Chapter 23
Back at his flat, Paolo shrugged off his coat, and threw it on his chair. Normally it lived neatly on the hooks in the hallway, but today he was bypassing his usual shipshape system.
Without bothering to remove his shoes, he flung himself on to the blasted snuggler. So much marketing was aimed at people in couples, right down to the nomenclature of everyday items.
‘Och, you,’ he said, as Ginger wound his way around his ankles.
The cat sprang up on to the chair next to him, before picking his way on to Paolo’s lap, where he curled up into a ball and gave a satisfied purr.
He had never had a cat like Ginger. None of the ones he’d had in Glasgow growing up had shown any affection or, indeed, basic level of interest in being part of the family. They probably heard the noise levels generated by four rowdy children and thought better of coming into the house for anything other than a bowl of food. Ginger, however, was more like a dog by nature, friendly and insistent on physical contact.
When he’d been dumped at the surgery, Ginger, with his matted hair, and gunky eyes had been timid, and terrified of being picked up. But after a gentle haircut, a course of antibiotics, and a week at home, he had settled in nicely. Now he always overjoyed to see his new owner, who he associated with regular mealtimes and plenty of fussing. There was an old cat flap on the ground floor and Paolo got permission to put one in his door, and bought a load of feline paraphernalia to keep Ginger happy. Ginger roamed freely, although he seemed to have a sixth sense about when Paolo would come home.
The moment Paolo put the key in the lock, his familiar would slink through the hallway as if by magic, and jump up on the nearest surface to his owner, purring with happiness at being reunited after a long day.
‘Am I imagining things?’ Paolo asked Ginger. ‘There was definitely something going on with Hamish and Skye. They were all over each other. Skye giving him all manner of looks. And Hamish with his fancy drinks. I swear he was trying to tell me something. Probably that he and Skye are now official.’
What would Holly and Chloe say? The benefit of having two very different women as friends meant you would almost certainly get two very different opinions. Holly would be practical: she’d tell him to pull his finger out and go and ask Hamish what was going on. Chloe, more cautious in her approach to everything other than vintage clothing and baking, would insist he wait and see how things unfolded.
Paolo felt that Holly’s approach was better. It would give him results.
That said, he knew from experience that slow and steady won the race. Once in high school he’d dyed his own hair over the sink, and then spent a week looking like a prick before his mother coughed up the money for a hairdresser to fix it.
He scratched the cat’s ears. ‘Tell me what to do, Ginger. Come on, you’re so wise. By the power of your nine lives, show me the way.’
Ginger let out a loud miaou, and bounded off Paolo’s lap, tripping along the floor before coming to a graceful halt by her empty bowl.
‘Yeah. OK. Better not formulate a plan on an empty stomach.’
He dug out a tin of food for Ginger and plonked a bowlful of it on the floor. Then an exploration of the pantry cupboard revealed a bag of pistachios and a jar of sundried tomatoes. Along with some fresh garlic and the extra virgin olive oil his nonna always insisted upon, he whipped up a pesto of sorts, then put on some pasta to boil.
As it simmered, Paolo checked his phone, scrolling mindlessly on social media to take his thoughts off Hamish. He didn’t want to go to his dating app, and text Patrick, which he still couldn’t face after the Rhuari nonsense.
Chloe had posted a plate of delicately iced cakes, his sister Francesca had put up some of herself looking glamorous on a night out. There was a slew of bookstagram posts, some pictures of exotic scenery. And a few of Fabien.
He flicked though. Fabien was in Edinburgh, for some reason — Paolo knew those beautiful streets anywhere.
If Fabien was in Scotland, he was almost certainly planning a trip to Eastercraig, where his family still lived. If this was so, Paolo might end up seeing him once more. His stomach gave an unexpected flip.