On Wednesday evening, Poppy was trying to stay calm. The artists were visiting on Friday and although the studio was almost ready, her nerves were getting to her. There were only ten days to go to the launch and the days were racing by. She was very happy to accept an invitation from Kelly to go to the pub that evening, where her partner, Spike, was cooking in the kitchen.
She hadn’t seen much of Jake since their talk about the photographs, apart from their paths crossing a couple of times around the harbour area. He’d been laden down with equipment and it was obvious he was on a mission. She didn’t like to pressure him, though her curiosity over what he would produce was running wild. It couldn’t be easy for him – revisiting places with memories that might be painful – but it was his decision, so she left well alone.
She met Kelly and they sat outside the Moor’s Head, admiring the fiery sunset over a drink and a delicious Thai fish curry. It was a cool evening but bright and far too nice to be inside. With a couple of beers inside her, after a day arranging her display units in the newly painted space, Poppy was feeling a little more mellow. Things seemed to be taking shape in her life at last.
‘Jake’s still here then. I thought he’d be gone by now, but it’s been over two weeks since he arrived,’ said Kelly.
‘Yes. He’s been a big help. I think he felt guilty about the state of the studio.’
‘Is he definitely staying for the launch, then?’
‘Yes. He’s been busy taking some photographs of St Piran’s especially for it.’
‘So I heard. That’s a big deal for the studio. He’s supposed to be a big fish in landscape photography.’
‘I know now. I googled him,’ said Poppy, thinking of all the prestigious publications she’d discovered where Jake’s photos had appeared since she’d taken the time to check him out. She’d had no idea how well known and regarded he was, which made his offer all the more amazing.
‘Jake must like you if he’s taking pictures especially for you.’
‘For the studio, not me,’ Poppy corrected. She was torn between amusement and dismay that Kelly was implying Jake had taken the photos because he fancied Poppy. ‘I think he’s trying to help Archie in a roundabout way. He wants the place to be a success for his grandpa’s sake as much as mine.’
‘Yeah. Yeah … that must be it. Of course it’s all for Archie.’ Kelly smirked and Poppy could tell she didn’t believe a word.
‘Another drink?’ she said, hoping to change the subject.
Kelly laughed. ‘I won’t say no … Oh, you’ve got me going now. I can’t wait to see these new photos.’
‘Neither can I,’ murmured Poppy as she headed for the bar.
Poppy didn’t sleep well that night. It was probably nerves and excitement at the prospect of meeting the artists on Friday and awaiting their verdict on the new gallery – not to mention the launch party coming up fast.
Her slumbers weren’t helped by the wind that started blowing hard as she tossed and turned in her bed. She kept meaning to get up and shut the skylight in the shower room in case it rained but she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew the first fingers of light were creeping into the flat and she could pick out the shapes of furniture in the predawn.
There was a strange noise too. A dull roar, like the heaviest rain she’d ever heard, and as if someone was running a bath … a very big bath …
‘What?’
She sat up and threw off the covers as she realised that the sound wasn’t the wind or rain but water. Very fast-running water … inside the flat.
Her hand flew to her mouth. The sound was unmistakable. Her heart thumping, she scrambled out of bed and squelched over the rug towards the source of the torrent of noise. Water was streaming from under the shower room door. She pushed it open and a scraggy wet ball of fur shot out past her legs on a mini wave of cold water.
‘Oh my God, Leo!’
But Leo was gone, leaping onto the bed and licking his sodden fur from the safety of the pillows. Apart from being soaked, he seemed OK, so Poppy focused on the immediate problem: the metal mains water pipe to the basin was split in two. Water was pumping out of the pipe at mains pressure, spraying the walls and ceiling. It had already blasted off several bottles of shampoo, shower gel and a large polished pebble from the window ledge, which must have chipped the edge of the cistern cover on its way down. The damage to the loo was the least of her worries.
She cursed and gasped as the cold water sprayed her pyjama vest and shorts, soaking them in a few seconds. The floor was a centimetre deep in water, which was flowing merrily along the floorboards and down the stairs in a mini waterfall.
‘Oh no. The gallery!’
