Chapter 10 #2
Nell smiled. Angie couldn’t stop herself from launching into caring-mum mode.
Nell headed out of the car park, her thighs feeling as though she’d hiked ten miles already.
Maybe it was a stupid idea to walk at all.
She could hide in a cafe and drink espressos all day.
Any enthusiasm for hanging around soon withered when she saw the crowds thronging the town centre.
Too many people and not enough fresh, cooling air.
She’d stick to her original walking route but reverse it by crossing the river and walking up the Dart Valley trail.
Yes, it led to Greenway House, but Nell would avoid it by walking around the grounds instead of going into them.
Then she’d take the passenger ferry across the river to continue the trail there…
if she didn’t die of alcohol poisoning in the interim.
Two hours later, her fit-to-burst bladder was a problem.
The forest trail was too busy for her to nip behind a tree for a wild wee.
The path veered around a bend, and ahead, a stunning white building of stately proportions came into view.
Greenway House, she presumed. It was perched on a hill surrounded by a battalion of mature trees and overlooked the River Dart.
The National Trust managed the property as a tourist attraction, so there were bound to be public toilets there.
Nell quickened her pace, her legs finding energy now that relief was in sight.
Once in Greenway’s grounds, she consulted a map displayed on an information board.
She needed to pass the boathouse, which according to the sign, Agatha Christie had used as the scene of the crime in Dead Man’s Folly, and then follow the path around.
Thankfully, there was no queue, and she virtually ran into a toilet cubicle.
Phew. Her hangover was clearing too. Now she was at Greenway, she might as well make use of the cafe facilities.
A pot of tea or an iced latte would go down a treat.
Outside, she turned left and then saw a sign for the cafe pointing in the opposite direction.
She stopped, turned, and inadvertently walloped a child with her backpack.
Oh hell. She bent down so she was on the same level as the boy’s face.
Going by his height, he was probably about seven or eight years old, and a football fan too, if his red Liverpool FC T-shirt was anything to go by. “Are you okay?”
The boy didn’t answer, and tears brimmed in his eyes.
Nell looked around. No one was rushing over to claim him. Maybe he was lost? She asked him, and he made a flurry of hand and arm signals in response. Nell looked at the side of his head and saw a cochlear implant. Ah, now it all made sense: he was communicating via sign language.
“Nell.”
She frowned on hearing Mattie’s voice close by. Was there no escaping the damn woman?
“I can help.” Mattie smiled tentatively and then signed to the boy.
The boy’s face lit up with relief and recognition. They signed quickly, and Mattie laughed.
“What did he say?” asked Nell, surprised by Mattie’s obvious skill.
“His name is Leon, he’s eight, and he’s lost his mum. Oh, and I look like an angel.”
Nell could make any number of responses to that, but her police antennae demanded she focus on getting Leon reunited with his parent. “Is he happy to come with us to the ticket office? The staff there can keep him safe until his mum claims him.”
Mattie signed with Leon, whose face was incredibly expressive now that he was able to communicate with someone.
At the ticket booth, Nell explained the issue while Mattie laughed with Leon.
It was only a matter of minutes before he was reunited with his frantic mother, who looked torn between shouting at him for wandering off or hugging him and never letting go.
Leon gave Mattie a joyous high-five before leaving.
Nell turned to Mattie. “When did you learn to sign?”
“As a kid. My brother, Simon, was born profoundly deaf. My signing is a bit ropey because I’m not using it every day anymore, but I get by.”
“It’s such a valuable skill. It’s something I’ve always intended to learn but haven’t found the time for.” Nell glanced at her. “Leon’s right; you can be angelic.”
“Just not all the time, right?” Mattie held out her hands. “Nell, I tried to say this earlier. I owe you the hugest apology.”
“Yes, you do.”
Mattie scuffed the ground with the toe of her boot.
“I’m mortified at how I behaved last night.
I’ve never crossed the line like that before.
” She took a business card from her wallet and wrote on the back of it.
“This is the name and email address of the managing editor at the TV station. He’s my boss.
If you want to take the matter further, he’s the person to contact. ”
Nell stared at the card dangling from Mattie’s fingertips.
“Please take it. I need to make amends. At least let me prove I can take responsibility for my own shortcomings.”
Nell took it from her and read the details. “I have to admit to being curious as to why you crossed the line.”
“Because I was angry that you wouldn’t give me a chance, that you wouldn’t trust me.” Mattie seemed to focus on a point somewhere over Nell’s shoulder. “I’m an idiot who deserves to face a disciplinary hearing or be fired for such poor judgement.”
“That’s an honest answer, if nothing else.
” Nell had no doubt that the apology was sincere.
Gone was Mattie’s poised, in-front-of-TV-cameras expression.
In its place was an awkward, shame-faced woman who looked utterly crushed.
This was an easy decision to make. She handed the card back to Mattie.
“I don’t want to take matters any further.
You owned your mistake. No huge harm was done. ”
Mattie puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t deserve to be let off, but thank you. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow morning and on my way back to London.”
Nell pushed down a stab of disappointment at that news. “You’ll need a holiday to recover from the holiday,” she said lightly.
“This trip wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s for sure,” Mattie said. “In so many ways.”
What was that supposed to mean? Ah, Rosie, of course. “I’m sure your date tonight will help.”
Mattie frowned. “What date?”
“With Rosie.”
“Oh good god, no.” Mattie shook her head vehemently. “She’s way too young for me.”
Oh. “Have you had lunch yet?” Nell asked before allowing herself a chance to overthink it.
“No.”
“Join me at the cafe. Call it an olive branch, a truce, whatever. No work talk on the menu at all.”
Not in a million years could she have imagined making that offer when she and Mattie had stubbornly refused to chat in the car this morning.
But Mattie had turned Rosie down, and with that revelation, a secret hope flared.
Could they salvage their fledgling connection?
Suddenly, it felt imperative that she try.