Page 20 of The Sunshine Sisters: Aurora
He’d seemed genuine, though. And funny as well. (Not that I’d been amused at the time, standing there smelling like a rubbish tip.) I was on the ground so I didn’t see which direction he’d appeared from. But he probably came out of the house when he heard the commotion outside, the bin being toppled.
I fell asleep at last and dreamed that a bin lorry was chasing me along a Spanish beach and I was running so fast, my chest hurt. And then a man with eyes the exact same blue as the Mediterranean emerged from the sea and pulled me to one side, and we watched as the out-of-control bin lorry suddenly sprouted wings and took off, flying into the big blue yonder.
Strangely, when I woke up, the part of the dream that lingered with me wasn’t of a bin lorry that could miraculously fly, but a pair of brilliant blue eyes...
*****
Maybe it was my dream of Spain but the next day, I decided it was high time I renewed my passport. I had zero plans to holidayabroad, but you never knew when an opportunity might arise and it wouldn’t do to be unprepared.
I always used to love exploring new places, but Nash had hated flying, which meant we never went anywhere more exotic than a weekend in the Lake District. But as I stood in the queue at the post office, clutching my hideous passport photos, I thought that maybe having thoughts of foreign travel was a sign that I was finally ready to move on from my disastrous relationship.
When it was finally my turn, I could sense the long queue behind me. There was only one cashier operating and she was taking her time, being as slow as the proverbial snail, and it was a lengthy business, renewing a passport. There were probably people behind me just wanting to buy a stamp and as the process dragged on, I felt increasingly guilty.
And then some wisecrack person behind me leaned over my shoulder and murmured, ‘These people who hold everyone up!’
My face burning with embarrassment, I turned – and found myself looking up at the smiling face of the man whose bin I’d had a fight with only the night before.
Kurt.
As I reacquainted myself with those mesmerising eyes, I could feel my stomach performing a series of energetic somersaults. And then the cashier cut into my reverie: ‘How are you paying for this?’
‘I’ll come back later,’ murmured Kurt in my ear and I turned to watch him leave with his parcel, distracted for a moment by his very attractive rear view in blue jeans. At the door, he flashed me a grin and winked, and then he was gone.
‘Erm, excuse me? How are you paying for this?’ repeated the cashier wearily.
‘Oh. Sorry. Card.’ Flustered, I dropped it on the floor and had to retrieve it, all the while imagining the queue of foot-tappersbehind me looking at their watches. ‘I’m paying with a card.’ I held it up in triumph, paid as quickly as I could and hurried out clutching my passport.
A while later, after picking up a few groceries from the village store, I was checking the address on a birthday card, ready to post it, when the engine of a car parked right next to the post box suddenly burst into life. The driver gave a jolly honk of their horn – not once, but three times – making me almost leap into next week and drop the envelope.
‘Sorry,’ called a voice. ‘Couldn’t resist.’
Him again?
I glared at Kurt through the open car window. ‘Are you following me?’ Maybe hewasthe onestalking me last night?
He grinned, leaning over towards the passenger seat window. ‘Not guilty, Ma’am. You just seem to keep showing up where I am.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s obviously Fate.’
I laughed. ‘Is that what you call honking your horn right in my ear and making me drop my card?’
‘Sorry.’ His eyes flashed mischievously. ‘It was payback for you making me smell like a rubbish dump. Even after I’d taken two showers.’
I swallowed, rendered temporarily speechless by a vision of Kurt in the shower.
‘So anyway, I’m very pleased to see that you’re walking normally today,’ he added.
‘What do you mean by that?’ I snapped, bemused.
‘Well, you were walking backwards last night. Hence the collision with my bin. And you still haven’t told me why.’
‘And I’m not going to, either!’
‘Ooh, suit yourself. So how do you fancy apologising to me by buying me a drink some time?’
‘I’ve got nothing to apologise for.’
