Christmas on the Little Cornish Isles: The Driftwood Inn

‘What are you doing?’

‘I was caught short while I was on the patio,’ he called. ‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me using the loo as I’m going to be living here. I won’t be long.’

Silence.

‘OK. I’ll come back when you’ve finished.’

‘I may be a while,’ he shouted, trying to sound embarrassed.

More silence. ‘Um. Right. Sorry to disturb you. I’ll be back in a bit.’

Cruel of him, thought Patrick, but he couldn’t stop the broad smile as he squirted bleach down the loo and started to scrub with the brush. He decided he could get away with a jaunty whistle too, and figured he had at least half an hour before Maisie would dare to return, even if she dared at all. It would be long enough to get the shower room into non-toxic condition and most of the kitchenette. He checked his watch, took a cloth and bathroom spray from the bucket ready to wipe down the cistern and seat. Just in time, he remembered not to flush the loo.

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