Chapter 32
32
The Net Loft, St Aidan
Sandcastles and deep blue oceans
Thursday
P lum finishes her bun, picks up a posy and a bay plant, then crosses to the postcard stand and pulls out a card.
She grins at me over her shoulder. ‘I’m glad I came early, I reckon this card is going to sell out very fast.’
Before I have a chance to reply the door opens and Carol and Paul from The Crow’s Nest come in, followed by three more of their friends from the Yellow Canary, then Malcolm, and Edie’s Aunty Jo. What happens next is crazier than anything I could have imagined.
There must be something attractive about a crowded shop, because before I know it the place is full of people who aren’t regular customers, and that’s how it is for the rest of the day. The buns are decimated, and there are so many people to serve that Zofia stays to help until mid-afternoon, when she goes to get more plants. And when I finally shut the door and leave at four, rather than going back to the cottage, Plum meets me at the barnyard so I can pick up more supplies. While I’m there, Edie’s Aunty Jo pops over and offers to run up some calico cushions with appliqué letters saying SURF , SAND, SEA, SUN and SALT to tie in with the wall posters, and the first thing I do when I finally get back to the cottage is to order more postcards.
Then I flop down on the sofa with a glass of elderflower cordial, open my laptop and try to pull together some lines for Fenna. After the afternoon I’ve just lived through, writing’s not a chore. It’s a relief to dive in, to imagine myself with shimmering scales parting the seaweed fronds to swim with the deepest fish shoals. Then I rise and break the water surface. I’m just shaking my shell-encrusted hair in the starlight when a huge crash in the kitchen drops me back into the Boathouse Cottage living room.
I whip round to see three of the stools by the island unit slam onto the stone floor one after the other. Haring away from them there’s what looks like a flying fur rug, and staggering after it, picking up the furniture in his path, is Miles. At some stage the rug must reach the end of the kitchen and turn, because it appears again, careering past the other side of the island unit, leaps up towards the sofa end, flies past my shoulder, and lands in a heap sprawled across my shins.
I grab a cushion for defence, clamp my laptop to my chest, and go in for a closer look. There’s a lolling pink tongue, a light brown nose, and a mass of curly hair a very similar colour to my own.
‘You’re a dog!’
Miles pushes the last stool back into place. ‘This is the surprise I mentioned yesterday.’
‘It’s less a surprise, more a tornado.’
Miles shuffles. ‘There was an emergency. I’ve offered to look after him.’
If this is part of the tactics to get me to leave, however effective it is, I’m not going to rise.
‘Well, that’s nice.’ I think of myself as a mermaid, unhurried and unbothered, gliding thorough the waves. ‘Anything else I need to know?’
There are deep furrows in Miles’s forehead. ‘I’m hoping it won’t be for long. You’re not allergic?’
I have to say it. ‘A considerate housemate asks that question before they bring in a dog, not after he’s here.’
‘Right. I’ll remember that for next time. As you specialised in sanctuary animals, I assumed you’d like dogs.’
I’m despairing that he thinks we’ll be around long enough for it to happen again. ‘It depends on the individual dog and how they are with Pumpkin. Not all dogs like horses; some will chase them.’
‘Shit.’ Miles’s face is white.
I’m not going to sugar-coat this. ‘With the wrong dog, the outcome could be fatal. Until we know differently, you’ll need to be extra vigilant.’
‘Would it help if I cut back on my music?’
I can’t believe I’m passing up this chance. ‘If we’re talking about a dog’s reaction towards a horse, I’m not sure where your music comes in.’
He shakes his head. ‘By way of apology. As a gesture. For the whole situation.’
I’m picking my jaw up off the floor. ‘But people like you never say sorry?’
I see his eyes go wide with disbelief, so I jump in to nail this before he takes it back. ‘Thank you, not being regularly shaken to my core would help. Does the dog have a name?’
‘Fudge.’ Miles is nodding. ‘Because of his colour.’
‘Great. Hello, Fudge. I hope my legs are comfy enough for you to lie on.’
Miles is carrying on. ‘I thought with his toffee-coloured hair, he’d be part of the family.’
‘Excuse me?’
He must know he’s talking out of his bum, because he carries on. ‘He also prefers women to men. Due to his past.’
‘Was he a rescue?’ I’m ready to soften.
He shakes his head. ‘No, just a puppy. Brought up by?—’
I harden again. ‘Your woman-friend.’
He nods. ‘And he likes to sleep on the sofa at night.’
This isn’t normal warfare, it’s a full-blown targeted attack. ‘So you’re saying I’m going to have to share my bed that’s not a bed with your woman-friend’s dog?’ I imagine I’m a mermaid, heading out of the bay and never coming back and make my smile very wide. ‘What’s not to like?’
To show how unbothered I am, I tickle Fudge behind his left ear. A second later, he lunges forward and lands on my chest.
I’m being ironic. ‘Who knew what was missing from my life was a dog to lick my chin?’
Miles’s eyes are like saucers. ‘In my wildest dreams, I never thought it would go this well.’
I’m curious. ‘How long have you been building up to this?’
‘For about a month.’ He hesitates. ‘Maybe a little longer.’
‘Since before I arrived then.’ Even more unbelievable. I should try to take back more ground here. ‘As he’s your responsibility, shouldn’t he sleep with you?’
Miles rubs his chin. ‘It’s probably best to keep him out of the bedroom– for Scarlett’s sake.’
It has to be said. ‘If you were really considering Scarlett, Fudge wouldn’t be here at all.’
As Miles shakes his head, he looks like he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. ‘If there’s any damage, I’ll make everything good before we leave.’ He smiles. ‘On a different note, it would save a lot of running about if you had a fridge with a glass door, so you could keep your cans in the shop.’
Even though it’s come from left field, I have to agree. ‘You’re right but buying more postcards might be my priority.’
‘I’ll look after the fridge. As a thank you. In advance.’
‘For the chaos that’s about to rain down on me?’ Why is my heart dropping like a stone? ‘Is there anything else you need to tell me?’
Miles pulls a face. ‘It’s probably best if we meet things as they come up.’ He takes a breath. ‘Think of the fridge as a loan. If ever you’re finished with it, I’ll take it back.’ His smile widens. ‘And as soon as you’ve done your work for Fenna, we can talk about syncing.’
Syncing? When my heart sinks this time it’s slowly and sadly. ‘I’m not sure I’ll have time to go on the sun lounger anymore, consider it yours.’
He laughs. ‘No one’s going to have time for the terrace. I’m talking about baking and dog walks.’
And I thought that Miles and a shop was as bad as it could get.