Chapter 30
30
The Net Loft, St Aidan
Pop stars and cheese sandwiches
Thursday
‘W hat’s up the stairs?’
The next morning I’m up even earlier than usual so I can sort out Pumpkin and head to the Net Loft. I’d unpacked most things yesterday afternoon, so once I arrived, I spent the next hour moving things from one table to another and the hour after that taking them back to where they’d started. We hadn’t arranged for Miles to come, but he pushes through the door at nine and dumps a stack of boxes in the kitchen, then shuttles in and out another four times. By the time he stops and stares at the staircase like he only just noticed it, I’m well past telling him he shouldn’t be here.
I search for an answer to his question that has nothing to do with bed. ‘Up there it’s the roof. And a storage area.’
He looks down at the load in his arms. ‘I’ve got the rest of Scarlett’s cans here. I’ll take them up, shall I?’
‘ Noooooo !’ I leap in front of him and throw my arms out sideways. ‘There’s plenty of space in the kitchen.’ I make a mental note to get a ‘no entry’ sign and a rope ASAP.
‘The kitchen is actually pretty full.’
I’m blinking at him. ‘Full with what?’
‘My baking stuff.’ He frowns. ‘What did you think I was putting in there?’
I’m not admitting I was too stressed to notice. ‘Why would you bring that here?’
He gives a shrug. ‘You didn’t have breakfast, and you can’t open the shop on an empty stomach. I hoped a few boathouse buns might help fill the gap.’
‘Can they be pecan and toffee ones?’
He smiles. ‘I thought you might say that. I made the dough before I came so there won’t be too long to wait.’
I’m working out how long it usually takes him, and counting back. ‘You must have been up as early as I was?’
He gives a shrug. ‘Pretty much, but it’s all good research. My first time using a different oven, it may yet be a disaster.’
I’m one step ahead. ‘Please can it be without the inspiring music?’
He points to his ear bud. ‘For one day only, I’ll keep it to myself.’
I’m suddenly ravenous. ‘I’ll get back to tidying and leave you to get on.’
He points to another box by the table. ‘There are some large frames in there, and some blown-up prints of your cards I picked up in case you’d like something more punchy for the walls.’
‘Thanks for that, it’s a great idea.’
He gives a sniff. ‘I have an extensive background in retail, so I may as well use it.’
My heart sinks. ‘Not Nice bum ?’
‘Like I’d choose that if it’s not about mine.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I kept it simple, like your concept. SEA SAND SALT. And SAND SALT SURF .’
As I look at the rolls of paper in the box, I’m grateful for his foresight rather than cross about the intrusion. ‘We could sell posters!’
‘That too.’ His smile widens. ‘Forget the worrying, you could be about to have the most fun you’ve had in years.’
There’s a pang of hunger in my stomach. ‘You’ll call me when the buns are ready?’
He nods. ‘And you call me if you need me to hammer in the nails and hang the frames in the meantime.’
With all this agreement, it’s a relief he’s finally said something I can argue with. ‘Milo, it’s the twenty twenties. Women use tools.’
He shakes his head. ‘I’ll try that again. Call me if you need me to hold the frames up to decide the position.’ He’s staring at the stairs again. ‘That’s a very big staircase to only lead to a cupboard. With all this height, you’d think they’d have made a room up there.’
My jaw drops, but I go for the double bluff. ‘If Malcolm would consider a loft conversion, I could sublet to you.’
That stops him in his tracks. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Go on.’
He gives a sheepish glance. ‘Tate has asked me to stay on at the cottage definitively, to safeguard his stake in the property.’ He hesitates. ‘As his loyal friend, whatever other accommodation I’m offered, I won’t be taking it.’
I give a sniff. ‘Funny you should say that. I’ve had the same from Scarlett. Only stronger.’
He blows out his cheeks. ‘At least we both know where we stand now.’
I let out a wail. ‘Locked in the houseshare from hell due to someone else’s property wrangle!’
‘It’s surely not that bad?’ He sounds hurt.
I pull a face. ‘If you say so.’ If I’m fighting Scarlett’s corner, I may as well be open. ‘Just so you know, I will not be taking this lying down.’
The corners of his mouth are twitching. ‘I’m pleased to hear that. If the attack was horizontal, I’m not sure I’d resist.’
I give that the eye roll it deserves, and go again. ‘I will be maximising every opportunity to get ahead on Scarlett’s behalf.’
He nods enthusiastically. ‘Okay, I’ve got that. Shall I get on with the buns?’
My eyes flash open as it hits me. ‘The baking’s strategic! It’s part of your grand plot to get me out of the cottage! I’m right, aren’t I?’
He stops again. ‘No, Betsy B, the baking is simply me wanting to help out a friend.’
I wince. ‘I’m not sure I’d go as far as calling me that. Especially with our new battle lines. But okay, carry on.’
He finally heads off, and a few seconds later I hear the clatter of tins and the thud of dough on the work surface.
When I thought the shop would be the hard part, I was seriously underestimating Miles’s capacity to add complications. It also looks like we’ve started a whole new war. To think I was looking forward to a nice quiet afternoon selling postcards.