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‘We finished the guest list last night,’ Maddy said, as she helped Ellie load Rob’s champagne onto the rack. ‘Sixty-two people including my great-aunt Maisie, who my mum is insisting on me inviting. I’m sure they won’t all come though.’
‘If they do, we’ll make room for them.’ Ellie smiled absently while rethinking the seating plans she’d already roughed out. ‘Why don’t you two come over on Sunday night?’ she offered. ‘Dee’s done a couple of designs for the official invites for you to take a look at. I think she plans to do a canapé tasting too?’
Maddy clapped. ‘Yes please, the ones she suggested sound awesome. Our only problem is going to be narrowing the menu down to five.’
‘Great, that’s settled then. I’ll let Dee know.’ Ellie finished putting the last of the bottles on the rack and stacked the empty crate under the produce display. ‘By the way, did you find Josh? Was he over at Annie’s?’ she asked, trying not to sound too anxious.
She’d been anchored to the shop all day and, as rewarding as it was watching the customers come and go, not to mention selling out of their morning batch of loaves in less than two hours, she’d been unable to track down Josh – or Toto – since breakfast that morning.
Maddy shook her head. ‘No, he hasn’t been over there today.’
‘Damn,’ she murmured under her breath.
She knew she was tired and out of sorts. The last week had been exhausting – word of mouth had spread since the launch and they’d been rammed with customers every day so far.
But where on earth was Josh? Dee had said earlier he hadn’t been by since breakfast and now it was nearly six o’clock. He knew he was supposed to check in with her twice a day when she was in the shop. He’d managed it all this week so far, which only worried her more.
‘Why don’t you go and have a look for him?’ Maddy offered. ‘They’re probably at one of their hideouts in the woods and completely forgot the time.’
‘I can’t leave Tess, and there’s only twenty minutes before closing,’ Ellie said, undecided.
She was probably overreacting. Toto and Josh roamed the farm every day without mishap, bar the odd cut, bruise or nettle rash, it was one of the things that had made this summer so wonderful for her son – the freedom, the exercise, the adventure. But she didn’t like that he had forgotten to come home for lunch. He knew that was a deal-breaker for her. And it was especially important this week, so she didn’t have to go hunting for him while she was busy in the shop. She’d made that very clear to him every morning.
Maddy placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ll hold the fort. I’m on tomorrow anyway, so I can get a jump-start checking the stock levels.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
Ellie yanked her Willow Tree Farm apron over her head as she dashed to the storeroom. After hanging it up, she sent Tess and Maddy and the remaining customers a wave as she rushed out the door.
When she found Josh, her son was going to get a long and overwrought lecture on the dangers of giving his mum a panic attack.
*
‘I dripped some, sir. I’m sorry.’
Art switched off the portable radio and the blaring rock of Kings of Leon’s ‘Sex on Fire’ died as he yanked down his face mask. Ellie’s son stood outside the entrance to the caravan, looking worried.
‘Where did you drip it?’ he asked, although he doubted it could be that bad. He’d hired the kids this morning to slap the all-weather treatment on the canvas he’d stretched over the main frame last night. It was going to need a couple more coats before he actually got round to painting it, so unless the kid had knocked over a whole pot it was unlikely to be a problem.
Josh gripped the hem of his T-shirt, to show Art a couple of splatters on the logo of Wolverine. ‘On myself. And on the floor.’
‘Let’s take a look.’ He needed a break anyway. The interior fit-out was the one part of the process he generally hated. It was intricate, back-breaking work, with his six foot two frame not adapting well to the cramped conditions. And with the temperatures climbing steadily all day, the caravan interior had begun to resemble a Turkish bath about two hours ago. He must have lost at least two pints of his bodily fluids in sweat. Standing up, his knees popped, the cramping in his thighs shooting up to protest in his lower back. He swore softly as he shoved the sandpaper he’d been using into his toolbelt. He pressed his knuckles into the base of his spine as he walked out of the caravan and jumped onto the floor of the workshop.
Josh stood to the side, his face downcast as he gripped the paintbrush. The boy was still pretty shy around him, but he thought they’d made progress today. From the rigid stance it seemed he’d overestimated how much.
Peering round the side of the van, Art spotted Toto, still happily slapping up the treatment, her face covered by one of the masks he’d given them both, her clothes liberally doused with almost as much treatment as the van. He could see the spot where Josh had been working. The treatment had been applied in careful strokes with a lot less collateral damage. The boy hadn’t covered as much ground as Toto since they’d finished eating the pizzas he’d brought back from Gratesbury for them both for lunch, but he’d been much more conscientious. Art addressed the boy, whose chin was now buried in his chest.
‘I don’t see a problem. You’ve done a good job.’
‘I have?’
Art swiped his forearm across his brow to stop the sweat stinging his eyes. ‘Sure, you guys have earned your pay. But maybe you should knock off for the day now?’
They’d been at it for hours, taking only a couple of short breaks for cold drinks and then lunch, which had astonished him. Toto generally wasn’t great at applying herself. She had the concentration span of a hyperactive gnat, and usually needed to run off steam at least five times a day. But today she’d been hard at it, and he knew that was down to Josh. It had never really occurred to him till now, but the other kids at the co-op were all a lot younger than Toto, and her school friends lived too far away to visit during the holidays, limiting her options when it came to friendships.
Josh had been a godsend this summer. Something that had been brought home to Art as he’d listened to their chatter through the caravan wall, which had included in-depth discussions about everything from American baseball to the great Harry vs. Hermione debate. He had no doubt at all that Toto’s diligence had been down to Josh’s influence.
