Chapter 36
Climbing Rose Cottage, St Aidan, Cornwall
A soft spot for scones
Monday
It’s a sign of what my life is coming to.
By the time we reached the Surf Shack they’d run out of muffins and we had to make do with squares of Mars bar brownie.
Far from being a consolation prize, this turned out to be sticky, dark, and so delectable that on Monday afternoon, when we get back from school, I’m at the kitchen island trying to recreate it.
Mum and the little ones are on the outside patio with the French windows wide open, and Nemmie and Zara are kneeling at the coffee table by the sofa, chomping on scrounged mini Mars bars, discussing bridesmaid dress designs.
I’ve got the recipe up on my phone, and I’m trying so hard not to forget anything that when Nemmie finishes saying that large pockets are completely essential and starts talking about something else, at first I don’t hear her.
By the time I get that the comment was meant for me, she’s standing next to me waving her hand in front of my face. ‘Are you not answering because you’re concentrating, or because you don’t like what I’m saying?’
I pause my Mars bar chopping. ‘What was the question again?’
She grins at me. ‘It’s more of a statement. We think it’s time you looked for a husband.’
I’m so shocked I drop my knife and it slides across the floor. I pick it up and play for time. ‘First things first, who’s “we”?’
‘Me, Dale and Zara. But mostly me.’
I frown. ‘Is this about you wishing you had a father?’
Nemmie looks scornful. ‘Of course not! This is about you.’
I knew I was asking for trouble taking them along yesterday. I’m hoping it’s not too late to put the whole misjudged day into context for a nine-year-old. ‘I only walked around town dressed as a bride because it was part of my job. It wasn’t an affirmation, or in any way what I’m wishing for.’
Nemmie twitches her mouth. ‘Maybe it should be.’
My voice rises. ‘Thank you for caring, but I’ve never wanted a husband. I can’t think of anything worse!’
Nemmie purses her lips. ‘You’re fine now, because we’re all here to keep you company. But what about when Zara’s in London dancing on Strictly, and Dale’s doing his cartoon voice-overs and I’m on my space station, and Granny and Paul are off in their camper van?’
I pull her up. ‘I thought Dale wanted to be a heating engineer like George’s dad?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Keep up, Mum! Since Granny got that Facebook friend who does the voice of SpongeBob SquarePants, he’s had a rethink.’ She starts again. ‘It’s best to find you someone now while we’re all here to help.’
I’m shaking my head at how far they’ve come with this. ‘Do I have any choice?’
She frowns as she thinks. ‘You can have input on what you do on the dates. But we’re very set that it’s happening.’
I know if they get an idea in their heads the fastest way to get to the other side is to run with it. It’s not like there are hundreds of suitable guys around who’ll agree to go out with me. I can’t actually think of anyone.
I glance at the instructions on my phone, pile the Mars bar pieces into the bowl, and smile as I stir them into the gooey brown mixture. ‘With the beach hut, the shop and you lot to look after, there’s no time left for going out.’
Nemmie laughs. ‘We’ve already thought of that; we’ll be there too.’
I stop stirring and look up. ‘How is that romantic?’
Nemmie looks at me like I have no idea. ‘We come as a package. There’s no point you meeting them on your own.’
Angel’s nose is at my elbow, and he’s quietly drooling on my foot as he breathes in the scent of chocolate. I take some spoons from the drawer, scoop a dollop of mixture and hand it to Nemmie, then take the same for myself.
‘So that’s it?’
Nemmie’s voice is thick with cocoa. ‘I’ll take that as a yes!’
I turn to exchange eye rolls with Angel, but instead of finding solidarity, there’s a second doggy face looking up at me.
I let out a cry. ‘How long has Martha been here?’
Nemmie thinks. ‘She tiptoed in a few minutes ago. She can’t have come through the gate though because we locked it when we came in.’
