Chapter Fifty-Eight
I fairly skipped out of Starlight Cottage. Cindy scampered alongside me. She picked up on my joyful mood and gave several yips of excitement.
Inside the studio, I stripped off my jammies and nightrobe. Dumping them on the sofa, I dashed off to the bathroom to relieve my burgeoning bladder.
Hurry, hurry , my brain chanted as I washed my face, then grabbed my toothbrush.
Ablutions complete, I raked a brush through my hair. Scooping it into a ponytail, I secured it with a scrunchie.
Right, joggers… joggers… where were my joggers? Damn and blast, they were languishing in the laundry basket. No matter. They were only going to get dirty again.
I pulled them out, wrinkling my nose at the smell of stale clothing.
Hurry, hurry. Back to the bathroom.
I plucked a cannister of deodorant from the shelf, then gave the trousers a liberal blast of Summer Fragrance . They might look like they’d previously had an encounter with a muddy puddle, but by heck they now smelt good. I gave the fabric a second blast, belatedly catching a hint of pine. Oh dear. That last scented note wasn’t dissimilar to toilet cleaner.
Hopping about, I posted my legs into the trousers, found a clean t-shirt, then whipped a sweater over my head. When it came to winter walks, layers were the name of the game.
What next? Makeup. Red lipstick might be nice, but at this hour perhaps too vampish. Better to go for a soft pink. I slicked on some lippy, pressed my lips together, added mascara to my lashes – no time for the kohl – then pinched my cheeks for colour.
I stared at my forty-nine-year-old reflection in the mirror. A worn face gazed back, but overall, it was a huge improvement on yesterday. I wasn’t quite so washed out, and the peepers were positively sparkling.
Now, then. What about earrings? I threaded some gold hoops through my ears. Big mistake. They didn’t go with the rambler outfit. I quickly replaced them with some simple gold studs. I was just debating whether a necklace would be OTT when there was a knock at the door.
‘Coming,’ I warbled.
I grabbed Cindy’s lead and my hiking boots. Oh Lord, they were plastered in mud. Best to put them on outside. I didn’t want to mess up the studio’s carpet. I snatched up my coat and Cindy’s water bottle – I’d fill it at the pub.
There came a second knock. This time louder. Impatient. Oh, blimey. Mr Soren wasn’t up for hanging around.
‘Yes, yes, I’m right here,’ I sang. ‘Just a mo.’
Best to put on the hiking boots now. There was a vacuum in the cupboard. I’d clean up the mess when I was back. Milo wouldn’t know. He’d never see it.
I stooped down, rammed my feet into the boots, then hastily began lacing. The panels of my coat kept obscuring my vision. Irked, I straightened up, yanked on the zipper, then bent down again to resume my lacing. Heavens, all this activity was making me terribly hot. It was one thing to be outside in the elements in fleece-lined tracksuit bottoms and quilted overcoat, but another to be indoors doing something of a workout. My body temperature was rising with every passing second.
There came another rap, then another, and then a succession that didn’t stop. Blimey, how keen was this guy to see me?
I straightened up, back cracking alarmingly, just as a man’s voice demanded that I open up and open up NOW!
I froze in my tracks. That wasn’t Milo. With growing unease, I unlocked the door. Opened it a smidge. Peered cautiously through the gap. Then gasped aloud.
‘Whatever are you doing here?’ I demanded shrilly.
It was Robin.