Chapter 9 #3
“Like Moana?” asked Poppy, excitedly.
“Moana’s fine,” Carrie said.
“Cool, we won’t be gone long and my phone’s on if there are any problems,” Michael said.
Carrie went to get her purse and a couple of shopping bags from her flat while Michael got Monty ready and they met outside the bookshop.
“I do appreciate you agreeing to be seen in public with my dog, by the way,” said Michael as they set off on a roundabout route to the supermarket by heading down to the beach first.
Carrie laughed. “He’s adorable.”
“Let’s face it, he’s probably the ugliest dog either of us have ever seen. I don’t know what Peter was thinking of choosing him.” He bent down to give the dog an affectionate scratch between the ears.
“Maybe he felt sorry for him,” said Carrie, “or realised what a lovely temperament he has. You shouldn’t talk about him like that when he can hear you!”
“That’s fair. I’m sorry, Monty. You know I love you really, even if you do make me feel terrible if I’m not medicated.”
“That really is unfortunate,” agreed Carrie.
“It has got better than it used to be,” admitted Michael. “I think my body must be somewhat used to Monty and Tabby being around.”
“And now you have three more cats,” Carrie pointed out.
“Yes.” Michael sighed.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with them?”
“No, but four cats is a lot. I think we’ll let them stay with Tabitha until they’re old enough to leave her and then find good homes for them.”
“That sounds like a sensible solution.”
“I’m not sure Poppy will be too impressed with it.”
“We’ll be long gone by then,” Carrie pointed out. “Back in London.”
“Of course.” Michael nodded before going quiet for a moment.
They walked along the top of the beach, letting Monty off the lead so he could have a sniff around, and chatted about Michael’s business.
“I worked for an accountant for years, but when Peter offered to take me on as his apprentice, it seemed the perfect choice for Layla and me. It certainly wasn’t the most obvious thing for me to end up doing after a degree in maths, but I love it.
I love working for myself and living in this little town and having plenty of time for Layla.
It’s an added benefit having Mary’s bookshop next door, I must say. She’s great to work with.”
“I bet,” said Carrie with a smile. She hoped her aunt would be pleased with how she’d looked after things, especially if she managed to bring some new business in.
They left the beach and made their way up to the supermarket and Michael waited outside while Carrie went in and got a pile of pizzas, a salad kit and a large punnet of strawberries.
Michael insisted on carrying the shopping back so Carrie took Monty’s lead.
She worried his little legs were tired when he began lagging behind, but Michael assured her he was fine and just enjoyed putting it on sometimes so he’d get carried the rest of the way home.
Of course, Carrie lasted about a minute after this before she picked him up.
Something she regretted almost instantly as he was still soaked and sand covered from the beach and she hadn’t set out on the walk intent on entering a wet T-shirt competition . . .
But Monty did look very sweet in her arms as he snuggled in with his snaggy tooth sticking out of his upper lip, gazing up at her adoringly.
She managed to hide her soggy front while she turned on Michael’s oven to preheat and then snuck off up to her flat to change into a dry top, accompanied by Monty who seemed to have decided that he loved her and needed to stay by her side.
She returned to Michael’s kitchen brandishing the second bottle of prosecco so kindly left in the fridge by Aunt Mary. “I thought it would be nice to wet the kittens’ heads,” she said.
“That,” said Michael, “is an excellent idea.”
Michael opened the prosecco for them while Carrie put the pizzas in the oven. He handed her a full flute and they clinked their glasses. “To kittens,” he said, his eyes focusing intently on hers.
“To kittens,” Carrie repeated, suddenly feeling warm. He had brown flecks around his pupils, she noted. And he smelled of leather again. Neither of them looked away or took a sip of their drink. Michael gave a little gulp.
“You’re back!” cried Poppy, bouncing into the room and breaking the moment. “Layla thought she’d heard you.”
“We are,” confirmed Carrie, giving Michael a little smile before turning her attention to her daughter. “And the pizzas are in the oven. Did Layla do your nails?”
