As soon as she woke on Saturday morning, Poppy began reflecting back on the events of the previous two days. The artists were set to arrive later for their rescheduled meetings but her thoughts were once again on that kiss.
‘Can we forget it?’ Jake had said afterwards.
She’d found that almost impossible to do. She’d kept replaying the delicious part in her mind and then cringing as she heard Jake’s horrified apology. What would have happened if they’d taken things further? Why had he kissed her at all, if he didn’t want things to move beyond friendship? And what happened next? He’d implied he was staying on at least until the launch, which implied afterwards as well. She’d always known he’d be gone one day, but his comment had given her hope – hope she should never even have allowed to creep into her mind.
Fortunately, she hadn’t been alone with Jake too much since the awkward moment. Kelly and a small army of helpers joined her, Jake and Fen to help dry out the studio, make the repairs and repaint the stained walls and damaged plinths. Once things were tidy again, he left once more, citing ‘work.’
She was also relieved she’d ordered in a few items of stock from mainland artists, which arrived safely by the freight boat. At least she had some items to display before they arrived. However, the launch was only one week away and if she didn’t persuade them to exhibit today, she’d have a half-empty shop. Word was getting round about the launch too. People were peering through the windows, ads and features had appeared in the island e-newsletters and it had been mentioned on the radio. There was no going back.
Due to the flood, she’d been up until one the previous evening, rearranging the few pieces she had. She’d also checked that the skylight was closed – not that Leo was likely to strike twice – and had finally fallen into bed, physically knackered but with a mind whirling like a Waltzer.
How could she be so nervous when she’d done way more scary things at work? Like launching a new green roof system to two hundred sceptical builders at a big exhibition … and the time she’d been roped in to demonstrate the suction power of a new shower drain by donning a wetsuit and shower cap at the company conference.
Meeting a few artists ought to be a doddle – even if one of them was Minty.
After nibbling at a piece of toast, she got dressed. She took a few deep breaths as she glanced in the mirror. Her unruly brown hair was pinned on top of her head in an updo and she’d changed into the stripy T-shirt dress she’d loved but Dan said made her look like a French onion seller. She teamed it with the purple suede pixie boots that reminded him of ‘a nineteen eighties throwback’, and almost considered taking a selfie and emailing it to the git.
She was surprised to find her pale cheeks tinged with pink and a few freckles dotting her nose. The dress was less snug than it had been too, and the weight loss must be a result of all the work she’d been putting in to the studio. Pride stopped her from sending Dan the photo, but the thought of pissing him off made her smile anyway.
She could do this. She was moving on. If only she didn’t think about him and The Temptress quite so often. Or what would annoy them or make Dan so full of remorse and regret that he’d jump on the first plane to St Piran’s and beg her to take him back.
Which she would rather die than ever do, naturally.
She swore and forced herself to focus on the battle to come: charming the artisan sandals off her stable of artists. Fen had hinted she could hang around in the gallery for moral support if required, but Poppy had politely hinted back that this was something else that she needed to do alone. Fen had seemed relieved and gone off on the ferry to see her friends in St Mary’s. Poppy didn’t know what Jake was doing and reminded herself again that she really shouldn’t care, especially after their disastrous (in his eyes) ‘encounter’.
Sometime after ten, Rowan sauntered in and handed over a crisp box containing his latest work wrapped in his granny’s old copies of People’s Friend. Nestled among the heart-warming stories and recipes for sponge puddings were beautiful bowls and objects. His work was inspired by waves and had a voluptuous quality that made you want to look and handle it. Poppy selected her favourite pieces and hoped he wouldn’t be offended that she hadn’t chosen a couple of the more ‘experimental’ items, which reminded her far too much of a willy and a vagina. Rowan was laid-back about agreeing on a ‘wall price’ for his work, cool with the commission and was soon heading off to go paddleboarding with his friend at a nearby beach.
Half a dozen other artists drifted in during the rest of morning and early afternoon with samples of their prints, ceramics, glass, wood and textiles. Poppy had stocked up on herbal teas, primed by Fen, and offered homemade biscuits. It was a two-way process. They were here to judge Poppy and the studio and vice versa.
To her relief, everyone seemed to be impressed enough to allow their work to go on display in the renovated space, at least for a trial period. There were some robust discussions about wall prices, especially with one watercolour painter who Fen had warned ‘tended to let his ego price his work’. He left, having reduced his prices by around twenty per cent. Poppy thought the paintings were still overpriced, but she’d done her best. She had a reasonable idea of whose work sold pretty well, but no one could predict exactly what the public would actually buy from the new gallery. You just never knew for sure.
