It Started With A Tweet(51)

‘And he saw you naked?’ he smirks in the way that only a man could.

‘I’d bent down to shield myself from the falling poles, so I don’t think he could get a good view. Can we stop talking about this,’ I say, my cheeks colouring at all this talk of me with no clothes on. Trust Rosie to want to embarrass me by telling it.

‘What about the plan for tomorrow,’ asks Alexis, ‘what will we do while the plumber is in the bathroom?’

I’m desperately hoping that Rosie says we can take a day off. I could do with hitting the shops. I’m starting to covet hiking boots like I used to Louboutins.

‘I thought we could start stripping some wallpaper in the upstairs bedrooms, before the carpenter comes to install the windows next week. Once that’s done, we’ll be able to the get the plasterer in there.’

Alexis nods his head thoughtfully. He puts his knife and fork down onto the plate before standing up and putting it in the sink and starting on the washing-up. Luckily, as dinner was prepared in the slow cooker, there’s very little to do. So I stand up to give him a hand drying.

‘So, Alexis suggested that we play cards tonight,’ I say to Rosie.

‘Great idea. Do you have any with you?’

Alexis shakes his head. ‘I just assumed .?.?.’

I sigh, another boring evening to look forward to, then. Maybe I can use it as a way to get to know Alexis better; Rosie could have an early night, I could blow the bulb in the lounge, forcing me and him to sit in candlelight .?.?.

‘I think in that case I’m going to go out,’ he says, ruining my fantasies.

‘Out? Are you going for another hike?’

I shudder at the thought. I couldn’t stand up right in the day when I could see, let alone in the dark. I know he likes to go on sunrise walks so maybe he likes to go on starlit ones too.

‘No, I am going to the pub,’ he says matter-of-factly.

‘Ah,’ I say nodding. That makes a whole lot more sense. I wait for him to invite Rosie and me but the invitation is not forthcoming.

He puts the last of the washed plates on the draining board and drains the water before patting his wet hands on his jeans.

‘Now, I get ready,’ he says, giving us a smile and walking upstairs.

‘I quite fancy going to the pub,’ I say, flipping the kettle on instead.

‘Me too, although I think at the moment it’s better for you to stay here. Too much temptation.’

I’m not entirely sure if she means me with all those people with mobiles, or drinking with Alexis.

I pull two mugs off the decrepit mug tree and start to make Rosie and myself a cup of tea.

‘It would have been nice to have been asked, though,’ I say a little sulkily. I mean, one minute we were playing cards, the next he’s off.

‘Oh well, he’s young, free and single, isn’t he? He probably wants to go and sow some wild oats.’

‘I’m young, free and single too,’ I say in protest.

‘Hmm, yes, I guess you are. Perhaps you could sow your wild oats next week. That way it won’t seem like we’re gate-crashing his evening. Don’t forget, he’s been with us for three days now, and for most of that we’ve been holed up in a bathroom boring him to death with our chattering.’

‘Come on, our conversation was scintillating, and I’m sure we were helping with his English.’

‘We spent most of the time talking about EastEnders and TOWIE; I’m not entirely sure it’s widening his vocabulary that much.’

‘Come on, we taught him what “Well jel” and “vajazzled” mean.’ I can still picture his face as Rosie mentioned the diamantes.

‘But do you think it’s safe for him to walk on his own down the dark country lane? I could –’

‘He’ll be fine. We bought some head torches in B&Q the other day.’

He walks back down the stairs in a fresh checked shirt and even skinnier jeans than the ones he was in before. He slings a leather jacket on and I actually have to stop myself from swooning.

‘Bonne soirée.’

‘Have fun,’ says Rosie cheerily.

‘Are you sure that we can’t go to the pub tonight?’ I say as he slams the door.

‘No,’ says Rosie. ‘We’ve got a very busy evening planned.’

I sigh. If she thinks I’m doing any more work tonight, then she is very much mistaken. I can barely lift my arms above my head, what with the claw fingers from hanging off the side of a cliff and then the stripping of the wallpaper in the bathroom. I know that I’m getting a free stay here, but I’m her sister, not her slave.

‘I’m not doing any more work, my arms won’t allow it.’ I demonstrate how it’s near enough impossible to even lift them off the table that I’m leaning on.

‘Oh, I’ve got something else in mind,’ she says standing up.

I groan, I can just tell this is going to end in me chanting round the candles again. So much for me thinking that she’d forgotten all about that mindfulness bollocks.

She digs around in the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Baileys and a packet of chocolate fingers.

‘Girls’ night in,’ she says.

I breathe out with relief. ‘Phew, now that I can do.’