“Well, of course you are. Is there anyone on this island heisn’ton close terms with?”
“Try Sam Dryer. They had a row over the extension Sam was planning.”
“That sounds very Reuben-ish.” I look around the shop. “So why is one of the most famous tattoo artists in the world inTobermory removing his thumb with DIY?” He grabs a battered old first aid box from the counter, and I rush to help him. “Sit down,” I say. “You’re far too dirty to deal with a cut.”
His lip twitches. “Yes, it’s definitely you. Reuben said you were incredibly bossy.”
“I’m pretty sure he mentioned my arse before he focused on my temper.”
“Well, I’m sure your arse is lovely, but he does seem to admire your bad moods more.”
“He’s such a fucking weirdo,” I say affectionately. I look down at Bernard, who is watching us like he’s at Wimbledon. “Am I okay to let him off his lead?”
“Can he plaster walls?”
“Probably not. He’s not terribly obedient with anything.”
“Might as well, then.”
I unclip Bernard’s lead, and he immediately walks over to put his paws on the windowsill and peer out. He’s a very nosy puppy. I grab an antiseptic wipe and clean my hands, then take another to clean the cut. “This is deep,” I say. “You might need stitches.”
“Nah. I haven’t got time.”
“Oh, you’re definitely Reuben’s mate. If he cut his leg off, he’d stick it back on with gorilla glue.” I look up at him as I set the bloody cloth down. “How long have you been friends with him?”
“God. Many years. We met in our twenties in Ibiza. We were both after the same bloke at a club.”
“Did he win?” He scowls, and I laugh. “You can say it. We know it’s the truth. He’s irresistible.”
“You seem to have managed to resist him all these years.”
I freeze in the act of opening a plaster. “Ah. Have we reached the judgemental part of this conversation?”
“Hardly. I can barely handle my own shit without taking anyone else’s on.”
“Wow. You’re like Gandhi.”
He laughs and watches as I fix the plaster on his cut. “You’re exactly as he described you.”
“Beautiful and a showstopper?”
“Kind, sharp as a tack, and extremely wilful.”
I conceal my pleasure and shoot him a wry smile. “Lucky you. You’re having the full Xavier experience.”
“You’re not quite as homicidal as he led me to believe, though.”
“Ah, it’s been a slow morning.” I’m tempted to ask him questions about Reuben, but I already know he won’t answer them. “So, why are you here?”
“This place is my uncle’s. He’s a tattoo artist and trained me. He’s having an op on his hand and asked if I could help with the shop renovation.”
“You have a shop in Ibiza, don’t you?” I say idly. I step back. “There. All done.”
He twists his hand to look at it. “You’d make a good nurse.”
“Ah, my temperament sadly says no to that career path.”
He eyes me curiously. “So, you like tattoos?”