The glass artist, Kay Baverstock, caught Poppy by surprise by arriving twenty minutes early. She was short, round and excitable and could have been any age from forty to sixty. She darted around the studio, peering and sniffing at the display plinths like a beagle puppy let off the lead for the first time. She stopped at an empty cube unit and said, ‘This one, please,’ before placing a beautiful glass bowl on it. Poppy was surprised Kay hadn’t also cocked her leg to mark her territory.
The bowl did look amazing in the afternoon sun. The light shining through the window splintered the colours – blue, sea green and purple – into coloured shards. Poppy resolved to keep it in that exact spot and listened carefully to Kay’s other observations on displaying work in the gallery, even though she hadn’t asked for it. After terms had been agreed, and Poppy had asked if she could stock more of Kay’s work, Kay stayed for chamomile tea and biscuits, chattering about her work and gossiping about the other artists.
‘You’re not having anything by Minty Cavendish in here, are you? Cannot stand the woman. Ego the size of Canada and her work is far too twee for my tastes. All those bloody clanking charm bracelets and silver limpet shells dangling down her cleavage. It’s so … predictable. I really have no idea how she sells so well.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Poppy truthfully. ‘Minty hasn’t even been to the studio yet.’
‘Well, if you do have to show her work, keep it as far away from mine as possible.’
Poppy was getting desperate when Kay was still drinking tea at three-fifty, but fortunately her mobile rang and her daughter asked her to head back to her house pronto to look after her toddler while she took the family guinea pig to the part-time vet on St Mary’s.
Kay bustled off, her imaginary tail wagging furiously, and Poppy prayed she wouldn’t pass Minty on the way.
Poppy cleared away the mugs and checked the display case she’d prepared for the umpteenth time. She was annoyed with herself for caring so much what Minty thought. One artist’s work in the gallery couldn’t make that much difference; it wasn’t as if people would flock from miles around to buy Minty’s jewellery, but it would help to have her work on the postcards for the gallery and the website. Especially when the Starfish Studio online site was up and running … which was another task to add to her ever-growing list.
Jewellery was a small, high-value item, easy to slip into luggage and popular as a gift with visitors of all ages and sexes. And Minty really was a very talented and skilled silversmith. You could tell she genuinely drew inspiration from her surroundings and she had the local connection that chimed perfectly with the Starfish philosophy.
Instead of being early, Minty must have decided to be fifteen minutes late. Poppy had rearranged the jewellery display again and again, then thought ‘sod it’.
‘Why am I even wasting my time?’ she muttered and shut the cabinet door so hard it rattled.
‘Bad timing?’ Minty strolled in just as Poppy was repositioning a postcard under the cabinet to level it on the uneven tiles. ‘Shall I come back later?’
‘I was making some minor adjustments,’ said Poppy, straightening up. She smiled and said, ‘Thanks for coming,’ in her most welcoming gallery owner voice. She would not let Minty rattle her.
Minty wandered into the centre of the studio, peering at the walls and plinths. She lifted up Kay’s bowl, wrinkled her nose and put it back quickly, as if she’d accidentally picked up one of Leo’s poos.
‘So, this is it, is it?’ she said. ‘I must admit I never thought you’d get it ready in time after that disaster with the burst pipes. I heard half the plumbing had to be replaced. Studio finally crumbling to bits, is it?’
Poppy had to remind herself to breathe rather than snarl. Now she knew how the Bake Off contestants felt when the judges gave their verdicts on the Showstoppers. Except Poppy’s butterflies in the stomach weren’t so much fluttering as beating their wings angrily as Minty wandered around the studio, trailing her hand over the new plinths and peering at the walls, like a sergeant major inspecting a barracks.
‘Hmm. It’s much better than it was,’ said Minty, then sniffed the air. ‘Even with the eau de Dulux.’
Poppy covered her fury with a smile. ‘We think it’s a fresh and airy space for any artist’s work.’
Minty arched an eyebrow and her stud glinted in the sunlight. ‘We?’ she said.
‘Me. And Fen of course,’ she qualified. ‘Jake’s also emailed Archie some photos and he approves, which is important to me.’
Minty smirked. ‘I can see you’ve tried very hard and I’ll admit it looks miles better on the surface, even if underneath things seem ready to collapse. Out of sentimental reasons for Archie and because I like supporting new galleries, I’d be happy to try out a few pieces to see how we go.’ She picked up a postcard and frowned at it. ‘The commission is thirty per cent, I believe.’
‘Actually, it’s forty,’ said Poppy.
Minty winced again. ‘Ouch, that’s high for a gallery with no recent record of success.’
‘I think you’ll find it’s on the low side compared to the going rate. Archie’s a lovely man, but even Fen agrees he was undercharging. I’ve put in a lot of time and investment which should – will – result in more sales and make this a sustainable business.’
‘Hmm.’
