As Tilly attempted to familiarise herself with the surroundings, she looked around, spied a few faces she recognised and realised that half the island was in attendance. Shelly, off duty and with a drink in hand, gave Tilly a wave, Evie from Darlings was threading through the tables with two platters and Leo the Australian was standing with a pint in each hand, chatting to a man near the queue for the oysters. In the middle of it all, in chinos and a navy-blue polo shirt, Otto was standing talking to two very attractive women in exquisite summer dresses and not the sort bought preloved. Tilly looked on and felt totally wrong-footed by her surroundings, Otto and the women he was so very animatedly chatting with. Talk about pulling out a rug. Immediately feeling both out of her depth and stupid, Tilly felt a penny drop. Duh, Otto was clearly not waiting for her in any shape or form. And she was most definitely not on a date or anything even remotely like it. He had obviously invited her to the oyster night to do the right thing. It was some sort of pity invite that he had to put out because of the stupid customs and rituals of Darling. Tilly had got thecompletewrong end of the stick. He’d obviously extended to her precisely the same invitation as he had to everyone else on Darling.
Dithering as she stood at the edge of the lantern-lit marquee in the dress she’d left the shed feeling a million dollars, she was in two minds as to what to do. Feeling something between an urge to let out a hysterical laugh or to walk straight back home, she swallowed, closed her eyes for a second and attempted to regroup. A date, right, yeah, because of course it was. She had, it appeared, put on her best new frock and done a full face for an oyster night where the entire population of the island were in attendance. There she’d been imagining fireworks going off left, right and centre, but this was nothing of the sort. Marvellous. Cracking. Ten out of ten, Tilly Bloomwood. Honestly, you could not, as her dad would have said, make it up.
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Tilly headed for the bar anyway. She’d have one quick drink and then head back home, no harm done. A few minutes later, she had a flute of bubbles in her hand and was standing watching what was going on, feeling very grateful that the Lennixx Years had made her okay with being alone in a room full of people who knew each other. However, a tinge of sadness washed over the edges. Sad for being a complete and utter gullible idiot thinking that she’d been going on something like a date. For goodness sake, she’d even used hideous hair removal cream in places not easily reached. She’d plucked her eyebrows and double-conditioned her hair. Hah, hah, hah. All to be stood on the side of a room full of people and oysters doing one thing: waiting.
Deciding to sip the drink, see what happened and then call it a day, Tilly stood, taking everything in. One thing was not in doubt, and that was the loveliness of her surroundings, the occasion and the set-up. She’d seen some events in her time, and this was next level. On the floor, gorgeous coir matting, lanterns by the dozen, white bunting by the armful, real old-fashioned ale from hand pumps and elderflower fizz just about everywhere.
As she got to the end of her bubbles, Tilly put the glass down, bent down to re-tie her espadrilles, ready to get home and was about to hotfoot it out of there. Quite frankly, mahusively disappointed, she tried and failed to remain positive. Let down, too. She could swing for Otto. She’d not been keen on his manner the first day he’d stepped onto her deck, now sheactivelydisliked him. Technically, he’d done nothing wrong, but as she pulled the espadrille ribbons, she felt as if he’d misled her.
Deciding she would no longer give him the time of day, as she stood up, the blood rushing to her head a little bit, that notion went out the window as right in front of her, she was face to face with him. Swoon, fireworks, ding dong, Catherine wheels, lust.‘Oh, hiya! How are you?’ Tilly heard herself chirp like a baby bird. What in the world?
Otto put his hand on her arm. Her whole arm fizzed. ‘Hey! I’ve been looking out for you. How long have you been here?’ He glanced at Tilly’s empty glass. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you. I thought you’d come up and say hello when you got here.’
Tilly didn’t know what to say. He’d wrongfooted her. Did he expect her to jump? If so, she’d take a run-up first. ‘I, err.’
‘God, sorry, it’s been manic! I had to down tools and muck in because a couple of staff got stuck in that traffic on the mainland. Did you hear about it? I was standing outside waiting for you initially. I should have just messaged you. Duh, sorry, it’s been so busy!’ Otto glanced at his watch. ‘Time has flown by.’
'It really has,' Tilly managed, though in point of fact she'd been clock-watching the entire time and could have told him the second past the hour.Don't you dare let on you were sad, let down, disappointed, lonely. Play it cool. Cool, Tils.There were things that were currently zipping up and down her body that were absolutely not playing anything cool: the fireworks had reached a whole new level. Tilly felt as if at any given moment she might actually combust and take off into the sky. As sparks catapulted around in a great cartwheeling shower, Otto’s hand again landed on Tilly's arm. Unbelievably, she felt an actual physical right there and then swoon.
