‘Sit.’ Martha sat down herself in her easy chair. ‘Please.’
Putting her bundle to one side on the floor, April sat down and waited.
‘The favour I spoke of yesterday? I need you to go into town, if you like. Cillian too, if you don’t mind. He has an eye for these things. Art things.’
April ignored the fact that Martha obviously didn’t rate her artistic side, given that she struggled to draw a stick man on her best days. She’d already disappointed her only tenant with the Lizard-themed hut, for families of little ones. April had been thrilled, but Martha had dubbed it the ‘snot box’ in the reservations book, complete with a tiny drawing of April, one cartoonish finger delving up her rather disproportionate nostril. Wait till she sees the lizard stencils, and the colour scheme inside.
‘He’s a carpenter,’ she spat back a little childishly. Maybe she should show her the farm animals she’d stencilled in the games room, or the painting she had planned in the shell-themed hut.
‘Carpentry is a form of art, don’t you think?’
She had her there. And April knew carpenters were talented. She was just being catty. ‘I do, I suppose.’ Cillian was talented – there was no doubt about that. Which made her think of his hands again. Working with the wood, helping her to make the place what she had pictured in her head. The feel of them across her body. ‘Yes, I do.’ She fanned herself with one hand, and Martha smirked at her. ‘What do you need us to do?’
‘I need you to go to the local art gallery. It’s not quite open yet, but I want to see what they are planning. Will you do that for me, and ask Cillian too?’
April looked at Martha, so anxious, and found herself agreeing. ‘Do you want us to mention your work?’
Martha boomed, ‘No!’ startling them both. ‘No,’ she tried again, a little less panic-stricken. ‘No, please don’t. In fact, it’s probably not a good idea. I …’
Sitting forward, April stopped her. ‘Martha, that’s fine. We’ll go and have a look. We won’t mention you.’
‘Or this place?’ she checked, her hands twirling a dry paintbrush and rolling it between her twitchy fingers. ‘Don’t go yet.’ She nibbled at her bottom lip. ‘Leave it a few days, let the dust settle.’
‘Okay, and we won’t mention you. Or this place,’ April agreed. ‘We won’t say anything, I promise.’
Martha breathed out slowly, and the tension that had shadowed her face seemed to lift. She looked lighter, right before April’s eyes.
‘Thank you, April,’ she said earnestly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Happy to help.’ April beamed back at her. Today was pretty awesome so far.
‘This doesn’t make us friends you know,’ Martha added, deflating the image of harmony in April’s mind. ‘You’ve not done a week yet. Cillian tells me you are planning to open next week? We can revisit the idea then perhaps.’
April rolled her eyes. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you for considering liking me.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Martha replied. ‘And I know about the stencils. Orla ratted you out. I’ll do the lizards, if you must have the wretched things on that giant pea. I’ll paint them.’
‘Er—’
‘Thank you is customary in these situations, dear, and you’re welcome.’
Chapter 12
April was signing a delivery note for the last of the machines and pool tables for the games room when a little voice behind her startled her.
‘What’s in the van?’
She turned, lowering her gaze till she saw Orla, holding Pinky and sucking her thumb. Cillian’s eyes looked out from under her little lashes, and April had to ignore the squeeze of something in her chest. Something warm and fuzzy.
‘Good morning, Orla. Pinky.’ She gave the clipboard to the driver, showing him with a friendly point where the delivery should go, then kneeled before Orla. She gave the bear a little salute, and after a moment, Orla moved the bear’s arm to give one back. ‘This van is full of games for our new games room, so we shall have loads of fun when the other guests arrive.’
There had been a steady stream of bookings over the last few days, well, more of a trickle than a stream. Which was good, since everything was still coming together. The huts looked a lot better and they had started to finish some of them on the inside too. April was enjoying making the chalets look great on a budget, and the holiday homes were looking more welcoming and cosy than her old house with Duncan ever did, with their premium carpets and expensive trinkets. It was starting to feel like home, and she couldn’t wait now to open.
‘Orla, come and get your bag love, and put Pinky inside. He can stay here while you’re at nursery.’
Orla looked at Pinky a little fearfully.
‘We’ll look after him, pinkie promise,’ April said to placate her. She didn’t like to see the little girl frown. She always looked like such an old soul, which broke her heart to watch. Orla lifted up the hand not clinging to the bear and raised her little finger. April laughed softly and wrapped her pinkie around the little girl’s. ‘High five for a good day at nursery!’ Orla giggled, slapping her palm against April’s. Hugging the bear in both hands, she turned and ran off past Cillian to their chalet.
‘Morning,’ April tried, but Cillian walked straight past her, van keys in hand. ‘Cillian?’
Still nothing, and he was half in the van now. Looking back towards the chalet, with the door still ajar, she huffed. What was his deal lately? He’d been so weird after that night on the couch. Feeling more than a little irritated, she tapped on the passenger-side window. Cillian glared across at her, but after a heavy sigh, he wound down the window. She had a plan to get him talking to her again. Burying himself
