‘I didn’t saythat,’ Aled admitted.
Rosie shook her head and smiled at him. She was coming to the conclusion that, despite his Adonis-esque exterior, he was shy.
‘How was it, anyway?’ Rosie asked him, deciding not to tease him any further.
‘School? OK, thanks. Some of the kids are amazing, others are tougher – but most of them are brighter than they believe they are. I think it’ll be an interesting few months, at least.’
A little gingerly, as if scared to set himself down too close to Rosie, and with a side glance at the pyjamas that had felt so appropriate a few minutes previously but now seemed anything but, he sat at the other end of the sofa and loosened the already sloppy tie around his neck. It was a deep-red knitted thing, unshowy and sort of old-fashioned. Combined with his slightly rumpled oxford shirt and navy-blue V-neck – the sleeves of which he’d rolled up to the elbows – it gave him the look of a hassled professor.
He could definitely pass for the self-effacing mathematical genius in an action movie, Rosie thought – the guy who solves a critical equation and makes it possible for a troupe of stranded astronauts to come home. Or maybe the lead in a romcom about bookshops: some enemies-to-lovers story involving business rivalry and irresistible attraction. She cleared her throat.
‘How was your week?’ he asked. ‘Or should I take the answer as implied since you’re in your PJs?’
‘Pretty dull and dispiriting, to be honest,’ she told him, smiling wistfully. ‘I had a few job interviews, most of which went well enough that I think I’ll probably get something. I can’t say I’m excited about any of the positions, though.’
‘Have you applied for jobs like the one you were doing before?’
‘Yeah. Insurance stuff, a couple of admin roles and some customer service positions.’
‘I’m sensing pretty low levels of enthusiasm for all of the above,’ Aled said, twisting his body around to face her.
‘Guilty as charged,’ Rosie said, holding her palms up – not entirely sure why she was being so honest with him when she hadn’t even admitted this to Niamh.
‘So … why not do something else?’ he asked.
‘I dunno,’ Rosie mumbled, unsure how to respond to this simple and entirely reasonable question. It seemed to require a complicated answer she didn’t have; it demanded justifications that she couldn’t come up with on the spot.
In the end, she settled for: ‘I’ve never really done anything else. I’m not sure what else I’mcapableof doing, quite honestly.’
‘OK,’ Aled said. ‘You’re good with people – that much is clear. And I assume you can make decent coffee?’
‘I guess so,’ Rosie said, a small thrill shooting through her at his compliment.
‘I know someone who’s looking for a barista. You could probably do as many hours as you’d like, for as long as you’d like, while you figure out what kind of job you’rereallyafter.’
‘That sounds … intriguing,’ Rosie said, surprised to discover she meant it. ‘Does it pay OK?’
‘Well enough, I should think, depending on how many hours you want to do. It might not be quite as much as you’re used to, but what have you got to lose? If you hate it, you can always quit and try something else – and it’ll be easy to fit around your volunteering when you get started.’
Rosie was amazed that he remembered Gather even existed; she’d only mentioned it briefly, but he’d obviously retained the information.
‘Is that what you’d do? Just give it a go?’ she asked, not sure what difference this would make but keen to hear his opinion anyway.
‘Definitely,’ Aled said. ‘This is why I do supply work. I like being able to move around, try new things. I started off doing TEFL – teaching English as a foreign language – so I’ve travelled a fair bit. I’m yet to stay anywhere for much more than a year.’
Oh. That explained his scant possessions, as well as the olive-gold glow of his skin. It had the kind of tone that even a Mediterranean complexion couldn’t sustain under cloudy English skies; it spoke of days spent in brilliant sunshine and evenings on balmy beaches.
Rosie wanted to ask where he’d been, what sort of adventures he’d had, why he’d never put down roots. What had made him start travelling in the first place. She bit the questions back, aware they were too searching to ask someone she knew so superficially.
‘So London will just be another pin in the map for you, then?’ she said, her voice deliberately light. ‘Are you renovating upstairs so you can rent it out and move on?’
Aled shifted in his seat, seeming uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, then muttered, ‘Something like that.’
It was a strangely non-committal response, which Rosie nevertheless felt was final. Something told her that picking at it – trying to strip away the ambiguity and uncover whatever meaning lay beneath – was a bad idea.
‘Do you want me to put you in touch with the cafe? About the job?’ he asked, effectively shutting down further discussion of his own future.
‘Please,’ Rosie said, refocusing on her situation and smiling gratefully at him. ‘That would be great.’
