Page 44 of One Summer

‘Premature greying is usually a family trait,’ I point out, as if he wouldn’t know that, as if he wouldn’t be the expert on premature greying. ‘Do you have siblings?’

He blinks, as if shocked I’m asking him about his family.

‘My sister got to seventeen before her hair started to turn. She adds blue and pink streaks when she’s bored. She loves it.’

He gets quiet.

‘You don’t love yours?’

‘It’s weird to be this grey at twenty-eight.’

Okay, so he’s a couple of years older than me. Clearly, he has a great skincare routine.

‘Is that why you’re wearing the hat?’

‘No, the hat is because I’ve been petsitting a flea-ridden beach house.’

‘When you say flea-ridden…’

He bites his lip.

‘It’s full of fleas,’ he says. ‘Ted must have picked them up. I’ve been itching like mad.’

I immediately stop stroking Ted.

‘This gets better and better.’

As well as dealing with a dog I didn’t bargain for, and a hazardous dog-cat introduction that could result in the death or maiming of either, I’ll have fleas sucking my blood when I sleep.

‘It’s not too bad,’ he says. ‘Ted already had spot-on treatment in the cupboard, which the owners told me to use when I messaged them about the problem, so as soon as the fleas jump on Ted and start biting him, they die off. Most of them in the bed were dead.’

‘There are fleas in the bed?’

‘That’s the beauty of white sheets: you can clearly see all the parasites. Has your cat been treated?’

‘Yes,’ I say, silently thanking my mum for her foresight on this matter. ‘And I made sure I had a good supply to bring with me.’

‘Great. So, until you buy flea spray for the carpets, sofas and blinds, the animals will wander around, attract all the fleas, and kill them off with their toxic blood.’

‘They’ll take one for the team,’ I say, thinking of Nemo’s innocent little face. ‘So, how come you’re the interim petsitter? How did you get roped in?’

‘It’s a long story,’ he says, and then pulls a bandanna out of his pocket and slides it over the lower part of his face.

‘I should be wearing my mask,’ he says. ‘Don’t want to infect you, even if it isn’t Covid.’

I freeze.

How did I not see it before?

Thirty-Six

Him

It’s the man from the harbour, the one who told me off for collecting shells, even though I was actually picking up sea glass.

How has he not recognised me?

I was wearing shades and a hat, that’s how. We’ve been foiled by each other’s unintentional disguises.

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