Chapter 1 #2
Mattie took numerous photos, some with herself in the frame and others without.
She chose one with her goofy face to send to Shona alongside #smellingtheroses.
Shona would laugh at it, and Mattie liked it because the scarred shell of her right ear was covered by her hair.
She’d purposely grown the pixie cut longer on that side since Kenya, but otherwise her appearance was similar to that in the viral footage she was infamous for.
For a while, she’d played with the idea of colouring it, going for something radically different from its natural light brown, but she couldn’t face having to sit in a salon for hours on end every few months.
Who had the time to sit still for that long?
“Help yourselves to food,” said Angie.
Nell forked some chicken onto her plate.
“Some roses don’t smell at all. It’s something to do with being mass-produced for their appearance and longevity means they have the fragrance bred out of them.
I read about it in a newspaper a while back.
” She frowned at Mattie, as though momentarily distracted. “Or maybe I saw it on TV.”
Oh no. Here it comes. I know you from somewhere.
Wait, aren’t you that woman off the TV news?
As a broadcast journalist regularly on nationwide TV news bulletins, it came as part of the package.
Before Kenya, the event that served as an unwelcome landmark in her career, it hadn’t bothered her so much.
Since then, it’d been different, with regular recognition and way too many comments about that story.
Purposefully, Mattie focused on Angie as she spoke.
“The white roses definitely smell and I told Shona so.” She was determined to prove that she’d be able to take time to smell the roses for the whole five days of her break.
No schedule, no deadlines, no demands on her, no stress, and definitely no work.
“I’m planning on taking lots of photos. I used to come to this area of Devon for family holidays when I was a kid.
I absolutely loved it, so I’m indulging in a trip down memory lane.
We didn’t have a video camera back then so this is the closest thing to touching the past I can get.
Of course, there’s the danger that everything’s changed and my memories will be spoiled.
” The thought of that possibility created an ache in her chest.
“This area is like most places. Some changes are for the better, others not,” said Angie. “I’m allowed to say that as someone who’s lived on and around the South Devon coastline their whole life.”
“Please tell me that the steam train is still running! I’ll be heartbroken if it isn’t,” said Mattie.
“Fear not, it is!”
“My brother and I used to watch from the beach and count how many carriages there were.” That memory, bittersweet and tinged with sepia, made her eyes water.
Angie returned her grin with one of her own, equally as wide. “My late dad was a steam railway fanatic. He talked as reverently about cylinders and boiler pressure and coal capacity as I did about Duran Duran.”
“Seeing as you know the area so well, maybe you could help me with my mission?” Was it a mistake to take total strangers into her confidence?
Keeping people at arm’s length when it came to her personal life was so much safer.
But even if Angie and Nell had recognised her, she sensed they were far less likely to be interested in her “celebrity” status. She could do this.
“Try me,” said Angie.
“To be honest, it’s a needle-in-a-haystack.
My family used to stay at a guest house in Paignton.
” Mattie pointed vaguely in the direction of the bigger town along the coast. “I’ve got it into my head that I’d like to find it, just for old times’ sake, but my brother Simon and I can’t remember exactly what it was called.
It was more than thirty years ago, and our parents passed away a while back so we can’t ask them.
” Sea View? Bay View? She’d looked it up but there were a fair few other guest houses with similar names.
Besides, there was no way the original proprietors would still be there – they’d be pushing late eighties by now – so any newer owners might well have changed the name.
“Tell us what you can remember. Nell works locally so she might be able to help too, although she’s a relative newbie. She’s only lived here for fourteen years,” Angie said, winking at Nell.
Clearly it was an in-joke. As the two women tossed around ideas, Mattie let her eyes drift over the freckles just below Nell’s collarbone again.
Delectable. And her curves? Divine. Nell pinged her gaydar, without a doubt.
Not in a blatant way; quite the opposite.
But a holiday fling wasn’t remotely on the agenda.
Just to be enjoying Nell’s attractive presence was gift enough.
Nell’s direct gaze caught hers, eyebrows drawn in confusion.
Damn. Had she been that obvious with her perusal?
She glanced away, hoping that she looked more nonchalant than she felt.
“A top-up?” Angie asked, bottle of wine in hand.
Mattie smiled as she held out her glass and took another, hopefully more discreet, glance at Nell’s slender legs. Not even a day old, and this trip was already turning out to be unexpectedly pleasant. She could handle a bit of attraction in a beautiful setting without acting on it. Couldn’t she?