They’d worked together for a year now, and he was well used to her tactics.
Mattie yawned, the warmth in the van adding to her tiredness. Work had been a whirlwind since her return from holiday. She’d spent a couple of days chasing up leads about a financial mismanagement scandal at a respected public school. Thankfully, she’d been in London for that, so she’d spent her evenings watching junk TV at Shona and Lisa’s place while snuggled on the sofa with Luna in her lap. Since then, she’d been on the road, travelling to various flood-stricken regions. She sighed. The storms of the past week had blurred into one long heart-breaking tragedy for so many, and she was fast running out of fresh ways to express it without resorting to cliché.
Her phone lit up with a new text, this one from Simon.Got your message. Can chat now if you’re free?She smiled as he answered her video call. “I thought you’d be in class,” she said, careful to look straight at the camera so he could lipread.
“Free period, so you’ll actually have to talk to me in person instead of text.” He narrowed his eyes and chuckled. “You look like you’ve been trapped in a wind tunnel and sprayed by a hose.”
“Thank you, dear brother, for that flattering description.” She laughed, their easy banter lifting her spirits. “I need present ideas for Olivia’s birthday.”
“Easy,” said Simon. “Tickets for a Taylor Swift concert. Failing that very tall order, a visit from her favourite aunt.”
“I’m her only aunt.” Mattie checked her calendar. “I could come on the Saturday and stay overnight.”
Simon’s eyebrows lifted. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. You don’t need to sound so sceptical,” she said, wincing at her defensive tone.
Simon chuckled. “Mattie, you blew her off on her last birthday for that oil rig story.”
“Yeah, I know. That was unfortunate.” Fingers crossed that there’d be no major news story breaking that weekend. She wasn’t on call, so it’d have to be something really big. Simon caught her up on his family’s news. Olivia’s current obsession was puffins, so when their call finished, Mattie went online and adopted one from the Wildlife Trust. The gift package included a certificate, fact sheets, and a cuddly puffin toy. The birds were very cute. Clearly, Olivia had taste. Perhaps Mattie could take her to one of the islands off Wales or Scotland and see them in person.
Making more time for family was one of the decisions she’d made while in Devon. Taking time to smell the roses had been good too, although in future, she would be more wary of thorns.What else? Something still nagged at her about Nell’s final text. Mattie hadn’t responded out of a mixture of annoyance, hurt, and an odd sense of relief. She still couldn’t work out what that last emotion was about.
“We’re here,” said Moeen.
His voice jolted her out of her thoughts and back to the present. Time to get her head back in the game.
Rabbit in headlights was the phrase that came to mind as Mattie interviewed the council’s CEO. He was a thick-set man in his early fifties, and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than talking to her. Clutching a red golfing umbrella, he trotted out the usual platitudes about coming together to support the community. He failed to give a convincing response when challenged about the insufficient number of sandbags provided and the lack of emergency planning or accommodation. By the time she quizzed him on the council’s failure to follow up on recommendations for a flood protection scheme that could have prevented the worst of the damage to the town, he cut a defeated figure.
“Job done,” she said to Moeen as the CEO returned to his dry office, still clutching the umbrella like it was a life belt. She suspected he’d be getting a torrid ride in the coming months. She checked her phone. “Still no call back from the animal shelter. I reckon it’s worth dropping in on them anyway.”
Moeen packed up his camera and walked alongside her. “Looks like more heavy rain is on the way.”
Mattie looked up and saw charcoal grey clouds looming above them. “That’s all anyone needs. I— What the fuck?” She swore as something white and wet slapped her across her face and chest. She scrabbled to snatch it away.
“It’s only a plastic carrier bag.” Moeen pulled it off her.
Mattie’s heart thumped erratically.
He chuckled. “Shame I wasn’t filming. It would have been a dead cert for the TV bloopers.”
She rolled her eyes, able to see the funny side of it until she saw the filthy state of her shirt. The bag had left a line of mud across her breasts. “No way am I talking to camera looking like this.”
Back at the van, she ferreted in her suitcase for a clean shirt. The blue button-up was embarrassingly creased, the cream one had pasta sauce on it, and the black T-shirt stank of sweat. None were ideal, but the black one won out because she could spray a can of deodorant all over it. Fresh, dry socks would be good too. She pulled at a white pair rolled inside each other. Wait, they weren’t socks. It was a white v-neck blouse with tiny blue daisies on it. Not hers but Nell’s. Mattie smirked as she remembered shucking it off her and flinging it across that tiny bedroom, far more interested in the skin she’d just exposed than where the shirt had landed. She’d found it among her own things on her return to London and had vaguely thought about posting it back to Nell but hadn’t got that far. Now it was a godsend, even if it was far more feminine than she’d normally wear. It looked clean enough. She sniffed it and blushed at the faint hint of Nell’s scent. Missing out on their last night together had been a crying shame.
“You decent, Mattie?” Moeen knocked on the sliding door of the van. “We need to get a move on.”
“Nearly ready.” She pulled the shirt over her head. It was a size too big for her and far less flattering than it was on Nell. Needs must. At least Nell never watchedWorldwide Newsand was unlikely to see an item of her wardrobe make its national TV debut.
Chapter 20
Nell sat on a high stool at the breakfast bar in Angie’s kitchen and purposely turned her back on the TV, which was on in the background. Why couldn’t Angie watch the BBC instead ofWorldwide News? Would it be rude to suggest switching the channels? Then Nell wouldn’t be on tenterhooks, in turns dreading and hoping Mattie would appear on screen. She stared out of the window at the sodden garden instead. The view was blurred by rain slashing diagonally on the glass, serving to add to the gloomy mood she was doing her best to ignore.
“We got away lightly in comparison to some parts of the country,” said Angie, clearly referring to the bulletin about flooding that the newsreader was delivering.
“So far, at least.” Nell spoke to the window rather than turn and risk her eyes straying to the screen. “The landslide warnings on some of the cliff paths will stay in place for a while yet.” The latter, along with slippery conditions underfoot, was why she and Angie had cancelled their fortnightly hike and were having a leisurely lunch at home instead. Nell focused on listening to the sounds of Angie preparing food rather than those on the TV: the fridge being opened and closed, a knife clacking againstthe chopping board, the fizz emitted as Angie opened a bottle of sparkling water. They were followed by the ding of the oven timer. The kitchen filled with the sweet smell of freshly baked banana cake.
And then it happened. Mattie’s honeyed voice rang out, and it was as if she was in the kitchen in person. Nell stiffened. Of course she’d been tempted to watchWorldwide Newsafter Mattie had left, but she hadn’t given in to that desire. Holding out was necessary if she was going to move past this...crush...infatuation...emotional attachment...or whatever this damn thing was.
