Chapter 33
33
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Seagulls, light years and thermostats
Sunday
D on’t ask me how it happens, but it’s actually Sunday morning before I see Miles again. On Friday and Saturday nights, I curl up on the sofa while Miles is still out, and wake in the small hours to find Fudge wedged between my thigh and the sofa cushions. When I get up in the mornings Fudge gets up too, then when I go through the French windows and out into the field he takes himself back to the sofa again. I haven’t introduced Fudge to Pumpkin yet, but Fudge has glimpsed Pumpkin beyond the door, and hasn’t thrown himself at the window, which I’m taking as a positive sign.
As for the promised fridge, Miles delivered on that quicker than you could say ‘chiller unit’. Late Friday afternoon a van arrived from Falmouth. The guys placed and plugged in a very sleek appliance (to turn on twelve hours later once the coolant had settled) and took away the packaging too. Far from being reassuring, it was the kind of complete service that makes me wonder what’s waiting for me down the line.
And in the meantime, I spent two days on my own at the shop, which was another eye opener, because compared to Thursday’s whirlwind, trade was non-existent. I sold a handful of cards, a cushion, three sage plants and a succulent, but at least that took away the pressure to restock.
Spending time doing nothing but wait for customers in the centre of St Aidan wasn’t my favourite thing, but at least it gave me a new view on what else I could offer Fenna. After a morning staring out at the row of harbourside cottages, with their colourful front doors and profusion of planters, I made a dash to take pictures. As the afternoon began to drag, I scribbled a ‘Back in ten minutes’ sign and nipped along the side streets and alleyways further up the hill to do the same. It’s amazing how many frames you can capture and how far you can get in a short time if you hurry. After every outing I came back and edited the pictures, and so long as the sun stays out, by Monday I should have enough to tempt Fenna with a few new angles. I know as a shopper I hate to find a ‘Back in ten’ sign, and I really don’t want to become the shop that’s closed more than it’s open, but now I have bills, I have to be realistic about finding ways to pay them.
When I wake shortly after dawn on Sunday and hurry back from the bathroom, I’m so busy thinking about capturing the village in pixels, that at first I miss that I’m not alone in the kitchen. It’s only when Fudge’s cold nose nudges my bare knee that it hits me that Miles is up too and standing by the kettle.
He holds up a mug. ‘Can I pour you a coffee?’
‘Milk, no sugar, please.’ There’s probably a catch, but for once I don’t care. ‘You’re up early.’ Unlike me, at least he’s made the effort to pull on some jeans and a T-shirt.
He pushes the mug towards me. ‘I was hoping Fudge and I could join you for your morning beach walk.’
The feeling of my heart sinking is getting horribly familiar, but I force my face into a smile. ‘It’s not that complicated to do for yourself. You stand on the sand with the dog beside you, and then you move your legs.’
His frown deepens. ‘You’re so comfortable with animals, and I’m struggling here.’ He looks up hopefully. ‘It would be a chance for Fudge to spend time getting used to Pumpkin?’
‘For someone who claims they have no idea about animals that’s an unnervingly sensible suggestion.’
Miles tilts his head. ‘So, we can come?’
I take a swig from my mug. ‘Give me five minutes to get dressed and drink this, and I’ll be with you.’ I look at Fudge, who is staring at me equally expectantly. ‘If there’s a choice of leads, bring the longest one.’
And just like that, a proverbial hammer smashes through my sacred Sunday morning walk, along with everything else.
However much Miles and Tate are trying to wreck my life, I refuse to let it bring me down. By the time Pumpkin and I are wandering along the water’s edge, watching the foam frills rush towards us across the shine of the wet sand, I’ve breathed in enough cool salty air to feel calm again.
Miles calls from a couple of yards away. ‘I’ll stay on the drier sand.’ He gives a head shake. ‘Fudge is supposed to be fifty per cent French water dog, but he hasn’t embraced his wet side. He doesn’t like getting his paws damp.’
I smile. ‘Lucky for Scarlett he’s not fully immersive! What’s his other half?’
Miles wrinkles his nose. ‘Poodle and golden retriever, with a dash of hound. So I’m told.’ As Fudge yanks and pulls Miles almost horizontal, he shakes his head. ‘Any useful tips from St Aidan’s most famous pony walker?’
Pumpkin and I pick up our pace and fall into step beside Miles and Fudge. ‘Encourage him to walk next to you rather than tugging, keep him on the lead until you’re sure he’s not going to disappear over the horizon, always carry poop bags, and have fresh water for longer walks.’ I take a few more strides then ask a question of my own. ‘Does Tate know he’s at the cottage?’
Miles pulls a face. ‘Tate sees strength in numbers.’
I blow out a breath. ‘Those two really are up shit creek, aren’t they?’
Miles winces. ‘Everything Tate has is because he worked his arse off for it. I can’t understand why he’d jeopardise that.’ He kicks a stone and sends it bouncing across the sand. ‘Me being Team Tate doesn’t mean I condone his behaviour.’
I’m hiding my shock. ‘I’m a hundred per cent Team Scarlett. But thanks for saying that.’
Miles picks up a stone and hurls it into the water. ‘A lot of us would give anything to have a relationship half as strong as theirs. It’s infuriating to see him throw it away.’ He shakes his head. ‘Anyway, how are things at the shop? Do you want any more of my buns?’
I’m so shocked that I stop walking and he crashes into my shoulder. ‘I thought Thursday was a one-off?’
He purses his lips. ‘There may be more to learn from regular small-batch baking than I’d first thought.’
‘What about your national roll out?’
He gives a shrug. ‘The other day reminded me a lot of when I first started out as a green sixteen-year-old.’