Swearing loudly, she slithered down the spiral staircase in her bare feet, almost slipping down the last few steps. Her heart was in her mouth. The shower room was directly over the work area so she dreaded what she might find. How long had the pipe been broken? How long had that amount of water – the equivalent to the bath taps turned full on – been pouring out?
To her horror, water had already pooled around the foot of the steps and in puddles on the uneven tiles of the gallery floor. Puddles were joining up and creeping towards the front door of the gallery. Some water had collected at the bases of the freshly decorated boxes and plinths. Luckily, the pieces of art, sculptures and ceramics were all off the floor, so, on first sight, none appeared to be damaged.
She’d never imagined that a domestic pipe could create such a noise or such a mess. Plasterboard and dust had come down from the shower room ceiling and water was running down the walls towards the light switches.
Electricity and water … they don’t mix. In her blind panic over what to do first, Poppy at least recalled that much. She stood on a stool in the workroom and managed to remove the cover and turn off the electricity. Then she located the stopcock under the workroom sink and turned it off. The raging torrent stopped, but the sound of water trickling down the walls and stairs continued.
She paddled back into the gallery and looked around her, feeling sicker by the second. As the morning sun rose, the droplets glistened in the light. If you’d sprayed the floor and far end walls of the workspace and gallery with a fire hose, it couldn’t have been any wetter. Several of the canvases and materials on the worktable had been affected and two paintings had suffered and she noticed now that water was running down the freshly painted walls at one end of the gallery and over two framed original oils of Archie’s.
She splashed over the tiles, trying to assess the damage. Thank God she hadn’t stocked the gallery fully.
She stood on tiptoe and unhooked the pictures, getting drenched in the process. The first thing to do was remove the paintings from further harm. They were heavy but she got them down and put them on the worktable. The water was still leaking out of the pipe but in a trickle not the Trevi Fountain.
She sloshed through the puddles, at a loss as what to mop up first. A sob bubbled up at the back of her throat as she contemplated the sodden wreck of her new gallery. She’d thought she was doing OK, making a new life and friends for herself, getting the place into shape again, finding suppliers … and the launch party was only a few days away.
She couldn’t pick up the phone to her parents or Zoey and her friends back home. Maybe Dan had been right. It was too big a job for her. For the second time since she’d arrived, she felt like packing her bags and heading home.
Leo brushed against her legs and stared up at her. He probably only wanted his breakfast but Poppy reached down and stroked his ears.
With a meow, he slipped by her towards the door.
Poppy looked around her and thought of Dan’s words again, his incredulous face. She couldn’t go back and see him with Eve, gloating and cooing over The Bump.
‘Sod it! I won’t give in,’ she said, her voice sounding small in the gallery space. She picked up the mop and slapped it onto the tiles. One thing was certain: there was no way she was going to bother anyone else at five o’clock in the morning. She was going to have to deal with this crisis on her own.
Three hours later, Jake walked into the studio to find her still mopping the floor. He gasped. ‘On my God. What’s happened?’
‘The pipe in the shower room broke,’ she said, deciding not to mention that Leo might have had a paw in the disaster, even accidentally.
She was shattered and damp. She’d swept some of the water out of the front door and had lost count of how many times she’d mopped up the water and emptied the bucket, but she had no other means of soaking it up. The gallery floor was now relatively dry and she’d opened all the windows, but the humid air wasn’t making it easy.
He shook his head. ‘When did it start?’
‘In the early hours, I think. The noise of the water woke me up around dawn.’
‘And you’ve been clearing up ever since? Why didn’t you call me?’
‘At half past five in the morning? There’s no way I was going to bother you or Fen at that time.’
He groaned. ‘I wouldn’t have minded.’
But she would, thought Poppy and didn’t add that she would have to manage this kind of problem without him soon enough. Still, it was a relief to have someone else there to help.
‘What can I do?’ he asked.
She was glad to have an excuse to stop mopping; her arms were already aching. ‘Well, I’ve called Kelly and she’s on her way with the plumber to sort the electrics and pipe. For now, it’s mainly a mopping-up operation. You can see the damage to the walls and the bottom of some of the plinths … then there’s the flat. I haven’t even started up there.’
She stopped for a breath. Jake’s arrival had given her a brief respite but also made her realise how tired, wet and cold she was. Until now, pure adrenaline had compelled her to keep on working but the enormity of the damage and clear-up was beginning to dawn on her. She hadn’t had time to think about breakfast or even a drink and the lack of food was making her feel light-headed.
