In the wake of Mattie storming out last night, Nell had stared at the empty kitchen. Whirlwind Mattie had left no physical trace, but their shared angry words loitered in the air like guests outstaying their welcome. So she’d abandoned her jasmine tea and poured the first over-generous glass of calvados. Resorting to alcohol wasn’t something she did every night, but she was fuming. How dare that woman invade her sanctuary! To confront her at home just wasn’t on. She should make a formal complaint to Mattie’s employers.
Food might see her hangover off. She put two slices of granary bread into the toaster and winced at yet another memory, this time one of Mattie’s reaction when Nell had declared their connection was over. Mattie’s flinch was a surprise. Surely she was hardened to ignore such minor slights, being the journalist she was? Yet her eyes had been unable to veil the hurt. How Nell had yearned to reach out and smooth itaway. But no, she’d compartmentalized just as she always did, sustained by her fury at the intrusion. She’d fed that anger even more by replaying Rosie’s blatant flirting and date invitation. Of course Mattie—witty, intelligent, charming, and attractive—would attract someone young, fit, and lithe, a woman who was out and proud and didn’t haul enough baggage around with her to fill a dozen suitcases. That spiralling downward train of thought had led to the second over-generous glass of brandy.
The bread popped out of the toaster and startled her. Half-heartedly, she scraped butter onto it and carried it to the patio where she slumped back on the lounge chair under the parasol. She sighed. Brooding like this was so unusual for her, but she couldn’t stop herself.Connection. The word played on repeat in her mind. Her connection with Mattie had been severed and had left her...empty? Was that what this odd sensation was? Tension coiled in her stomach at the unexpected pang of loneliness.
“Oh dear,” said a wry voice from over the fence. “Is brandy to blame for this?”
Nell cracked one eye open to see Angie leaning against the low wooden boundary between their two properties. She grunted. “Right first time.”
“Try walking it off,” Angie said.
“Nice idea, but I’d be rubbish company.”
“I can see that.” Angie laughed. “I meant by yourself. I’ve got aWomen in Businessmeeting, so I’m driving to Dartmouth this morning. Why don’t you hop in with me? You could walk along the river, clear your head and lick your wounds, or whatever it is you need to do? Then I could drive you back home later this afternoon.”
There wasn’t much to do in the garden, aside from pick ripe raspberries and tomatoes. Catching up on sleep was unlikely, because the house would become uncomfortably stuffy in the heat. At least it’d be cooler in the woodlands alongside the river,and Angie’s offer meant not having to drive. Nell wouldn’t be over the legal drink-drive limit, but that wasn’t the point. She’d always erred on the safe side when it came to being behind the wheel, needing to feel in full control of her faculties. That was what came of attending one too many inquests into fatal road traffic accidents. “How soon are you planning to leave?”
“Once the last of my guests have left the breakfast room and given me a chance to clear up.” Angie glanced at her watch. “Forty-five minutes?”
Walking was Nell’s salvation. It’d been saving her since her teens, and it offered the best chance of salvaging anything from today. She nodded in agreement and her spirits lifted a notch.
Three-quarters of an hour later, she slung her backpack on one shoulder and walked the short distance to Cove House. Angie was already waiting by her car chatting to Mattie. Nell stopped abruptly. Why was fate refusing to give her a break?
“Nell!” Angie spotted her before she had a chance to retreat.
Nell managed to coerce her lips into something that might be construed as a smile. It was ruined by her wince as the sun hit her full in the face.
Angie laughed. “Nell’s got a hangover, so we’ll have to speak quietly in the car.”
“We?” Nell asked, her voice hitching up a couple of octaves as she cottoned on to what was coming next.
“I’m your friendly neighbourhood taxi driver for today.” Angie dangled the car key fob from her index finger. “Plenty of room for both of you.”
If the pained look on Mattie’s face was to be trusted, they were both appalled at the prospect of forced proximity.
Mattie took a few steps away from the car and hugged her backpack to her chest. “Um... look, I’m imposing. I can go tomorrow.”
Nell shook her throbbing head, and then wished she’d done so less vehemently. “I can go any time. You’re the guest, not me.”
Angie brushed their concerns away with a wave of her hand. “Honestly, ladies, it’s not a problem giving both of you a lift. I wouldn’t have offered if it was. There’s plenty of room.”
Damn. Short of feigning that her hangover had worsened significantly, there was no way of extracting herself. Nell climbed into the back of the car, sitting in one seat and dumping her bag on the one next to her. Mattie appeared to get the unspoken message to sit in the front.
Angie reversed off the drive and set off along the road leading inland. “Traffic permitting, it shouldn’t take us longer than half an hour to get there, but it takes forever by public transport, so the offer of a lift back around four-ish is there if you want it.”
“Thank you,” said Mattie. “I’ll see how the day goes before I decide what I want to do.”
Nell knew whatshewanted: for Mattie to get out of her life. She’d been right to trust her instincts around journalists. Mattie had proved yesterday that her professional integrity was lacking. Not content with invading Nell’s home, Mattie was now hijacking her day off. Why had fate decreed that the very person responsible for causing all this upset was the same woman she was now stuck in a car with? She rued Angie’s friendliness and desire to be helpful.
Angie slowed to take a left. “How are you planning to get to Agatha Christie’s house, Mattie? Walk the trail or take the boat?”
“I’ll walk one way and take the ferry back,” Mattie said. “I know that’s a touristy thing to do, but hey, I’m a tourist for the day.”
“Greenway is lovely. I adore its 1950s decor.” Angie glanced in the mirror. “Nell, you haven’t been there, have you?”
“No, and I have no intention of doing so.” Even Nell was shocked at her abruptness. “Sorry, my hangover was talkingthere. What I meant was, I’m in no fit state to do anything intellectual.”
“I’m sure Ms Christie would be delighted to be referred to as intellectual,” said Angie, clearly attempting to smooth the sudden tension.
