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A surgeon, wow. I feel strangely indignant Ted hasn’t told me any of this himself. But then I don’t know why he should have. Plus we’ve covered quite a lot of other topics in the short time we’ve known each other. With his calm demeanour, I can see him as a doctor, but in another sense, I can’t – not with that beard.
As though reading my mind, Sandy says, ‘He hasn’t always been that scruffy. He’s just having a little’ – she pauses, searching for the right word – ‘time-out. Trust me, underneath it all, Ted’s a real looker. Once upon a time, every girl in Jersey was in love with Ted Palmerston.’ She watches my face for a reaction.
‘Not you, though?’ I ask, looking into the small mirror, shaped like a ship’s porthole, and pulling my hair up into a scruffy bun.
‘Nah, he’s like a brother to me. You can’t fancy someone when you’ve seen them play air guitar with their winkle at the age of eight.’
I choke on my laugh and Sandy stands up to pat me on the back.
‘Well, he’s clearly a man of many talents,’ I say, keen to steer the tilt of this conversation elsewhere. ‘He’s been very helpful in the search for my lost suitcase.’
Sandy shakes her head and sits back on the bed. ‘I’m not convinced by this tale of yours, about the suitcase man.’
‘You don’t believe in serendipity?’ I hold a kirby grip in my mouth, before using it to pin down some flyaway strands of hair. ‘How did you meet your partner?’
Sandy gives a slow smile as she conjures up the memory. I know that face, the face of someone who has a tale to tell, so I sit back down beside her to listen.
‘It’s a silly story,’ she says. ‘There was a mix-up at the numberplate office – Ilídio had been sent mine, and I’d been sent his, along with all the wrong paperwork. It had his phone number printed on it, so I called him up and rather than send them both back, we met up to swap ’em over. Nothing’s far in Jersey.’
I clap my hands in excitement, ‘And then?’
Sandy nudges me with her shoulder.
‘And then, a few days later he asked me out. It’s hardly Romeo and bleedin’ Juliet.’
‘Oh no, but it is! It’s a great story. The universe sent you the wrong plates, just like it sent me the wrong suitcase. My story could turn out just like yours.’
‘It wasn’t the universe; it was some lass called Sheila on her first day in the job,’ Sandy says, scrunching up her nose. ‘First thing I noticed about him when we met up were these huge white teeth he has. He’s just one big smile, Ilídio is.’ She grins fondly. ‘If he’d been bog ugly, I would have told the universe to bugger off.’ I laugh, and Sandy prods my shoulder with a finger. ‘Your suitcase man could have a face like curdled custard for all you know.’
‘Love is blind,’ I say dreamily, a palm to my chest.
‘It isn’t, and people aren’t akin to their possessions. If they are, God help me, because I’ve just adopted that devil dog.’
When we head back outside, I see the trace of a smirk on Ted’s face when he sees what I’m wearing.
‘You don’t think I can pull off a shirtdress?’ I ask as I wave goodbye to the others and climb back into Ted’s car.
‘I didn’t say anything,’ says Ted.
‘It’s just for an hour while I put my dress through the wash. I don’t have anything else.’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Ted repeats, his eyes growing wide in mock offence, but there’s the hint of a smile. ‘How are you going to explain the jumper, then?’
I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘I will blame you, of course. You went mad and threw his shoe off a cliff and set your dog on his jumper.’
Ted laughs, that deep, chesty laugh that makes his whole body move. I like seeing it; it’s like watching a drawing of a person come to life right in front of you.
‘Scamp’s not my dog.’ He turns his eyes to meet mine, a flicker of mischief in them.
‘I found something in the house,’ he says, reaching into his bag and handing me a CD – Phil Collins’ … Hits. ‘From my mum’s old collection.’
I open the case to slot the CD into the car’s dated music system.
‘Do all your passengers get a curated playlist?’
‘Just you. Mum clearly shared your terrible taste in music.’ He pauses, his mouth twitching. ‘While Scamp shares your terrible taste in men’s jumpers.’
‘Funny.’ I reach out my hand, playfully hitting his thigh with the base of my fist.
Am I flirting with Ted? Is Ted flirting with me?No, I shake off the thought. That would be weird. We just know each other a little better now, well enough to make jokes.
But my hand feels hot where I’ve touched his thigh. I look up into his face, and he catches my embarrassment before I whip my head back around to face the window, hugging the tingling skin on my fist into my other palm.
