Summer of Love (28 page)

But Gus took up quite a lot of space and not just the physical kind. Sian heard him settle himself and then it all went quiet.

Although she’d been sleepy and possibly a little bit drunk when she got ready for bed, now she was wide awake and very aware of what she was surrounded by –leaf litter – and what leaf litter was full of – insects. I can’t believe this, she thought, I’m here to protect Rory from bogeymen, he’s fast asleep and I’m lying awake frightened of earwigs.

Although she lay as still as she could, trying to relax, Gus was aware she was still awake.

‘Are you all right?’ he said, as if he sensed she was getting more and more tense and further from sleep.

‘Think so. But I’m worried about things dropping on me.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Wriggly ones.’

‘I don’t think there are any or we’d hear them landing on us.’

This was perfectly logical and Sian tried to take comfort from it. ‘OK. I’ll put my head under my sleeping bag hood,’ she said. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

‘Won’t you be too hot?’

That was probably why she hadn’t thought of burying herself in goose down on a hot summer night. On the other hand … ‘I can’t risk the wriggly things. Oh, God, something dropped. It definitely did.’

‘Hang on. Keep calm. I’ll sort it.’

‘I am calm!’ she whispered, fooling neither of them.

‘OK. Hide under your hood for a moment, I’ll see what I can do.’

It seemed to Sian she was there for hours but she knew it was really only a few minutes before Gus came back. She risked a peek out of her hood. He was wearing his head torch and carrying something.

‘It’s a tarp. I’ll make a lining for the roof. I do sort of wish you’d mentioned your fear of things dropping on you before. It would have been easier to fix without having Rory to trip over. He’s amazing the way he can sleep through all this.’

‘I’ll get out,’ said Sian. ‘That’ll give you a bit more room.’

Ten minutes later, protected from bits of leaf and twig and centipedes, Sian got back in the tent.

‘I thought Rory might be scared but I didn’t think I would,’ she said apologetically.

‘No need to be scared, you’ve got me to protect you.’

‘And the tarp.’

Gus gave a low chuckle. ‘Oh yes, the tarp.’

‘We’d better not talk, we might wake Rory.’

‘OK. ’Night, John-Boy.’

Sian laughed. ‘I don’t see you as a
Waltons
’ fan somehow.’

‘Oh yes. Saw all the reruns.’ He paused. ‘So, goodnight, sleep tight and don’t let the earwigs bite.’

‘Oh shut up!’ she whispered.

He laughed.

Sometime during the night Sian was aware of shuffling. She and Gus had put their sleeping bags one each side of Rory. It had taken her a long time to get to sleep and Gus had started to snore gently long before she finally did. Now she felt too deeply asleep to wake herself and allowed the shuffling to go on without her. A little later she woke properly. Rory had gone and Gus was curled round behind her sleeping bag.

‘Where’s Rory?’ she asked, suddenly guilty for letting herself sleep when her child had needed her.

‘Calm down! He woke and wanted to go inside. I’ve tucked him up in the spare room. He’s fine in there.’

‘Yes, but—

‘He’s got my mobile and can ring you if he’s worried. But he went back to sleep straightaway. I waited until I was sure.’

Sian’s brain accepted that all was well and she waited for her body to catch up and her breathing to steady.

‘I don’t think we should leave him alone in the house, though.’

‘He’s not. Mum’s home and I told her she had a guest.’

‘Oh.’ With her son obviously safe, Sian couldn’t think of a reason why she should go back into the house, at least not one she could admit to. She was still in a state and although she knew it wasn’t Rory that was causing it, she clung on to her motherhood like a lifebuoy. ‘I think I should go—

‘There’s no reason for you to go. He’s perfectly fine.’

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t fine, or that it was for her sake she wanted to go into the house; she might as well just come out and say she found being alone in the dark with Gus just too – well – too erotic. She was all too aware his body had been curled around hers only moments before.

She started to speak and found her voice had become husky. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘That’s really kind of you to look after Rory. Thank you very much.’

She sensed him wince. ‘He’s my son. It’s not kind at all.’

