SIX
‘So, if we can leave Marilyn with you, then we’ll be staying at the beach house,’ Ellie explained to Mark as he sipped a cup of tea, standing in the yard next to her motorhome. She noticed his hands were covered in what looked like oil.Par for the course for a mechanic, she supposed: she wondered if they ever really got clean. Still, he had neatly trimmed fingernails.
In fact, once you looked past the overalls, scuffed work boots and slightly unruly blond hair, you could see that Mark Gardner was blessed with natural good looks. Ellie thought, just as she had when she’d first met him, that he had the kind of square jaw and good bone structure that could have earned him a place in a feature film, had he lived another life, somewhere other than Magpie Cove. He moved easily, like a cat; there was a kind of grace in his movements. Ellie wondered again if he worked out, or maybe did martial arts.
She realised she had trailed off from the conversation, and cleared her throat. He was looking at her expectantly; she realised he’d said something and she hadn’t been listening.
‘Sorry. What was that?’ Mortified, she realised she was blushing. She felt like she’d been caught red-handed, looking Mark over as if she were assessing a new pair of designer shoes.
‘I said, I’ll pop over and give you an update in a few days.’ He gave her a half-smile. ‘Now that I know where you are, like.’
‘Right. Yes. Okay.’ She tried to assume a business-like air. ‘I’ll leave you my mobile number as well. If it’s useful.’
‘Right you are,’ was his taciturn reply.
Ellie scrambled in her bag for a pen and a piece of paper. As she did so, there was a commotion at the gate and two small children burst into the repair yard.
‘Markee! Markee!’ the little girl yelled, running up to him and hugging his legs. ‘I got Star of the Week at school! For my colouring-in!’
‘Hey, rascal! Let me put my cuppa down. Or I’ll spill it all over your head, ’ere.’ He grumbled good-naturedly at the little girl, whose light brown hair was cut into a bob, the fringe slightly in her eyes. He held the cup out to Ellie. ‘’Ere. Would you mind? She likely won’t let go till I pick her up, will you, you menace?’ he appealed to the girl, who was staring up at him devotedly.
‘Sure, of course,’ Ellie mumbled, taking it and watching as Mark swung the little girl effortlessly up into his arms, giving her an affectionate hug.
The boy who had accompanied his sister into the yard looked a little older than her – he was perhaps seven or eight, and she seemed more like five or six. They were dressed in school uniform, though on both of them it was rather askew, and in the boy’s case, the knees of his trousers were scuffed.
It figured that a man like Mark would be a father, Ellie thought, but her heart sank just a little. She berated herself instantly for the feeling, which was genuinely ridiculous. Mark was just an unusually good-looking Cornish mechanic she’d met precisely one day ago. It wasn’t like he’d asked her to marry him.
If anything, Ellie realised that what she was actually experiencing was a reality check about meeting a new man in general, at her age, after having had a mastectomy. What was the statistic – that you were more likely to be hit by lightning than get married after you were forty, or something like that? Granted, she was thirty-seven, but forty wasn’t far away. Of course Mark Gardner was married with kids. And even if he wasn’t, neither he nor any man would want her.
‘All right, Danny? How was school?’ Mark reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. Danny shrugged. ‘Same.’
‘Where’s your mum?’ Mark asked, looking towards the gates. ‘Oh, ’ere she is.’
A woman with blonde hair up in a ponytail, wearing a pink vest and matching jogging bottoms, and holding what looked like a jewel-encrusted phone, waved as she followed her son in. She was talking to someone, holding the phone flat in front of her; Ellie could hear the other person – a man – on speakerphone.
In fact, the woman seemed to be having an argument with the man at the other end. Mark and Ellie exchanged a glance.
‘Kids, look at this big motorhome! It belongs to Ellie, ’ere. I think if we ask ’er really nicely, she’ll let us have a look inside. What d’you think?’ Mark raised his eyebrows at Ellie, and she knew that he was trying to create a diversion from the woman – Ellie guessed she was his partner – arguing on the phone.
‘Sure!’ Ellie replied, brightly. ‘You guys can sit in the driver’s seat if you like.’
‘Has it got a toilet?’ Danny asked, seriously. ‘Because you can’t go on holiday without going to the toilet, you know.’
Ellie laughed, surprised at the serious question. She wasn’t really around children very much, but she’d always liked them.
‘It does have a toilet,’ she confirmed.
‘Okay, let’s go, then!’ Mark herded them towards Marilyn and opened the door. The kids climbed in and Ellie followed.
‘Thanks,’ Mark murmured. ‘Sorry about this. My sister’s goin’ through some ups and downs with her fella at the moment, and I don’t like them to have to listen to it.’
‘Your sister? I thought they were your kids,’ Ellie replied, as the two little ones raced off into Marilyn’s interior.
‘Oh! No. I’m their uncle.’ He closed the door behind them. ‘Amber’s five and Danny’s eight. My sister Jamey’s been on and off with their dad over the years. They’re together at the moment, but it kind of… goes up and down, if you know what I mean.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I look after ’em when I can, give ’er a bit of head space, or quality time with Darren. They’re great kids, but kids aren’t exactly helpful if you’re tryin’ to rebuild a relationship.’
‘Right. I guess not.’ Ellie glanced up at the end bedroom where she could see Amber jumping enthusiastically on the bed, with Danny watching on. ‘You don’t have any of your own?’
‘No,’ he answered, shortly.
