Chapter 21
Climbing Rose Cottage, St Aidan, Cornwall
Swiping right and doggy gymnastics
Thursday
‘How come Martha’s at yours?’
Ten minutes later I’m opening the French windows to Lando’s curt question, with another sigh. ‘At a guess, I smell of dog treats, and you didn’t close your door properly after you pushed me out onto the harbour.’
He agonises. ‘I didn’t mean to eject you.’ He’s whiter than ever. ‘There must be common ground without starting world war three?’
I’m more of a realist. ‘There isn’t any, Lando.
You could literally buy and sell Cornwall and I would struggle to afford a map of the place.
It’s not just your trust fund; it’s your entire privileged, cosseted, elite, advantaged life.
Sav would swap you in a heartbeat, but I’m not a fan.
And worst of all, despite your ringside view of our lesser world as a teenager, you still have no clue what it’s like to be me. ’
Lando frowns. ‘I didn’t come here to argue, but you’re very much talking through your butt, Maevey.’
‘That’s a highly inappropriate thing to say to anyone this decade, Lando.’
He sniffs. ‘In the interest of transparency, the trust fund went away over a decade ago.’
I see him opening his mouth and pre-empt him. ‘If this is where you assure me all your investments are ethical, save your breath.’
He pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘Don’t knock ethical. Insisting the funding for our projects is fair and appropriately sourced is saving the planet. And I was never a consumer; you know I hate shopping.’
I notice his well-cut denims and wrench my gaze away from his fly. ‘In that case where do all your designer jeans come from?’
His lips twist. ‘They’re mostly cast offs from Sav.’
‘Who you’ve barely seen.’
He looks at the sky. ‘My sisters’ boyfriends help out too. I prefer stuff that’s preloved and free, I’m happy to help out when they over-buy.’ His eyes narrow. ‘It’s always puzzled me – when you’ve been brought up surrounded by so much love and warmth, how is this less?’
I’m picking myself up off the floor at this whole new take on our lives when it hits me. ‘Neither of us can understand where the other comes from because our existences are alien. We have no hope of getting on even without a child in the mix.’
Lando looks hard at the doorframe. ‘Let’s revisit this when our heads are clearer.’
‘It’s not going to change anything.’ I clip a spare lead to Martha’s collar and hand him the end. ‘There you go. See if you can get home without losing her.’
‘Now I’m here there is one more thing…’
I anticipate and answer. ‘Sainsbury’s small gravy bone biscuits. I’ve yet to meet a dog that doesn’t turn cartwheels for them. A pocketful of those, you won’t be collecting Martha from ours ever again.’
‘It’s not about dogs.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Have you had a lot of one-night stands?’
I can’t admit ours is the only one so I deflect. ‘How is that your business?’
‘You’re right.’ I watch him shake his head and lead Martha away.
As he’s about to close the back gate, he hesitates. ‘I’m sorry, Maevey. None of this is how I wanted it to be.’
A moment later I hear the click of the gate as he leaves, and I’m none the wiser.