This was like being on Dragon’s Den, thought Poppy, expecting Minty to say ‘I’m out’ at any moment and not being quite sure whether she’d weep or cheer if she did. Then she remembered the sales figures for the studio and the percentage of them that had been Minty’s jewellery. She couldn’t afford to throw that away over a personality clash, even if she did feel like telling Minty where to shove her sea glass.
‘It’s your decision of course,’ she said politely, determined to show that while a jewellery maker of repute was important to the Starfish, she ran the gallery, not Minty.
‘Oh, go on, then. As a special favour to the Pendowers.’ Minty rolled her eyes. ‘Though I’m way too soft. My fans are always saying I should move to London and make squillions, but my muse is here on the isles and it’s my public duty to help keep the economy afloat.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’ Poppy ground the words out.
‘I’ll bring over some stock when I have time,’ she said, jingling her bracelets loudly. They were beautiful, thought Poppy, and the silver and sea glass stacking rings on Minty’s right ring finger were to die for. She’d love to have them herself, but she mustn’t start buying her own stock.
‘Great.’ Smiling through gritted teeth, Poppy held out her hand and Minty shook it quickly, possibly in case she caught a disease.
Poppy expected her to leave and, when she lingered, wondered if she should offer the herbal tea. She really didn’t want to string this visit out any more …
Minty’s attention was drawn by something hanging off the back of the sales desk chair. It was Jake’s faded blue hoodie, which he’d left behind.
Minty’s eyes flicked from the hoodie to Poppy and she toyed with a card on the desk. ‘How’s Jake been? You’ve been working closely with him over the past couple of weeks. What do you think about his state of mind?’
Poppy thought of Jake. He was sad sometimes, but otherwise he seemed OK, apart of course, from the kiss and its cringeworthy aftermath. She caught Minty observing her closely as if she was a specimen.
‘He seems fine …’ she said.
‘Yes, obviously, he seems fine, but do you think he’s getting over Harriet?’
‘I’ve no idea. I’ve only known him a few weeks and we don’t have that kind of relationship. It’s purely professional,’ Poppy said firmly, even though it was a lie. She felt no obligation to tell the truth to Minty. Besides, her relationship with Jake was professional, since he’d begged her to forget the whole thing with the kiss.
Minty smiled. ‘Very loyal of you. But I can tell that he likes you. He makes very quick judgements, you know. He’s already hung around longer than I’d expected.’ Minty laughed. ‘I’ve been wondering whether to tell you this but …’
Poppy braced herself. Oh God, here we go …
‘I thought I’d give you a friendly hint not to get too involved with Jake. He has a habit of bolting when women get too close or it all gets emotional. You might as well know that, a few years ago, Jake was here during the holidays between his assignments and we got close … and he was scared of the strength of his feelings and he left St Piran’s. And I hear you’ve already had enough of that kind of thing – men bolting – with your ex.’
Bolting? Poppy almost gasped. With an image of Jake galloping out of the studio, snorting like a Grand National winner, in her mind, Poppy snapped. She was growing used to dealing with island gossip, but Minty had crossed the line. Worse, she’d touched a raw nerve: Jake had run away after their kiss, almost as if he’d found it too much to cope with.
‘I’m sure he’s changed since then,’ said Poppy, sounding far more confident than she felt. ‘He was engaged to Harriet after all and from what I’ve heard – not that I listen to gossip – he seemed to worship her.’
‘Yes, but everyone was a-mazed when he said they were getting married.’
Oh really, everyone, thought Poppy, or just Minty?
‘Jake had only known her a few months. Met her while she was running an exhibition and, in a flash, they were engaged. When he brought her here, they were planning the wedding. Poor boy did seem devastated when she died, but look at the excuse it gave him. He hasn’t looked at another woman since, as far as we know. Of course, he might have been up to anything while he’s been travelling around the world.’
‘Like I say, it’s nothing to do with me. So …’ Poppy gritted her teeth. ‘Will you be coming to the Starfish launch day?’
‘I’ll have to check my schedule, but I’ll do my best.’ Minty paused. ‘Is Jake planning on sticking around until then or will he be off on his wild adventures?’ She winked.
‘He’s said he’ll be here, but I don’t have access to his diary so I can’t say for certain.’
‘Oh well, we’ll all know soon enough.’ Minty laughed. ‘Oh, and by the way, has he shown you any of the photographs he intends exhibiting yet? I’m looking forward to seeing what he comes up with. If he actually keeps his promise.’
‘Not yet.’ Poppy had been thinking the same thing herself. Jake hadn’t mentioned the subject again and she hadn’t liked to mention it in case he’d had second thoughts – not that she was going to let Minty know that. ‘And I know he won’t let me down.’
‘Good for you.’ A sly smile crept onto her lips. ‘Oh well. See you next weekend and good luck. With everything.’
Poppy shut the door behind her. It was proving much harder than she’d envisaged not to get too involved with any of St Piran’s characters although there were some she wished she didn’t have to be involved with at all.