Summer Seduction. Daphne Clair

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СКАЧАТЬ who after a year overseas had just moved into a mixed flat.

      Gina’s flatmates, a pleasant, casually welcoming crew, invited Blythe to eat with them. She stayed late, drank a few glasses of cheap wine and ended up spending the night on the sofa. While everyone was snatching some kind of breakfast-on-the-run next morning, she issued a general invitation to them to visit her.

      

      On Wednesday morning Blythe donned her red sweatshirt over shorts and shirt, piled sacks into the van, and drove down the short distance to the landward side of the saddle. A stormy night and spring tide had left an abundance of seaweed on the high-water line.

      Down on the beach she filled a bag with rapidly drying hanks of brown kelp, tied it with rope, and dragged her harvest back over the sand, ignoring the sand flurries that stung her bare legs.

      At the slope the bag snagged on a bit of driftwood almost buried in the sand, and she turned backwards to pull it free, tripped on a tuft of pingao grass and sat down hard, letting out an exasperated swear word.

      ‘What are you doing?’

      Jas’s voice came from behind her, and then he was at her side, looking down at her.

      She lifted her head and squinted up at him against the capricious wind that worried her hair. He was wearing his track pants and running shoes.

      ‘Getting fertiliser.’ She tugged again at the bag.

      ‘Give me that.’ A lean hand took the rope-end from her, and Jas bent and swung the bag to his shoulder.

      Blythe said, ‘I can manage—’ Already beginning to dry, the seaweed wasn’t heavy.

      ‘Sure,’ he said, and went on up the slope.

      Given no choice, Blythe followed him.

      He stowed the bag in the van and looked at the pile of empty sacks. ‘You’re planning to fill all those?’

      ‘It’s not hard. Just time-consuming.’

      ‘Right.’ He picked up the pile. ‘Let’s go.’

      She gaped for a moment and then followed him up the slope. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

      ‘If you really don’t want my help you can say so.’

      Blythe shook her head. She was actually dangerously delighted. Not only because it would take half the time to gather the seaweed, but because she liked the way the wind whipped Jas’s hair over his forehead and then smoothed it back, making him look younger. ‘This is nice of you.’

      ‘I can do with the exercise,’ he told her as they reached the beach again. ‘Besides, I owe you.’

      ‘Owe me?’

      ‘For a very nice meal? And biscuits.’

      ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ she protested. He’d only come to lunch as some sort of favour to her—or to her then unknown parents.

      They didn’t talk much. He just filled a bag, working a few yards away from her, and then carried two bags back to the van while she started another.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, closing the door on the last of them. ‘I appreciate this.’

      ‘I’ll come along and help you unload.’

      She didn’t argue, allowing him to climb into the passenger seat as she started the engine. He slammed the door and briefly his shoulder touched hers before he raised a hand to smooth back his wind-tousled hair, and stretched his long legs as far as they’d go in the confined cab. He smelled of salt and seaweed, and so, she supposed, must she.

      He helped her stack the bulging bags near the compost bins and eyed the petrol-driven machine standing nearby. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘A mulcher. I’ll put the seaweed through it later and add it to the compost.’

      He studied the toolshed, and the huge stainless-steel tank on the rise between the garden area and the cottage, half hidden by leggy kanuka towering above a tangle of smaller native plants. ‘Your water supply?’

      ‘A holding tank. I’ve got three rain-collecting tanks behind that trellis at the back of the house, and the extra water’s piped down.’

      ‘That must hold about seven thousand gallons?’

      ‘Mm-hm. It came from a dairy factory that was closing. I had to get a bank loan to buy it.’

      He looked at her with what might have been dawning respect. ‘You must have invested quite a bit of money…all that fencing, the shade house…’

      ‘My family and some friends helped put up the fences and tunnel house and install the watering system.’

      ‘This is quite an operation for a one-woman band.’

      ‘I’ll show you round if you’re interested.’

      She thought he was going to say no. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, because he said yes, he was interested, and followed her along the rows of growing plants, the ‘everlastings’ first, then the sunflower bed, where even the most recently planted row of tiny blind shoots yearned towards the sun climbing up the sky. At noon they would stand straight as soldiers on parade, and by evening would uniformly be leaning westward.

      ‘You must have planted some of these very early?’ Jas touched one of the taller plants. ‘It’s barely spring.’

      ‘I started the first batch in individual peat pots inside and planted the pots out when the soil warmed up.’

      ‘Why individual pots?’

      ‘Traumatising an immature root system can ruin a good plant,’ Blythe explained. ‘Sunflowers are hardy but if they’re to grow up straight and strong they need tender loving care, just like human children.’ She grinned at him and found him still staring at the sturdy young plants.

      Then he turned to her and smiled back. ‘You’d be good at that.’

      She felt herself grow warm at the unexpected gentleness in his voice. Trying not to sound breathless, she answered lightly, ‘I certainly hope so. It’s my livelihood.’

      In the tunnel house she showed him her earlyblooming sunflowers in plastic pots, the buds tight in fat green pods but one or two showing tips of yellow.

      ‘How long before they grow to full size?’ he asked.

      ‘These are a dwarf variety, meant for pots. I’ll take my first trial batch to Auckland tomorrow.’

      ‘Well, good luck.’ He moved, preparing to leave.

      ‘I suppose I’ve been boring you,’ Blythe apologised. Not everyone felt about plants the way she did.

      ‘Not at all. I’ve rather enjoyed myself.’

      The faint surprise in his voice assured her he was sincere, and a rush СКАЧАТЬ