Chapter 20
Nell sat on a high stool at the breakfast bar in Angie’s kitchen and purposely turned her back on the TV, which was on in the background.
Why couldn’t Angie watch the BBC instead of Worldwide News?
Would it be rude to suggest switching the channels?
Then Nell wouldn’t be on tenterhooks, in turns dreading and hoping Mattie would appear on screen.
She stared out of the window at the sodden garden instead.
The view was blurred by rain slashing diagonally on the glass, serving to add to the gloomy mood she was doing her best to ignore.
“We got away lightly in comparison to some parts of the country,” said Angie, clearly referring to the bulletin about flooding that the newsreader was delivering.
“So far, at least.” Nell spoke to the window rather than turn and risk her eyes straying to the screen.
“The landslide warnings on some of the cliff paths will stay in place for a while yet.” The latter, along with slippery conditions underfoot, was why she and Angie had cancelled their fortnightly hike and were having a leisurely lunch at home instead.
Nell focused on listening to the sounds of Angie preparing food rather than those on the TV: the fridge being opened and closed, a knife clacking against the chopping board, the fizz emitted as Angie opened a bottle of sparkling water.
They were followed by the ding of the oven timer.
The kitchen filled with the sweet smell of freshly baked banana cake.
And then it happened. Mattie’s honeyed voice rang out, and it was as if she was in the kitchen in person.
Nell stiffened. Of course she’d been tempted to watch Worldwide News after Mattie had left, but she hadn’t given in to that desire.
Holding out was necessary if she was going to move past this.
..crush...infatuation...emotional attachment. ..or whatever this damn thing was.
“Poor Mattie resembles a drowned rat,” said Angie.
Nell’s pulse ticked faster. “Perils of the job.”
Angie turned the volume up. After ten days of abstinence, Nell was unable to resist. She turned and her eyes latched onto Mattie’s face, magnified on the TV screen.
Nell’s breath caught. Mattie wore an expression Nell remembered vividly, open and keen as she spoke to the camera.
That face, so familiar, one she’d seen lying on a pillow next to her, intimate and softened by sleep.
“Hungry?” asked Angie.
Nell dragged her avid gaze away from Mattie and turned to Angie, who was slicing a homemade spinach frittata into portions. “Hungry. Smells great.”
Angie placed a large slice onto a plate and pushed it across the breakfast bar to her. “I’m not talking about food.” She pointed at the TV with her knife. “I meant hungry for her.”
Nell’s mouth fell open. Had Angie taken leave of her senses? “What?”
“Just the way you were looking at her then gave you away. You weren’t listening to her. You were gazing at her like a starved woman.” Angie smiled gently. “And don’t tell me it’s because you’re suddenly fascinated with flood defence systems in the Midlands, or whatever they’re talking about.”
“I...um...” Nell ground the peppercorns onto her salad, the motion mirroring her torturous thought processes. Angie had worked it out. She knew.
Angie perched on a stall next to her and cocked her head to one side. “Look at Mattie’s shirt.”
Mute, Nell followed Angie’s instructions. She swallowed hard, and it had nothing to do with the spinach frittata.
“Either it’s a stunning coincidence,” said Angie, “or a certain award-winning journalist who was visiting here just a few weeks ago is wearing the exact same blouse that I gave you for your birthday.”
Trust Angie to notice. Nell had no idea how Mattie had ended up with her shirt, let alone be wearing it on national TV. She did, however, vaguely remember Mattie stripping it off her.
Angie tsked. “It’s a size too big for her. If she leans down too far, the nation will be getting an unexpected view of her cleavage.”
Small and perfectly formed. Nell tried to keep her poker face in place, but the heat warming it made it clear she’d failed.
Angie raised her eyebrow. “You’ve turned the colour of the queen of diamonds! So I was right. It is yours. How did Mattie come to have it, I wonder?”
“I wonder.” Nell’s lips curved into a reluctant smile at how pleased Angie looked. Anyone would think she’d solved the crime of the century. Oddly, though, Nell didn’t want to run for the hills. Angie knowing her truth was a relief. Wasn’t that a surprise?
“There was something between the pair of you right from that first evening in my garden. Mattie couldn’t take her eyes off you, and you were pretending not to look at her.
” Angie smiled. “Then the tension between you was off the scales when I drove you both to Dartmouth. Once I’d figured out it wasn’t work-related, sexual attraction was the most obvious reason. ”
“Oh.” Nell’s fork clattered against the plate as Angie’s accurate observations took root. “Was it— Were we that obvious?”
“No.”
Nell gulped mouthfuls of sparkling water, desperate to stop her tongue gluing itself to the roof of her mouth. “I’ve never said anything about, you know, liking women.”
“Ten years ago, it wouldn’t have occurred to me, but my Rosie’s journey of self-discovery has opened my eyes to so much more.
” Angie placed her hand on Nell’s forearm.
“It doesn’t alter our friendship one iota.
