He scrambled to help pick up the croissants and baguettes. ‘I didn’t… I mean, I’m really so sorry…’ His cheeks reddened.
‘It’s all right’ – the woman bit her lip seductively – ‘but I think the least you can do is give me your name for the trouble?’
‘Thom. Or Thomas, when I’m being naughty,’ he said, the words tumbling out before he’d properly thought about them.
Her eyebrow lifted, just a fraction, at his sudden ease, and something like amusement flickered across her face.
Thom did what he always did when nerves kicked in. He reached into his jacket pocket for a business card, only to freeze. He patted his pockets again. Nothing, aside from a tiny biro, the ones you find in betting shops.
‘Oh. Right. Brilliant,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t seem to have a card on me.’
She smiled politely, already stepping away.
Thinking fast, Thom grabbed a napkin from the counter, scribbled his number on it, and darted after her as she headed up the street towards the car park.
‘Here!’ he called, slightly breathless, thrusting the napkin into her hand. ‘In case you… you know. Ever need anything. Err… like… I mean like financial advice. That’s what I do. I advise on finance.’
She glanced down at the hastily written digits, then back up at him, clearly amused by his Hugh Grant-style bumbling.
‘Thanks,’ Elodie said simply, before turning and continuing on her way.
Thom had only just reeled his tongue back in when Rita and Sennen pushed through the door, all smiles.
Once they were sitting with empty plates, Betty appeared at their table to clear it, eyes twinkling.
‘Ah, Thom, I saw you met the infamous Elodie Jenken, née Blunt.’
Rita’s mouth fell open in horror as Sennen screwed up her face and said, ‘Who?’
Betty leaned into them all, lowering her voice. ‘Jago’s ex? I guess you knew she was in the bay, Rita? The Seahaven Bay Facebook Gossip Group are having a field day already. Poor Jago. Rumour has it that scarlet woman nigh on destroyed him before he moved back to Seahaven. But I guess you probably know that too.’
Thom looked like a rabbit in headlights. ‘Sorry? I mean, I hardly met her, she was rushing, crashed into me, and dropped all her pastries.’
‘And that actuallycouldbe a euphemism the way you were looking at her. Naughty boy, Thomas.’ Betty lowered her eyes at him.
Sennen looked perplexed. Rita felt her stomach drop. She checked her watch, her voice high pitched. ‘Isn’t Poppy’s train due soon, darling?’
Betty, completely oblivious to just how much Rita already knew aboutthe exbeing back in town, grinned. ‘Well, you heard it here first. And you’re very welcome.’
EIGHTEEN
By four p.m., just as dear Stan had predicted, a proper storm had hit the bay. It was so dark it could have passed for night already. Inclement weather along the journey had caused various delays to Poppy’s train from London, and now, with rain lashing the windscreen and trees bending along the drive, Rita felt a flicker of relief when she finally saw Thom pulling into the courtyard.
Not wanting to appear too eager to greet her son’s new love, she stayed put in the kitchen, watching discreetly from a window where she knew she wouldn’t be spotted, even with the light on.
Thom ran round to the passenger side with an umbrella, opened the door, and out stepped Poppy. No raincoat. All legs, lashes, and a tiny, quilted handbag. She teetered on stilettos so thin they could probably skewer worms.
‘Oh mygawd,’ Poppy shrieked over the gale. ‘My hair is literally crying. And do you know how long I’ve been on that pissing train? I knew this was a bad idea.’
Thom’s tight grimace told Rita everything. Rita, however, decided she would rather he be with absolutely anyone than even show the slightest attraction to Elodie Jenken, née Blunt, as Betty had alluded.
‘Go to the porch. I’ll grab your case,’ Rita heard him shout over the weather.
Just as she was about to move from her hiding place, her phone buzzed. She glanced down and gasped at a message from Teo.
Be muy careful, Rita. But you come right now to the barn, sí, sí?
Rita frowned, wondering what was going on. She opened the front door to the elements. ‘Hi, Poppy. Amazing to meet you, but I’m needed elsewhere. Thom, darling, the kettle’s just boiled and there’s fruitcake in the tin.’ Dragging on her wellies, she grabbed her raincoat from the porch and pulled the hood up high.
