"Peelings." Louisa said simply. "Mrs. Norton asked me to give 'em to the chickens."
"Mmm. Yes." Martin replied, glancing at her and noting with relief that her colour and breathing appeared to be returning to normal. The girl may just have been exhibiting signs of exertion, he thought, nevertheless I must find a moment to encourage Auntie Joan to get her iron levels checked.
"I think she just wanted me out of the house. Or out of, umm, whatsit's way anyhow." Louisa added, somewhat self consciously. "Edith, I mean."
"Yes." He said abruptly, wincing internally at the mention of her name.
He began to dust his trousers free from imaginary crumbs, determined to repel any attempt at conversation, but the firm, decisive movements of his hands merely served to draw Louisa's attention to his thighs and, for a moment, she was transfixed.
"What do you want?" Martin asked quickly, and she felt another flush of embarrassment.
From the abruptness of his tone, she realised with some disappointment that her company was no more palatable to him than anyone else's. Despite that, she struggled to keep her emotions in check; the sentiments bubbled inside her and, ever the empath, Louisa was filled with resentment and indignation on his behalf.
"Actually, I know you're going to tell me to mind my own business, but can I just say something?" She said quietly, sitting the colander of vegetable trimmings down on the bench next to him.
Martin remained silent. He'd learned enough about her in the last twenty four hours to realise that she wasn't easily dissuaded from offering her opinion, even when it wasn't particularly welcome. He hoped that the quicker she said her piece, the quicker she'd disappear. He folded his arms across his chest, lifting his chin; his expression haughty and disinterested.
Louisa summoned all her courage.
"Martin, the way she talks to you is just awful." She cried, breathlessly
"I don't wish to discuss it." He replied curtly, willing her, desperately, to go away and leave him in peace.
She looked down at him and her tone became more earnest.
"Why do you put up with it?"
He ignored her, and continued to stare straight ahead, listening to the low, distant roar of the waves. Somewhere nearby, he heard the song of a hovering skylark. Alauda arvensis, he thought to himself, and the familiar melody of the song made him think suddenly of his Uncle Phil.
"Martin?"
He sighed heavily.
"It really is none of your business, Louisa." He said flatly.
"Actually, it is, you know, because this is sort of the only home I've got at the moment and, well, since she turned up, everyone just seems really really upset." She replied, defiantly. " 'Specially you."
"Yes, well, it's...unfortunate timing."
Louisa began to nervously flick her chin with the pamphlet she had in her hand. She hesitated uncomfortably and then cleared her throat.
"I 'spose what I really want to say is, if I was going out with some boy, and he spoke to me like she speaks to you, well, I just wouldn't put up with it."
He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the horizon, his face impassive. Unfolding his arms, he placed his hands firmly on his knees. She heard him breath in heavily.
"Because I know I deserve so much better than that." Louisa continued, matter-of-factly, her simmering frustration threatening to bubble over. Her hands went to her hips and she glared at him with her by now familiar piercing look, before adding vehemently.
"And, Martin, you know what? So do you. So do you!"
He stood up, abruptly.
"Your advice has been noted." He said at last, adjusting his cuff links and straightening his tie, all the while avoiding eye contact with her.
Louisa sighed, and was overcome by a sensation of tiredness and defeat. It had been a dumb idea to try and talk to him and she now regretted it with the same intensity of feeling that she'd felt when her indignation on his behalf had overcome her. She felt young and gauche and awkward all over again.
"Sorry, I was just trying to help." she mumbled.
"Mmmm. Yes." He replied dismissively and she felt her shoulders sag. They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, each avoiding looking at the other for fear of having to speak.
Suddenly remembering her errand, she reached out and tapped him lightly on the arm with the pamphlet.
"Mrs Norton asked me to give you this. She, aah, she told me to tell you that she thought it might be useful." Louisa said awkwardly.
Taking it from her with a slight hesitation, he realised that it was the timetable for Bodmin Park Railway Station, helpfully folded open at the 'Departures' page.
His expression softened slightly.
"Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "Very useful."
She picked up her colander and turned away.
"I'll feed these chickens then." She said, flatly, and wandered back in the direction of the house.
"Yes." He said. "Tell Auntie Joan that I, aaah, I will be along in a moment. For supper."
"Yup." She said, crestfallen, and kept walking, her flip-flops slapping rhythmically against the soles of her feet, and her dejection increasing with every step.