Chapter 39
Showtime. It was oyster night, and Tilly was there for it or at least on her way there if she didn’t decide to do a runner and leg it back from whence she came.
Strolling along, despite her nerves, she felt a teeny bit full of herself because guess what?
Our Tils had scrubbed up nicely. She’d washed and pressed the dress, lovely espadrilles were on her feet, the laces tied just so, her hair was washed, curled and really looking rather fabulous and she was spritzed with lovely bought-on-her-travels perfume.
A very interesting fact of all things Tilly had occurred.
She was feeling that good that she didn’t need much glow-y stuff on her cheeks because her mood had dropped its very own shimmer-y bling.
On approach to the building, she side-eyed.
Unsure what she’d been expecting, what was in front of her eyes wasn’t it.
She’d assumed the pub would be like any other old pub on the coast. But because, of course, Darling did it better.
The Darling Arms was utterly glorious with the entirety of its front tiled in aqua subway tiles in just the right shade of Darling blue.
Old coach lights graced either side of the door, huge old hooks showcased hanging baskets dripping with trailing blue and white and a navy-blue doormat inscribed with ‘Darling’ welcomed.
Standing outside for a moment, Tilly looked up at a gorgeous old pub sign hanging outside, a little porch to the front, chimneys on top and very old leadlight windows in neat lines.
To the right, the sea glittered with diamonds of light, and to the left, in the beer garden, a beautiful pitched-roof hexagonal canvas marquee dripped with fairy lights.
Unsure where to go or what to do, Tilly’s earlier bravado waned.
The marquee was absolutely heaving with people, as was the pub, she didn’t really know a soul, and suddenly she felt very alone. What was she even doing there?
Deciding to go through the pub first and get her bearings, Tilly stepped in to see little groups of people everywhere; a group of seniors at the bar, couples sitting at tables, an old dog by a fireplace, ships' anchors on the walls and everyone else with someone else. Just like the years of following Lennixx, waiting, Tilly again felt alone. Unsure whether to get a drink or what to do, she pretended she knew exactly where she was going, held her head high and walked in the direction of the beer garden. Stepping down tiny narrow steps, past a sign leading to the beer garden and a small block-paved covered area, she felt her stomach swoop as she spied the goings-on in the marquee. It too was bustling with people in groups, and she couldn’t see Otto for love nor money. Now what?
Forcing herself not to hotfoot it out of there as fast as she could, Tilly stood for a second and observed.
Trestle tables ran the whole length of a small stepped terrace area.
Adjacent tables wore pretty linen tablecloths and were packed end to end with people.
Strings of little lights criss-crossed overhead, hurricane lanterns flickered along a far wall and on the opposite side, crate upon crate of oysters sat banked up on ice.
Behind the oysters, staff in thick striped butcher’s aprons and white polo shirts were shucking at a long counter, huge old oyster baskets were piled with lemons, and a queue snaked away to the right.
As Tilly attempted to familiarise herself with the surroundings, she looked around, spied a few faces she recognised and realised that half the island was in attendance.
Shelly, off duty and with a drink in hand, gave Tilly a wave, Evie from Darlings was threading through the tables with two platters and Leo the Australian was standing with a pint in each hand, chatting to a man near the queue for the oysters.
In the middle of it all, in chinos and a navy-blue polo shirt, Otto was standing talking to two very attractive women in exquisite summer dresses and not the sort bought preloved.
Tilly looked on and felt totally wrong-footed by her surroundings, Otto and the women he was so very animatedly chatting with.
Talk about pulling out a rug. Immediately feeling both out of her depth and stupid, Tilly felt a penny drop.
Duh, Otto was clearly not waiting for her in any shape or form.
And she was most definitely not on a date or anything even remotely like it.
He had obviously invited her to the oyster night to do the right thing.
It was some sort of pity invite that he had to put out because of the stupid customs and rituals of Darling.
Tilly had got the complete wrong end of the stick.
He’d obviously extended to her precisely the same invitation as he had to everyone else on Darling.
