Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Owen glanced at the front garden. “She’s been planting again.”
Callum cackled. “Yeah, but when Mum does it, they survive.”
Matt cracked up, and Owen gave him a hard stare. “Can I remind you that I’m technically your employer right now?”
He grinned. “And I’m the man who’s going to make your front garden jealous of your back garden. When I’m done, you’ll be able to charge entry. A full-page spread in House & Garden magazine.” Then he chuckled. “Okay, I’m not that good, but I still say we can make the space look amazing.”
The front door opened, and Cyn stood there, gazing inquiringly at Matt.
Callum walked up to her and kissed her cheek. “Did you have a quiet weekend?”
“Sole use of the remote? I had a fabulous time.” The skin around her eyes crinkled as she regarded Owen warmly. “Since when does he get chauffeur service?” Another keen glance in Matt’s direction.
Owen could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain.
“This is Matt Daley. He lives in the house next door to mine, and I’ve hired him to work on the garden. He’s also helping me with furniture.”
“Daley?” Cyn’s eyes widened. “No way.” She stared at Matt. “Jeff Daley is your father? Except that’s a stupid question. One look at you now, and the resemblance is obvious.”
Matt held out his hand and they shook. “My mum was just talking about you this morning. She’ll be tickled pink when she knows I got to meet you.”
“Your mum knows me?” Her brow furrowed.
Owen couldn’t wait to see her reaction. “Babs.”
Cyn’s mouth fell open. “Oh. My. God.”
Callum laughed. “You should’ve seen Dad’s face when he discovered who his new neighbours were.” He gestured to the front garden. “What do you think of this?”
“It’s a well-thought out space.” Matt looked towards the front border. “You know, those lavender plants are in completely the wrong place.”
Owen sighed dramatically. “I’ve employed him for less than twenty-four hours and already he’s insulting my garden.”
Matt grinned. “I’m insulting someone else’s garden. Yours hasn’t happened yet.”
Cyn laughed. “See? He gets it already.”
Matt frowned. “Gets what?”
“Owen’s tendency to take everything personally.”
Owen stared. “I do not.”
She snorted. “Oh, you do.”
“I merely have standards.”
Matt glanced between them. “Am I allowed to take sides?”
“No,” they said in unison.
There was a beat before Matt burst out laughing.
Callum chuckled. “Come on. I’ll show you what Mum’s been doing out back. She’s proud of it.” He smirked. “Dad tried to kill it when I was a kid, but Mum says she worked a few miracles.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “Okay. Enough with the jokes about my lack of a green thumb. I won’t deny I’m useless around plant life, but I am doing something about it, aren’t I?”
Matt’s expression softened. “No more jokes, I promise. And you’re right. You are doing something about it.”
“This way.” Callum dropped his bag to the ground, then led Matt around to the side path.
Cyn stood aside. “Have you got time for a coffee?”
“Always.” He picked up Callum’s bag with a sigh, stepped inside, and headed for the kitchen. It was a sunny room done in pale yellow with white cabinets that reflected the light. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air.
Cyn went over to the worktop, grabbed a mug, and filled it. She handed it to Owen. “So how does Jeff’s son end up working for you?”
“Jeff was my first visitor. He turned up with a casserole. When I saw who he was, I nearly fell through the floor.” He put the bag on a chair.
“I can’t get over that part. Jeff and Babs are your neighbours? God, the odds must be astronomical. Make sure you buy a Lottery ticket tomorrow.” She cocked her head. “Have they changed much?”
“I haven’t seen Babs yet, only Jeff. And no, he hasn’t, not much. By the way, when you finally come to see the house, expect a dinner invitation.”
She beamed. “I can’t wait. Okay, back to Matt. Is this what he does for a living?”
“No. He’s finishing work on his dissertation for a master’s in Film and Television. He’s already got a bachelor’s in History. But Jeff recommended him, so I invited him over for a chat. And once we got talking, I knew I had to have him.”
She bit her lip. “You might want to rethink that last statement.”
Owen rolled his eyes again. “Behave. He’s twenty-five.”
Cyn cocked her head to one side. “So you found someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
He blinked. “Is that so surprising?”
“Only because you usually insist on doing everything yourself.” She flashed him a quick smile. “I think this will work out.”
“How can you know that based on a few sentences?”
“Oh, I’m not referring to Matt—I’m talking about you.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you know what struck me? You laughed. You teased him, you let him tease you back, and you were smiling without even realising you were doing it.” She drank her coffee. “I haven’t seen that in a long time.” She paused. “Not since Ben.”
