Chapter 4
4
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Less than zero
Monday
I left the blinds open last night, thinking I’d get up at first light and take Pumpkin for a stroll along the sands. But thanks to me only falling asleep hours after dawn broke and my head being buried in my sleeping bag, it’s almost eight by the time I’m leading Pumpkin along next to the frothing waves at the water’s edge.
I force myself to put the past back in its box and channel my lighter side. I pick up a stick, pause where the sand is still firm and write a thought for this morning. Waving from the beach. Then I add one for yesterday. Life is full of surprises . I pull out my phone and snap the sea swirling around my curly writing.
I mean, I hate what happened, but if I don’t keep it buried, where will that get me? It’s like Mason’s won every day.
At first I hid myself away and hoped I’d feel better as the bruises faded. But even when the splints came off and my wrist was stronger, I’d lost all my confidence. For a while I didn’t want to leave my room and even a quiet outing to the local pub was an effort. I used to feel big and now I felt small. I hoped it would pass, but it didn’t. But I couldn’t wreck every single moment by dwelling on it, and over the months I perfected a way of blocking out the bad bits and pretending to be fine, so I could distance myself and get the hell on with things. I grit my teeth, close the shutters in my head, and act airy.
Scarlett! That’s my job for today.
I’m about to ring her from the privacy of the beach when it hits me. ‘So much for an early morning call, Pumpkin! If New York is five hours behind, they’ll be in bed.’
I’m still muttering under my breath about it, standing by the stile later, giving Pumpkin his morning carrots, but when a shout from the kitchen door makes me jump, I’m cursing even more. It was too much to hope Mr Appleton would leave without forcing the issue.
I call across the garden. ‘I can’t call Scarlett until after three, Miles.’
In two leaps the man is at my elbow, his foot resting next to mine on the bottom fence rail. ‘I’m pleased you brought that up, Betty Bets.’ He rubs his thumb across his jaw. ‘On reflection, we might be better not to bother them with this on their first day.’
This couldn’t sound better. ‘If you’re happy to leave now, I’m good with that!’
He narrows his eyes. ‘Has it occurred to you that I could be the one who gets to stay?’
My blood runs cold. ‘That definitely won’t happen.’
He’s completely relaxed and unhurried when he replies. ‘There’s a fifty-fifty chance it might.’ He watches my eyes open wide with horror. ‘Or we could just both stay? That way neither of us is disappointed, and we don’t embarrass Tate and Scarlett. By the time they find out about their mistake, it’ll be old news, and we’ll all have moved on.’
The idea is so awful it takes me a moment to grapple with it. ‘How would that work?’
He shrugs. ‘You must have lived in a houseshare before?’
My mind flashes back to the nightmare of my first ever flat. ‘At uni I lived with a metal head, an insomniac archaeologist, two round-the-clock gamers, an acapella group and a shower hog. I come at life from the bright side, but it wasn’t my best nine months.’
‘We’re both old enough to be civilised.’ He pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘I assume you won’t be bursting into song, and as I never played drums, that only leaves the bathroom to sort.’
I’ve never acted my age, but if it’s this or nothing, I’ll meet him halfway. ‘I’ll shower when you’re not here.’
He takes a breath. ‘That’s easy, then. I’m often out.’
I’m thinking of the size of this place. The utility room alone is bigger than any room I’ve had since leaving home. The levels of luxury are incomparable. I may never feel comfortable enough to poop again, but it shouldn’t be too hard to coexist with someone who’s never in.
He’s frowning. ‘Obviously there’ll be the usual house rules– clear up after yourself in the kitchen, and so on.’
Twenty seconds in, my warning bells are ringing again. If he’s already trying to take over, I might need to fight for this harder. ‘I don’t actually have anywhere else to go. That’s why Scarlett will definitely say I have priority if we speak to her.’
He blows out his cheeks. ‘Unfortunately, I’m the same. And since I’ve been here some time, I must have been offered it first. I’m confident I’d get the casting vote, but I’m prepared to be generous.’
My heart sinks. ‘Right.’
He takes a breath. ‘There’s only one parking space, and my car needs a charger, so if I take the space here, I’m happy to pay for your parking in town.’
This is outrageous, but he sounds very sure of his ground. ‘What if I need to shop or come home in the dark?’ We walked in along the beach because I’d never get a horse box down the lane from the St Aidan road, and I have the parking permit Scarlett arranged for the town, but I’d planned to leave the car here the rest of the time.
He pulls a face. ‘In those situations I’m happy to pay for taxis. So the only outstanding issue is tidiness.’ His eyebrows go up. ‘You left some bags in the kitchen?’
‘In a very neat pile.’
This time he stares at me sideways. ‘Once we find somewhere suitable for you to put your things, you owe it to Scarlett and Tate to keep the place as neat as they would.’ He’s still staring. ‘If you’re on board with that, we’ve covered most areas.’
Which leaves me with more questions than ever. Why would anyone who talks like a company brochure be here in St Aidan where everyone hangs loose? Why isn’t he off tidying a boardroom somewhere?