Zara calls to us from the window. ‘Mum’s waving for us to go outside. It looks like we’ve got visitors.’ She’s craning her head to see higher up the garden. ‘They’re coming down the steps now.’
I wipe my hands on my apron and head for the door, pleased to get a break from the dating pressure. Then I look up and see some muscular thighs in tattered jeans sauntering down the steps, and I wish I’d stayed inside.
I get in first with the greeting. ‘Hello, Lando, and it must be my lucky day; you’ve brought Sav and Martha along too! If we’d known you were up in Mum’s rose garden we’d have come to say hello earlier!’
Sav is laughing. ‘Martha came on ahead of us. We were checking out next door’s boundaries, and this was the fastest way down from the top.’
This could be a metaphor for Sav’s whole life.
‘You always find the easy option, don’t you?
’ I know I’m hitting out, but he’s so annoying I can’t help it.
He’s also closing in on my territory again.
‘It’s quite a wilderness over the fence, I’m surprised you were there at all when Lando’s ruled it out as unsuitable and you’re still paying off your debts. ’
As far as I know he still owes Mum just as much as ever. I told him to disappear and never come back, so he’s the last person who should be walking round our patio waving estate agent’s keys.
Sav shrugs. ‘Catch up, Maeve. Berry and Erica are doing a roaring trade at the Sardine Club; we have wall-to-wall bookings at Silver Meadows, and with this morning’s price reduction we’re viewing the place next door in a whole new light.’
Whenever I see Sav I get wildly agitated or mockingly ironic, and with his last boast I push the terrifying prospect of having either of them living next door out of my head, and my mood twists.
‘So I take it our competition’s warming up?’
The smile on Sav’s face widens. ‘We’re playing a blinder at our end! We’re so busy vacuuming confetti at Unicorn Creek, I barely have time to count our brides.’
If anyone else had told me, I’d be worried, but as Sav is completely unreliable, I’m no nearer knowing what the truth is. At least it’s saved us all from sitting through their plans for next door’s building work.
So far Nemmie’s been standing quietly in the doorway, but she steps forward. ‘Well, our news is that we’re all going dating. Our quest is to find Mum a husband before the end of summer, so if you know anyone cool send them our way.’
I have enough time to catch Lando’s mouth make a shocked ‘o’, then Sav’s smirk pushes me over the edge and I turn to Nemmie. ‘One of Jess’s lawyers was single, hot and keen to meet up; we could try him! He’s fun and sporty, we laughed a lot, and he smelled fabulous.’
Nemmie wrinkles her nose. ‘We don’t have space in the bathroom for anyone with shedloads of body products.’
‘You might be able to borrow them?’
Lando jumps in. ‘If you mean Pasco Pentreath, you’re worth a lot more.’
‘We’re talking veggie burger and chips with three kids at the Crab and Pilchard ball pit. Anyone who accepts that challenge can’t be all bad,’ I protest.
Nemmie twitches her nose. ‘We can do better than a ball pit. We were thinking of a cream tea up in the rose garden.’
It’s staggering how fully formed this plan is already.
Sav grins at her. ‘Lando likes scones, don’t you?’
I’m horrified at where this is going. ‘We already see far too much of each other at work.’
Sav pulls a face. ‘If you don’t mind guys in their early twenties, the line of hunky builders I know would reach from here to the sea.’
Nemmie frowns. ‘When the tide is in or out?’
Sav laughs. ‘Definitely out.’
Mum calls from the rug. ‘Work and leisure are entirely different, and we already know Lando.’
Sav adds, ‘He’s on the spot; he’s willing…’
This is my last chance to derail this. ‘But is he?’
Lando gives a cough. ‘Given that all the other suggestions are wildly unsuitable … I am.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Or should that be “I do”?’
I’m not sure he was ready for the kids hurling themselves onto him. They couldn’t have been any more hysterical if he’d just scored the winning goal in the FA Cup in the last second of extra time. However willing he pretends he is, he hasn’t got a clue what’s heading his way.