Chapter 13
13
The Barnyard, Saltings Lane, St Aidan
Big bites and loud noises
Friday
D ropping my parcels in a pile on the ground, I’m still asking myself what just happened there. I sit down on some low stone steps, but before I work out which bag my cake is in, I hear my ringtone drifting upwards from my pocket.
‘Scarlett! What time is it with you?’ I kick myself for starting with a question and rush to fill in the gaps that I haven’t told her about in messages. ‘I’m at the Saltings Lane barnyard, shopping for England if not the world…’
Scarlett cuts in. ‘Time? It could be time to tell me what the hell is going on at Boathouse Cottage, Betsy!’
I knew it was coming, but my heart drops like a stone. ‘At the cottage?’ I sound a lot like a strangled hedgehog, but Scarlett’s voice is steely.
‘It’s the first day of our long weekend, after two whole weeks I finally come face to face with Tate, and over breakfast he tells me Miles has been at the cottage– for months! Why didn’t you say something?’
‘Honestly, Scarlie, he’s rarely there, it’s not a problem.’
Her voice rises. ‘It is for me! What the hell was Tate thinking going behind my back? He should have let me know!’
And she should have told him about me, too, but I’m glossing over that. ‘Truly, Scarlett, the first time Miles and I coincided, we decided it was so insignificant there was no point mentioning it.’ I think what else I can add to make it sound plausible. ‘And since then, I’ve barely seen him.’
Scarlett is straight back in. ‘But you hate him! If he’s even there for a second with you and Pumpkin, it’s too long. I’m so sorry, this is such a cock-up! Lately my life’s been one bloody cock-up after another.’
She sounds so unlike her cool, capable, high-achieving self, I’m pleased we didn’t force them to argue this out earlier.
I try to sound as soothing as I can. ‘If it’s ever a problem, I’ll let you know. I’m just really, really grateful to be staying here at all.’ Instead of telling her how obsessive Miles is with the anti-bac spray on the surfaces, I keep it simple. ‘You and Tate need to forget about this. Find some delicious cheesecake to share for lunch and have a glorious day.’
She gives a sigh. ‘Tate’s already left for the office. I’m going to see an exhibition.’
I’m on this. ‘At the Andy Warhol Museum?’
At least that made her laugh. ‘That’s in Pittsburgh. I’m going to see some Gustav Klimt landscapes. But I’ll find some cheesecake. And well done on those pieces.’
Then she ends the call, and I’m back searching for my muffin. Three bags later, I find it in with the flowers, and it’s almost the size of a football. I tease off the paper case, open my mouth wide, and I’m about to sink my teeth in when someone calls.
‘Betty Beth! At last! I thought I was never going to find you.’
‘Miles!’ My tummy clenches. I take a huge bite of my muffin while I still can, then mumble, ‘Why are you here?’
His mouth twists into a smile that’s even more sardonic than usual. ‘There’s no need to ask you that. If you’ve been buying for a candle-lit dinner with floral decorations and a choice of new outfits, count me in. What’s with the giant folding screen?’ He knocks on it as if it were a door. ‘Is this yours?’
I roll my eyes. ‘No, it just snuck up on me while I was looking the other way.’ I take in his wide-eyed look, and give in. ‘Of course it’s mine. It’s for privacy in the sofa area.’ It’s not just that. I’m actually planning to drape my clothes over it to save me packing things into bags every night.
He’s peering into the bags. ‘Cushions too!’
I’m as shocked as he is that I bought those. ‘Two weeks of Scarlett’s empty spaces and I’m desperate for comfort and embellishments.’ That’s the only way I can rationalise it to myself.
He gives a cough. ‘This weekend is when we change over. It’s your turn to take the bedroom.’
‘Actually…’ I can’t believe what I’m leading up to here. But when I wake in the morning Pumpkin’s muzzle is already misting the glass of the living room French windows, as he waits to say hello. In the evening, I can lounge and watch him silhouetted against the smoky purple of the sky, as the sun slides down behind the sea. When the moon comes out, I sometimes wake and catch him standing quietly in the half-light. However comfy the bed might be, I’m simply not ready to move to the opposite end of the building and give all that up. I send Miles a smile. ‘I’m fine to leave things as they are– for now, anyway.’
Miles tilts his head. ‘Any time you change your mind, just shout. In the meantime, hide those cushions from Scarlett and Tate.’ His expression turns serious, and he bangs his head with his fist. ‘That’s what I came to tell you. Tate called, they’ve had the convo, and Scarlett was… pretty cross.’
‘She rang me, too.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘I’d say she’s apoplectic. For the record, if we’d told them that first day, I know Pumpkin and I would have been the ones who got to stay.’
