Rome let himself back into Freya’s flat a while later, calling out to her as he climbed up the stairs. She appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in her dressing gown.

‘I didn’t think you’d be coming back,’ Freya said, her eyes alighting on the large paper bag he was carrying.

‘I thought you deserved a treat after your heroic act today.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Is that curry?’

‘From the Mulberry Bush. I know it’s your favourite.’ He frowned slightly, suddenly unsure if it was her favourite. Giving her a brooch based around her favourite flower certainly hadn’t worked out the way he had wanted. He hated that he was now second-guessing himself. He had never doubted what to do or say around Freya before but this whole episode had him doubting everything.

‘Oh thank you so much. God, I love their food. I was just thinking I couldn’t be bothered to cook. I feel so tired.’

‘I’m not surprised, the adrenaline rush of dealing with a traumatic event will always leave you feeling exhausted afterwards. I’ll… erm, join you if that’s OK?’

‘Of course. I’ll get some plates.’

She went through to the kitchen area and he followed her. Everything seemed back to normal between them but he couldn’t help feeling he was treading on eggshells around her. The row, if he could even call it that, seemed to have almost been forgotten, but although she had helped him out with the craft fair that day, she hadn’t made any mention of coming back to work for him permanently. He had already asked her to come back to him and she hadn’t given any indication whether she would but he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

‘I got the Goa Delight you love so much and I bought the Lamb Saffron for me, but we can share both if you like.’

‘Oh yes, I love their lamb.’

He lifted the containers out of the bags and Freya started sharing them out between the two plates, then they carried the food through to the dining table that sat in the tiny window overlooking Buttercup Beach.

‘I heard back from the Cornish Seal Sanctuary. They were able to find Sammy quite easily. They think he’s OK, but they’ve taken him in to check him over and monitor him for a few days.’

‘Oh, that’s good,” Freya said. ‘Poor Sammy, I hope he’s OK.’

‘The guy I spoke to said he was gorging himself on a ton of fish so I think he’ll be fine.’

Freya smiled and then turned her attention back to her food.

‘How did it go at the fair today?’

‘We did good, we sold nearly everything I took, including all of my pieces. I have several people that are interested in you creating an individual piece for them too. Our company is becoming well respected.’

He was encouraged by the words of togetherness from that sentence. ‘We’ and ‘Our’ were all good signs that she still considered herself a part of Through the Looking Glass. He wouldn’t push her on that though, well not yet.

‘That’s fantastic and I had no doubt that your pieces would do well, you have a wonderful talent for it.’

She blushed. ‘I had a great teacher.’

He swallowed a mouthful of food before he spoke, considering his words carefully. ‘We make a great team.’

She stared at him and he wondered, not for the first time, what was going on behind those pretty whisky-brown eyes.

‘I’ve always thought so,’ she said, eventually.

‘I’d hate to lose that,’ Rome said, softly.

She looked down, playing with her food for a moment before she returned her attention to him. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’

He nodded and concentrated on his food for a while. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

* * *

‘All this wine is making me sleepy,’ Freya said, resting her head on the back of the sofa.

Rome smiled at her, fondly. It hadn’t been his intention to get her drunk, but he’d thought with a few glasses of wine inside her she might be more agreeable to coming back to work or at the very least telling him what really had gone wrong that fateful night. But she’d quickly passed from the talkative merry stage, through the giggling stage, and now into the sleepy stage, and he knew he wasn’t going to get any coherent answers from her tonight.

‘You had a busy day being a hero, no wonder you’re tired. I’ll leave you to go to bed. I need to do a bit more work before I go home anyway.’

She sat up and grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t go.’

‘No?’

‘I’m enjoying talking to you. I always enjoy talking to you.’

‘I enjoy talking to you too.’

‘Not enough though.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh never mind. Go get the glass and I’ll help you with some copper foiling for a while, before I go to bed.’

He stood up and walked downstairs. Maybe she was in the mood to talk after all. He needed some answers because he didn’t have a hope of fixing this unless he knew what he’d done wrong.

He gathered all the yellow, orange and gold bits of glass into a box that would eventually form the sun. He grabbed two rolls of copper foiling, some scissors and a few other tools and put them all in a box so it was easier to carry back upstairs. He walked into the lounge and saw Freya curled up on the sofa fast asleep.

He sighed and put down the box then carefully scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes fluttered open and she wrapped her arms round his neck, pressing her face into his throat.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Taking you to bed.’

She giggled. ‘And there are four words I never dreamed I’d hear you say. Pretty much every woman on the island dreams of you saying those words to them but I’m the only one who hears them in a non-sexual way.’

He moved into her bedroom, not sure what to make of that.

‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’ Freya muttered as Rome laid her down on her bed.

‘Of course we are.’

‘And that is never going to change?’

‘No, never.’

She sighed and snuggled into her pillow. ‘I knew it. So no night of hot passion for me then?’

He swallowed. ‘Would you like us to have a night of hot passion?’

‘If I said yes would you climb straight into bed with me?’

‘No.’

‘God that’s depressing. I offer myself to you on a plate and you still don’t want me.’

‘Trust me, this has nothing to do with me not wanting you, nothing could be further from the truth. I just prefer the women I sleep with to be conscious.’

She closed her eyes.

‘It’s never going to change,’ she whispered, drifting off to sleep.

He stared at her in confusion. Did she really want to sleep with him or was that just the drink talking? But in reality, even if she was sober and she asked him to spend the night with her, he knew he couldn’t do it. A night of amazing sex would be incredible and something he wanted more than anything but she was too important to him to want to mess this up.

He needed to talk to her, properly, because this second-guessing was driving him mad.