Page 27

And though she had no idea who he was, beyond an old guy in a floral print twill jacket and bumblebee wellies, his words touched her. Then somehow, she was welling up. She blinked a few times. No. It had been a long morning – that was all. Trying to prove she was a brave-arsed coach who could deal with this love app’s horseplay felt like a lot. Especially with half of social media gawping. Horace winked at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and she decided to follow him. She wasn’t going to make a habit of accepting favours, but perhaps this town wasn’t as bad as she’d remembered. Jess had said people meant well. Perhaps that was a thing.

‘Do you think ’Appy Together is bringing more love to Hartglove?’ Teijo asked her, during a quiet moment.

‘It’s bringing more heart-shaped bunting,’ she replied with a wry smile, pointing at the white picket fences.

And when he asked her if she was falling for her BUM, she simply laughed.

The next couple of hours floated by, with Alyssa wheeling backwards and forwards with compost, and taking out her troubles with a rusty old fork. In fact, as long as she stayed at least five metres away from Devan or her parents, she might even describe allotment life as relaxing, and a surprisingly nice change from fiddling with her phone. Perhaps Devan’s app should focus on matchmaking people with new hobbies and leave the relationship fixing to her.

Alyssa was curious about a nearby plot of scruffy land, complete with a shed that had been painted with the words Tea and Sympathy. Outside it were two large purple wingback chairs that looked suspiciously like something from the Big Brother diary room. She hadn’t yet worked out who presided over it, other than there were rumours of upside-down apple cake on a good day – because apparently this town could still grow and store enough apples to bowl Aphrodite over, even if they couldn’t harvest a decent love story. As for the chairs, she’d decided to keep a safe distance. Nobody had bugged her too much about whether she’d once been Beryl today, and that was the way she liked it.

‘I’m just going to collect lunch,’ said Teijo, interrupting her thoughts. Now she stopped to notice, her stomach was rumbling again. ‘I’ve ordered greasy, doorstop bacon sandwiches. I’ll bring plenty of ketchup, hot coffee …’

Heaven. She could taste the salty sweetness already.

‘Not for you, of course,’ Teijo clarified. ‘What with you being extremely nutrition-conscious. I’ve ordered your favourite. Quinoa with mung beans, and a pea and pineapple smoothie.’ He beamed at her.

Pea and pineapple? Did that even go, unless gammon was involved? The thought of it made her belly clench. Though she’d definitely posted about quinoa salads at least five times on Instagram.

She held in her sigh and smiled her thanks, briefly considering the thought of posting the odd photo of food she actually liked, before swiftly dismissing it.

‘You’re so healthy and inspiring. I’m proud of you,’ her mother whispered, having barged over at the mention of food.

Alyssa blinked and looked away, because there it was. Her mother had only ever been proud of the version of her that didn’t exist. Neither of her parents had ever thought Beryl was worth spending time with – well, not as much as their extramarital shag partners. At least as Alyssa she was vaguely respected, even if she didn’t always believe in the good vibes she advocated.

‘Swap you,’ said Devan, coming to sit next to her on a bench, when the food had arrived.

His bacon sandwich was still wrapped in its paper bag and the smell that wafted from it was divine. She could feel the heat from it, and from him too, as he adjusted himself like his gym thighs needed more room.

Teijo had disappeared somewhere and most of the locals had little interest in what she ate. And she could almost taste that sandwich in her mouth. The softness of the bread, the ooze of the tomato sauce …

She bum-shuffled away. ‘No thank you. This quinoa is …’

‘Dreadful?’ Devan leaned over to eye it. ‘As dry as a bag of old toenail clippings?’

‘Ew.’ Now he’d really put her off. She would definitely have got into it if it wasn’t for that. Well, probably.

‘Your Instagram food pics are just for show, right? Nobody actually enjoys eating cucumber couscous sprinkled with galangal root.’

Galangal …? She narrowed her eyes. Well, that was ridiculously specific. Had he been memorising her Instagram posts?

She was sure she could see his cheeks reddening. He had been paying extra attention to her words. Ha! And as for making his perfectly chiselled cheeks turn crimson. Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut and took a big spoonful of her quinoa, making an mmm sound that could have won her a BAFTA.

‘All right, Meg Ryan.’ He gave her a curious look and shifted away a little.

Then he opened his bag, took out one half of the sandwich and wrapped the other half up again. ‘I’m just going to leave this here,’ he said quietly, standing and placing the bag next to her. ‘If you feel like indulging, be my guest. I’ll never know.’ He winked at her. ‘And if you want to fling it in the bin.’ He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Your business.’

What was his game? Was he about to hide behind a gooseberry bush and take photos of her pigging out on a pig sarnie, with grease dripping down her chin?

He held up his hands as though he could sense her train of thought. ‘No tricks – I can just hear your stomach rumbling. They don’t call me Good Old Devan for nothing.’

Did she sense a tinge of resentment when he said the last bit? If she did, it was quickly replaced with his trademark grin.

He turned and began to walk away.

‘Thank you,’ she heard herself mumble, before she could think better of it. ‘Not that I’ll need it, or anything. I’ll just … feed the birds a few crumbs.’

‘Of course.’