“So you’ll never go back to a place that clearly meant something to you, because of him?”
Mattie’s incredulity grated on her suddenly raw nerves. “Please don’t sit in judgement.”
Mattie put her hands up as if to back off. “I’m not judging.”
“You are,” Nell said. “Put yourself in my shoes and imagine Oxford is Kenya. How do you feel now?”
Mattie’s face dimmed.
“Sorry, that was insensitive of me,” Nell said, mortified at her lack of kindness and sensitivity. “I’m normally better than that. Clearly I’m overdue for a check-in with my therapist.”
Mattie puffed the pillow harder than was necessary. “Don’t mention therapy or counselling. I’ve heard enough about that from Shona and Lisa.”
Clearly, she’d touched a raw nerve. A tense silence as uncomfortable as the stiff position she was sitting in filled the space between them. Everything she thought of saying sounded like it would come out of a therapist’s mouth. She reached across the gap between them, but Mattie lurched off the bed before she could touch her.
“I’m going to have a quick shower.” Mattie snatched a pile of clothes from the armchair and locked herself inside the ensuite.
Nell stared at the closed door.It’s my fault. I said the wrong thing. I’ve ruined a perfect weekend. She yanked the cover off, got out of bed, and flung her suitcase on top of it. Then she opened the wardrobe and started to throw rather than pack her clothes into the case. When would she ever learn? Her eyes stung as she pulled her dress off the hanger and went to toss that in too, but then she stopped. Mattie had looked at her with such desire and affection, it’d blown her away. Even now, her blood pulsed at the memory of it. And then, through her fog of self-loathing, she heard her own voice.Mattie isn’t him.
Nell flopped onto the bed, still clasping the dress. The dress that she’d bought specially for this trip. How had she forgotten everything she’d learned since getting divorced? Mostly, she had a handle on the self-loathing, and its fog was more of a mist these days, but it still had the power to shroud her.
What should she say or do now? Gavin—fuck, she hated thinking of him by name—was her only real reference point, and even now, she only recognised his controlling behaviour in retrospect. He’d asserted himself whenever she’d dared to cautiously challenge him or inadvertently said something he didn’t approve of. He’d put his foot down and that was it, end of discussion. Mattie, it would seem, went into avoidant mode.If Nell knew Shona or Lisa a little better, she could text them to find out what’d happened and see if she could help at all. If she was to make an educated guess, Mattie would’ve told Shona less than politely where to go with her therapy suggestion.
Mattie finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed bar her jeans, which were still draped over the armchair. It was impossible not to notice her red-rimmed eyes as she dumped her toiletries on the bed and stood in front of Nell.
“I’m sorry,” Mattie said. “It isn’t my place to tell you what you should do, or push you into doing something you feel uncomfortable with. I hate it when people do that to me, but I was trying to do exactly the same to you.”
Nell swallowed hard. In two simple and genuine sentences, Mattie banished the ghost of Gavin. “Thank you.” She held her arms open.
Mattie made an indecipherable noise that sounded half-laugh, half-cry as she rushed into Nell’s embrace. Nell’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to soothe Mattie’s tense shoulders. At a loss as to where to start with verbalising everything that’d just happened, she hoped that her fierce embrace would speak for her.
“Mattie’s unravelling.” Saying the words out loud to Angie tasted like a betrayal, but Nell couldn’t keep them to herself any longer.
Angie looked up from her perusal of the limited bar menu. They were ensconced in the warm fug of the Saddlers’ Arms, nursing half pints of dry cider. It was a traditional locals’ pub with tired decor and a lingering smell of beer. Its stab at modernity was limited to a widescreen TV in the corner of thebar and a string of orange bunting promoting the brewery’s special Halloween ale.
“Unravelling how?” asked Angie.
“Mentally, I think.” Nell had pondered nothing else during the entire two-and-a-half-hour train journey home from Bath. She’d replayed all the precious and sexy moments that would keep her going until their next rendezvous. And then she’d recognised a theme. Whenever there was a chance of sharing something deeply emotional, Mattie made light of it, flirted outrageously, or fucked her. Every single time. “I didn’t notice it until afterwards, but it’s there, if you look closely.”
Angie frowned. “Do you think she’s aware of it?”
“No. She’s expert at covering it up and being blind to it herself.” Nell swallowed a mouthful of her cider. “Saturday was perfect, you know? Like a scene from a romantic movie. Delicious food and wine, excellent company, and good conversation.”
“Scintillating sex,” Angie said and wiggled her eyebrows.
Nell blushed. How new this still felt to be talking to her friend about intimate stuff rather than the vegetable garden or planning their next hiking route.
“And then reality came knocking?” asked Angie.
“Very much so.” Nell gave a précis of what had happened. She skirted over the part where her heart bled for the unintended pain they’d inflicted on each other. “I didn’t help the situation by bringing Kenya into it.”
“No need to blame yourself.” Angie rested her hand on Nell’s arm gently, and Nell puffed out her cheeks. “Clearly, she’s comfortable examining other people’s behaviour but rebels against the notion of exploring her own,” said Angie. “I sensed she was a lost soul when she was here during the summer.”
Nell frowned, her glass stalling on its way to her mouth. Was Angie right?
“Think about it,” said Angie. “Why did she choose to come to Devon especially? Why not Brighton or Blackpool, for example?”
“Nostalgia for childhood family holidays.”
