Page 20 of The Summer That Changed Us

Callum plonked himself down next to his wife. ‘You’re a natural, Finn. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a babysitter.’ He patted his wife’s leg triumphantly and grinned. ‘Won’t be long before we can start going out again, Claude, have a few bevvies.’

Robyn smirked at Claudia, who was staring at her husband in disbelief. ‘When you’re both ready for that,’ she said, ‘we’ll happily do it.’

‘Definitely,’ said Finn, kissing the top of the baby’s head. ‘Because I have to say, Betty McGill, you have stolen your uncle’s heart. Spending time with you will be no hardship at all.’

The look on his face was a picture of pure adoration. Robyn’s stomach fluttered with nerves as all of her insecurities rushed up to the surface. Was he wishing he had a baby of his own, a little son or daughter? Because Callum was right: Finn was great with Betty. But Robyn couldn’t have a baby anymore, and if Finn really did want to be a father, where did that leave their marriage?

Chapter Seven

It was Wednesday afternoon and Katie was alone in the shop, unpacking some stock behind the counter, when the door opened and a man walked in. He hadn’t been in before and she didn’t think he was local. Mid-thirties, good-looking in a crumpled sort of way, he turned around in a circle and looked decidedly out of his comfort zone.

‘Oh crikey,’ he murmured.

It was hard not to jump to conclusions, but sometimes she did get male customers from out of town making a special trip to Auntie Small’s because they didn’t want to be spotted buying lingerie for women they perhaps weren’t married to. Of course, he could want some underwear for himself; it was only a tiny part of the business, but Katie had added a small range of briefs and boxers to the shop since she’d been in charge. Or he could just have been passing, seen the shop and wanted to buy his lady a present; not all men were sleazeballs, she reminded herself.

‘Can I help?’ she asked, giving him her most welcoming smile.

‘Yes please, if you don’t mind. I don’t know where to start.’

He scratched his head and laughed, a warm, friendly laugh, and she smiled back, genuinely this time. So far, not sleazy. For a split second he reminded her of her dad, and the funny face he used to pull when pegging her bralettes and thongs on the washing line at home, trying to work out which way up they went while also trying not to look at them.

‘OK.’ Katie pushed the sleeves of her jumper up and tucked her hands in her back pockets. ‘What sort of thing did you have in mind?’

‘I haven’t bought women’s underwear for a long time.’ He approached the counter slowly, taking in the rails of lingerie to his left and right. ‘Tried surprising my girlfriend for Valentine’s Day. Never again.’

He winced at the memory.

‘Don’t tell me – red lace?’ Katie grinned.

He held his hands up. ‘I know, I know. I ticked all the cliché boxes in my youth. Luckily, she forgave me enough to marry me in spite of my dubious abilities at shopping for her. Hence getting some advice this time around.’

Katie liked him so far. She guessed he was probably buying for his wife. The one drawback of working in the lingerie business was that all the nice men she met were already spoken for.

‘Very sensible,’ she said. ‘So, shall we steer away from lace altogether?’

‘I think that would be wise.’ His dark brows furrowed. ‘Something plain and definitely comfy. She’s big on comfort. And if you’ve got anything that somehow helps the planet at the same time, that will be a big plus.’

‘I like a challenge.’ Katie was intrigued; this was a first. He was definitely buying for someone he loved; it was written all over his face. ‘We’ve got some really soft organic cotton and there’s also a lovely bamboo collection. And are you looking for a set?’

‘Possibly. What do you get in a set?’ He laughed. ‘Can you tell I haven’t done this before?’

‘Bra and briefs?’

‘Um.’ He thought about it again and Katie smiled to herself. Just as well there were no other customers in this afternoon, this one could take a while. Not that she was complaining; she often felt uncomfortable in the company of strange men, but she was enjoying helping this one.

‘No, just the top half, she can get her own … ’ he waved a hand vaguely. ‘Bottoms.’

‘Follow me and I’ll show you what I’ve got.’

The back wall of the shop was where they kept the plainer collections and she led him in that direction.

‘Blimey.’ The man whistled softly. His eyes were out on stalks as they passed the foundation garments and support wear. ‘A lot of these look … large. I’m looking for something smaller. A lot smaller.’

So far, he hadn’t succumbed to any of the underwear-related jokes some of her male customers felt obliged to recount. How’s the underwear market then? Knickers down, bras still holding up? This guy seemed to be taking the job seriously.

‘I try my best to carry something for every woman,’ she replied, hiding her smile. She led him to a rack containing one of the new spring collections in pastel shades with not a hint of red among them. ‘This is the new season’s colours. Sizes start at an A cup.’

The man picked up a plain T-shirt bra in the smallest size and frowned at it. He replaced it and picked up a larger one and then sighed.