Page 25 of You, As You Are

The middle-aged woman had clearly seen that she was enthusiastic and accepted her as the tenant straight away on a three-month probation, which gave Maisie enough time to keep an eye on Vera and find out what exactly she was keeping from the family before she could think about moving back to London.

She missed her friends, her parents, being in the big city where everything she could ever want was within her reach. Don’t get her wrong, the variety of cuisine available to order here in the evening was far greater than she’d anticipated for a seaside town, and there were shops along the high street where she could get her craft supplies, but things just didn’t feel the same as back home.

Maybe she hadn’t ventured out enough? She spent all day working on websites and then her evenings and weekends (bar one fateful Saturday morning) on her own business. She’d barely passed a glance at the seafront or walked along the length of the bay to the old ruins of Aberystwyth Castle like she used to as a child.

The good thing though, was that she hadn’t taken all of her belongings out of their cardboard boxes completely, which made moving out again a lot easier.

Hands on hips, Maisie surveyed the stacks of boxes filling up Vera’s living room. “We’re not going to fit all of this into your car,Nain. It’s going to take a few trips.”

“No need to worry about that. We’ll manage.” Vera waved her uninjured hand, wandering through from the kitchen with a fresh cup of tea.

The boxes so far contained decorations, books, and personal care like toiletries and her make up. Clothes that she’d unpacked still hung in the wardrobe she’d claimed upstairs, and everything that she needed for her two jobs still covered the dining table.

It’d be really great right about now to have a boyfriend to help cut the workload in half, or those two removal men who’d driven everything up to Wales. Maisie was capable of doing things on her own – she packed up her London flat by herself after all – she just wasn’t so good at lifting those heavier boxes when her lower back ached as it had done all morning. Alas, without Ronnie who visited his brother’s care home on Sunday mornings, it was just the two of them.

Maisie was all for feminism, but she also knew when to give in and spare her body the strain when it already ached most days. If she thought hard enough and rubbed the lamp on the sideboard, then maybe a strong gentleman who could lift these boxes without knackering his back or trapping a boob would appear right in front of her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but all she found was hernain’scherub face taking a sip of tea. “Hm … I forgot the sugar.” Vera spun and bustled back into the kitchen right as the doorbell chimed, followed by a knock.

They weren’t expecting company, so maybe Ronnie had come to help her move after all? It’s he who Maisie expected to find when she opened the door.

“Hi Ro—Iain?”

“Bore da,Maisie.?*”

He was the last person who she’d expected to see stood on the doorstep in the light mizzle of rain, wearing the same waxed jacket he’d hiked in last week and a pair of faded blue jeans.

“Hi. Um … What are you?—”

“Iain?” Vera bustled in with perfect timing. “Oh, there you are sweetie! So good of you to come.”

Sweetie?Iain?She must be mistaken.

“Come?” Maisie muttered.

Iain didn’t smile, but he sounded cheerier. “Bore da, Mrs Moss.”

“It’s Vera, honey. Do step in.”

Honey?Maisie had to remind herself that hernainand Iain actually knew each other outside of the one time where she’d experienced them both together. But he didn’t move.

The silence was expectant, and her hand on the door tingled as if to remind Maisie she was in the way as Iain stared at her. She blinked, then stepped back.

Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Iain moved past her, a hint of fresh saltiness in the air around him as if he’d walked along the beachfront before coming here.

Vera strode towards the kitchen with a held-up gesture of her cup. “Would you like apanad?*, dear? Freshly brewed.”

“That’d be grand, thank you.” Iain stood himself in the middle of the living room amongst the mass of half-openpacking boxes, looking out of place amongst Vera’s delicate ornaments and floral walls.

Maisie smiled politely when their eyes connected, then followed her grandmother into the kitchen with a question burning on her tongue. “So … why is Iain here?” She scratched at her head, hoping the living room radio stuck on eighties power ballads drowned out her voice.

“He’s come to help us move your things.”

Help hermove? Had shemanifestedhim?

Maisie’s palm slid to her forehead as she realised Vera hadaskedhim to come, on a Sundaywhen there were thirty other things he could probably be doing, and he’d actually turned up. The poor man! He didn’t need to be here. They could take her belongings to the new flat by herself.

“You didn’t need to rope Iain into this,Nain, we could’ve managed.”

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