Chapter 19
Tilly stood and looked at herself in a funny scrap of mirror wedged by the door of the shed.
Her hands were black, her face flushed, and something very odd was happening inside her chest. Something that felt like a Catherine wheel had been lit and was spinning off its nail, trailing sparks down to the very tips of her fingers and other hidden places, too.
She pulled out her phone, opened The Properlies group, added a photo, then held the phone to her ear and started a voice note. Sounding a bit shocked, she laughed.
'Right, girls, you’re not going to believe this!
I have been rescued from a near-death experience.
Joking. I’ve just been pulled from a mudflat.
I literally got stuck in the mud not far from the shed here.
I’m covered in the stuff, and my wellies are full of it.
My jeans are soaked and my hands black. There’s more, and I would only admit this to you two.
I have just felt something that I can only describe as fireworks going off.
My God, I think I fancy my new neighbour!
Although I’m hoping I don’t because that’s the last thing I need.
Tell me I'm having a medical episode, a stroke, perhaps, or maybe a tropical disease has finally caught up with me because I am feeling things! What the? I have just been rescued by a man I thought was the rudest person in England, but now I want him to come back and do it again. I have not come to Darling Island to fancy someone. I have come to be alone, independent and not wait for anyone. Anyway, I’m joking, really, but I wanted you to see the pics of the mud.
Only I could get myself in a mess like this. '
Pia's reply came through, and Tilly pressed play.
'Oh em gee, Tils! Fireworks? Yep, that’s when hormones and pheromones come into play. What’s the rescuer like? Wow, I didn't think that you would fancy your neighbour! The shed story takes a turn. Shoot me, but I’m loving this already.'
Tilly smiled with her heart still going like the clappers.
'Do-something-to-me brown eyes. I cannot believe I just said that. He has a dog, a chocolate Labrador called Stanley, who is very sweet, handsome and well-behaved, unlike his owner. The owner is tall, fair, late thirties, wax jacket, wellies, grumpy. Rough and capable. He actually shouted, then pulled me from the mud, carried me like I was nothing and hosed me down with industrial cold water. I stood there like a complete lemon while he directed a hose at my legs. All I could think about was his arms and the way he smelt. I don't know what I'm saying here, ha ha. I am covered in mud, and I’m babbling. I shouldn’t have even mentioned it, but I thought I’d give you both a laugh.
Anyway, he's probably married with six children and a very nice wife who makes sourdough and runs a hedge fund from her laptop. '
Tilly’s phone buzzed with a voice note from Jasmine with the background noise of a theatre and someone shouting.
'Right, I'm backstage, I've got about ninety seconds before I have to do a quick change on the lead. Tils, not that many years ago, you left a controlling marriage and recently a cheating boyfriend. You are not in a position to be fancying anyone. You need to be sorting that shed, starting a business, and remembering who you are without a man attached. Do not act on the fireworks. We don’t need another Andy in a wax jacket at this point in your new start.
Remember the plan. Did he ask or suggest anything that indicated this was mutual?
Sorry, I've got to go, someone's having a meltdown about a wig. Text me. Love you guys properly.'
Tilly listened to Jasmine's voice note again. Of course, she was right. Jasmine was always right, which was deeply irritating. Tilly had not come to Darling to fall for anyone; she’d come to not need a single soul.
She pressed to record. 'You are right. He told me not to do anything stupid again, and then he walked off. The fireworks are almost certainly one-sided. I will ignore them and focus on my shed, the business I’ve yet to start and my new life. Thanks for being an adult as usual.'
After stripping herself of the wet clothes, Tilly went upstairs and stood under the shower until her skin was pink and the mud had vanished from every crevice.
As she got out and wrapped herself in a towel, she told herself to extinguish the fireworks and forget about the man who worked next door.
Her phone buzzed as she was drying her hair.
Pia with a text this time in the group, not a voice note.
Pia: What do you know about him?
Tilly: Nothing really.
Jasmine: Don’t even go there.
Pia: Don’t be such an old spoilsport.
Jasmine: I’m trying to be sensible.
Tilly smiled and raised her eyebrows. The fizzes she’d had were anything but sensible. Which is why she wanted them to blast her head off again.