I lay down my roller an hour later. ‘I have to take a break, Mr Martin. My back’s killing me.’
‘You’ve done a great job,’ he says. ‘I think we’ll get the entire hall finished by this evening.’
‘This evening?’ squeaks Suzy. ‘Annie and I can’t stay until this evening. We’re going out.’
‘Only to the pub,’ I say. ‘And we can do that any time.’
‘But I’m exhausted,’ she complains. She looks down at herself disconsolately. ‘And I have a splash of paint on my jeans. They’re my favourite pair.’
‘What did you expect?’ I ask, picking up my roller again. ‘I need a step ladder so I can reach the top of this wall.’
‘There’s one on the stage,’ says Mr. Martin. ‘Would you prefer me to do that part?’
‘I’m fine,’ I tell him. ‘I have a good head for heights – at least, I have a good head for being two feet off the floor.’
I open the ladder and put it next to the trestle table. ‘If I put this tray of paint on the table, I can stretch down and just about reach it.’
‘Be careful,’ he says anxiously.
I dip my roller into the tray of paint and climb up the step ladder. ‘This is perfect! I can reach right to the top of the wall. I could probably do the ceiling as well if you want.’
I lean down to dip my roller into the paint again, and the step ladder wobbles.
Mr. Martin looks alarmed. ‘Do be careful, Annie. Your mother would never forgive me if you fell off and broke your leg.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say again.
I lean down a little further and stretch out the roller. The ladder rocks even more perilously, and I shriek, trying to regain my balance. Everything seems to go into slow motion. I make a wild grab for the top of the ladder, miss, lose my footing, and crash onto the trestle table. It collapses under my weight, tipping the paint over my head.
Suzy gives a screech of laughter as I sit up, feeling it running down the back of my neck.
I hear footsteps and look up, expecting to see Mr. Martin. Instead, a complete stranger is looking down at me. I blink up at him, wondering whether the can of paint hit me on the head and knocked me out.
‘Are you ok?’ he asks. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be laughing at me.
I wipe my face with my sleeve. ‘I think so. But I’ve spilled the paint.’
‘Just a bit.’ He holds out his hand to help me up.
‘You’ll get covered in paint,’ I warn him.
‘That’s the general idea,’ he says. ‘I’ll probably look a whole lot worse than you by the time we’ve finished.’
Dazed, I allow him to pull me to my feet. He’s still holding my hand, which he shakes solemnly. ‘Alex Fielding. It’s nice to meet you.’
I stare back at him, unable to think what to say. He’s tall and blond, with amused hazel eyes and a very nice smile.
‘This is the part where you tell me your name,’ he prompts me.
‘Sorry,’ I say, still staring at him. ‘I’m Annie.’
Suzy holds out her hand and gives him her most devastating smile. ‘And I’m Suzy.’
I groan inwardly. That was short and sweet. When Suzy turns on the full beam of her charm, it’s game over. And she’s very definitely interested in this man. She doesn’t waste that seductive smile on just anyone.
I wonder whether Alex knows what he’s letting himself in for. But it’s no good warning him. He’ll have to find out for himself – just like everyone else.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Alex,’ says Mr Martin. ‘I met your parents at the shops this morning. They told me you’d just moved here.’