Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Sloan checked her phone. Still nothing from Matty. She tossed it aside and it vanished under the duvet as she swung her legs out of bed and stood.
The sun was shining, heat already building outside and creeping in through the windows.
A pulse of need moved through her; a quiet reminder of what she meant to deny a little longer. She pulled on her robe, tied it, and opened the door. Gloria’s bedroom door stood open and the stairlift sat at the bottom.
Gloria was already up.
“Mum?” she called out as she made her way down the stairs.
Voices drifted from the kitchen. Radio 4 murmured, Saturday Live with Adrian Chiles playing, guests discussing whichever crisis was currently demanding attention.
“Mum?” Sloan tried again.
She walked into the kitchen and found Gloria at the table. The bread bag was open, crumbs all over the place. The butter dish sat open, and Gloria was pressing a jam jar to her chest with her weak arm, twisting the lid with her good hand.
“Do you want—”
“Nope, I’ve got it,” Gloria said, just as the seal gave with a hiss and the lid popped. “See? Just needed some oomph.”
“Indeed.” Sloan picked up the kettle. “Tea?”
“Please,” Gloria said. “Toast?”
Sloan turned back to find Gloria holding two more slices of bread. “Yes…why not. Thank you.”
She filled the kettle and flicked the switch, then turned back to watch as Gloria, now upright, shuffled over to the toaster, dropped each slice into it, and set it to cook.
“I thought it might be nice to go out for lunch today?” Sloan said when Gloria sat back down again.
“With the hippie?”
“Well, if you want Matty to come, I’m fine with that.”
Gloria smirked. “I bet you are.”
“Mum, do you have to make everything sound so…vulgar?”
Gloria pursed her lips, thinking, then said, “You like her, don’t you?”
“I do,” Sloan said. “She’s nice.”
“No.” Gloria leaned back slightly. “You like her. Like Maggie.”
Sloan’s hand stilled.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Maggie?”
The kettle hissed and gurgled. Sloan turned her attention back to it and the pot of tea she was making.
“One minute she was around and then the next she was gone,” Gloria continued. “You’ve never told me why.”
The toast popped. Gloria scraped her chair back and went to retrieve Sloan’s breakfast.
Sloan used the moment to think. She had spent years treating Maggie as something finished. But that old choice was sitting here now, at her kitchen table.
She filled the pot and stirred.
A plate landed gently on the table, then slid across. Gloria was back in her chair, waiting.
“Fine. Keep your secrets, then—”
Sloan spun round and stared at her. Gloria had no idea. None.
“I did love Maggie,” Sloan said.
“I know you did. That was why it was such a surprise when you sent her packing.”
Sloan picked up the teapot, then put it down again. She pressed her palms to the counter and squeezed her eyes shut, Maggie’s face flashing in her mind—hurt, then gone.
For a moment, she said nothing.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet, “I didn’t send her packing.”
“Well, you must have done something to make her leave like that.”
Sloan’s fingers curled against the edge of the counter. She looked down at them, then at the table, as if there might still be some way to stop herself saying it.
There wasn’t.
“She left because I chose you,” Sloan said. ”She wanted me to find you a home.”
Gloria’s mouth parted.
“And I said no,” Sloan went on, anger breaking through now. “I said I couldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t do that to you. Maggie wanted a different life. She wanted me to find you a nice home, somewhere you could see out your days, and we’d visit when we weren’t working or travelling.”
“You chose me?” Gloria looked genuinely shocked. “I didn’t know—”
“No,” Sloan cut in, frustration rising with every word, “because I chose not to tell you. I chose to protect you from it.” She released the counter and balled her hands into fists by her side, nails digging into her palms. “I threw myself into making sure you had the best of everything that was available. And you’ve thrown it in my face every day since. ”
For a moment, Gloria lost her edge. Not smug, not needling—just tired, and suddenly older than before.
“I didn’t know,” she said again, quieter. Her hands were now braced on the table, as if letting go would mean falling apart.
Gloria’s eyes flicked to the teapot, then back. Her chin lifted reflexively. “You should’ve told me.”
