He hadn’t blamed her for leaving that restaurant. Who in their right minds would remain somewhere, having their nose rubbed in something unpalatable? And it had looked so much as though Tad and Clare were an item.
And now, today had thrown up a completely different reality.
‘I can read you like a book.’
Kathleen’s strident accent cut through his reverie as Hugh spooned the last cherry tomato and morsel of olive into his mouth.
‘Beg pardon?’ he said, words muffled by his food.
‘I said I can read you like a book. You’ve done nothing but stare at those young people since we sat down at the table.’
Hugh laid down his fork. ‘Have I?’
‘You know you have. Not everyone is fooled by your dotty old man routine.’
‘You meanyou’renot fooled by my dotty old man routine,’ he retorted.
‘It took me long enough to wise up to people, but no, I’m not fooled. Why do you care so much about those kids?’ she said, setting down her knife and fork on her empty plate.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. Hugh slid his own cutlery onto his plate, then frowned. ‘I suppose I was lucky in love. When Brian died, I wished it had been me, not him, wished so hard he hadn’t left me behind. To compensate for his loss, I think I try to look for love in the people I see around me. And if I can help spin people together, why not?’
Kathleen stared at him, then she frowned. ‘You have no idea how lucky you are,’ she said.
‘How’s that?’
‘Not everyone gets to be as fortunate as you are with your memories. Remember I told you about the woman back in Kalgoorlie who was always looking for the limelight? The one who moved to Perth?’
Hugh nodded.
‘Well, that woman is my sister,’ Kathleen said.
Hugh stared at her, waiting for the connection or the relevance to land. When it didn’t, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite?—’
‘You don’t get it? Well, here’s the thing. I have a rather different take on that fluffy nonsense they call love, because when she buggered off to Perth to follow her star, or whatever, she took my husband with her. Apparently, they’d been having an affair almost all the time we were married, had spent years playing me like a bloody fiddle.’
‘Oh. I had no idea. I’m so?—’
‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry.’ Kathleen ran a hand through her silver bob. ‘I’ve been more than fine on my own. I just think you should leave those kids alone to find out in their own sweet time whether they’ve been lucky or not.’
‘Do you think that’s all it is, then?’ Hugh said, his focus now entirely on Kathleen’s frank expression. ‘Luck?’
‘I get that I’m a jaded old woman; you don’t need to say it. I’m simply saying there are worse things than going it alone.’
‘I suppose,’ Hugh said, then he jutted out his chin as Tad slid a portion of tiramisu in front of him. ‘But there’s nothing better than finding a soulmate, either.’
Kathleen allowed him a small smile. ‘You’re a stubborn old goat, Hugh, aren’t you?’
* * *
Tiramisu – equally delicious when shared, or eaten solo
400ml double cream
250g mascarpone
75ml marsala
5 tablespoons golden caster sugar
