Tammy’s smile hid a sense of dismay. Were her friends that protective of her? Was she such a tragic figure in their eyes that they were worried she couldn’t even handle one date?
‘I know you mean well. I know you all care, but it was only an ice cream.’
‘And a shirt,’ Lola added archly.
‘And a shirt, which he offered to return,’ she qualified. ‘I didn’t want it back and I know Dad would rather have seen it go to a good home.’
‘So, you won’t see him again?’ Lola asked.
‘Actually, yes, I will. I am,’ Tammy qualified, smiling when she thought of the call she’d had from Ruan while she was getting ready for tonight’s party. ‘We’re going out for something to eat tomorrow. He’s only recently moved here for his new job.’ She suddenly realised that he’d been in her flat, yet she didn’t even know where he was living. ‘Oh, Lola, please don’t give methatlook. Trust me on this. It’llprobably just be dinner. I still don’t know if we have anything in common.’
‘You had enough in common to arrange a date after knowing him an hour!’ Lola pointed out.
‘Yeah … it was impulsive and part of me wants to avoid a relationship after what happened with Sean. The other part says I need to take risks again, get my heart bruised – again – if need be.’
Tammy slid a look to the bar where Sean was roaring with laughter with one of his mates. When she’d told him they were over, he’d gone out that same night, slept with a woman who worked in the Smuggler’s, and texted her a photo of them in bed together. It was later that he’d come over all remorseful and begged her to come back. She hadn’t been interested in resuming the relationship before, but she definitely wasn’t once he’d sent that intimate revenge picture.
‘I do get it,’ Lola said. ‘I’m still not ready to start seeing anyone else yet, but I hope I will be one day in the not-too-distant future. You go for it. But if this Ruan the Suit does anything to hurt you, he’ll have me and the whole yoga gang to deal with. He’d better watch out.’
‘Thanks.’ Tammy laughed, touched by her friend’s concern. ‘There’s Davey to watch over me, too, though that’s a mixed blessing. He’s already acted like my personal guard dog around Ruan. This afternoon, he kept asking me what I know about him and where he’s from. God, I half expected Davey to ask Ruan what his intentions were before letting him past the studio to my flat.’
Lola laughed. ‘Between us and Davey, you’ll be OK. Come on, let’s have some cocktails and raise a glass to both our futures, with or without any man involved.’
When Tammy made it back to the flat, it was almost midnight – super late for Porthmellow, where nightlife revolved around traditional inns and a handful of bars. Lights strung outside the pubs and eateries still shimmered in the dark waters of the harbour, though most would soon be switched off until the following evening.
She was surprised to find a light still on in the pottery studio. Davey often worked evenings, but not usually this late. Tammy braced herself for a ‘chat’ as she walked past.
However, Davey was intent on his wheel, his bare foot working the pedal while he shaped a large vase. He was hunched over and cursing under his breath. Usually, he looked at one with his wheel and work, but today, his shoulders were taut with tension.
Tammy hung back. She could easily slip past and he probably wouldn’t even notice. She certainly knew better than to disturb him in that mode of concentration, especially given that this particular piece didn’t seem to be going terribly well.
Davey was one of those talented people who could paint in different media and create beautiful ceramics, unlike Tammy, who preferred to confine herself to her sand art, even though she’d done an art degree at college. She’d loved drawing and painting at one time, but since her father’s loss, the transience of sand art had appealed to her more andmore – not to mention it demanded a lot of planning and practice.
‘It’s safe to come in now.’ Davey beckoned her from the studio. She’d been unaware he’d even noticed her presence.
She sidled into the studio and plonked herself in the ancient dining chair by his desk, both of which were relics from Tammy’s original family home. They’d had to leave the house when she was twelve, and initially moved to a cottage in the back streets of Porthmellow before moving through a succession of rented flats.
When her dad had died, Tammy had brought the desk and chair with her to the studio. She hadn’t been sure Davey had room for them, but he’d shoehorned them in and they now seemed to be well used, which gave her some comfort.
Davey slipped a wire under the vase and placed it on the shelf next to him, presumably ready for firing in his kiln.
‘I hate the fact that you’re good at everything,’ she said with a small smile on her lips.
‘Don’t try to flatter me. You know I can’t stand it.’
‘That’s why I do it,’ she teased.
He uttered something resembling a growl which went well with his grizzled appearance. ‘You also know that you could turn your hand to any kind of art, painting, drawing, ceramics yourself. I’ve seen your portfolio, remember? You have a Fine Art degree, for God’s sake.’
‘I prefer to work with natural elements,’ Tammy said, quite happy to have this conversation again. Davey made it quite plain that he was frustrated Tammy hadn’t used her creative skills beyond sand art.
‘Coffee?’ he muttered, apparently deciding not to pursue the argument. ‘Or is it too late?’
‘On the contrary, it’s early,’ Tammy said. ‘The institute clock’s just striking midnight so it’s morning, technically.’
With a huff, he took off his apron to reveal knee-length cargos and a baggy T-shirt that might have once been green or blue but was so faded, it was impossible to tell. Only the beard was neatly trimmed, perhaps a concession to avoid frightening off his customers.
The studio had a kitchen corner with a sink, kettle, microwave and mini-fridge, all of which had seen better days. He flicked the switch on the kettle.
