She turned away from him and continued with her work. It was a steady day, but she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He sat at the bench that looked out over the sea. He flicked idly through one or two magazines and glanced over the local paper but, after a time, he became still and sat sipping his coffee and gazing out of the window. How many times has he stared out at that view? Annie wondered.

As she was loading the dishwasher yet again, John leaned over the counter.

“If you like, I can get started on the decorations for tonight,” he said.

“Oh, thanks, yes, that would be great. If you give me a minute, I’ll run up and start bringing down the boxes.”

“It’s nae bother,” he said in his musical accent. “You’re busy here. I can get them. I’ve not got my keys with me; can I use yours?”

He held out his hands for the keys to the flat. Annie hesitated for a beat too long. John caught it.

“Are you afraid I might stumble across little John?” he asked with almost a straight face.

Annie’s cheeks burned scarlet instantly as she remembered John walking in on their book club. She recovered herself as best she could.

“He’s not called John anymore,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “Such a common name, John, not nearly powerful enough.”

John tried to suppress a smile.

“I see,” he said, his lips twitching. “And, if it isn’t too impertinent a question, what name of great power did you bestow upon it?”

“Mr. Knightley,” she said haughtily and with a completely straight face.

“Mr. Knightley?” he asked. “The stuffed shirt from Emma?”

Annie couldn’t quite believe that she was discussing the name of her dildo with her landlady’s nephew.

“Mr. Knightley happens to be an honorable man who is very much in love with Emma and aware of his duty of care to her and her father’s well-being.”

“Well, that’s me told!” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to be nosing around. I’ll just grab the boxes and bring them down. No peeking, I promise.”

He grinned mischievously and winked at her. The gesture was so unexpected that Annie’s already crimson cheeks darkened further. She handed the keys to John. He took them and disappeared through the door to the inner hallway. It felt strange that he was so familiar with her home; he probably knew its nooks and crannies better than she did. And yet this familiarity didn’t make her feel uncomfortable or proprietorial; on the contrary, she was finding she liked it. As much as Saltwater suited her, it fitted John just as comfortably.

Chapter 51