Great, trust him to remember that. Rosy tried not to look at him, but the frisson between the two of them standing so close in the narrow hallway was palpable. More than palpable – loud and booming. Bordering on sonic.
‘Let’s see these glasses then, Columbo-Moriarty-whoever you are.’ Rosy smiled up at him. It felt fake but she needed to get out of this hallway; another room may be less suffocating. And movement would break the mood.
‘Come on then.’ He smiled and she relaxed. There, just friendly; she was imagining all this sexual chemistry nonsense. Clearly she was just a bit desperate. The revelation that Angelina was his sister had knocked her – combine that with the fact that it had been a bit too long meant that she was picturing what wasn’t here. She needed to get a grip of herself. Maybe log back into her dating account when she got home.
She followed him through into the kitchen where he produced the two glasses with a flourish. And indicated the two empty bottles of champagne next to them. She looked closely and took one from him. The shade was reminiscent of someone, she just couldn’t think who.Come on, brain.
‘It might be nothing…’ Matt had come and stood right by her elbow, examining the glass as she twirled it in the air, her brow furrowed. ‘But it did occur to me that there was a woman who looked like she might be coming to the house this morning. Blonde hair, lots of make-up, some kind of birds on her dress. But what she’d want with Ange baffles me.’
‘Birds on her dress? That’s impressive detail.’
‘They were lime green.’
‘Oh my God! Blonde? Looked a bit like she could snap at any moment?’
‘Ha, yes I guess so. Why, do you know who it could be? Sherlock, have you surpassed yourself?’
‘I may well have done, Watson, I may well have done. I think Angelina is with Marion. She wasn’t in school today and I’m sure I saw her boys being hustled out of school by one of her minions. I knew I recognized that shade of lipstick. Yes, it all makes sense. Angelina must be with Marion.’
‘Well, do I need to worry? Who is this Marion? What does she want with my sister?’
His sister! Rosy shook her head. That was insane, and yet so obvious now.
‘Oh my God, why are you shaking your head? I’m serious. Ange is really vulnerable at the moment. Who is this Marion?’
‘Hey, it’s all good. She’s not going to come to any harm with her. Marion is the head of the PTA and my rather unlikely ally in the Save Our School fight. By the looks of it they’ve got super pissed, hatched up some evil plan – sorry, not that Angeli— not evil, um, fun plan that involves more drinking and securing world domination. They’ll be together and having a lovely time. Trust me. I think we can both stop worrying. Maybe treat ourselves to a drink as well and put our feet up until Marion brings her home?’
‘Do you reckon?’ Matt’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Do you think this is what having kids is like?’
‘I really hope not. Tell you what, why don’t we both give them a ring if you’re still worried and see what they’re up to.’ Rosy felt saintly. The last thing she wanted to do was engage with Marion this evening – her bath and book were deeply preferable – but that was clearly what Matt wanted to do. And she didn’t like seeing him worried, although that little furrow on his brow was kind of endearing.
‘Yeah, OK, maybe I should do that. I’m not normally this, well, this wussy but Ange, she needs keeping an eye on.’ He shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture and again Rosy couldn’t control her face as it broke into a sympathetic smile. Maybe her judgement wasn’t so off; he wasn’t a nutty control-freak like Josh – he just cared about his sister and wasn’t afraid to express it. That’s how relationships should be.
Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped it a couple of times and they both stood close, listening to it ring out.
‘Voicemail.’
‘That’s fairly meaningless down here. It could mean her battery is dead, but more than likely means she has no signal, which is pretty common. In terms of phone service we’re still stuck somewhere in the mid-nineties, but it can be a bonus.’ She felt the smile creep onto her face. She had frequently used the no or patchy signal excuse when speaking (or not) to her mother. ‘But obviously not right now. Um, tell you what, I’ll try Marion, just in case. Seriously, sometimes it can be so poor that one person at a table can receive a call but not the person sitting across from them. It happens all the time.’
She managed to compose her features back into concerned mode and pulled her own phone out of her pocket. She didn’t like seeing anyone perturbed, especially when she could do something small to help. Even so, she couldn’t believe she was actually trying to track down Marion and Perfect Hair. She deserved canonization for this!
‘Sorry, voicemail too. Look, they’ll be fine, really. They’ll be having fun. I was cooking supper, just pasta, but instead of staying here fretting why don’t you come share it with me? I do owe you a dinner, and now is as good a time as any. What do you think?’
Matt looked back at her and smiled, although in that smile she could see a hundred emotions flit across his face. One of which was a definite ‘fuck it, why not?’ That was something she could identify with; in fact it was one of her own favourites. Particularly in reference to cake, and clothes shopping.
‘And I’ve got lemon drizzle.’ She sealed the deal. There was no way he was going to resist cake, that much she knew. Within seconds they were on her doorstep.
Chapter Nineteen
The enticing smell of garlic and oregano in the pasta sauce hit Matt the second Rosy opened the door to her cottage. Which was great because he was really hungry, really liked food and was mad keen on spending more time with her. The fact that whenever there was the potential to make some kind of romantic move she spooked and fled was of concern but not a problem that couldn’t be sorted. And in the meantime there was pasta.
Scramble settled on the sofa at once and Matt followed her through to the kitchen, secretly thanking him and his wayward sister, who, albeit entirely unintentionally, had secured yet more time for him with his sexy next-door neighbour. He had been so worried when he’d got home, but with the fact revealed that she hadn’t run off alone and that Rosy had categorically identified her companion meant that harm was unlikely to befall her. It also meant that he had the evening off and that he got to spend some of it here. Bonus!
He needed the evening off. The pressure of the last few days – from jumping on the train, getting thrown out of a nightclub and dragging Angelina back to Cornwall – was immense. It was no surprise that his head felt like exploding and that the large bowl of pasta that was currently being popped before him, and accompanied by that smile, felt like the best thing that had happened in ages. On top of which he had some news of his own to deliver. Although when he had first devised his idea it had seemed genius, now it came time to share it he was suddenly nervous. What if she didn’t throw her arms around him and thank him? What if she felt it was inappropriate and interfering? Perhaps he should just watch for the opportunity to bring it up, quietly and without fanfare and in the meantime switch his mind back to spaghetti and that smile.
They were certainly the best things that had happened since Sunday lunch. There was a theme developing that he was not unaware of. Indeed, was acutely aware of, as she finally came and sat with him, accompanied by Parmesan and grater. How great would this life be every day? Was there anything she wasn’t good at?
Scramble’s snores came from the other room. He was wiped out from a busy day at Penmenna Hall. Normally the smell of food would have him sitting at Matt’s feet, grinning his most winsome doggy grin – but not tonight.