Miles frowns. ‘If we’d done that the first day, Scarlett may have come straight back. At least we saved them from that.’
It’s typical of Miles to breeze in and take the credit for averting the disaster he caused in the first place.
‘Honestly, Miles, that would never have happened. They’re the most solid couple I know.’
He gives a shrug. ‘Every relationship has rocky times.’
I’ve no idea how the hell we’ve got here, but I’m leaping in to defend them. ‘They don’t. I’m Scarlett’s sister, I should know.’
‘If you’re the expert, I’ll take your word on that.’ He gives my arm a squeeze. ‘It hasn’t been so bad sharing. I found out about fairies and pony droppings.’
My voice is high with indignation. ‘You would say that, you grabbed all the good bits for yourself. As for your music– I mean, Greig’s Rigaudon from his Holberg suite? At breakfast?’
He looks surprised. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’
I put my nose in the air. ‘Harsh maybe, but also true.’
He blows out his cheeks, then turns to me with his smile turned on full. ‘By way of a thank you for letting me keep the bedroom, and as an apology for maybe taking more than my share of time on the sun lounger– how about I cook that dinner to go with your candles later?’
I’m looking down at the petrol blue wax, and however much that look of his is making my resolve give way, I’m determined not to be bought. ‘Those candles are way too pretty to burn.’
He shakes his head. ‘The candle shop is only there. I’ll buy some more.’
I drag in a breath. ‘There’s a hundred other reasons I can’t.’
It’s one thing me getting all home-centred and cosy, but that doesn’t extend to other areas of my life. I had a moment of holiday-type madness back there, not a personality transplant. When I’ve given up on guys for the sake of my wellbeing, I’m not about to dabble in meals for two, however great the dine-in deal is. More importantly, actual proper dinner parties for people who get their kicks from formality and pretension simply don’t figure in my universe. People bigging up their aspirations, then parading them around a table is everything I despise. I’d actually rather eat my own head than go to one.
Miles stares at me. ‘Keep going…’
I’m not sure it’s any of his business, but there’s no point hiding who I am. ‘I don’t do dinners, I hate to eat in front of strangers, I’m super picky about what I put in my mouth, and I refuse to do small talk. Is that enough for you?’
‘I’m always up for a challenge.’ The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. ‘Nothing I’ve heard there has put me off.’
I can’t believe he’s still pushing this. ‘So now I’m a game you use to prove how macho you are? Excuse me for stepping away from that.’
He gives a sniff. ‘It’s your call. I can’t force you to enjoy yourself.’ He looks down at the bags. ‘How about a lift home? Unless you’ve already lined up Pickfords.’
‘I haven’t.’ I have to give him this one. ‘A lift would be great, thanks.’
He tilts the screen, and hoists it under one arm. ‘Days like today are when I’m pleased I ordered the long wheelbase model with the opening panoramic roof.’ He gives a sheepish grin. ‘When the salesman told me I would be, I didn’t believe him.’
Another thing to call him out on. ‘That’s bullshit, Miles. Guys like you don’t need persuading; you want every bell and whistle going.’ I stuff the remains of my muffin in my mouth, pick up my bags, and follow him out of the barnyard to the car. It has to be said. ‘For this one time only, I concede– it’s a good thing you grabbed yourself the cottage parking space.’
The car is parked in the field by the shepherd huts and as we reach it a few minutes later, Miles takes a paper bag from his jacket pocket. He brings out a pastry, breaks it in two, and hands me half.
‘Before we get in, tell me what you think of this.’
I’m staring at him. ‘Let me guess– you don’t want crumbs in the car?’ He’d have a fit if he saw mine on a normal day. If he saw it after I’ve had a hay bale in the back, he’d expire.
He rolls his eyes. ‘I often drive company cars. Keeping other people’s things clean is a basic courtesy.’
As I push the pastry into my mouth and chew, he’s watching me so intently I respond straight away. ‘It’s an apricot turnover.’
He nods. ‘But how good is it?’
I’m confused. ‘What’s this sudden interest in pastry?’
He pulls a face. ‘Nothing important. It’s good to do product analysis occasionally, that’s all. So be honest.’
‘Product analysis of baking? You’ve picked the right woman for that job.’ I smile remembering that first day at the cottage when I couldn’t eat those croissant things fast enough. Then I look at the last piece of apricot slice in my hand. ‘Honestly– I’ve had better.’ Because truly, compared to those, I wouldn’t give this the time of day. And then I finish it, clap my hands and swirl my skirts in the wind to get every last crumb off. ‘Shall we get going? If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get my screen up.’
Did I really say that? If I did, it’s only because I’m excited about having something to hang my dresses over. And possibly because when Miles sees this idea in action, I know it’s going to drive him around the bend.
Between us, I can’t wait.