‘It’s perfect,’ she said aloud. ‘You totally look like you should be driving that car with the roof down.’
‘But you need a hat, too. For your hair.’
Tilly shook her head. ‘I believe women are supposed to wear silk scarves in a situation like that, aren’t they? Like Brigette Bardot? Or Grace Kelly?’
‘True.’
The shop attendant was listening to their conversation as he took the credit card from Angus to pay for hiscasquette plate. He told Tilly to go the women’s boutique over the road, and that was how she found herself being given a silk scarf she would never have dreamed of owning.
Angus didn’t even look at the price tag when he picked it up.
‘This is perfect,’ he announced. ‘Poppies. Almost the same red as our car.’
Ourcar. Tilly liked that too. But she shook her head firmly. ‘That’s a Gucci scarf. It’s far too expensive.’
‘I want to buy it for you,’ Angus said. Just quietly. Almost a growl.
It sounded like he was sayingI want to kiss you. But then his eyebrows scrunched and she was reminded of the way he was scowling when she’d first seen him in real life.
‘As long as you like it, of course.’
‘It’s very beautiful,’ Tilly said. ‘Poppies are one of my very favourite flowers.’
‘The colour is perfect for you. So are the flowers.’ He pressed the small parcel into her hand. ‘They make you think of summer,’ he murmured. ‘And being happy.’
She thought he might have added a couple more words in what sounded almost like a sigh.
Like you…
But they were out on the busy footpath again and she couldn’t be sure.
‘I met a donkey once, called Poppy,’ she told him. ‘Well, it was a French donkey so her name was Coquelicot. And she had a friend called Marguerite, which means daisy.’
‘I rode a donkey on the beach once, when I was very young,’ Angus responded. ‘My father took me for a holiday in Blackpool.’
Howcutewould that have been?
‘I met Marguerite and Coquelicot on a beach,’ Tilly said quickly, trying to distract herself from the odd notion of picturing Angus McLeod as a small boy. ‘A while ago, when I was still working with my friend Sophie for a special wedding. The bride, Laura, was Scottish, like you, and she had two sisters and they all had partners and there were lots of children and the donkeys and… oh… it was the best wedding ever. So much love. So much happiness.’ Her glance up at Angus was mischievous. ‘So… picturesque,’ she concluded.
He didn’t rise to the bait but Tilly was pretty sure she saw his lips twitch as if he was amused.
Back at the little red car, Tilly couldn’t wait to tie the scarf around her hair and knot it under her chin. She might have to find a bigger pair of sunglasses when they were near a market again, she thought. If she was going to live the dream, even for just a day or two, of being a movie star in the company of a man who drove a flash convertible, gave her ridiculously expensivegifts and kissed her as though she was the most desirable woman in the world, she might as well look the part. Not that she was going to let Angus spend any more of his money on her.
Angus used his phone to find instructions online about how to open the roof of the car, unclipped the chrome latches above the windscreen and then collapsed the frame in sections to fit it into the space behind the seats. Tilly had to move her satchel and put it beside her feet.
‘Where are we going again?’ Angus settled himself into the driver’s seat and the car instantly felt half the size, even with the roof down.
‘Vence. Where I grew up. Where I still live.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’
Tilly was watching him fit the little metal key into its slot. Clever hands, she thought, with the long fingers of an artist. She suddenly needed to clear her throat a little. ‘It is a very small city.’
‘That sounds like an oxymoron.’
‘Anoxymore.’ Tilly was nodding as she watched Angus moving his feet onto the pedals, turning the key to start the engine. Smooth, confident movements. In control. ‘Likeun silence assourdissant– a deafening silence?’
‘Exactly.’
