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His son had fallen in love with a handmade wooden truck and was pushing it along the table, making engine noises. He was so cute. But up to his naughty tricks, he was about to knock over the entire range of toys.
“I’m pleased with the turnout,” he said. “And the stalls specialise in local produce and crafts.”
He took out his wallet and paid for the truck before his gorgeous-looking son destroyed the entire display.
“Where’s Thea?” Savvie asked.
“She’s with Mirabel somewhere. There’s a local designer that’s got them salivating. I think they’re about to buy her entire range.”
At the mention of designer, Savvie turned to me. “We better check it out, I think.”
I smiled at my uncle. “It’s such a brilliant scene. I love it here.”
“Thanks. It’s exactly what we wanted. And it will be a weekend affair. I’ve got Drake managing it. He’s here somewhere.”
I turned to look around, and sure enough, there he was—the man who’d stolen my heart, joking with a pretty girl. Tattooed with a pierced nose and long, dark hair, she wore that layered look favoured by creatives. She couldn’t have been more different from me. I wasn’t keen on getting tattoos, even if I loved them on Drake.
I sighed, thinking of those muscly arms covered in ink wrapped around my body. The thought made my eyes water. Or was that seeing him chatting and smiling with young Cher’s boho double?
Savvie helped snap me out of that pining-for-Drake moment and dragged me off to a colourful clothing stall where we spotted Mirabel and Theadora.
Mirabel held a dress against Theadora. “It’s so nice. They’ve used sixties recycled clothes to refashion them. I love the patchwork skirt.”
I noticed that the girl flirting with Drake was wearing one. And I suddenly wanted to change my clothes. I looked too synthetic, like I should shop at Harrods and not an earthy market.
Maybe Crisp would hate me and move on if I embraced my inner earth mother and hippied out a bit. A rare smile touched me, thinking that.
“Perhaps I should go boho for a change.” I inspected a floral full-circle skirt. “This would look great with boots.”
Savvie nodded. “It’s gorgeous. Would suit you. Anything would, Mannie. You’ve got a great body for clothes.”
“You think so?” I smiled tightly. “Not just skin-tight stuff?”
“Oh God, yeah. Life’s too short for activewear twenty-four, seven, and you don’t have to wear Lycra to attract, you know. I hate it myself.”
I nodded. She was right. There I’d been showing off all my skin, hoping it would bring me everything, when all it had done was turn me into someone’s fuck object.
After buying the skirt, we trundled about from stall to stall, with me sneaking glances at Drake, who was sucking on a juice with that girl by his side. She seemed very expressive, waving her hands about and appearing to make him laugh.
Fucking great. A comedian too.
My heart shrivelled, and I wanted to run away somewhere and cry my eyes out.
He’d moved on. He’d already met someone else. She was so pretty and earthy and natural. His sort of girl. I hated to be seen without makeup. Even in the mornings.
Savvie slanted her head and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I need a drink.”
“Good thinking. There’s a locally crafted gin store I noticed over there.” She took me by the arm. “Come on, let’s get one.”
I stopped. “Thanks, Savvie. You can’t know how much this means, your being here for me.”
She smiled sadly. “Come on. We’ll get a drink. Sit over there at that nice bench under Wilbur.”
“Wilbur?”
“That was our name for the old Willow. We played here as kids.”
