Chapter 39
39
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Last in, first out
Friday
W hatever I thought of Scarlett’s dates, I’ve been holding my breath all week to find out how she got on. But this is Scarlett, not me; two dates down and there aren’t any horror stories unless you count nights at the opera, which I probably do. There aren’t any success stories either. She’s now seamlessly added a music producer, a hedge fund manager and a real estate professional to her list of upcoming meet-ups, so I’m assuming her search is still live rather than on hold because she’s met someone she wants to get to know better.
Back in St Aidan, since Saturday there has been no more mention of the chewed shoes, so all the way to Friday I assume Miles has forgotten about them. But this morning when I arrive back in the kitchen after my walk with Fudge and Pumpkin, I’m met by the familiar scent of hot pastry and vanilla, and the island unit is covered in cooling trays stacked high with buns.
As Miles usually does his baking at the shop, I assume today’s change in routine must be because he has to go out on some of his other business, and as he packs the buns into boxes and gives me a lift into town, he doesn’t tell me anything different.
It’s only when we get to the shop to find the lights already on and Zofia with a cup of fruit tea in her hand that I start to question.
‘Zofia, you’ve already restocked the plant tables and now you’re dusting the shelves you dusted yesterday afternoon?’
As Zofia nods at me her eyes are shining. ‘If you want a job done well, ask a busy person.’
Miles is piling buns under glass domes at the speed of light, then he takes the empty boxes to the kitchen, comes back through and turns to me. ‘Right, Zofia’s here for the day. Are you ready to go, Betsy Eliza?’
I’m sinking my teeth into a raspberry bun I’ve just grabbed. ‘Me? Go where?’
He’s already by the door. ‘We’re calling on your favourite jam seller first, and then there’s a makers’ market over in Stoneybridge to check out.’
I hold up my bun. ‘Plain ones of these would work really well with baby pots of jam.’
He looks at me. ‘Great idea, we’ll try that tomorrow. What about this morning? You won’t grow your business sitting in the shop.’
My feet feel like they’re welded to the floor. ‘If I’d known I was going out…’
He laughs. ‘You’d have taken all morning to get ready?’ His smile widens. ‘What you’re wearing today looks great. I like it when I see flashes of your shorts.’
It’s bad luck all three dresses have splits up the front, but what I’m fighting most is the voice in my head that’s telling me I want to look amazing, because I really don’t.
Miles senses my hesitation. ‘I can take you back if you’d like to change?’
I blow out a breath. ‘I’ll manage without my fairy wings, just for today.’
Zofia puts her arm around me. ‘You look lovely, same as always.’
‘Fudge!’ I’m still holding on to the lead and I give a whistle. ‘He is coming too?’
If this is about Miles saying sorry for the shoes Fudge ruined, it makes it less of a thing if he’s with us. Better still, keeping to dog-friendly areas means we’ll avoid going anywhere too starchy.
I catch Miles’s nod of agreement and wave my bun at him. ‘If we’re out over lunchtime you do know I don’t do restaurants, or meat, or rapeseed oil…’
He’s looking completely unruffled. ‘All your restrictions, likes and dislikes are fully logged in the system. If in doubt, just say “no”.’
When it’s so insignificant, I’ve no idea why my tummy is whirling.
I turn to Zofia. ‘You’re sure you’ll be okay?’
She’s already pushing her cordless vacuum towards the trail of crumbs I’ve dropped. ‘Couldn’t be better. Have a good time, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
It’s a lot later when the significance of that comment sinks in.
I pass Fudge’s lead to Miles and pick up my rucksack and my vintage velvet jacket. ‘Shall we go?’