I’m puzzled. ‘Was that when you left school?’
He shakes his head. ‘Not exactly. My education was a bit patchy. I probably left when I was twelve. Or maybe nine.’ He pushes that aside and carries on. ‘I’d forgotten about the adrenalin rush of a raw start-up, the thrill of running on your wits and gut instinct.’
I roll my eyes. ‘The freedom to be so small you can change from day to day. Isn’t that what I said all along?’
He gives a rueful grin. ‘Back then I was still thinking of the real world. If I stop fighting it and accept that I’m living beyond the end of nowhere, in a place where everything is minute, small scale makes sense.’
I’m trying not to let my mouth drop open. ‘You do have regrets about the past?’
He stares at me. ‘You didn’t believe me?’
I frown. ‘It’s the way you exude confidence. You just give the impression that life couldn’t be any better.’
‘Don’t be taken in by the jeans and the car.’ He thinks again. ‘Don’t be fooled by any of it, not for a second.’
He walks a few more paces, then slows. ‘I wouldn’t have come anywhere near Cornwall if it hadn’t been for some catastrophic problems.’
‘You wouldn’t?’ I look at him again because it’s hard to take this in.
He shakes his head. ‘It’s the last place I’d have chosen, but there wasn’t a choice, so I made the best of it.’ He gives a rueful smile. ‘If you pretend things are great when they couldn’t be worse, very often great things do happen.’
I’m not even trying to hide my shock. ‘And have they?’
‘What do you think?’ His eyes are dancing with self-mockery. ‘Still waiting. It’s a good thing I’m patient, but each new day could be the one.’
‘Give me time to catch up. Is this the real Miles or the pretend version?’
He laughs. ‘While you work that out, let’s deal with the logistics for the shop and the baking. You do want to carry on selling with Pumpkin?’
I jump at that for Pumpkin as much as for me. ‘That’s the fun part for us.’
I’m racking my brain trying to work out an hour-by-hour list of who goes where and who does what to make this work. Just as my head feels like it’s about to explode it hits me– Miles is craving a plan. If I want the fastest way to drive him round the bend, I only need to think back to my vegetable pile on the side the first week. I know he’s trying to help me, but with all the body blows I’m taking from Team Tate, I may as well pile in as many as I can from my side with this.
‘And the rest?’ Miles is staring at me expectantly.
I give a cough. ‘We’re going to stay true to the ethos of small-scale start-ups… and wing it.’
His jaw drops. ‘We’re going to what?’
I laugh. ‘Make it up as we go along. Be truly flexible. Until we see how it all pans out, we’ll do what we want on the day.’
He lets out a howl. ‘That’s never going to work!’
I’m trying not to smile. ‘We won’t know until we try it, will we?’ In the interests of the shop, I make a concession. ‘We might need to decide the night before, so we know what time we need to get up.’
From the way Miles kicks the sand, I take it he’s not happy.
I look at him. ‘Are you in or out?’
He gives a sniff. ‘We’ll try it for a week, and revisit.’
I’m not sure exactly what I’ve won, but it feels significant. I have to admit his buns could be the saviour for the shop. On the downside, it’s going to mean working with Miles most days, which on current form promises self-destruction within minutes rather than hours. As for all these new complications and revelations, I’m more confused than ever.
I grin at him. ‘You’ll have to work out how much you’re going to charge me for the pastries.’
He gives me a nudge. ‘And you’ll have to say how much you’re going to charge me for using your kitchen.’
I look at Pumpkin and Fudge, their lead ropes loosened, wandering a stride ahead of us.
‘We’ll have to work out where the animals fit in too.’
Miles’s head is tilted as he watches them. ‘I’m no expert… but does Fudge think Pumpkin’s a dog?’
I shake my head. ‘Dogs rely on their noses, and Pumpkin definitely smells like a horse.’ I run forwards, bury my face in his neck and take a deep breath. ‘It’s very distinctive. Like a cross between a farmyard and a hay field.’
Miles gives a shudder. ‘I’ll take your word on that.’
I laugh and drop back to walk beside him again. ‘So are you good to take Fudge out by yourself from now on?’
‘Hell no!’ He looks even more appalled. ‘I don’t mind beach walking on my own, but if I add in a dog, I feel like everyone knows I’m faking.’
I bite back my smile. ‘So how is our master businessman going to troubleshoot this one?’
His face relaxes. ‘That’s easy. We’re going to keep walking with you and Pumpkin.’
If I write anything in the sand today, it’s got to be fml .
Every time I chalk up a point for Team Scarlett, within seconds he gets me back.
There’s one thing he may be overlooking. ‘How is your woman friend going to feel about all these walks along the beach without her?’
He gives his usual exasperated sigh. ‘Okay, let’s clear this up. I don’t have a woman friend in that way. It’s just a terrible mess. The reason I’m running and holed up here.’
‘Miles?’
‘I’ll shut up now. That’s already too much for my confidentiality clauses.’
‘So who owns Fudge?’ If I’m spending so much time with the dog, it’s best to know.
Miles sends me a shamefaced glance. ‘He belongs to my mum.’
‘Your mother?’ My mouth is hanging open again.
Miles closes his eyes. ‘Another situation, another restricted area, another black hole information exclusion zone.’
I make my voice light. ‘Another day with the Appleton family in St Aidan.’ And the shocks just keep on coming. I’m staring at the horizon trying to play this down. ‘That’s fine by me. With so many no-go areas, I’m looking forward to some very peaceful walks.’
Except it’s not fine. None of this is fine at all. And with every new twist it gets worse. I’m going to have to push forward and try to find a way to pull myself out of the mess.