Page 27 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘The NHS is the largest user of fax machines in the world. Our IT systems don’t talk to each other and faxes are relatively secure.’

‘He’s the world’s last fax repairman! That’s actually quite romantic when you think about it.’

As they turn back along the harbour, Essie looks back up to Seagate, their tiny street full of cottages. The trio for sale really do look like they’re falling down.

‘I can’t believe Dwight’s bought these,’ Janey muses.

‘Dwight?’ says Essie, who hadn’t thought much of him the night before apart from cringing at his stupid hat.

‘Yeah, he’s bought them.’

‘What do you mean, bought “them”?’ She stares at the For Sale sign at the end of the row.

‘He’s bought all three of them, to do them up. Some kind of local arrangement.’

‘Why did they put the For Sale sign up, then?’

‘I’m not sure,’ says Janey. ‘Maybe it’s like banns?’

Essie shakes her head and moves closer. ‘Unbelievable,’ she says.

‘What?’ says Janey.

‘He’s bought . . .threehouses!’

‘Well, three wrecks,’ says Janey. ‘I mean, seriously, look at them.’

But Essie seems wretched suddenly, and Janey is genuinely worried by the look in her eyes.

‘What’s up?’

‘I . . . ’ Essie shakes her head. ‘I don’t . . . ’ She suddenly can’t go on. She finds herself almost in tears. ‘I’m never going to be able to buy a house. Never! And he’s bought three! And he doesn’t even . . . he doesn’t have student loans, he’s got no brains in his head except . . .line dancing! I can’t believe I’m never going to live anywhere except stupid shared rentals while that lughead—’

‘What?’ comes a voice suddenly.

Essie whirls round in despair. ‘What?’ she says, panicking, her heart dropping through the floor like a plummeting lift.

‘What will that lughead do?’ comes the voice.

Dwight is standing there, thumbs entwined in his jean belt loops, which must be a childhood boot-scooting habit, and looks completely mad. Although at least he issanshat today. His hair is scruffy.

‘Hey, Dwight,’ says Janey. ‘Sorry. Essie was just venting.’

‘I was,’ says Essie. ‘Sorry. I just . . . I can’t afford . . . ’

‘You’re in Edinburgh, right? No wonder. Crazy prices there. Nuts.’ He shakes his head. ‘But then again, what would I know? I’ve got no brains in my head.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Essie again. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ shrugs Dwight. ‘I heard from my sister that things had gone totally to shit for you.’

Essie shrivels inside. What has Shelby said? She doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

‘She says you’ve had some kind of breakdown. Had to come home with your tail between your legs.’

‘Shelby seems to know a lot about me,’ says Essie, trying to reclaim some dignity.

Dwight shrugs. ‘Well, you’re here, ain’t you?’

---