“No. He’s just a bit shy with strangers that’s all, especially women.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind getting better acquainted. He is quite the hottie. Unless that would be treading on your toes, Evie,” she added hastily.
“Not at all. We’re just friends.”
She forced herself to add, “To be honest with you, Amelia, I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in any man right now.”
“That sounds to me like someone who has had their fingers and their toes burnt,” Amelia replied.
Evie said firmly, “Well, that’s a story for another day.” Amelia looked disappointed and Evie realised she had probably wanted to bond over one of those ‘All men are bastards’ conversations, but that was a road she didn’t want to go down, certainly not in front of someone she barely knew, even if they did happen to be related.
Instead, she said, “How about I show you round the gallery? We obviously sell my paintings here and Freya’s jewellery, of course. My friend Maureen, who you’ll meet tonight, makes gorgeous shawls, hats and blankets. We’ve also got pottery and crafts from talented people over the islands. We like to encourage and give them a chance to sell their work. You know,” she added shyly, “we were even featured in a magazine.”
Amelia smiled at Evie. There was something unsettling about her tight grin that didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced round. “Wow. Imagine a little place like this getting all that attention!”
Evie frowned slightly. She didn’t want to be over sensitive but that sounded like a patronising dig.
“Look, I’d love to see everything, but another time perhaps,” Amelia said shortly. “It all looks marvellous, and you must be so proud. Anyway, I really must run. See you tonight then.”
Evie was deflated. She was incredibly proud of the gallery and crushed that Amelia didn’t seem at all interested in seeing what she had achieved. She’d thought they were making progress, but it was one step forward and two steps back.
Then Evie had a thought: “She’s probably gone to chase after Ross. That poor bugger won’t stand a chance if she catches up with him.”
She was surprised how annoyed that made her feel.
Evie might tell herself she didn’t want a relationship, even with someone as kind, gentle and handsome as Ross, but she realised she definitely didn’t want anyone else to have him either, and certainly not Amelia.
Chapter Twenty
Kate’s House
Evie and Freya had come over to Kate’s about an hour before anyone else to help with the preparations for Amelia’s night. Freya had brought fat golden homemade samosas; from a recipe she’d seen on James Martin’s Saturday morning TV show. Freya was obsessed with James and recorded his show to watch when she came back from her morning swim with the Selkies and after the free art classes she gave at her house for local bairns. People knew not to disturb her on a late Saturday afternoon.
Freya told Kate, “I might have made these a bit spicy, but James said not to go easy on the chilli and anyway I do like them hot.”
Kate looked up at her and laughed, “We all know you are talking about James and not the samosas.”
Patsy had bought cheeses from the deli and their peedie pies. There was crusty bread, plates of ham and jars of chutney. No one would starve. They helped Kate put the food on the big table in the living room.
Edwyn came in with two bags full of beer and wine, looking tired from his shift at the hospital but pleased to see his friends. He kissed Kate on the cheek while she was at the sink, and she waved him off.
Without looking round, she told him to put the samosa he had snaffled back on the plate.
“Edwyn,” she said sternly. “You know those are for guests.”
As usual Edwyn was baffled. “How do you do that? You must have eyes in the back of your head. It’s a medical miracle.”
Kate just laughed at him. “Go and wash the stink of antiseptic off yourself. You reek of the hospital. The girls are upstairs doing their homework. Give them a cuddle and make sure they aren’t on that bloody iPad. I told you not to get them one for Christmas. You are such a pushover.”
“Your wish is my command. She who must be obeyed,” said Edwyn, running up the stairs in case she flicked her dishcloth at him. Her aim was uncanny, and he had no desire to have his backside stung again.
Maureen arrived soon after with Andrzej. She’d put on some make-up, slightly overdoing it with the rouge, not wanting to look too pale. As always Andrzej thought she looked beautiful and beamed with pride to be at her side.
To everyone’s dismay she was clutching a Tupperware full of shortbread. This was bad news as Maureen was without doubt the worst baker on the island. As Patsy had succinctly put it once: “Her rock cakes could be used as bricks to build a coo byre and her tablet would leave you toothless.”
Andrzej was quick to squash any misunderstanding. “Don’t worry, young Rory made these for you all. He’s turning into a really good baker.”
“Obviously, he doesn’t take after me,” laughed Maureen. She had lost count of the times she wailed at Andrzej when another disaster came out of the oven. “I don’t know what happens. I follow the recipe to the letter but nothing turns out the way it should.”
