Page 57 of Knots About You
Shells: How’s it going, babe? What’s your ETA for getting back? Are you still staying for a few more weeks? Dominic wants to move his gaming set up into your room…
Me: I’m going to stick around for a few weeks, but he can use my room for gaming. No sex stuff though. I don’t want his stuff on my sheets.
Me: PS. Please can you post my proper phone up? I think I’m ready to face the world.
A bubble popped up instantly.
Shells: You seem… happy? I’ll get it boxed up in the morning. If anyone gives you grief, toss it in the sea.
I snorted. Scruff thumped his tail beside my feet.
‘You look healthier,’ Eilidh said.
‘Probably all your muffins filling these cheeks out.’
‘No. It’s something deeper.’
‘I might start believing fresh air is actually helpful.’
Emma tipped her chin at my jumper. ‘You’ve gone full village knit. Next stop is a sensible raincoat and gossiping with Morag.’
‘Too late,’ I said. ‘The cottage has a drawer full of them. And I’ve borrowed one on more than one occasion.’
We meandered through periods of quiet and idle chatter, which filled me with ease. Lola recommended a crime novel that will creep you right out.Emma offered to help me hang the new curtains, and Eilidh pushed me to accept an invitation to the book club. Maybe everyone knowing my name wasn’t so scary after all.
‘Will you stay long enough to read the next novel?’ Lola asked gently, eyes staying on her novel.
I looked past them to the square outside, where the slant of late light fell on the cobbled stones. ‘Maybe London can survive without me for a bit.’
Scruff huffed and stood, doing a yoga stretch beneath the table. I reached for my bag as I stood, and Scruff clearly mistook this as a leaving signal. He looped his lead around the chair leg, my ankle, and then the other ankle as well.
‘Wait—’ I said.
Scruff did not wait.
He moved with all the excitement of a pup half his age when the door opened and the bell above it rang. My chair scraped, and the lead cinched. Gravity worked against me, tipping me arse-first toward the floor. My muffin flew off the table, and Scruff dove for it. I landed in a heap of wool and muffin crumbs, coffee miraculously upright, and Scruff searching my face for muffin crumbs.
‘Oh my God,’ I wheezed, half-laughing because what else was there to do. ‘I’m fine. A bruised arse, and equally bruised pride, but I’m fine.’
Eilidh was already around the counter with a cloth, trying hard not to laugh. ‘We’ve seen worse. The farmer’s wife had herwaters break on my floor last year. So I can cope with a few muffin crumbs.’
Emma put a hand out. ‘Up you get, hen.’
‘You’re a little terror,’ I told Scruff, who looked like butter wouldn’t melt.
A shadow fell over me, bringing with it aftershave that smelled all too familiar.
‘Claire?’
I stilled, my laughter shutting off like a tap.
Marty stood in a perfectly cut navy suit, his hair immaculate. His face pulled into an expression somewhere between concern and bewilderment, like I’d sprouted antlers.
‘What on earth—’ he started, then looked around at the group of women openly staring at him. ‘Has happened to you?’
Heat flared from my cheeks to my chest. Of all the ways for him to find me. Windswept, crumb-coated and on my arse covered in dog slobber. Shame prickled up my spine.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I snapped when he reached a hand out. Rather than take it, I pushed myself up off the floor before brushing down my thighs.
