“Nope, just your manners. But we can work on that.” Matty grinned, knowing she was egging Gloria on a bit. “Now then, toast, or would you prefer eggs Florentine again?”
“You’re annoying,” Gloria said.
“Thank you for noticing.” Matty curtseyed theatrically. “So, I’ve got a few ideas for today, but if there’s something you fancy, you can say.”
Gloria stopped fiddling with the paper, eyes narrowing as she weighed that up. She didn’t respond.
“If not, I’m happy to take the lead,” Matty continued, pulling the cushion from behind Gloria and plumping it up.
“What are you up to?” Gloria asked.
Matty looked at the cushion. “Plumping it?”
“Not the cushion. Don’t be ridiculous, girl.” Gloria’s insult had dropped off the tongue without any effort. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, the truth is, Mrs S... I’m helping out.”
“Helping out...how?”
Matty pushed the cushion back into place. “It’s simple. When Sloan finds a new carer, I’m gone. Until then...you’re stuck with me.”
“We’ll see about that,” Gloria sneered.
“So, today? Have a think. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Matty came back, carrying the tray in carefully—china cup, matching plate, a triangle of toast, a tiny pot of peach jam, one knife. She set it on the side table and stepped back, quietly pleased with herself.
“Here you go,” she said brightly.
Gloria glanced at it, then looked away to the TV. Matty picked up the remote and switched the television off without looking at her.
“Oi!” Gloria glared at her. “I was watching that.”
“And you can watch it again when you’ve finished your breakfast.”
“I don’t want it.” Gloria went to cross her arms, annoyed her right hand had to drag the left into place.
Matty swung the table around in front of her and Gloria ignored it.
“Would you like me to spread the jam?”
Rolling her eyes, Gloria huffed. “Well, who else is going to do it?”
“You?”
“Tch. And how exactly am I meant to do that?”
Matty placed the remote down on the mantelpiece, out of reach. “I thought you said you weren’t an imbecile?” She held Gloria’s gaze. “But if it’s too much for you, then I can—” She went to pick up the knife, but Gloria’s good hand shot out and brushed her away.
“I can do it.”
“Great, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the kitchen organising lunch. I thought we’d have quiche, unless you have any other preference.” She watched as Gloria gripped the knife and jabbed it into the little pot. It skidded away and Gloria huffed.
“Quiche is fine,” she said. “You can go.”
Matty smirked and made another sarcastic bow. “As you wish, m’lady.” As she reached the door, she stood just outside it and watched as Gloria moved her left hand onto the tray and used the right to lodge the pot into the curve of her palm. She then dug the knife in and pulled it out with a nice dollop of jam on it.
Gloria grinned and slapped it down on to the toast.
