Page 12 of Be More Octopus

Nancy must have read her mind. 'Don't worry - I'm not expecting to look like Marilyn Monroe. And I'm not expecting something akin to Cynthia's self-portrait either, ' she laughed.

It was an excellent opportunity to embrace her 'live your best life' attitude. She shouldn't turn it down.

'Yes, that would be amazing. We'd need a few sittings - just half an hour or so at a time. I'd want to take some photos too. But first of all, we need to decide on a setting and what you're going to wear.'

'Marvellous. Let's discuss it over another cup of tea,' Nancy said, heading back indoors. 'See you in five minutes.'

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Friday was going to be an extra busy day as Em was having to cover for Mrs Rossiter, the cleaner, who had a hospital appointment. Nancy would have usually helped out, but she was having a long weekend away learning to rock climb with her friend Daphne, so today Em was covering the house cleaning duties as well as sorting out the guests' departures and arrivals.

May as well make her chores more entertaining. With her happy playlist on her phone belting out of her earphones and the drawing room's French doors wide open to let in the gentle morning breeze, she performed a dance routine with the cordless vac to her imagined audience of thousands in the garden. With no one to hear her, she sang at full volume, not caring that she was wildly out of tune. This job might not be a career move, but even doing the housework was much better than being stuck in the call centre. Breathing the fresh seaside air at Dashford Grange was a big improvement on the odour of stale farts that wafted through the office on Fridays, thanks to her former colleagues' love of Thursday curry nights at the pub next door.

Preparing for her grand finale, Em turned her back on the windows and raised the vacuum above her head, imagining it was a microphone stand. She felt a light tap on her shoulder.

Screaming, she swung round, the vacuum making contact with a six-foot, thirty-something male. He took a step back, rubbing his arm.

He didn't look much of a threat in his dark blue chinos, his white linen shirt and his perfectly polished brown brogues. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. She turned off the vacuum and removed her earphones, feeling her cheeks turn red.

'I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you,' he said. 'No one answered the front door, so I … Well, I'm here now.' His voice was deep and calm with a public school accent, quite appealing if she was honest. He gave her a sheepish grin, which made him even more attractive. Her heart skipped a beat. Surely that only happened in romance novels? Why was this very conventional-looking man having this effect on her? And more importantly, who was he, and why did he have to walk into her life when she was making a complete idiot of herself?

'Do you speak English?' He looked concerned now.

Em realised she had been silently working out whether cerulean blue or cobalt blue paint would work best for capturing his striking blue eyes. 'Yes, I'm sorry - I, um … Who are you?'

'Jack. I'm a bit early. I hope that's ok. The traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I thought.' He held out his right hand. He had a reassuringly firm handshake. She felt her heart miss another beat as their palms touched. This was a whole new experience. Men did not have this effect on her. She knew she needed to respond, but no words would come out of her mouth.

'Professor Jack Carver,' he said slowly, giving Em the impression that he thought she might be intellectually challenged.

The penny dropped. One of this week's new holiday let guests. When she'd seen his name on the booking list yesterday, she'd pictured someone much older, with unkempt white hair, a bushy beard, and brown socks and sandals. Em gulped. She could hear Nancy's voice in her head. 'Always be charming to our guests - think of the TripAdvisor reviews.' This review was set to be a one-star corker unless she upped her game.

'Welcome to Dashford Grange,' she said, finally managing to speak. She gave Jack her best smile. 'I'm Emily. Em for short. I'm so sorry about the misunderstanding. I wasn't expecting you until after lunch, but your cottage is ready. Please take a seat while I get the keys.'

She tried to recover her composure. By the time she reached the drawing room door, she felt much calmer.

'I won't be long,' she said as she turned back to smile at him again, hoping it would help him forget the bruise that must be forming on his right bicep. He seemed happy enough now, relaxing on Nancy's velvet three-seater.

Feeling more in control, she walked into the hall, accidentally catching the vase of flowers on the table with the vacuum. Mercifully, the vase remained intact when it bounced on the floor, but the water was eager to escape all over the expensive rug underneath.

'Is everything ok?' Jack called after her.

'Yes, thank you. Nothing to worry about,” she shouted as she dashed into the kitchen to grab a towel.

Perhaps Fridays in the call centre hadn't been so bad after all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

'Have you googled him?' Lucy had an eager expression on her face.

Em was lying on the sofa in her flat, trying to relax after the day's events while filling in Lucy on the latest news from Dashford. They'd started off exchanging a few WhatsApp messages, but as soon as Em mentioned her embarrassing encounter with the hot professor, Lucy had quickly suggested they switch to a video call.

'Why would I Google him?' Em was regretting mentioning the weird effect the professor had had on her. She had hoped Lucy would be the voice of common sense, telling her to ignore it; it was rubbish; it was too soon to start another relationship, especially with someone she was unlikely to have anything in common with. But instead, Lucy had activated full matchmaker mode, which rarely ended well.

'He gets your pulse racing. So we need to know if he's worth pursuing or not.'

'We??'

'I'm your chief emotional adviser! And I notice you only queried my involvement rather than the need to know more about him, so let's find out, shall we …' Em could hear Lucy's fingers tapping away on her laptop keyboard.