‘No.’ She brushed her lips against his, feeling him respond immediately. ‘We don’t need to know.’
He didn’t answer her with words, and she sank into the kiss. Kissing a hot guy in a Cornish shop doorway was a first, and perhaps her favourite thing so far about her new life. No labels needed for that. She could almost hear her mother clapping from her cloud, and that was about all she could attempt to decipher right now. A pair of women chuckled as they brushed past them, and Cillian tucked her into his side, nodding at the ladies jovially.
‘Good morning, ladies, and how are you this fine morning?’
One of them had a shock of red hair piled up in a beehive. It matched the tartan on her wheelie shopper. She nudged her friend, a mousy-haired woman wearing a rather loud floral coat.
‘Not as good as she is,’ the mousy woman quipped, winking at April, who developed a blush that would make a post box look a bit peaky. ‘Eh, Jan?’
Jan laughed till her beehive wobbled.
‘I know. Which shelf did you get him from love? I’ll have two!’ The two women burst into laughter as Cillian led her away, a smug smirk on April’s face. The laughter erupted again as they told the woman behind the counter.
‘Well.’ He looked across at her, squeezing her hand as he wrapped his around it. ‘The locals seem to be happy about it, anyway. Who needs a label?’
She elbowed him in the ribs, setting him off laughing again.
‘Okay, Magic Mike, calm down. Let’s just suss out the gallery and get back home.’
She wanted to bite her tongue off at how domesticated she sounded, but he just nodded and before they knew it, they were staring into the picture windows of the gallery. April clocked the sign looking for local artists, frowning.
‘I thought Martha sold her pieces here already?’
Cillian pushed open the door. ‘She does. Or did. To be honest, she hasn’t shown me anything for a while. She’s drawing – I know that – but something’s up. She hasn’t had many deliveries, has she? No art supplies, magazines? They dropped off before, she started working less, socialising less, once the park hit the skids. She still had some stuff going through though.’
April thought for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Food – that’s it. The prescription delivery service van came yesterday.’
The space was wide open and welcoming, the lights strategically placed to give a warmth to the space, softening the hard, white edges and surfaces that made up the gallery.
‘Good morning.’ A man wearing a crisp grey suit stood up from a large reception desk at the back of the room. ‘Technically, we aren’t open as yet, but I’m happy to help.’
Cillian shook the man’s hand. ‘Cillian, and this is my … April. We just wanted to come and check out the place really. This one here loves a bit of art.’
‘Luke Beaumont. I run the gallery here, and a couple of other businesses in town. You lifers?’
Cillian nodded. ‘Yep, came from Ireland a few years ago and never looked back. April’s a newbie though.’ He cupped his mouth with his free hand. ‘Northerner. Flat-cap type, you know.’
Luke laughed, shaking April’s hand. ‘Well, my family lived here years ago, before my time. We just moved back into the area, still finding our feet.’ He addressed April. ‘How are you finding it?’
April had a flashback to annoying cockerels, stolen kisses, loud goats, and demanding neighbours.
‘I like it,’ she said. ‘It’s definitely growing on me.’ She could see Cillian’s smile from the corner of her eye and her stomach fluttered. ‘So, tell us more about the gallery, Luke. This poster about local artists – have you had any interest?’
***
The waitress brought their food to the table outside, and April clapped her hands together with glee when she saw the gorgeous fresh food on her plate. They’d both ordered heartily, and Cillian had made no comment about how much she had ordered. The truth was, she often fasted at breakfast, and so by lunch she was starving. Carbs and sugar were the enemy of PCOS, but today she had thrown caution to the wind and ordered everything she fancied.
Taking a mouthful of her dish, she groaned with pleasure.
‘Nice eh? This food is the best in Helston. I always thought that the Pines should have a restaurant of its own, a little pub maybe. There’s the room, and peak season it would be packed.’
‘A pub?’ April replied in between huge bites. She was trying to be a little bit demure in front of him, but the call of the food was strong. If he wasn’t here she would have inhaled it and started checking out the dessert menu. For now, she settled for tucking in with gusto. Her food intake had a direct correlation to her moods. If she ate well, she was happy. If she didn’t, well, the word hangry had a whole new meaning. ‘Ambitious, isn’t it? We barely have a laundry room. Speaking of which, will you help me to get some new equipment?’
‘Today?’ Cillian frowned. ‘I have the solicitor again after I’ve dropped you off, then we have loadsto do. I can’t cancel again.’ he said.. ‘Tomorrow? It’s going to be great though. I can fit the machines. Orla has a sleepover tomorrow night at her friend’s house. I can work late.’
‘That would be great. I’ll pay you extra of course. And diesel. Small steps I know, but I can see
