‘Did it have a logo?’
‘I don’t know! Why does that matter?’
‘Because we might be able to tell a bit more about him if we knew what sort of things he’s into.’
I sigh and turn back to my mirror. ‘None of this matters, Molly. Like I’ve already told you, this isnota date.’
‘But you’re putting on make-up. You never wear make-up.’
‘I do sometimes.’
‘Not unless you want to impress someone, you don’t.’
‘I want to feel confident tonight, that’s all. You know how much the shop means to me. I want to make sure nothing is going to ruin the success we’ve worked so hard to build up since we moved in.’
‘Yeah, I know the story,’ Molly says, pulling herself up and sitting crossed-legged now. ‘How it was always your dream to own your own shop and sell your own designs. How you had to give up your career when I was born, and how it’s taken until now to get yourself back to where you’ve always wanted to be.’
‘Something like that.’ I finish putting a light coat of mascara on. ‘However, you make it sound like having you held me back.’
‘Well, it did, didn’t it?’
‘Perhaps it did a little at the time.’ I watch her reflection in the mirror. ‘But you know I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe waiting until now means it’s much better than it would have been back then. The best things come to—’
‘—those who wait. Yeah, you’ve said so before. You and your inspirational quotes, Mum. You should start an Instagram account.’
‘I have enough trouble with the one we’ve got for the shop, thank you.’
‘I’ve told you – let me do that.’
‘You need to concentrate on your schoolwork.’
‘I’m sure I could manage social media for the shop as well. You could pay me …’
I turn again and give her a rueful smile. ‘I should have known!’
‘You look great, Mum,’ Molly says, looking at me with her head tipped to one side. ‘Really good. You should make an effort more often.’
‘Thank you, I think?’ I stand up and glance at the bedroom clock. ‘Golly, is that the time? I’d better head off. Come and give your mum a good luck hug.’
Molly rolls off the bed and we embrace for a moment.
‘My mum, off on a date,’ she says, standing back to look at me again. ‘Whatever next?’
‘For the last time, it’snota date!’
The Merry Mermaid pub is not far from the shop, and I can hear the church bells striking six o’clock as I walk towards the harbour. It’s a gorgeous evening, and the town is still full of holiday-makers soaking up the evening sunshine.
I spot the man from the new shop sitting outside the pub at a wooden table with a pint of beer in his hand. He’s not wearing a hat now so I can see he has a head of short wavy-brown hair. He’s wearing aviator-style sunglasses and a white shirt, which is fitted tightly to his full chest and broad shoulders. He waves as I approach.
‘Hullo, again!’ he says, smiling at me but not getting up. ‘Care to join me?’
‘Thank you,’ I say, about to sit down. ‘Oh, I should really get a drink first. Would you care for another?’
‘Oh, no, I’m fine, thanks.’ Then for some reason I can’t work out he looks a bit uncomfortable.
‘I’ll go and get mine then, shall I? Excuse me, back in a mo.’
I leave the man – I really must find out his name – and head into the pub. Rita, the landlady, is quick to serve me.
