Chapter 22
22
Latitudes One and Two, High Tides Hotel, St Aidan
Bouncy castles and lines in the sand
Sunday
W e couldn’t have wished for a more perfect night. For once the wind has dropped, and as the sun sinks across the bay the singles club members arrive and cluster around the gazebo bar. Nell is there, welcoming everyone from her steamer chair as Rye pours mojitos for a wide range of guests. The ladies from Iron Maidens cleaners are here, there are a couple of young barmen I recognise from Jaggers bar, some people in gym gear who look like they’ve come straight from aerobics, and Jean and Shirley have brought a gang from the walk-and-talk group.
Plum bounces around, giving out cards for tonight’s icebreaker, which is how most singles club events begin. If you find someone with the same picture as yours, you have to yell ‘Together Forever’ at the top of your voice, kiss them on both cheeks, and then you both have to down your mojitos and go and get a refill. As there are only four different cards the noise soon drowns out the sound of the waves, and Rye is wielding his jug as if he’s been doing this for ever rather than only half an hour.
I’d been dreading the bit where Nell introduced Kit and me, but it’s over in seconds and no one seems to give a damn that I gave up ironing my ditsy print dress halfway round the skirt. Before I know it, I’m in the studio, answering a thousand and one questions about jewellery as if I’ve been doing it my whole life. Kit’s working the crowd at the other end of the room, and as I catch only glimpses of his dark curls over other people’s heads, this is definitely the kind of teamwork I can cope with. Before I know it, part one of the evening is over, and the spotlight is turning onto me.
When it comes to my own team, a van was a great idea to separate us from the High Tides gang, but I knew cramming my mum, Sophie and Milla together to assemble the sweets was a risk. In ten seconds flat Sophie and Mum have clashed over whether to stick the flamingos in the cake chunks or the ice cream, and my mum flounces off down the steps to help Kit with the flyers.
‘Two firm orders for wedding-ring days and a definite maybe! For a singles event that’s a result.’
Sophie’s carrying on as if nothing has happened, as she and Milla add the ice cream, Rice Krispies and custard to the syrup sponge themed desserts, and I pass them through the serving window to the queue of customers snaking past Latitude One’s veranda and out towards the sand.
As my supply runs out, I turn to get the next trayful. ‘There were some very wistful “When the time comes” sighs, too.’
Sophie nods. ‘You can’t look too far ahead in business. These are all potential future clients. After all, Nell loves to give her singles goals to aim for.’
It was a good move to light up The Hideaway too, so when people ask where I’m based, I can point. It looks magical with the warm glow of its windows, and the hanging bulbs splashing light across the decks as they swing in the breeze.
As we come to the end of the queue and I give the last of the sweets to Nell’s partner George to take to the helpers, I let out a sigh. ‘Sixty down, only another hundred and twenty left to go!’
Milla puts the top on the caramel ice-cream tub. ‘So what’s next?’
I take a breath to clear my head. ‘White chocolate cheesecake, fresh mango and grated coconut.’
Sophie nods. ‘If people like them half as much as the last ones, you’re onto a winner.’
I hold up my crossed fingers, and wriggle past them. ‘They’re in Kit’s fridge. If you two get the vanilla ice cream out, I’ll go across and grab them.’
The front of the van is darker as I head for the open sliding door. As I squeeze past the driver’s seat, I’m so busy looking over the crowd working out the best way to avoid Kit at the outdoor table that I launch myself off the top step without looking down. I’m in mid-air in full trajectory before I sense someone step right into the space where I should be landing.
All I can do is let out a cry. ‘Hey, look out!’
It’s a cross between a collision and a full-blown attempt to squish the person on the ground into oblivion, and it’s all my fault . As I come to a halt rammed up against some stranger’s chest I’m dying of shame, wondering how I’ll ever begin to apologise. Then, as a familiar scent engulfs me, and a very low voice reverberates all around me, I’m dying all over again.
‘Floss? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, Kit.’ I’m not. ‘Totally.’ In fact, I couldn’t be any worse. Of all the people here, he’s the last person I’d choose to crash into. The entire front of my body is crushed against his, his arms are wrapped around me holding me up, and there’s no escape backwards because my spine is rammed against a bloody ice-cream van.
