‘Pretty good. Should have her up and running in about a week.’ Mark shovelled his lunch into his mouth; Ellie reflected that the sight was a world away from the sophisticated champagne-and-oyster dinner she had enjoyed with Rowland. Even if Mark was naturally gorgeous, no one looked appealing if they ate like a pig. She averted her eyes politely.
‘You must be looking forward to getting back to London?’ He posed it as a question, and Ellie wasn’t sure how to answer.
‘Oh, right. Yes.’ She didn’t feel like discussing it again, and not with Mark, who she wasn’t sure how to be around. There was always a slightly awkward vibe between them, not made easier by the fact that whenever Ellie saw Mark, she felt a little bit breathless. She couldn’t quite explain it, but if she had to describe the feeling, it was a pleasant nervousness. She hadn’t felt like that with any other man, including Rowland: with him, conversation came easily as they had so much in common, but with none of the strange butterfly tummy. She didn’t know which was better or worse.
She certainly had very little in common with Mark.If I watch him eat, it might make me fancy him less, she considered, and made herself watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Sadly, it had no effect, other than bringing her attention to his mouth.
‘Right.’ He looked back down at his plate.
‘Sorry that we—’
‘I guess that—’
They had started talking at the same time.
‘Sorry. You go.’
‘No, no. After you.’ He looked embarrassed. There was an uncomfortable silence.
Ellie didn’t know what she’d been about to say, but if it was something about their disastrous date, then the moment had passed. She cleared her throat.
‘I really appreciate all your hard work on Marilyn,’ she said, instead. ‘I mean, I guess I’ll have to sell her when I get back to London, but she’ll fetch a better price by being actually roadworthy now, so that’s good.’
‘You’re going to sell her?’ Mark actually looked upset. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I mean, I’ve got nowhere to keep her. My flat has one allocated parking space for a normal-size car, not a huge motorhome,’ Ellie explained.
‘Oh. Right.’ Mark focused his attention on his lunch, eating mechanically. Ellie could sense that he wasn’t happy about something.
‘What?’ she asked, directly.
He looked surprised.
‘What d’you mean? I’m eating my lunch,’ he replied, a little mutinously.
‘You’re upset about something. Because I’m going to sell Marilyn?’ She frowned.
‘None of my business.’ He shrugged. ‘Just a bit of a shame, that’s all.’
‘Why? It was just your job to repair her,’ Ellie argued.
‘Right. Just doing my job.’ Mark forked another bit of salad into his mouth. God, why was he being so monosyllabic? Ellie wondered why he’d bothered to come and sit by her at all.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay you everything I owe you.’ She watched him, unsure what was going on.
‘Well, that’s all right, then.’ His voice had a sarcastic tone. He shovelled the last of the potato into his mouth and stood up. ‘I’d better get back to work.’
Before she could say anything, Mark had taken his plate back to the counter.
What the hell is going on with him?Ellie stared at his back as he paid Lila at the till, and gave her the briefest of nods before leaving the café. Had she hurt his feelings in some way? What had she said? That she was selling Marilyn, that she was probably going back to London soon? Why had he even sat down at her table in the first place?
Save me from these impossible, monosyllabic men, she thought. She couldn’t imagine Rowland being this way. In fact, you’d have a hard time making him be quiet.
As if he knew she was thinking about him, Ellie’s phone flashed up a text from Rowland inviting her to dinner at his house that evening.
Hi there, Ellie That Got Away, dinner at mine, 7 p.m.? Tagliatelle is on the menu. Will text the address.
She smiled, and tapped out:
Sure, sounds good. I’ll bring wine.
Rowland replied immediately with his address and the wine glass emoji.
It would be nice to spend an evening with him, catching up, Ellie thought. Someone who understood who she was, and the life she’d had. Perhaps it was fate that had brought them both to Cornwall. Perhaps this was a sign. She wasn’t sure what it might be a sign of, but the prospect of seeing Rowland felt good, anyway.