“Not yet,” Poppy said. “She said we’ll do it outside because her dad would go crazy if she got polish on the coffee table. And that would be nothing to how crazy he’d be if we got it on the sofas. Would you be crazy, Michael?”
“Probably,” Michael replied with a nod.
Layla came to join them with a large make-up box in her hands.
“Are you ready to choose what colour you want, Pops?”
“Yep!” Poppy said, beaming.
“Come on then.” Layla led the way into the garden, where the girls began taking out nail varnishes on the table.
“Shall we go out and join them?” suggested Michael. “Or do the pizzas require very intense supervision?”
“To be honest, you can never be too careful with pizzas.” Carrie winked. They sat down opposite each other at the table.
“This bubbly is not bad at all,” said Michael, taking a sip.
“What can I say? My aunt has good taste.”
“Are you looking forward to seeing her when she gets back from holiday?”
“I am. I haven’t decided how long we’ll stay once she returns, but we definitely won’t head straight back to London. It’ll be nice to spend some time with her.”
“I bet she’s great as an aunt.”
“The best,” Carrie confirmed. “Especially if you happen to like books.”
“She and your uncle were so good to me when I was a child. I was a bit of a lost soul as a teen and Peter and your aunt and uncle took me under their wings. I’m eternally grateful to them.”
Before Carrie could ask more, Poppy came running in to show them both her purple sparkly nails.
Michael laid the table and Carrie got a salad together and drinks for the girls as Poppy and Layla checked on Tabitha and the kittens, taking numerous photos in the process to send through to Poppy’s granny.
The girls washed their hands as Carrie took the pizzas out of the oven.
The French doors were left open while they ate, allowing a gentle breeze to cool the warm kitchen.
Monty positioned himself on Carrie’s foot.
She really did seem to have made a friend for life.
When they’d all eaten their fill, the girls cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher while Carrie washed and cut up the strawberries and Michael made them both espressos in his fancy, shiny coffee machine.
They took their puddings and drinks outside and soon Layla, Michael and Carrie found themselves having their nails painted by Poppy, who claimed she needed the practice. Which it turned out she did.
Carrie couldn’t help smiling as Michael had each of his fingernails painted a different colour and Layla patiently taught Poppy how to get rid of the excess varnish from the pot and what direction to paint in.
She felt a wave of contentment wash over her which was by no means solely down to the couple of glasses of prosecco she’d had.
They stayed talking in the garden until Poppy, who’d climbed up on to Michael’s lap, began yawning and fighting to keep her eyes open.
“I think I’d better get you up to bed, Pumpkin,” Carrie said to her now sleeping daughter. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Michael, and for the nail care tips, Layla.”
“Thank you for everything today, you were fantastic,” said Michael.
“Even when I put calming music on for your cat?”
“Especially when you put calming music on for my cat,” Michael said. He stood up with Poppy in his arms. “Let me carry her for you. You’ll never be able to unlock doors if you’ve got her.”
“Thank you,” said Carrie, gratefully. Poppy was heavy.
“Bye, Carrie, bye, Poppy!” said Layla, who was packing up her nail varnishes.
“Bye, sweetheart,” said Carrie.
Michael followed her with Poppy through his house and into the bookshop and then up to the flat, where he carried Poppy up to her bed.
“Thanks,” Carrie whispered, as they walked back down to the sitting room. “I think the last few days have caught up with her.”
“And I bet you thought life would be boring in a teeny seaside town, eh?”
“It’s definitely not that.” Carrie laughed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Michael said as they went down the stairs and into the shop.
“Yeah. Let me know how Tabitha and the kittens are in the morning.”
Carrie opened the front door of the bookshop.
They stood facing each other awkwardly for a moment before Michael said, “Goodnight, then.” He stepped outside and turned as if he was going to say something else, but seemed to stop himself.
He gave Carrie a little nod and left, leaving her stuck with a big grin on her face.
She didn’t think it was only her feeling the chemistry between them, not that anything was going to happen — Poppy was Carrie’s priority, and Layla was Michael’s.
But she couldn’t help lighting up around Michael, and her mind was quite set on thinking about him in ways that were definitely not just friendly.