I give a cough. ‘Except the bedroom.’ It’s the last place I want to draw attention to when I can’t take my eyes off his bare forearms, but I can’t help making fun of his tone. ‘We haven’t talked about long-term sleeping arrangements yet. Or will your vision for that be circulated in a group email later?’
He takes a step back. ‘Sorry. I assumed we’d take a week each, with Sunday as changeover day.’
I stare him straight in the eye. ‘In my house share experience clear communication works better than assumptions, Miles.’ I pause for a second. ‘A bedroom change every two weeks would give us both more continuity.’ Damn. That’s an extra week before I get my hands on Scarlett’s organic hemp sheets and super-king bed, just because I want to disagree with him.
‘It’s your call.’ The stare he sends back is as hard as mine. ‘Great point there, Betsy Beth, but if you’re going to be picky about every detail, you’re going to wreck this before it begins.’
It’s a total myth about redheads being hot-headed, because I’m normally three degrees icier than a glacier, but right now I’m blazing. ‘And if you’re going to act like a dictator– well, what you just said.’ I don’t give him space for a comeback. ‘My quip about emails was ironic, but we should swap details. I’ll leave mine on a Post-it on the fridge– you do know what a Post-it note is?’
‘Obviously.’ He looks up at the sky. ‘Whether Scarlett and Tate would want them plastered over their Fisher and Paykel brushed-zinc American fridge-freezer combo is another question entirely.’
The last time my chin jutted out like this I was six. ‘Fine. I’ll leave my Post-it in the fruit bowl.’ I read the triumphant curl on his lips, and know I’ve walked into a trap.
‘Good luck finding one of those in a minimalist kitchen.’
My jaw drops open in proper horror. ‘Where the hell do I put my apples and bananas then?’
He shakes his head as if he were talking to a lesser being. ‘In the crisper drawers in the fridge. Bananas in a beeswax bag.’
‘ What? ’
‘It’s all covered in Tate’s running manual video. I’ll forward it to you once I get your details. There’s a right and wrong way to use your veggie drawers, too. If you want to get ahead of the game with your salads, google it.’
Miles and Tate seem to have entirely missed the point of chilling in Cornwall. It’s so absurd I’m biting back my laugh. ‘So shall I leave the Post-it in the deep freeze with the mega pack of fish fingers I’m going to buy, or would it be better in the bathroom next to your extensive collection of shower products?’ He’s not exactly keeping the place as Scarlett would in there.
His forehead wrinkles as he considers. ‘Either way, be sure to put it in a Ziplock bag.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘Why?’
‘So that your message arrives intact. Both are high-moisture environments.’
Now I’m the one chasing the clouds across the sky with my eyes. ‘If that's everything…’
‘It’s not.’ There go his eyebrows again. ‘You may want to forget the fish fingers. They’re pescatarian, and Scarlett’s kitchen is strictly veggie.’
Of course. I knew that anyway. I’m only forgetting because he’s making my head spin. His brand of save-the-world fakery always makes me desperate for fish finger sandwiches dripping with melted cheese. Close up he’s also got this disgustingly delicious scent that’s completely at odds with his obnoxious personality. In my current state I should be blind to this. It’s a bit unnerving that I’m not.
To round this off I pull out my sweetest smile. ‘Is that everything now ?’
He’s looking down on me, and his voice has softened. ‘Maybe this isn’t the disaster it seems. Tate always said if I got to know you better, I’d like you.’
How condescending can he be? ‘Truly, that’s not going to happen.’
From where I’m standing, it couldn’t be any worse, but I’m not going to let this beat me. In the real world I wouldn’t go within a country mile of a guy like Miles, and just because we’re thrown together, there’s no reason for that to change. He’s so annoying, we’re likely to have awful disagreements, which is why it’s vital for me to take control and make sure I’m the one who calls the shots here. And I might as well start now.
‘As long as we avoid each other entirely, we’ll be all good.’ I turn my high wattage smile up to the max and beam at him. ‘So what are you waiting for? Off you go! Enjoy the rest of your summer. I promise I’ll find you to say goodbye before we leave.’
He pulls a face. ‘So long as we agree that we’ll let Scarlett and Tate find out about the arrangements from each other rather than us, the rest is up to you.’
A few strides later he’s back in the kitchen, and a few seconds after that, I hear the sound of his tyres crunching on the pebbles as he drives away.
I flatten my palm and hold out a last carrot for Pumpkin. ‘Not quite what we’d planned, but we won’t let this hold us back.’ He chomps on his snack while I scratch him on his favourite place above the white star on his forehead, and give his ears a tug. ‘Guys like Mr Appleton keep their suits at the office and work really long hours. We have nothing in common, our paths won’t cross, he won’t be bothering us anymore– so let’s get on with our summer.’
In an hour’s time Zofia will be here to clean. I’m not getting my hopes up, but she might be able to tell me where Miles has sprung from. I’m not going to let this guy take up any more of my time, but knowing a bit more about him can’t do any harm.