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“You’re a Godsend,” I tell her, getting to my feet. “Can you go to the village and see if you can find ribbons? Different colours. If we tie them around the lids of the jars, they’ll look so much nicer.”
And assigning different colours to different kinds of honey will help me tell at a glance what’s what.
“Now?” she asks almost half out the door when Grandad calls her back.
“You haven’t eaten yet.”
Feeling ashamed I wave her back in. “Have lunch with Grandad.” How could I treat her like a skivvy when she’s been so wonderful? “Come, sit, we have some wonderful game pie in the oven. You can get the ribbons later, on your way home, or tomorrow. See if you can get me as many as you can.” I take out the last of the money in my wallet, a £20 note. I really need to go to the cashpoint machine, later, tomorrow if there is time.
Leaving her to set the table and eat lunch with Grandad, I grab a quick cheese sandwich and go back to work. Passing the front window, I catch sight of Tyrrell and his caravan carrying away rubble and cardboard boxes.
The Malon brothers were right, there are lots of discarded floorboards outside. They would make decent shelves. Unfortunately, when I check, most of them are rotten or broken. I manage to salvage four, just four, but they are long and in good condition.
The grey stones heaped to the side are perfect for holding the shelves up. So, I collect a few and construct a four-shelf display against the back wall. The edges of the boards need smoothing, though. The last thing we need is a customer snagging their clothes or getting a splinter in their hand.
Half an hour with the sandpaper, and I step back and admire my handiwork. I love the colour of the stones; I wish we could paint the floor that colour, too. It’s a cool shade of grey-sand, ideal for setting off stronger accent colours. The attraction of painting shelves is irresistible, and it takes all my discipline to get back on my knees because there are still acres and acres of floor left to sand.
My Apple music on a random shuffle, I sing aloud to distract myself from the monotony of the task and the pain in my knees. One song follows another, some recent hits, others older rock classics.
Then a song catches my attention.Born to be Wild.
Be wild.
BeeWild.
Our bees feed on wildflowers. It sounds even better when I test it in my head a few times, then speak it out loud.
Bee Wild.
That’s it. The perfect name for the shop.
I reach for a scrap page and draw Bee Wild with a spring of thistle winding around the words and a bee in place of the dot on top of the i.
Chapter Nineteen
Hal
If I hearBorn to be Wildone more time, it’s not going to end well. For me or for that woman next door.
I like to think of myself as open minded about music and willing to listen to anything, but hearing that song is starting to give me tinnitus.
What’s wrong with her? Doesn’t she have any other music?
Since I practically kicked her out of my house, I can’t exactly pop round and suggest a change of tune. The problem is that with every encounter I like Elodie LeFevre even less. The first time we first met, when she accidentally pushed me into a puddle, that was the high point of our ‘relationship’. The next encounter at the Municipalité, I found out who she really was. And the less said about our last meeting the better. I’m sane enough to realise she’s not responsible for what her family did, or even for what the rest of the islanders did, but Christ does she have a talent for pressing my buttons and bringing out a side of me I never knew.
Honey or no honey, she had come in with an olive branch, and I snatched it from her hands, broke it in half and thrust it back at her.
Even now, she’s intruding on my thoughts and distracting me.
Stop. Focus. Where was I?
Yes: bathroom fittings. How many tiles will each bathroom need? If we use glass bricks on one wall, light will flood in and create an outside-in feel, like showering in the garden.
So, 2m x 2.3m x 4 = 18.4—
Loud guitar and drums boom across from next door. Motor runnin' … something, something, something Highway.
Oh, for God’s sake, not again. I grit my teeth and try to ignore the song.