Owen searched for a rebuttal. None came.
The trouble was he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed that easily either.
The back door opened, and Matt and Callum walked in.
“I love what you’ve done out there,” Matt said with a smile.
“Thank you. And now I can’t wait to see what you do with Owen’s.”
“It’s already a lovely garden,” Matt told her. “But right now it still feels like it belongs to the people who lived there before. We’re trying to make it feel like Owen’s.”
Cyn’s eyes flicked to Owen before returning to Matt. “That’s a lovely way of looking at it.” She smiled. “Just looking at you reminds me of the old days.”
Owen narrowed his gaze. “Be very careful what you say next.”
“Well, one particular memory comes to mind.”
He groaned. “That sentence never ends well.”
“Oh, I think it ends very well.” She looked at Matt. “Your mum was impossible to embarrass.”
He chuckled. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true.” She leaned against the worktop. “Freshers’ week. Jeff announced we should all go to a student nightclub.” Her lips twitched. “Owen hated dancing.”
“I still do,” he muttered.
“He claimed he had all the rhythm of a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel.”
Matt laughed.
“So your dad and Babs decided that simply wouldn’t do. They dragged Owen onto the dance floor…”
Owen sighed. “I knew this story was coming. I told them I had the coordination of a newborn foal.”
“… and after about thirty seconds, Owen gave up trying to dance and started making everyone else laugh instead.”
Matt frowned. “How?”
“He danced exactly the way he thought his dad would.”
Owen covered his face, but she went on, relentless.
“And there was Owen the shopping trolley, trying to avoid potholes. He was all elbows and terrible dad moves. Completely deliberate.”
Callum burst out laughing. “Dad….”
“The whole dance floor joined in.” Cyn grinned. “Within five minutes there were about fifty students all doing Owen’s ridiculous dance.”
Matt stared at Owen. “You?”
Owen spread his hands. “It was either laugh at myself or die of embarrassment.”
Cyn smiled. “That’s Owen. He’d rather be the punchline than let anyone else feel awkward.” She tilted her head. “Has he shown you any of his photos?”
“Not yet, but he’s mentioned them.”
“He always had that camera. He photographed everything. Birthdays. Trips. Visits to the pub.”
Owen shrugged. “I liked people.”
“The funny thing was, he’d disappear halfway through a party.”
“I was taking photographs.”
“No, you just hated being the centre of attention.” She gazed at Matt. “He was happiest watching everyone else enjoy themselves. And people always relaxed around him. He had a gift for making complete strangers feel as though they’d known him for years.”
Owen shrugged. “Someone had to make sure everyone else was having a good time.”
“He’d be introducing people who didn’t know each other, making coffee for anyone who’d had too much to drink, finding coats…” She smiled. “He was the world’s least glamorous host.”
Matt laughed.
“I’m still like that,” Owen protested. “Just with better coffee.”
“Do you want to know why your dad and Owen worked so well together?”
“Please.” Matt appeared rapt.
Owen chuckled. “I assumed because we were both idiots.”
She laughed. “Jeff would walk into a pub knowing nobody and leave with six new friends.” She pointed at Owen. “You were the one who made them feel as though they’d always belonged.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“You never noticed?” Her eyes twinkled. “Jeff introduced people. You kept them.”
Owen frowned.
“Think about it. At every party, Jeff would be chatting to whoever had just walked through the door. Meanwhile, you’d notice the person standing on their own and quietly go and rescue them.”
“I was just making conversation.”
She shook her head. “You were making people comfortable.” She looked at Matt. “But back to Owen and his camera… We once spent forty minutes looking for him.”
“And?”
“He’d climbed onto the roof of the halls of residence.”
Matt blinked. “Why?”
“So he could get everyone into one photograph.”
Owen shrugged again. “It was the only place high enough.”
“Jeff didn’t even ask why. He simply looked up and shouted, ‘Did you get everyone?’” Then she grinned. “Owen shouted back, ‘Almost. Tell Barbara to move three feet left.’”
Callum grinned. “Yeah, that sounds like Dad.”
Owen rubbed a hand over his beard. “Right. I think that’s quite enough nostalgia for one morning.”
Cyn’s smile was downright smug. “Embarrassed?”
“Mildly.”
“Liar.”
He sighed. “Fine. Deeply embarrassed.”
Matt laughed.
Owen pointed at him. “You too?”
“Sorry.” Matt failed to sound sorry in the slightest.
