Page 19 of My Summer of Magic Moments

‘Ah … sorry,’ he started, as she was saying, ‘Oops, sorry.’

He looked as mortified as she imagined she did.

They took two steps away from the door together, then one forward together in a sort of get-me-out-of-here dance. Then he stopped and looked right at her. ‘Look … I’m really sorry about the other day.’

‘Ah,’ was all she could muster. This was excruciating.

‘I mean … It shouldn’t …’

‘Have happened?’ she blurted out. She might as well help him out.

‘Well … maybe … yes. No.’ He paused, looking down for a second.

Ground, swallow me whole right now.

‘Not like that … I just … I mean, I shouldn’t have dragged you into anything.’

As far as she was concerned, there hadn’t been much dragging going on. But it was obvious he needed a get-out clause. ‘It’s okay. I get it. It should never have happened. So shall we try our best to forget it ever did?’

He looked relieved.

Could she forget the image of him in his black boxers with his erection tightly packed, ready for action, by the roaring log fire? Ah brain, stop it for God’s sake. He was right in front of her on the pavement. She felt the burn of embarrassment flush up her neck, right to her cheeks.

‘Right, well,’ she coughed.

‘Right,’ he echoed.

She had to get out of here – this was so awkward. ‘Okay, well then, I’d better be off.’ All bright and breezy. She realized she sounded very jolly-hockey-sticks.

‘Yeah, okay. No hard feelings, I hope.’

Gulp! Why did he have to mention the word hard?

‘No, of course not.’ Her voice came out a little squeaky.

‘Good.’

Thank God she only had another week to go. Then that would be it. No longer having to live next door to grumpy-gorgeous Ed. No chance of bumping into him in the locality. No more embarrassing scenes like this.

Ed walked away, back to his jeep. Okay, so she really felt the need for cream cakes or something now. She’d go and get some chocolate chips for brioche. Back to Lynda’s deli, then. She stood for a second, unable to help herself as she watched Ed duck into his vehicle and drive off.

Then she headed back into the shop.

‘Back already?’ Lynda said, smiling. ‘Keeps himself to himself, that one.’ She’d obviously caught the focus of Claire’s gaze. ‘Nice-looking, mind. Your neighbour down at the cottage, isn’t he?’

Of course everybody would know everybody in a place like this.

‘Hmm. We don’t have a lot to do with each other.’

Well she was never going to tell her the truth, was she.

It was easier said than done, the forgetting all about it part. For some weird reason, despite his grumpiness and his running out on her semi-naked at the crucial moment, she still couldn’t help thinking about him.

The oven was on, set to gas mark 8, one mark above the recipe. Claire had got the measure of the cooker now. The thermostat must be a bit out, but she’d finally sussed it.

She put the flour in a large bowl, added the salt and sugar to one side and the yeast to the other, then started adding olive oil and some water. She began mixing as the recipe stated, using the fingers of one hand, which was a bit tricky, not to mention messy. But gradually it started forming a dough. As it became soft and stretchy, she was able to shape it into a smooth ball. She had to leave it to rise, apparently, for an hour until it doubled in size, so she headed out into the beachside garden to sit with a glass of Pinot Grigio and her book.

The hour soon passed and she was back in the kitchen following the next stage of the recipe, trying to ‘fold back the dough on itself’, as the recipe said, ‘until all the air was knocked out’ – how on earth did you tell? She cut the mix into three clumps and rolled each of them into a large flat circle. Her baking trays were ready, lined with parchment, and she’d already got the topping mix made up in a bowl – a gorgeous combination of sesame seeds and herbs with olive oil – which she spread over the surface of each disc.