sealant? What the hell was that? Something like massive Sellotape?
‘I’m sure we do,’ I said. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘That would be lovely,’ he said. ‘Just give me the car keys and I’ll go and have a look and see what I can find. I’ve brought my compressor in case you don’t have one.’
What’s a compressor?
We watched him go outside. I had a sudden leap of optimism.
‘You don’t think he’s going to steal your car do you?’ Jassy said.
For a moment I gnawed at a thumbnail and thought about the possibility and then gave an exasperated sigh.
‘It’s got a flat tyre, Jassy, remember? This isn’t London.’
‘Well watch him – that’s all I’m saying.’
I went out into the kitchen and switched the coffee machine on and got some mugs out of the dishwasher. Then I tweaked the kitchen curtains back a bit more and watched him. He was rather watchable too, if I was honest.
He was very tall and broad in a muscly way and he had an ideal profile of strong straight nose, lovely cheekbones and a full lower lip that is supposed to mean a passionate nature. Well, it does in my books anyway.
The rain had stopped at last and the morning was the best since we had arrived. There was a bright blue sky and even some sunshine, which was burning off the early morning mist that had been hovering over the river down in the valley.
It was cold though, and a brisk wind was ruffling his dark hair. He made me think of Cormack McDonald, hero of my third book The Life I Always Wanted. Tall and big and rather – oh, for heaven’s sake.
Joe opened the boot and rummaged around for something and then pulled out a weedy-looking tyre like a toy with a red middle. He looked up, saw me watching him and gave a big grin and a thumbs-up. I shrank back and began making coffee.
‘Can I have some?’ Jassy yelled from the next room. ‘And I think there are some KitKats in the cupboard over the sink. If they aren’t there they’ll be in the stone jar in the larder.’
‘How do you know? I thought you couldn’t move off the sofa?’ I yelled back.
Bloody hell.
Meanwhile Joe was messing about with the flat tyre and constructing something that looked like a giant tin opener whilst jacking the car up off the ground. In a matter of minutes he had replaced the real tyre with the toy one and put the damaged one in the boot. Then he attached some engine sort of thing and pumped the spare tyre up a bit. It was very impressive.
He came back in the back door, bringing a cold swirl of air with him and the faint scent of wood smoke.
‘Okay, should be fine,’ he said, ‘but get a proper one fitted as soon as possible and don’t go over thirty miles an hour until you do. Could I just—’
He went over to the sink to wash his hands and I waited with the kitchen towel like some sort of theatre nurse by his side.
‘Thanks,’ he said, drying his hands.
The kitchen towel had little embroidered vegetables along one edge and he had hands like shovels so the two weren’t exactly compatible. It looked like he was using a handkerchief.
‘So, I can drive? I mean I do understand I need to get a new tyre. Where can I get one from?’
‘Depends where you’re heading,’ Joe said, handing me the towel.
I gave him a mug of coffee.
‘London!’ Jassy shouted from the other room.
Joe went into the sitting room where she was still bundled up on the sofa in her nest of blankets and cushions.
‘Then your best bet is Okehampton,’ he said. ‘You know how to get there?’
‘We’ll find it!’ Jassy said with feeling. ‘We’ve been in this ghastly place for long enough. We’ll find it!’
It struck me that this desperate haste to leave could be seen as rather insulting.
‘I mean we’ve had a lovely break,’ I said, ‘but we have appointments in London we really should keep. So thank you so much.’
‘Lovely break? Are you insane?’ Jassy grumbled. ‘It’s been the longest ten days of my life.’
Joe sipped his coffee and looked thoughtful. ‘Well, you haven’t exactly had good weather, I’ll give you that. I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to get out and about either?’
‘We were supposed to be working,’ Jassy said, calming down a little. ‘We’re both writers. We have deadlines to keep, with our publishers. We wanted to recover after Christmas and get back in the groove. But it didn’t quite work out like that. Technology failure I’m afraid, amongst other things.’
‘Ah, the MacBook Air cable. I see the relevance now.’
Jassy smiled up at him through her lashes. I could see a familiar pattern here. Now the car was mended and our escape route was established, Jassy could relax and stop being a stroppy cow and start flirting.
Jassy flirts with everyone; it’s what she does and being married doesn’t stop her. She’s been known to flirt with policemen, car park attendants and even our accountant. Trust me, our accountant is not the sort of man anyone flirts with – he might have the financial skills of a sorcerer on speed, but he also has halitosis, dandruff and a comb-over. She would find a man as good-looking as Joe Field irresistible.
Suddenly I didn’t want my sister to flirt with Joe Field. I stepped briskly between them and gave him a warm smile of my own.
‘We’re very grateful, Mr Field.’ I looked at my watch; it was half past ten. If we set off soon we could get a new tyre, be back in Notting Hill by early evening and even have time for a comfort stop somewhere too.
‘Right then, here are the keys. I’ve put everything back as best I can,’ Joe said.
He dropped my car keys into my palm; they were still warm from his hand and it was rather thrilling. My fingers curled round them.
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. And thanks for the coffee.’
He tipped his head back to finish his drink and Jassy watched him with narrowed and speculative eyes.
‘Would you like a KitKat?’ she said.
‘Um, no thanks, I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘Tunnock’s Tea Cake? Orange Club? I think we’ve eaten all the mint ones.’
‘Jassy!’ I muttered.
Joe pulled on his gloves and gave a grin.
‘I’m fine thanks. I’ll be off and let you get all packed up and back to the bright lights.’
I followed him to the front door. I felt a bit reluctant to let him go. I mean we’re all liberated, independent women aren’t we, but it doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate it when a handsome man wanders through our lives.
‘Thanks again, Joe,’ I said.
He turned in the doorway and shrugged his shoulders under his big, waxed coat.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘I’m always willing to help a damsel in distress.’
‘What do you do?’ I said. ‘I’m guessing you’re a farmer.’
‘Right first go. I’d better go and get on with it. My farm manager is away for a couple of days. I have sheep up on the moor.’
‘Gosh, sheep!’ I said as though it was something really unusual, although I knew from occasionally watching Countryfile