Owen stood, went over to her, and bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll let you know when the house is safe to visit. Right now you’d spend more time climbing over boxes than admiring the place.”
“Don’t wait until the garden’s finished,” she said. “I want to see the before and after.” Her gaze settled on Matt. “It was lovely meeting you.”
“You too.”
She smiled knowingly. “Take care of him.”
Matt blinked, a faint crease appearing between his brows.
Owen coughed. “Okay, it’s time we went to IKEA.”
“I’ll walk them to the car,” Callum told Cyn.
Owen went through the hall and out into the sunshine, Matt following.
He’s known Cyn for less than twenty minutes, and somehow he already feels like part of the conversation.
Some people had that gift. Jeff had been one of them.
Maybe the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree after all.
He hugged Callum. “Don’t forget. You have an open invitation to visit.”
Callum laughed. “You might regret that.” He patted Matt’s arm. “I’ll see you again. Keep Dad out of trouble?”
Matt chuckled. “Okay, two things about that. Is he likely to get into any? And what makes you think I could stop him?” He opened the car door and got into the passenger seat.
Owen went around, pausing before getting in. He snorted. “I spent three years trying to keep your father out of trouble. I have no intention of swapping one Daley for another.”
Callum grinned and headed back inside.
Owen waited while Matt buckled his seatbelt. Cyn’s words lingered.
You laughed.
He really hadn’t noticed.
Then again, he’d spent the morning in the company of a young man who could make almost any subject interesting—from gardens and history to old photographs and student pranks.
Owen smiled to himself.
Maybe IKEA wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Owen glanced at Matt’s phone. “How’s the list doing?” They’d noted the numbers of the wardrobes, bookcases, and a few other items, to be collected from the warehouse section.
“I think we’ve got everything.” Matt shook his head. “It always gets me about IKEA. They make you follow a path so they have more chances to hook you into buying something else.” He glanced at Owen. “Can I ask a personal question?”
“Sure, you can ask.” He had to wonder what was coming.
“What made you retire so young?”
“Because I could.”
Matt laughed. “That’s not an answer.”
He thought about it for a moment. “I spent thirty years working because I thought one day I’d have time.” He paused. “Then I realised life has a habit of changing your plans.”
Matt said nothing.
They passed through the children’s department, and a plaintive wail filled the air. A little boy was having a spectacular tantrum, and there didn’t seem to be a parent in sight.
Matt went over to him, knelt down, and picked up the soft toy the child had thrown. He handed it back without saying a word, and the boy stopped crying.
His mum appeared, visibly flustered. She took one look at the child, and mouthed “Thank you.”
As they walked on, Owen glanced sideways. “You’re good with kids.”
Matt shrugged. “They usually just want someone to listen.”
Owen said nothing, but filed it away in the mental compartment where he was already building up a file on Matt.
He’d assumed Matt was a carefree twenty-five-year-old. Instead Owen kept seeing flashes of someone thoughtful, patient and kind.
Someone he enjoyed being around.
Owen pulled out of IKEA’s car park, and dead ahead of them were three huge cruise ships, docked.
Matt whistled. “Look at the size of those things.”
“Have you ever wanted to go on a cruise?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever given it much thought.”
When the thought hit him, Owen almost hesitated to voice it. The idea was a good one, but it seemed a bit presumptuous.
“Have you ever visited the Isle of Wight?” He pointed off to the left. “The ferry goes there from here.”
“No, never. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you like gardens and history. The island had Osborne House, the summer palace created by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. It has gardens. Then there’s Carisbrooke Castle, where Charles I was imprisoned. Plus there’s the botanical gardens near Ventnor.”
Matt chuckled. “Did you ever work for the Isle of Wight Tourist board? You seem to know a lot about it.”
“We used to go there a lot when I was little. Summer holidays by the sea. Later holidays too, when Callum was little.” He paused. “We could go there one day, if you like. Think of it as research. Or even better, as a break from the dissertation—or a reward for when you finish it.”
Matt’s face glowed. “I love that idea. You could show me all the places you remember as a kid.” He grinned. “Although you had me at the history bits.”
Owen joined the flow of traffic heading towards the A33. It was only then that he realised what he’d done.
The trip to the island had nothing to do with the garden or IKEA, or even the dissertation.
Twenty-four hours ago, Matt had been Jeff’s son.
Somewhere between B&Q and IKEA, he’d quietly become Matt.
And I offered to take him to what could only be described as my sanctuary.