He looked around him, shaking his head. ‘What a bloody mess.’
‘You should have seen it earlier.’
‘I wish I had. Can’t be helped, so what can I do now?’
She stuck the mop in the bucket and rested on the handle. ‘Do you know what I’d really like?’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘A huge flat white and a massive bacon sandwich. No, make that two of both those things. Dripping in brown sauce.’
He smiled. ‘I can definitely help with that. Come over to the cottage and we’ll draw up a battle plan over breakfast.’
After changing into some dry clothes and devouring a huge bacon butty and a pot of coffee at the cottage, Poppy went back to the studio with Jake. Kelly and her plumber friend arrived shortly afterwards and set to work on checking the electrics and repairing the pipework. A substantial chunk of ceiling would need replacing and some walls would need replastering, all taking time and more cost.
‘I’ll contact the studio insurer,’ said Jake, joining her in surveying the damage. ‘But pay for the repairs in the meantime because you don’t want to wait while they mess about and hold back the cash.’
‘Thanks. That’s would be a big help because I can’t afford to wait for a claim to be settled. I need to get the place open.’ A new and unwelcome thought dawned on her. ‘The artists are supposed to be coming around tomorrow. I’ll need to contact them all to tell them the meetings are postponed. It’ll be days before the place is dried out and ready again.’
A few minutes later, she was carrying a damp rug downstairs when Minty walked into the studio. Poppy swore under her breath.
‘Wow. What happened here?’
Jake trotted down the stairs. ‘A burst pipe,’ he said brusquely.
Poppy hurried over to Minty to prevent her coming further inside. ‘And we’re sorting it out. There are workmen in here, so I’m afraid you can’t come in. I was about to call and explain.’
‘I saw the mess outside and guessed you might be trying to sort the place out before my visit tomorrow. Actually, I had been hoping you could have seen me earlier. I’m giving an interview to an art magazine later. It’s called Green Eye. You must know it.’
Poppy had heard of it but didn’t want to give Minty the satisfaction of saying as much so she avoided any answer. ‘Actually, the gallery was more than ready for visitors until we had this water leak … and obviously I can’t show you around now, so could we reschedule?’
Minty craned her neck for a better look at the water-stained walls and wet plinths and carpet. She wrinkled her nose. ‘For when? Next year?’
‘It’s not that bad.’ Jake’s patience was clearly wearing thin.
‘We’re hoping to be up and running again in a day or so and the launch is still scheduled for next Saturday. So, if you don’t mind,’ said Poppy, virtually herding Minty off the premises. ‘I’ll be in touch later today and we can reschedule your visit.’
Minty smirked. ‘OK. I have to admire your optimism.’
‘It’s nowhere near as bad as it looks and we’ll be ready for the launch as planned,’ Poppy said firmly.
Minty stalked off, leaving Poppy taking a deep breath to calm down before getting on her mobile to phone the other artists who were supposed to visit.
All the windows of the flat were wide open. Luckily it was now a fine breezy May morning and the boards and floors were drying out. The shower room and kitchen vinyl tiles were a write-off though and the hardboard base had been ripped up. Laying new vinyl would be another job for Kelly, but anything in the flat could wait. The gallery was the priority.
After Poppy had made her calls, Fen arrived to help clear up, and Maisie phoned to offer the services of GIT to help repair the ceiling the next day.
Jake joined Poppy as she put down the phone to Maisie.
‘At this rate, I’ll owe every business on the islands a website or a marketing brochure,’ said Poppy. ‘I had no idea my writing skills would be in such demand though I’m not sure when I’m going to fit it all in, what with trying to get the gallery back up and running after this disaster.’
‘There’s plenty of time for that over the off-season,’ said Jake. ‘It could have been worse.’
She had to smile, even though it was gallows humour. ‘How?’
‘The flood might have happened the night before the launch.’
‘True.’ She looked around her, starting to see that they were making headway on the clear-up. Banging and hammering from below was a positive sign that repairs were underway.
Jake spooned coffee into two mugs and added hot water. He handed her a mug. ‘Drink up. I’ll take some downstairs to Fen and the builders in a minute.’
