Page 41 of Match Point in Crumbleton
‘We’ve got plenty of time, don’t worry,’ said Andy, shooting her a smile. ‘Besides, we’ll run out of boxes before then.’
‘Good point,’ said Cath with a grin. ‘In that case… I’m taking two up with me!’
By the time they’d cleared the top two terraces of juicy berries, Andy knew what Harold had been talking about when he’d mentioned a sore back. His thighs were burning from bending over so much too, and he was parched.
‘You know,’ said Cath, hefting her full boxes carefully into her arms, ‘I got a feeling I’m going to smell of strawberries for all eternity after this.’
‘I can think of worse things to smell of,’ said Andy, straightening up slowly and doing his best not to let out a weary groan.
‘I wonder if they taste as good as they smell,’ said Cath.
‘You’re kidding me!’ said Andy. ‘You’re not telling me you haven’t tried one yet?’
Cath shook her head. ‘Why—have you?’
‘Two for the box, one for Andy… two for the box… two for Andy!’ he laughed.
‘You gannet!’ chuckled Cath.
‘You’re missing out,’ said Andy. ‘Try one!’
‘I’ve kind of got my hands full here,’ said Cath.
Without thinking, Andy plucked the fattest, juiciest strawberry out of the boxes in her arms and held it up for her.
Cath stared at it for a long moment, then her eyes flicked to him, and then back to the strawberry. Just as Andy realised what a decidedly intimate position he’d managed to land them in, Cath ducked her head and took a bite.
‘Good?’ said Andy, his voice slightly hoarse.
‘Mmm!’ she mumbled, chewing with a huge grin on her face.
Andy swallowed. There was a trail of dark red juice making its way down her chin.
‘You’ve got…’ he said, reaching out and wiping the juice away with his thumb.
Cath’s eyes widened and locked with his.
‘Sorry,’ he gasped. ‘I didn’t… I…’
But Cath was leaning in. He could see those dancing flecks of navy blue in her eyes…
‘Ah ha! I knew it!’
Startled, both Andy and Cath spun around—several strawberries scattering from the top of Cath’s box in the process. There, staring at them with an avid look on her face, was Annie Pottinger. She had a tea tray in her hands bearing two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of strawberry jam sandwiches.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she grinned, popping the tray down onto the grass. ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’
‘I…’ said Cath.
‘We…’ said Andy.
It was too late, Annie was already trotting away down the steps.
Cath cast an awkward glance at him, looking decidedly pink in the face.
‘Let’s get this job finished,’ she muttered.
‘How’s it going, Andy mate?’
