Chapter 42
Carrying the two gin and tonics through from the kitchen, the ice clinked, and Tilly fizzed.
The first nightcap had gone down easily, and Tilly was aware, in a pleasant, faraway sort of way, that she was now what her mum would have called merry and what her dad might have called three sheets to the wind.
Not that she cared in the slightest. She was having far too much of a nice time to care about what anyone would have called anything.
She didn't much care about anything other than what was going on in her world right at that time because it was lovely. In actual fact, everything was close to perfect. With the charity shop wicker lamp glowing, Darling fog pressed white against the windows, and Otto Carrington sitting on her sofa, life had not been as good for a long time. The Catherine wheel had become Tilly’s new best friend, fizzing glorious sparkles all over the place.
Tilly popped the drinks on the coffee table. 'There you go. What a lovely night. The fog is really starting to come in. It makes everything pretty, doesn’t it?'
Otto took the glass and looked around at the broderie anglaise cushions, the throw from Lucie, the faded blue armchair and the heart-shaped platter propped on the mantel. 'You've done a lot here already.'
Tilly nodded. 'It’s been hard work, but I am pleased so far.
I’ve had second thoughts, to be quite honest. It’s a lot to take on, and that night of the storm wasn’t pleasant.
My God, I was petrified at one point. I know I pretended I was fine, but it was quite something.
First of all, I was like, oh, this is so romantic and cosy. That didn’t last long.'
'Darling storms are not for wimps. Even now, I feel as if I hear a new creak every storm. The house is usually so quiet, especially being on my own, and Darling storms are far from quiet.'
Tilly decided to strike while the iron was hot. 'Leo told me a bit about, well, you know, your wife. I hope that's all right. Actually, it was Shelly and Lucie when I went around there for drinks. I'm so sorry, Otto.'
Otto didn’t mince his words. 'Saves me doing it, frankly.’
‘Oh, right, okay.’
‘I'm not very good at talking about it, and I’m sick of people feeling sorry for me.'
Tilly leant forward to put her gin down, accidentally caught the edge of a cushion and lost control of her glass, and gin went everywhere.
It wasn’t a genteel little spill, either.
Ice cubes skittered hither and thither, and gin and tonic surged straight into Otto's lap before she'd so much as registered what was happening.
'Oh, no, oh, for the love of God.' Tilly jumped up, mortified, hands fluttering.
'I'm so sorry, hang on.’ Grabbing the throw, she made a sort of frantic dabbing lunge at his soaked lap before her brain had time to flag what she was doing.
'Leave it. Honestly. It's gin. I've had worse on me. Not a problem.'
'Blimey, you must think I am a right clodhopper. Usually I’m fine.’ Currently, I am having to deal with a Catherine wheel as a heart, and it’s getting to be quite cumbersome.
‘All good.’
‘I face-planted a gorse bush, and I got stuck in the mud and now this. Honestly, I’m not usually as clumsy.'
‘My mud at least.’
Tilly half sat, half fell back into the sofa, giggled and rolled her eyes. Then, before she knew what was happening, she was kissing Otto, and the Catherine wheel was spinning right off its nail. Rockets fired one after the other like crazy, and the whole sky lit up gold, red, silver and green.
Lost in the kiss, Tilly inched in further.
The lamp clicked off on its timer somewhere around them, water slapped at the boards below and outside, and far off across the estuary, the foghorn gave a long, low blast into the night.
Tilly closed her eyes, not sure she’d heard the foghorn at all.
All she knew was that she never wanted whatever was happening to her heart to end.