Chapter 27
27
The Net Loft, St Aidan
Lemon sorbets and promises for the future
Wednesday
I t’s funny how my mind plays tricks on me. As I stand in the Net Loft clutching my postcard package to my chest, the studio space around me has expanded. What seemed so manageable in my head when I was making those reckless comments to Miles and Zofia on Monday is now a huge, gaping, empty void. And the tables and shelves that Zofia’s husband, Aleksy, dropped off yesterday only make it worse.
On a wet windy morning when the quayside is deserted the whole idea of selling anything at all feels impossible.
‘What the hell was I thinking?’ As I spill the postcards over the table nearest to me, every scrap of optimism I had has left the building. I pull my cardi around my freezing midriff and feel as empowered as a butterfly in a wind tunnel. Then I start to spread the cards out, the door opens and Miles pushes his way in.
He props a dripping umbrella against the wall and grins. ‘It’s torrential enough to drown out there! How’s St Aidan’s newest entrepreneur?’
Honestly? I could do without the interruption, especially from him, especially now.
‘Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?’
He looks hopeful. ‘I thought maybe I could help– moving furniture, running out for coffee, filling your postcard rack?’
‘That’s very kind, but there’s been a development.’ I may as well stop pretending. ‘I can’t do this after all.’
His voice rises. ‘Can’t do what?’
I pull a face. ‘I can’t do any of it. I’m scared, I’m a million miles out of my comfort zone. I just need to lock up, get the hell out of here, and go back to doing what I was doing before.’
I can’t blame all this on what happened with Mason, but I don’t ever remember having so many doubts before that night. It’s as if ever since then the stuffing has gone out of me. I can give a fair imitation of being okay day to day, but when anything more challenging comes along I crumple. It’s not that I strutted around being super sure of myself before, but I wasn’t a pushover and I wasn’t a quitter, and I certainly wasn't the wet and weedy washout I feel like now.
Miles narrows his eyes. ‘What happened to Betsy Eliza, the sparky creative dynamo salesperson who knows her under-thirties inside out?’
I shrug. ‘That was easy. It was for you not me.’
He blows out a breath of frustration. ‘You are hugely talented and very capable, it’s time you used that for yourself rather than everyone else.’ His stern face softens as he looks down at me. ‘Would a hug help?’
I leap three feet, then recover myself. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’m better without.’
He drags in a breath. ‘In that case, let’s look at those life-affirming cards of yours.’ He shuffles through some then picks one up. ‘ I am, I can, I will.’
I carry on reading them. ‘ Climb every mountain. Be brave. ’
His eyes narrow. ‘It might be a good time to take your own advice?’
I give a rueful smile. ‘Those were me psyching myself up after I arrived.’
Miles is still watching me. ‘It’s not that long ago, and it seems to me you’ve come a long way since then.’
I’d rather he hadn’t been appraising me, but whatever. ‘When I look at the cards spread out it’s a bit like reading my diary. I must have been feeling dreamy the day I wrote Where the spindrift meets the stars …’
Miles lets out a splutter. ‘ Nice bum ! If this is a record of your time here, what’s that about?’
I choke into my fist. ‘No one you know.’
His eyebrows go upwards. ‘Even so, I bet it’s a best-seller.’
It’s pouring out before I know it. ‘I never used to be a wimp, but there was this thing, and ever since I’ve been a bit of a… scaredy cat.’
Miles tilts his head and looks at me. ‘The bigger your fears, the better you feel when you face them and come out the other side.’
I’m looking at his grave expression. ‘You say that like it came from the heart.’
He shakes his head. ‘I told you before, and you might not believe it, but I’ve had my struggles which is how I know.’ He pulls a face. ‘The best way to regain your power is to hold your head high, believe in yourself, and move on to better things.’
I bite my lip. ‘Thanks for the advice.’
‘You’re not on your own here.’ He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. ‘If you don’t try the shop, you’ll never know, but we’re all here to support you.’
I try to stamp out the tingles that zither down my spine, and give the man credit for being there. ‘Thank you for saying that, too.’
He’s the last person I’d have expected to be helping me but here it is. Whatever makes me feel better, I’ll take it where I can.
He releases my fingers and grins at me. ‘I’m not giving orders, but if you put the postcards out, I can move the tables to where you’d like them, and we’ll get this show on the road.’
I laugh. ‘Before I have any more wobbles, you mean?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ He holds his expression. ‘But yes.’
I’m asking myself how he’s so strategic. ‘Do you have sisters?’
He smiles. ‘Nope, but I’ve been very well trained by a female.’
‘Your girlfriend again.’ It’s a statement not a question, and there’s a twang in my chest as I say it.
‘Something like that.’ He raises one eyebrow. ‘She’s more of a woman than a girl.’
Kerching . ‘Good point well made, Milo. We all are these days.’ I pick up some cards, cross to the rack and begin to slide them in. ‘If you’re serious about the tables, one by the window and the others across the centre, please, and the shelf units against the left-hand wall.’
‘I appreciate a decisive boss.’ When he moves into action, flipping the furniture, it’s hard to take my eyes off him.
I give a cough. ‘Just making sure you’re getting things in the right place.’
He sends me a wicked grin. ‘Here’s me thinking you’re checking out my six pack so you can go and write about it on the beach.’
Now I’ve heard it all. ‘You are so up yourself, Miles Appleton.’
His smile spreads. ‘I’ll be walking back along there later to check, just so you know, Betsy Beth Bradwell.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I can see your car from here, so I know that’s not true.’
His smile fades. ‘Wind-ups really aren’t my style. But there could actually be another surprise coming your way that you may find challenging.’
I shake my head. ‘Now you sound like Mystic Meg. Please just move the furniture, then go and get on with your proper job.’ I watch him pick up the next table. ‘If you want a drink before you go, help yourself. The kitchen’s under the overhang, and there are cans in the fridge. They’re Scarlett and Tate’s, but they’re almost out of the date, so we may as well drink them.’
Miles swings the two shelf units into place. ‘With my current interest in baking, I never pass up a chance to check out the facilities.’ As he passes me he picks up a card and squints at it. ‘What the heck are pony raids?’
I laugh. ‘“Pony rides this way”, not raids.’ I give him a nudge. ‘Should have gone to Specsavers. In case you miss it, the fridge is the big silver thing.’
I watch his spectacular rear disappear into the distance, then give myself a telling off. At this rate of progress, I’ll still be sorting postcards when it’s dark.