Dithering as she stood at the edge of the lantern-lit marquee in the dress she’d left the shed feeling a million dollars, she was in two minds as to what to do.
Feeling something between an urge to let out a hysterical laugh or to walk straight back home, she swallowed, closed her eyes for a second and attempted to regroup.
A date, right, yeah, because of course it was.
She had, it appeared, put on her best new frock and done a full face for an oyster night where the entire population of the island were in attendance.
There she’d been imagining fireworks going off left, right and centre, but this was nothing of the sort.
Marvellous. Cracking. Ten out of ten, Tilly Bloomwood.
Honestly, you could not, as her dad would have said, make it up.
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Tilly headed for the bar anyway.
She’d have one quick drink and then head back home, no harm done.
A few minutes later, she had a flute of bubbles in her hand and was standing watching what was going on, feeling very grateful that the Lennixx Years had made her okay with being alone in a room full of people who knew each other.
However, a tinge of sadness washed over the edges.
Sad for being a complete and utter gullible idiot thinking that she’d been going on something like a date.
For goodness sake, she’d even used hideous hair removal cream in places not easily reached.
She’d plucked her eyebrows and double-conditioned her hair.
Hah, hah, hah. All to be stood on the side of a room full of people and oysters doing one thing: waiting.
Deciding to sip the drink, see what happened and then call it a day, Tilly stood, taking everything in.
One thing was not in doubt, and that was the loveliness of her surroundings, the occasion and the set-up.
She’d seen some events in her time, and this was next level.
On the floor, gorgeous coir matting, lanterns by the dozen, white bunting by the armful, real old-fashioned ale from hand pumps and elderflower fizz just about everywhere.
As she got to the end of her bubbles, Tilly put the glass down, bent down to re-tie her espadrilles, ready to get home and was about to hotfoot it out of there.
Quite frankly, mahusively disappointed, she tried and failed to remain positive.
Let down, too. She could swing for Otto.
She’d not been keen on his manner the first day he’d stepped onto her deck, now she actively disliked him.
Technically, he’d done nothing wrong, but as she pulled the espadrille ribbons, she felt as if he’d misled her.
Deciding she would no longer give him the time of day, as she stood up, the blood rushing to her head a little bit, that notion went out the window as right in front of her, she was face to face with him.
Swoon, fireworks, ding dong, Catherine wheels, lust. ‘Oh, hiya! How are you?’ Tilly heard herself chirp like a baby bird. What in the world?
Otto put his hand on her arm. Her whole arm fizzed. ‘Hey! I’ve been looking out for you. How long have you been here?’ He glanced at Tilly’s empty glass. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you. I thought you’d come up and say hello when you got here.’
Tilly didn’t know what to say. He’d wrongfooted her. Did he expect her to jump? If so, she’d take a run-up first. ‘I, err.’
‘God, sorry, it’s been manic! I had to down tools and muck in because a couple of staff got stuck in that traffic on the mainland.
Did you hear about it? I was standing outside waiting for you initially.
I should have just messaged you. Duh, sorry, it’s been so busy!
’ Otto glanced at his watch. ‘Time has flown by.’
'It really has,' Tilly managed, though in point of fact she'd been clock-watching the entire time and could have told him the second past the hour.
Don't you dare let on you were sad, let down, disappointed, lonely. Play it cool. Cool, Tils. There were things that were currently zipping up and down her body that were absolutely not playing anything cool: the fireworks had reached a whole new level. Tilly felt as if at any given moment she might actually combust and take off into the sky. As sparks catapulted around in a great cartwheeling shower, Otto’s hand again landed on Tilly's arm.
Unbelievably, she felt an actual physical right there and then swoon.
'Right. Let me get you another drink. Bubbles, was it?
' Steering her gently towards the bar, one hand hovering at her back without quite touching it, Tilly wanted to rip off her dress, turn around and never come up for air.
'More of the elderflower bubbles? They make it just around the bay here.
A local business where they press it themselves.
Stay there, don't move, I'll be back in a tick. '