LITMIR.BIZ

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open. He ducked so as not to bang his head on the lintel, and stepped straight into the cottage’s living room. A soaking wet Ophelia ran in from the kitchen and shook herself, showering his legs with cold water. ‘I guess you’ve got it covered.’

      ‘I gave her a hose down outside. Thanks, anyway.’ Layla’s smiling eyes were a sparkling contrast to the dog’s unceremonious welcome. She was wearing a promotional top with Kandy Shack emblazoned on it. Its bright, psychedelic colours had a distinctly retro vibe, and, heaven help him, thanks to having bathed Ophelia it looked like she’d entered a wet tee shirt competition. From this angle, and if he was the judge, she’d definitely take first prize. No contest.

      ‘On what planet did I think keeping my head down in Porthkara would be a great plan?’

      ‘On that holding planet you mentioned?’ Layla smirked. He put his hand to his head and pulled a face. ‘Crikey! What happened?’

      ‘I’ve practically been run out of town by that over-protective policeman. He told me in no uncertain terms that he thinks I’m bad news.’

      Settling in her basket in the corner, Ophelia hid her muzzle under both paws.

      ‘Don’t pay any attention to Mervin. He means well. He’s dedicated. And quite friendly really.’

      ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’

      ‘He’s not had an easy time of it. He transferred here after his wife passed away. Made a new start.’

      Nick winced. ‘I think it’s safe to say he’s not my biggest fan. As if being told I’m an undesirable isn’t bad enough, I’ve also been crapped on by a stupid bird.’

      She giggled. ‘Do you think it was in cahoots with Mervin?’

      ‘The way that magpie was watching me I wouldn’t be surprised. I bet he’s trained it to target undesirables.’

      ‘You’re many things Nick but undesirable isn’t one of them.’ She flashed a flirtatious glance his way. ‘A magpie? That’s bad luck.’

      ‘You’re telling me.’

      Feeling oddly self-conscious, he touched his head and felt a twig tangled in his hair. Layla reached up and untangled it.

      ‘No. I mean that’s really bad luck!’ She sounded pessimistic. She rummaged under the sink and pulled out a yellow pack of lemon scented kitchen wipes. ‘Was there only one?’

      ‘I think so. Why?’

      ‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told.’

      ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I think I wish I’d seen seven.’

      ‘Then again, maybe not,’ Layla couldn’t control her giggles. Again. ‘Imagine the mess seven would have made.’ She dabbed at his hair. He lowered his head so she could reach. ‘Two would have been better, though. Think, Nick. Are you sure it was only one?’

      He wanted to tell her two because clearly it mattered to her, a lot. He shook his head. ‘I can’t lie. There was only one magpie.’

      She gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘Hold still, I think I’ve got most of it out. But you might want to take another shower just in case.’ She put her foot on the pedal bin and the lid popped open so she could chuck the wipe in. Turning her back to him she walked to the sink and turned on the tap to wash her hands.

      Nick opened the bag and set a bright orange flower in a little black plastic pot on the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and stowed the champagne and the rest of his shopping.

      ‘There’s something we – you – need to do.’ He set the lovelock on the draining board.

      Layla turned off the tap and glared at it, poker-faced, as if he’d brought something unbelievably unpleasant into her kitchen. ‘Magpies like shiny things.’ She pointed at the lock. ‘Maybe it liked that. Well, it’s welcome to it. I don’t want it.’ She glanced away as if it was hurting her eyes and spotted the plant. ‘Why did you buy a marigold?’

      ‘It’s a moving-on flower.’

      ‘There’s no such thing.’ There was something about her that sparked off him. Her eyes flashed.

      ‘There is now. I invented it.’

      ‘What the heck use is a moving-on flower?’ she scoffed. ‘What am I supposed to do with it? Make the petals into tea and drink it for my wounded heart?’

      ‘Just plant it is all.’

      Ophelia pottered into the kitchen, lapped at her water bowl, and returned to settle herself in her basket in the living room.

      Nick was a breath of fresh air. He’d blown into the village on the wind, like he’d been sent to rescue them. And he was funny.

      From Layla’s kitchen, French doors led onto a small back yard. A tree and a low wall separated her yard from next door’s. She’d whitewashed the walls and filled the yard with flowers in pots and a bistro table with a couple of chairs.

      Avoiding the issue of what to do about the padlock now she had it, Layla wandered outside into the warm evening sun. Nick followed her holding the marigold in one hand and the embarrassing lovelock in the other.

      ‘I was counting on a flower bed.’

      ‘I haven’t got one of those.’ She made a sad face.

      ‘Have you by any chance got an empty flowerpot?’

      Nick’s eagerness to plant flowers seemed bizarre but sort of sweet. The best bit about him right now was that he didn’t belong in Porthkara. She pointed to a cluster of unused terracotta pots in a corner next to a half-empty bag of compost.

      ‘Perfect.’ He selected one. ‘There you go.’ He set his chosen pot on the ground and gave her the lock and the marigold.

      ‘I don’t think I know this game.’

      ‘It’s called “plant a flower and move on.”’

      ‘Really? Or I could just pop it in the bin.’

      He shrugged. ‘Work with me. It’s the best solution I could think of. I figured that since you didn’t like looking at the padlock, I’d get you something you will like looking at.’

      ‘Oh … kay.’

      ‘This marigold. So.’ He picked up the compost bag. ‘You put the lock in the bottom of the pot, you add compost, and you plant the flower. Go!’ When she pouted and didn’t do it, he dropped the padlock into the flowerpot. ‘By next summer this flower will have made seeds and new flowers and that thing will be a rusty-but-useful piece of scrap. It’s going to stop the water running straight out the bottom when you water it.’

      ‘You know a lot about these things?’

      ‘I spent a lot of time kicking about with gardeners and housekeepers when I was a kid. I have tips. Believe me. This big orange marigold will make you feel better.’

      She wondered if all the associations she felt for the lovelock would ever go. ‘It’s alright for you to say. You don’t have half of Porthkara giving you pitying glances, and the other half refusing to look you in the eye. Joe’s gone but he’s not forgotten.’

      ‘Funnily enough, I do know how it feels to be in the spotlight when you’d really like not to be.’

      ‘It’s different. You get loads of strangers staring at you like they think they know you. The difference with me is – they do know me. And they know Joe. And everything about us, going way back.’

      ‘Think of this as the beginning of new things.’

      ‘That’s easier said than done.’

      ‘Trust me. Out of sight, out of mind. Burying the lock and putting something

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