.