‘No, it is kind! Lots of dads would expect the mum to do the night shift.’

‘I’m obviously not lots of dads.’

‘No.’ The word ‘dad’ was so domestic Sian tried to focus on it. She tried to visualise him in stripy pyjamas and slippers, a tartan dressing gown over the top. That’s what dads were like, not – well – not like Gus.

Sian tried hard to relax, to steady her breathing, but it seemed to make her worse.

Eventually Gus shifted and said, ‘You’re very strung out all of a sudden. Did an earwig get into your sleeping bag?’

She made a sound somewhere between a giggle and a squeak. ‘If one had I wouldn’t be tense, I’d be leaping round the lawn and screaming.’

He patted her through her sleeping bag. ‘Now that I’d pay good money to see.’

‘I’m not giving you the opportunity. I’m getting up and going into the house. I’ll get into bed next to Rory.’

‘Why does Rory get all the fun?’

‘There won’t be any fun! We’ll be asleep! It’s mad to stay here when—’ She stopped. She wasn’t sure what exactly she had been going to say but she knew very well she couldn’t say it.

‘When what?’ His voice has hardly louder than a breath.

‘When Rory’s not here.’ It didn’t sound very convincing.

‘It’s not that, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t be disingenuous. You’re not happy being alone here with me.’

‘No—’

‘Because you’re not sure what might happen. You can’t guarantee that what happened six years ago won’t happen again.’

The fact that he was right didn’t make her a jot less indignant. ‘That’s silly! I’m not worried that you might leap on me, Gus! For goodness’ sake—’

‘You’re not frightened of me. You’re frightened of yourself.’

‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.’

The truth has never been a good soporific, Sian discovered. She lay there, tense, curled up in her sleeping bag, listening for earwigs dropping on the tarpaulin above her head.

Chapter Eighteen

To be fair to Angus, thought Fiona, as she left the house, he did give his overnight guests breakfast, even if the breadknife was almost more useful for the atmosphere than for the toast. If only they could get past all the rubbish that kept them apart, they’d be perfect for each other, she knew it! Young people were so silly sometimes. Still, at least Gus now knew Rory was his.

She pointed the car in the direction of town and the bookshop. It was her day for returning James’s kindness and she was looking forward to it. ‘Milly-Molly-Mandy Keeps Shop’ always was her favourite story.

But she was still nervous. She opened the door of the shop feeling exactly as if it was the first day of a new job. In a way it was, although of course it didn’t really matter if she did well or not. But she wanted to do well for James. He was so nice, had been so kind. He deserved her very best efforts.

‘Good morning!’ said James. ‘You’re wonderfully punctual. Early even.’

‘Well, I had campers overnight. Angus made a shelter for Rory’s birthday party and last night they all slept in it. Not terribly well, going by what time they got up.’

‘Camping is a skill I’ve never acquired, I’m ashamed to say,’ said James, squaring up papers on the desk and checking there were sharpened pencils available.

‘Nor me, but Angus loves it. It meant a lot to him that Sian and Rory spent the night – or some of the night in Rory’s case – in the shelter.’

‘So he and Rory get on, do they?’ She’d told him that Gus was Rory’s father when he’d asked if she could do him a favour and mind his shop for him. It had been a relief to talk to him about it as Gus was being frustratingly unforthcoming on the subject and although she and Penny had got on well, she didn’t feel they knew each other well enough yet for confidences.

‘Oh yes. I don’t think Rory’s noticed any difference in his behaviour but I can tell Angus is determined to be a brilliant dad.’ She put down her bag on a chair. ‘It’s such a relief that he knows, I can’t tell you.’

‘I could tell it was worrying you when we spoke the other day.’

‘
I
felt guilty, as if it was my secret. Anyway, maybe we should press on? I don’t want to hold you up but nor do I want you to have to rush off before you’ve taught me how to use the till and things.’

‘We’re unlikely to be very busy. Most of my business is done via the internet. I only really keep the shop on for some locals and because I can afford to.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘And I suppose I’m old-fashioned.’

