Chapter 44
Afew hours after the cup of tea, Tilly had got on with her life and stopped wondering about all things Otto.
At least that’s the lie she’d told herself.
Spooning coffee into the coffee maker, she repeatedly pressed the switch to ignite the gas hob, and she stood watching the little coffee machine bubble away and do its job.
Then taking the biscuit tin, the coffee pot, a mug and a little jug of milk, she turned left out of the back door, manoeuvred around Margery’s pots that had yet to be tidied up and wedged herself into a timber chair just under the covered area.
Out of the wind, filtered dappled sunlight made shapes on the old deck, and the little suntrap was glorious. Who needed the Maldives?
Sitting and staring out across the estuary watching the comings and goings of boats and walkers on the path on the other side, Tilly dipped biscuit after biscuit into her coffee and pondered all things the night before.
Something very strange was happening to her.
One minute, she was back on the sofa with the fireworks, the next brimming with excruciatingly cringeworthy regret.
The next au fait, calm breezy. An independent woman no longer controlled but in control. Yeah, nah.
Secretly, she was a little bit put out that Otto hadn’t been in touch.
There had not been a text, phone call, knock on the door or anything.
She’d even leant her head precariously out the upstairs window to see if she could spy his car at the oyster beds.
She may have also retrieved a pair of old binoculars from the boat room, stood on a chair by said window and trained the huge old things onto the parking area near the Carrington building.
Not a sausage. It appeared that Otto was nowhere to be seen.
Dipping another biscuit in her coffee, Tilly slowly came to the horrified realisation that Otto was having similar revelations as her.
He must be kicking himself so much so that he was making himself scarce.
He’d gone underground to avoid the newcomer to Darling, who had practically jumped on him.
Groaning, Tilly shook her head. Why oh why had she kissed him, run her hands up under his shirt, and oh my God, she’d also groaned in pleasure.
In the middle of cringing, a couple of sparklers reactivated, zipping up and down her body.
Oh, how glorious the fireworks had been.
Sitting back, she closed her eyes, held her face up to the lovely English sunshine and breathed as a new realisation came to her.
Firstly, it didn’t really matter, and secondly, why not run with having let herself go?
Was she not a lovely modern woman in control of her own destiny?
Yep, she very much was. Yes, Tilly Bloomwood, previously waiting for someone else, formerly controlled, owner of quite an uneventful life, was in actual fact going to glide on into this new world and grab it by the you know whats. Easy really. Super. Fabulous.
With that attitude front and centre by mid-afternoon and still having heard nothing from Otto, Tilly had cracked on with jobs in the shed.
She'd shoved her hair up in the hibiscus clip, hauled on old dungarees, and addressed herself to the single most disgusting job left in the entire Boat Shed: a far-flung corner of the boat room which had seen better days.
With a true crime podcast playing, Tilly was standing on a step ladder with a mask over her face, scrubbing a high shelf, when her phone pinged.
As she saw the name on the screen, she very nearly went off the top of the stepladder altogether. Otto.
Peeling off a rubber glove with her teeth, she wiped her hand on the dungarees and tapped where a little grey bubble sat there waiting. It was not what you'd call a lengthy communication.
Great night. Watch for the high tide later and keep an eye on the back decking. O.
Tilly stared at the screen, not sure what to think.
She had launched herself at this man, run her hands up under his actual shirt, kissed him until her ribs had gone up in flames, and had come within a whisker of going the full monty, and he’d messaged about a high tide.
What the? Sitting in her old dungarees with her thumbs hovering over the screen, she composed and deleted, composed again and frowned.
The trick now was to be every bit as breezy, unbothered and just as fine in response.
His message clearly indicated that he was deeply regretful about the situation and was just going to brush it off.
If Otto wanted to text about high tides, all power to him. Two could play at his game.