Poppy accepted the drink and felt a rush of gratitude, not only for Jake but towards all the islanders. Almost all of them. Trust Minty to turn up at the wrong moment. By now, word of the flood must have spread around the whole island, and possibly beyond. She’d have to work doubly hard to rebuild the artists’ confidence that the Starfish would be shipshape by launch day.
‘Do you want me to lend a hand downstairs or help you sort out the flat?’ he asked.
‘I think we’d better concentrate on the gallery,’ said Poppy. ‘Thanks for your help. Again.’
‘No problem. Technically, it’s our fault – mine and Grandpa’s. The pipework must have been working loose for ages.’
They heard a rattle from the shower room.
Jake turned his head. ‘What was that?’
‘The wind?’ said Poppy uncertainly. ‘I’d better take a look.’
She put down her mug as Leo sauntered out of the shower room door, like a mini ginger panther, and jumped nonchalantly onto the sofa.
Jake frowned at the cat. ‘How did he get in?’
‘Through the skylight in the shower room …’ She groaned as realisation dawned. ‘In fact, I think Leo might have had something to do with the pipe. I found this lying on the floor next to it after I’d turned off the stopcock.’ She held up the polished stone that had once rested on the shelf above the loo. ‘I left the skylight open after I’d had a shower and he must have knocked it over when he climbed in during the night. It could well have dropped onto the pipe and broken the connection. It was just an unfortunate set of circumstances.’
‘With Leo at the heart of it all. What a surprise.’ He glared at Leo, who narrowed his eyes at Jake as if to say: ‘Deal with it, human.’
Poppy stifled a giggle.
‘What’s so funny?’ Jake said, giving Leo the evil eye.
‘Not much, but you and Leo are hilarious. You’ve no chance against him, you know.’
‘I’ve worked that out already. That cat is the Dr Evil of felines.’
She laughed again, the tension of the past few hours easing. ‘And I do appreciate your help, Jake,’ she said, seizing her moment. ‘I’m in no position to refuse it, but I don’t want you to feel obliged to stick around and give up your free time working on this place.’
‘What if I don’t mind helping?’ he said after a pause.
She didn’t know what to say. ‘Thanks, but I’d hate to get used to it.’
He looked at her, then out of the window. ‘I understand.’
‘Don’t be offended. It’s not personal,’ she said, her toes curling with awkwardness. ‘Only I’ve had to manage without Dan – not that he was much use around the house. I mean, I’ve learned – am learning – to do without relying on someone else.’
‘This is friendship,’ said Jake. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’
She winced. This conversation was excruciating, and she didn’t have any way of expressing how she felt without sounding harsh or ungrateful. ‘I appreciate your friendship. I enjoy it … and when you’re gone I’ll miss it.’
‘Me too.’ His answer was barely audible. ‘And don’t worry, I intend to stay at least for the launch.’
‘St Piran’s isn’t so bad after all, then?’ she said.
‘It’s growing on me. By the minute.’ Even before he’d finished speaking, he reached for Poppy and pulled her into his arms. It felt completely natural to do the same and she held his waist as their mouths met. The kiss – oh, the kiss – was perfect. It was warm and firm but tender too … She closed her eyes, wanting it to go on and on and on. But …
‘I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.’
She opened her eyes to find Jake standing a foot away, hands shoved in his pockets as if he was afraid of catching something.
‘I don’t know what came over me. Can we forget it?’
Poppy felt like someone had turned on the cold water again and aimed it right at her. A moment ago, they’d been so lost in each other. That kiss had felt exactly the right thing to do, but Jake was on his way to the door now. ‘It’s no big deal. Jake … wait.’
‘No. I have to get home,’ he called as he trotted towards the stairs. ‘I need to email the photos to the printer or they won’t be ready in time for your launch. I hope we can still be friends.’
‘Of course we can.’
She heard him race down the stairs and watched him stride away from the studio as if the devil was after him.
‘Argh.’ Poppy sat down on the sofa, stunned by the switchback turn of events. That kiss … wow. She brushed her fingers over her lips, still feeling the imprint of Jake’s gorgeous mouth on her own. Still tingling with the unexpected thrill of it … But the way he’d scooted off, she was damn sure that he’d felt exactly the opposite.