Sloan let out a humourless laugh. “And you would’ve done what? Thanked me?”
Gloria’s mouth tightened. She looked away, then back again. “I would’ve…known,” she said, the words awkward in her mouth. “I would’ve tried.”
Sloan stared at her, not trusting it.
Gloria swallowed. “I didn’t realise it was that. I thought you just—” She waved a hand, seeming impatient with herself. “You never bloody say anything.”
“Because you taught me to get on with it,” Sloan said. “To be independent. Not need anyone.”
Less angry now, Sloan pulled a chair out and sat down. She poured two mugs of tea.
“I didn’t have the energy,” she went on. “I needed to be there for you. To make arrangements. To listen to doctors and carers. To deal with Janet and Lionel, and the excuses for why they couldn’t help.”
She set the teapot down. Her hands hovered, then gripped the edge of the table again.
“I didn’t have time to fall apart,” she said, the words catching for a moment. “I just kept going… because someone had to.”
***
Matty woke with her thighs clenched and a soft moan that caught in the pillow. The urge to slide a hand down her body and touch was almost impossible to ignore.
She’d climbed into bed hours earlier and overheated in the night, shedding the vest top she’d slept in without even properly waking. Her nipples dragged against the sheet and instantly tightened. She pinched one gently—
Did “no touching” include her nipples?
The doubt stopped her.
It was nearly eleven. She wanted to tell Sloan—wanted to make it clear just how turned on she was, and how much she needed relief.
Her phone lit up as she touched the screen. She found Sloan’s last message and hit reply.
Matty: When you said no touching…do nipples count? Asking for a very frustrated friend.
She watched the screen for a moment—unread.
A knock came at the door. “You up?”
“Yep, thanks,” Matty called out. “Put the kettle on.”
“Already on.”
Matty sat upright, still wound tight. She glanced at her phone once more—still unread.
“Right. Up,” she muttered. Standing and grabbing the towel off the back of the door, she wrapped it around herself, then crossed the hall to the bathroom.
A quick shower, cooler than usual.
***
By the time she got dressed and walked into the kitchen, there was a mug of coffee steaming on the table.
“Lifesaver,” Matty murmured, lifting it and taking a sip. “Mm. That’s perfect.”
Sarah smiled up at her, eyes following as Matty took the same seat as earlier. “Got anything nice planned before you’re back in work mode?”
“Well, I was hoping to meet with Sloan, but she’s not read my text yet, so…” Matty shrugged.
“Is she expecting a text?”
“I thought so.” Matty frowned. “We talked yesterday about meeting up. I guess something came up. Hopefully nothing’s kicked off with Gloria.”
“Maybe you could just go over there and find out?”
“Yes, I could do that.” Matty nodded to herself as she considered it. “I’ll give it another half an hour and then I’ll text again or call. Maybe I’ll just call.” She took another sip. “What’s your day looking like?”
“I was thinking I’ll just veg in front of the telly for a bit. A few of my friends are going bowling later, so I might tag along.”
“Bloody expense that is nowadays.”
“I know, right? I’ll probably end up down the pub instead.”
Matty checked her phone again.
“Just call her,” Sarah said. “It obviously means a lot to you to see her, so…just do it.”
“You’re right. I’m going to.” Matty picked up the phone, found Sloan’s number, and hit call without any hesitation.
It rang.
And rang.
“No answer.”
Sarah got up and took her mug to the sink. “Maybe she’s just busy with the mother. You said she could be a handful, right?”
“True. She can, yes, but she’s been getting better recently.”
“Just because she’s behaving with you doesn’t mean she is with Sloan.”
“I guess so.” Matty shrugged again. “I hope that isn’t the case. It would be nice, you know, if they worked out whatever the issue was between them.”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Sarah said, turning and leaning back against the worktop.
“I know, but if this goes anywhere, then it might become my issue too.”
“Maybe you just need to enjoy it for what it is now and not get ahead of yourself.”
Matty thought about it. “I know you’re right.”
“And yet, the thought of her forever is enticing?”
“Maybe.” Matty grinned into her coffee. “Maybe.”