The most hideous thing of all? My body feels like it’s woken up after a hundred years asleep, and every nerve end is jangling. My sensible brain is telling me to get the hell out of here, but another part of my head is overruling, forcing my legs to stay exactly where they are – rooted to the spot, so I can soak up the electric pulses that are surging through me for the maximum time possible.
I close my eyes and allow myself to sink against him. Then as my sensible self takes over again, he turns and now instead of being rammed against him I’m standing looking up into his eyes and they’re laughing.
‘That’s what’s known in the trade as a happy landing.’
Considering he took my full weight, he’s taking this very lightly. ‘I haven’t broken your legs?’
That makes him laugh even more. ‘I doubt it.’ He steadies me and I take a step sideways. ‘I was on my way to tell you your mum had to rush off unexpectedly.’
I hope she’s all right. ‘Was she called away?’
He shrugs. ‘She caught sight of someone in the distance, said to tell you she couldn’t stay, then she bolted.’ His hand is on my elbow. ‘Everyone’s wanting your cards, but I’ll manage on my own.’
However much my feet are opting to stay here for ever, I need to get a move on. ‘Great! I’ll let you get back to it.’
It’s not all bad news – at least I don’t have to go a long way round to his fridge to avoid him now.
I do two trips to Latitude Two, and by the time Sophie meets me at the van door to take the tray the second time, her face is like thunder.
‘Everything okay in Mr Whippy paradise?’ I ask.
She looks up at the van roof as I follow her inside. ‘Listening to Absolute 80s on the radio isn’t a crime, Milla. I’ve always loved Madonna.’
Milla shakes her head. ‘We aren’t even talking about music. You had a go because my T-shirt didn’t have any sides, and I asked why you never wear proper clothes. If you won’t buy me the styles I like, I have to customise with scissors. So what’s your excuse?’
Sophie pushes her back against the freezer and points down at her trousers and top. ‘It’s jeans and a sweatshirt, sweetheart. What’s not to like?’
‘The colour!’ Milla gives a snort. ‘As an ex-blonde with loaded parents it’s hard enough to maintain my credibility as it is. When my mother insists on dressing like a mint mousse every single day, I may as well give up.’
Our entire life, Sophie has always come out fighting, but this time she looks beaten. And however much I secretly agree with Milla about the aqua-blue overkill, part of me knows I have to throw Sophie a lifeline.
I’m smiling into space, but my mind is on why we’re here. ‘Could we possibly talk about this after we’ve prepped the next sixty desserts?’
Sophie’s tugging her apron strings and a second later she hangs it over the back of the driver’s seat. ‘I’m sorry to run out on you, Floss, but I’m going outside.’
I’m recalling what someone else said as I let out a wail. ‘But that will upset the balance.’
Milla’s already got the top off the ice-cream tub. ‘We’ve got this, Aunty Flo. You make them up and I’ll go to the serving window.’
Except we haven’t got any part of it! The two of them had trouble keeping up first time round and when people have to wait too long it kills their enjoyment. I’m resigning myself to the earlier success turning into dismal failure when there’s a tap on the van side. A moment later a face appears next to the driver’s mirror.
‘Kit! If you’re here for second helpings, we’re a bit busy.’
Kit smiles. ‘I haven’t had any yet, I gave mine to David.’ He takes in my blank stare. ‘David … Byron .’
My jaw drops because this wasn’t in the plan at all. ‘David Byron’s eating my dessert? What the hell is he doing here?’
Kit shrugs. ‘I’d guess because he owns the hotel and wants to support our event.’ His face cracks into a smile. ‘He is single too. And he probably heard how good your sweets are and wanted a piece of the action.’
I’m shaking my head. ‘If that’s all…’
‘It isn’t.’ He holds up a finger. ‘Sophie mentioned you might need a hand. I’m scrubbed up and ready, just point me to where I’m needed.’
The minute space beside me would have been fine to rub along with Sophie, but can I cope with Kit that close? It takes a nanosecond to decide.
‘I’m just on my way to get Plum.’
He raises his eyebrow. ‘I’ll save you a journey. Someone else took over on the bar, and Plum and Rye were last seen heading off along the beach.’
Milla lets out a whoop. ‘Another coup for Nell!’
I give Kit a look. ‘And two more rings for you down the line? The singles club could be a whole new market!’
Milla laughs. ‘No arguing, Aunty Flo. If Plum’s making out in the dunes, it looks like Kit’s on custard.’
And for one time only I have nothing left to add to that.