‘I’m glad you are,’ said Fiona. ‘I think I am a bit, too. Although not in a bad way,’ she added hurriedly.

‘Well, let me show you where you can put your things. I have an office. Full of junk and terribly untidy. I do apologise.’

‘Of course my house is immaculate. I’m shocked by seeing a few things knocking about the place,’ she said dryly and he laughed.

‘Well, there are women who would be horrified. I have a cleaning firm that does the shop but I never let them in here. Right,’ he went on briskly. ‘Hang your jacket over there unless you want to keep it on. The shop does warm up later when the sun comes round but it’s quite chilly first thing.’

‘Yes, I’ll hang on to it for now. It’s also part of my look. I’m not sure the outfit works without it.’

He studied her for a moment. ‘It is very attractive. But I’m sure if you were hot, it would work without the jacket.’

‘Thank you. I don’t know why I mentioned it really. Something about you makes me say things I wouldn’t normally.’

‘I hope that’s a good thing.’

‘I don’t know about it being good but it must mean I trust you. And I hope you trust me!’ Really she wished she could just chat normally to him and not go off at a tangent every time or get deep. Stick to the point, Fiona, she told herself firmly.

‘Of course I trust you, Fiona. I wouldn’t leave you in charge of my shop if I didn’t.’

Fiona felt she’d better come clean. ‘I am totally honest but I’m not desperately good at sums and the till is terrifying me.’

‘OK, we’ll get to that. There’s a kettle, all sorts of tea bags, coffee, hot chocolate sachets – essential in winter, I find – and biscuits. I bought some nice ones specially for you, so you must eat them. And a little fridge for the milk.’

‘How lovely. I can sit here reading and eating biscuits all day!’

‘You can. And if you run out of biscuits, when you close for lunch you can buy some more out of the petty-cash tin, which is here.’ He indicated a wonderfully old-fashioned black tin which would have seemed archaic when Fiona was a girl.

‘Oh, I love this!’ she said, fingering it. ‘Is it secure?’

‘Not really. But it doesn’t have a lot in it and when I go out I fling it in the safe and lock that.’

‘I don’t think I’d want to do that. I’ll take it with me when I go out, I think.’

‘It would be heavy and bulky.’

‘Really, I’d prefer to do that.’

He didn’t press his point any further. ‘Well, now the till.’

The till did seem rather daunting but James provided her with a pad and a pen so she could write down the details of every purchase if anything went wrong.

‘And will I have to learn the card machine?’ Fiona hardly dared to ask this.

‘No. I think for today we’ll refuse to take cards. If they’re a regular customer just write down their details and we’ll sort it out later. If they’re strangers, they can come back.’

‘But I might lose you a valuable sale!’

‘No. If they’re real collectors they’ll come back. Really, don’t worry about it.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘I could close the shop of course, but you were so insistent that you wanted to repay me for rescuing you, and I don’t like closing it. If people come and can’t get in, they don’t come again.’

‘I know. I once went to a tea shop – a tea shop, mind – and they were closing. It was just after half past four. I didn’t think, OK, must go back there again when they’re open. We asked for tea and the woman said she was just about to turn the sign round and refused to let us in.’ Fiona sighed at the memory. ‘I wouldn’t have minded if it had been later but it was the middle of the afternoon!’

‘Bad service is always disappointing when good service is so easy.’ He smiled again. He had a lot of shy charm, she realised. There must be people who came here to buy a second-hand book rather than search the internet, just because James was so pleasant.

Eventually James had to go and Fiona was on her own. She walked about the shop, up and down the rows of shelves, trying to familiarise herself with where things were.

She found the cookery book section, which seemed larger than the others. He must specialise in them. She thought with fondness of the little book he had posted to her after the dinner party. Books were lovely gifts. She took down an early edition of Elizabeth David’s
Mediterranean Food
and remembered how, when her mother had her books in the fifties, you couldn’t buy olive oil except in chemists and garlic was horridly seasonal. Now even the smallest corner shop seemed to have several varieties of olive oil as well as all the other kinds.