Page 91 of Take Me Away

‘I did,’ I say carefully. ‘It was nice. Kit’s been very kind.’

‘Kind.’ Dot makes a humming noise that could mean anything. ‘That’s one word for it.’

The other woman – Mrs Harper, if my memory serves me correctly – edges closer, pretending to look at jam. ‘My daughter saw you two at the harbour. Said you looked quite cosy.’

‘Did she now,’ I say, keeping my voice light.

‘Oh, leave the girl alone, Sandra,’ Dot chides. ‘If Kit Harding’s finally taking an interest in something other than boats and grief, we should all be grateful.’

‘I wasn’t prying,’ Mrs Harper protests. ‘Just making conversation.’

‘You were prying,’ Dot says. ‘Now off with you. Some of us have work to do.’

Mrs Harper huffs but moves towards the till with her shopping. I catch Dot’s eye and mouth, ‘Thank you.’

She winks.

I’m adding a few more items to my basket – chocolate, because why not, and a bottle of wine – when the bell jangles again.

I don’t look up. Just keep browsing, trying to project casual confidence I don’t feel.

‘Isla.’

I freeze.

That voice. I’d know it anywhere.

I turn slowly.

Kit’s in the doorway, still wearing the dark grey wool jumper he had on earlier at the beach, hair wind-messed. He looks surprised to see me, but also pleased. Like finding me here is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

‘Hi,’ I say, suddenly breathless.

‘Hi.’ He steps inside, letting the door close behind him. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Taking your advice. Facing the village.’ I gesture at my basket. ‘Buying supplies like a normal person.’

His smile is slow and devastating. ‘Proud of you.’

Dot clears her throat loudly. ‘If you two are quite finished making eyes at each other in my shop, some of us have businesses to run.’

Kit’s ears go red. I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

‘Right,’ Kit says. ‘I’ll just – I came to get—’ He’s staring at me, clearly forgetting what he came for.

‘Milk,’ Dot supplies helpfully. ‘You always get milk on a Sunday evening so Maisie can have cereal in the morning.’

‘Milk. Right.’ He doesn’t move.

I take pity on him. ‘I should pay for this. Let you get on with your evening.’

‘Actually,’ Kit says quickly, ‘I was coming to find you after this. To ask—’ He glances at Dot, who’s watching with undisguised interest. ‘Could we talk?’

‘Outside?’

‘Of course.’

I pay for my shopping, trying to ignore the knowing look Dot gives me. Kit holds the door and follows me out into the growing twilight.