I understand, Nell. You’re a private woman, and I respect that you’re not one for shouting about your sex life. ”
“Thank you.” Nell smiled. Angie’s vote of confidence made her heart soar. “I should’ve said something but, well, you know me. I’m more buttoned-up than a duffel coat.”
Angie smirked. “I suspect Mattie found a way of undoing some of those buttons.”
“Behave.” Nell tried and failed to sound outraged but being able to share this side of herself with Angie was so unexpectedly liberating.
Angie sobered. “It’s so much easier for kids who are Rosie’s age. You and I are of the generation where they/them were used as a plural and someone’s sexuality was straight, gay, or bisexual.”
Nell’s breath shuddered. “In the circles I grew up in, sexuality wasn’t an everyday topic for discussion. On the rare occasions it did come up, it came attached with a hugely toxic dose of judgement.”
Angie gestured at the untouched frittata on Nell’s plate. “That’s getting cold.”
Nell dug into it with a fork, surprised she still had an appetite. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean for the food.”
“Speaking of Rosie... She knows, about all of this,” said Angie, uncertainty about revealing the news obvious in her voice.
Nell gaped at her. “You talked to Rosie about me?”
“Of course not. She guessed.” Angie side-eyed her. “Apparently, you gave her dagger eyes when she asked Mattie out to a gay bar.”
“Ah.” How embarrassing to be caught out by a twenty-something. “I might have been slightly jealous.”
Angie reached for the bowl of tomatoes. “When are you and Mattie getting together again? I haven’t been to London in years, so I’ll have to live vicariously through you.”
Nell dropped her shoulders. “There won’t be any trips to London. Not to see Mattie, anyway.”
“Really?” Angie looked surprised.
“It was a holiday fling.” Nell stabbed at an olive with her fork. “We haven’t been in touch since she returned to London.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It’s for the best.” If Nell repeated it often enough, perhaps she could indoctrinate herself into believing it.
Her eyes latched onto Mattie again, and she recognised the determination and single-minded focus in her pose, her eyes, despite the open “I’m listening” look.
Nell remembered how it felt to be in the firing line of Mattie’s laser-sharp questioning.
That council CEO didn’t have a clue what was in store for him. I miss her.
Angie went to the fridge and brought out a bottle of white. “Any time is wine o’clock, and I think you deserve this.” She poured two glasses. “Can I ask you something?”
Nell held up her glass in silent agreement.
Angie swivelled on her stool so they were face to face. “Why are you trying to convince yourself it’s for the best that you and Mattie have nothing to do with each other?”
Nell winced at the question she’d been avoiding asking herself. “Could you start with an easier question, please?”
“That’s the easiest one I’ve got.”
Nell swallowed a mouthful of the crisp, dry wine. “It was what Mattie and I agreed. No strings.”
“No strings is different from no contact,” said Angie.
“Apart from when one of the parties ties herself up in knots with said strings.” Nell studied her finger as it traced the delicate stem of her wine glass. “I kind of fell for her.”
“Ah.”
“Ah indeed.” Nell’s pulse picked up again as she let her gaze, still hungry, latch onto the TV again.
Mattie’s voice had turned to steel, and the panic-stricken CEO was clearly trying to backtrack.
I wish she was talking to me. Either the wine was having a loosening effect on her tongue, or Nell was having yet another wildly out of character moment, one of many she’d had since meeting Mattie.
“I can’t stop thinking about her or wanting to spend more time together. ”
“You fell for her? Or think you could?”
“No. Yes. Christ, I’m talking nonsense.” Nell pressed her palm to her burning cheek as if that might stop the words tumbling from her mouth.
“We spent a whole day and a few nights together, that’s all.
It was a holiday from everyday life stuff, more fantasy than anything real. It can’t possibly mean something else.”
Angie tilted her head and looked over her glasses at Nell. “Why not?”
“Because I barely know her.” Nell took another gulp of wine to blur the oddness of discussing her inner feelings with Angie—with anyone. “I thought we were going to chat about our hiking holiday plans?”
Angie laughed. “This is far more interesting.”
The sound of dogs barking filled the room.
Nell stared at Mattie, who was now filming live from an animal shelter that’d been submerged under three feet of filthy water and sludge.
Her interviewee, a bedraggled woman in her sixties, clutched a black Scottie dog.
It wriggled in the woman’s arms and looked adoringly at Mattie when she stroked his head. Lucky dog.
Angie topped up Nell’s glass. “You should text her and ask for your shirt back.”
“Sh, you’re talking over her.” Now Nell had caved into her craving to watch Mattie, she didn’t want to miss a single word.
Angie snorted and stayed quiet until Mattie finished her report and the sports news came on.
She turned down the volume. “Text her. You’ve got nothing to lose.
Worst-case scenario, she ignores you and then you can take the moral high ground and call her a thief.
” Angie smiled encouragingly. “From what I know of her, she’ll at least answer. ”
How much courage did Nell need to send a text? She’d stood up to an abuser with a knife, walked away from a toxic marriage, and finally come out to Angie. She could write a few words and press the send button, couldn’t she?”