'Right. Let me get you another drink. Bubbles, was it?' Steering her gently towards the bar, one hand hovering at her back without quite touching it, Tilly wanted to rip off her dress, turn around and never come up for air. 'More of the elderflower bubbles? They make it just around the bay here. A local business where they press it themselves. Stay there, don't move, I'll be back in a tick.'
Blinking, Tilly stood in a daze and tried to get a grip. As she watched Otto threading through the crowd with a sort ofeasy command, she inhaled and swallowed. She'd clocked his confidence from the doorway, a word here, a hand on a shoulder there, but as he went up to the bar, this was next level. With the Catherine wheel continuing to fizz, Tilly wasn’t sure what to think. Telling herself that he had not specially or specifically invited her and that he was being nice to her because he had to, she wondered how rude it would be to bolt and pull a parachute to get her out of there because, for sure, she was in deep water. To be frank, she wasn’t really comfortable with fireworks going off every five seconds for someone who clearly felt sorry for her.
Less than a few minutes later, it was too late for a runner, because Otto was back with two glasses of the elderflower bubbles and a beam on his face. Handing her one, he then propped himself against the end of a trestle table beside her and chatted. ‘There you go. Right, sorry about earlier. I thought you might have changed your mind when I didn’t spot you.’
Tilly pretended to be confident, breezy, oh-so-happy. ‘No, no. I was chatting to someone.’
‘Oh, right, who?’
Tilly flapped her hand, wishing she hadn’t lied and closed one eye. ‘Yikes, sorry I’m not very good with names.’
‘So, how are you finding everything in the shed?’
‘Umm, yeah, good, mostly.’
‘Liking Darling?’
I like you. Come and see my shed.‘Yes, so far, so good.’
‘Where was it you came from again? The Maldives was it, or Singapore?’
That was weird. Tilly was sure she hadn’t mentioned anything about her travels to Otto. ‘Technically, I came from Fiji, but yes, before that, the Maldives. Have you been there?’
'Not to Fiji, no. That sounds very fancy, but yeah, I’ve been to the Maldives a few times.’
Of course you have. Probably not around the back end in the staff quarters.‘It’s not a bad spot.’
‘I bet you miss it.’
Tilly stopped herself from making a face. She needed a tropical island like a hole in the head. To be frank, she’d be surprised if she would ever grace the back or front end of one ever again. No one wanted to hear that, though. It was probably better to let people believe the tropical dream. ‘Hmm, it was, umm, nice.’
‘You worked over there, did you?'
Tilly decided to omit the part of her travelling story where she had to shove a hibiscus clip in her hair, wear a brown uniform and tabard and nod as overly sun-damaged posh people asked her to do things. Instead, she focused on the positive and more desirable aspect of her forty-eight months in the sun. She heard herself chatting about the Maldives and the chef who'd taught her to conjure a feast out of a fridge of leftovers. She then seamlessly moved onto the delights of Singapore, the events, the heat that hit you like a wall the second you stepped off a plane. Keeping her chat light, funny, and so very, very much edited, Tilly was on a roll. The surprising thing was that her life with the rubbish bits filtered out actually sounded fairly interesting, and Otto seemed genuinely entertained. With his head tilted, he asked the odd question that showed he'd actually been paying attention and barely said a word about himself the entire time. As she realised her drink was nearly gone and that she’d been talking nonstop, Tilly noticed he’d not said much at all. 'And what about you? What's the story with you, then? Beyond the oysters and shouting at trespassers.'
'Oysters mostly,' he said, with a small maddening smile, and turned it neatly back on her. 'What made you pack it all in, then? Four years, and then what, a Facebook advert?'
Just like that, they were back to talking all about Tilly. Strangely, Tilly was thoroughly enjoying herself because, unlike Lennixx and God forbid Andy, this person actually seemed to be interested in her. There was something rather lovely in being asked, after years of being the one who stood and waited while somebody else held forth. All the while, though, as she blabbered on, Tilly was reading Otto like a book. Like the failing-business thing, people watching was in her blood. Her dad's voice murmured away at the back of her mind the whole time. Watch what people don't tell you, Tils, that's where the real information is.
