Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
June
The minute Matt stepped into the kitchen, he knew something was wrong.
Mum and Dad were seated at the table, except neither of them was on their phones. Instead, they stared into their mugs.
Matt’s mind jolted to the obvious, his chest tightening in a heartbeat.
“Granddad… Is he…”
Dad raised his head, his face drawn. “No, he’s still with us.” He swallowed. “But the carers called this morning. I think it’s time.”
Matt’s stomach roiled. “I see.”
“We’ll visit the hospice after breakfast.” Mum’s voice sounded so far away. “Just to make sure everything’s in place.” She sighed. “It’s always the way, isn’t it? One person leaving… another getting ready to arrive.”
He blinked. “Has there been news? Am I an uncle again?”
“Not yet. There’s still a month to go. But Jamie was early, so I guess they’re preparing themselves for any eventuality. And they’re still coming this weekend.”
Which meant Uncle Matt would be called upon to give rides to Jamie, play in the garden, and give his parents a break. Not that Matt minded that—he loved his little nephew—but he’d been hoping to spend the weekend making real progress on his dissertation.
That can wait.
“How long will they be here for?”
“A week, maybe longer.” Mum shook her head.
“I want Beth to put her feet up. You know what she’s like.
She can’t walk from one room to another without finding something to do.
I want her to take it easy. Zach says he’s got to go into work a few times, but at least when he isn’t working, he can chill too. ”
“I’m going to see your granddad later.” Dad peered at him. “Do you want to come with me?”
That sent a pang lancing through him.
He wanted to say yes. He knew he should.
He just couldn’t.
Matt’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from the pocket of his shorts.
Owen: No rush this morning if you’ve got things to do. I’m around all day.
It wasn’t exactly saved by the bell, but as near as damn it. Matt hated himself for even thinking that way. His throat was tight, his chest tighter.
He managed a cough. “You give Granddad my love, okay?”
The look in Dad’s eyes spoke volumes. “Yeah, I will.” His voice was gentle.
Matt took a moment to breathe. “I think Owen has my whole day mapped out, so I’d better get over there.”
“It’s working out, then?”
“Really well. He’s easy to spend time with. I can see why you all got along so well.” He glanced at Mum. “To watch Owen and Cyn together, it’s difficult to believe they’re divorced. They seem such a good fit.”
“I’m glad you got to meet her. I can’t wait to get her over here for dinner.”
“She’ll be visiting Owen’s place when it’s finally sorted. Maybe that would be a good time.”
Mum picked up her mug. “You’d better go. It sounds as if you have a full day ahead of you.”
Matt chuckled. “My day started while you were both still asleep. Again.”
Dad frowned. “No burning the candle at both ends, all right? Your dissertation is the priority.”
He smiled. “It’s fine. Everything is on track.”
And spending the day with Owen would be a welcome break.
It was strange how quickly life changed things.
A week ago Owen had been nothing but a name his parents mentioned.
Now Matt found himself anticipating seeing him, not because of the garden, or the furniture, or the shopping trips, but because every time they talked he came away having learned something new.
Somehow, Owen had become the most interesting part of his day.
Owen carried the tray containing the teapot and associated paraphernalia out onto the patio. Matt stood at the top of the steps, a piece of A4 paper in one hand, staring at the garden.
Owen couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something different about Matt this morning. He seemed quieter, more thoughtful.
Maybe it’s the dissertation. Or something else entirely.
“Tea,” he called out as he picked up the pot.
Matt turned. “Perfect.” He descended the steps to join Owen. His lips twitched. “No biscuits this time? Oh, I get it. They were a lure to get me to work for you.”
Owen snorted. “No biscuits because we ate them all. I need to go shopping.” He pulled out a chair and sat, the mug in both hands.
Matt placed the sheet on the table, then poured himself some tea.
Owen glanced at it. “Is this your plan for the garden?”
He sighed. “It’s supposed to be, but it’s not coming. Maybe I’m overthinking.”
“Well, if you want to stop thinking about the outdoors for a while, I have a pile of flat packs indoors that are crying out to be assembled. And if you leave me to do it, they’ll all collapse within five minutes.”
Matt chuckled. “Okay, an indoor day it is.” He inhaled the aroma of the tea, his smile fading.
Owen studied him for a second.
Say something.
He cleared his throat. “Look… we’ve only known each other a week, but I can tell something’s up. You don’t have to tell me, but if there’s anything I can do…”
Matt’s eyes were warm. “Thanks. I appreciate that. And no, there’s nothing you can do.” He paused. “Remember I talked about my granddad?” Owen nodded. “Well, it seems it’s finally hospice time. And my dad asked me again if I wanted to visit him.”
Owen couldn’t help himself. He reached across the table and covered Matt’s hand with his own. “Hey. I’ve been where you are. I know it’s tough. So if you need a shoulder to lean on? I’m your man.”
He shuddered out a breath. “Thank you.” Matt stared out over the garden. “This is so peaceful.” He huffed. “I’m going to miss that next week.”
Owen blinked. “Something I should know about?”
He chuckled. “We’re about to be invaded by my brother Zach, his heavily pregnant wife Beth, and their little tornado, Jamie.
So neither your garden nor my dissertation will get a look-in.
” He let out a sigh. “I love them, don’t get me wrong, but whenever they visit, they bring chaos, noise—especially noise.
Because what three-year-old doesn’t make a ton of noise? ”
“If you ever want a quiet place to work…” He pointed to the black barn at the far end of the garden. “Use it whenever you want.” The words were out of his mouth before Owen could take them back.
Matt gaped at him. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “There’s now a couch that’s reasonably comfortable, a desk and chair, a little kitchen… and yes, even a shower room. And apart from when I finally get around to throwing the best housewarming party South Drive has ever seen or will ever see, it’s yours.”
Matt swallowed, and only then did Owen realise he was still holding Matt’s hand.
Too long.
Heat crept up the back of his neck as he withdrew.
“So…” He cleared his throat. “Does that work?”
Matt’s face lit up. “I’d like that.”
Owen’s chest loosened.
Good.
Making that smile appear was becoming one of his favourite things.
Matt let out a sigh. Owen hadn’t been kidding.
He wasn’t impractical—he was hopeless.
They’d spent the better part of an hour assembling a single bookcase.
So far, Owen had fitted the back panel on the wrong way round.
Twice. He hadn’t checked the frame was square before tightening it, producing something that looked more like a parallelogram than a rectangle.
And somewhere along the way he’d attempted to put one shelf the wrong way up, which until then Matt had always thought was an impossibility.
It probably hadn’t helped that he’d been holding the instructions upside down for a good five minutes.
Matt coughed politely. “Can I make a suggestion?”
Owen dragged his attention away from the Allen key. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Go and make us tea.”
He stared. “Am I being fired from my own bookcase?”
“No.” Matt bit the inside of his cheek. “You’re being… redeployed.”
A blink. “‘Redeployed’?”
“To the refreshments department.”
Owen narrowed his eyes. “I make a very good cup of tea.”
“I know. That’s why I’m promoting you.”
There was a beat before Owen snorted. “I see where this is going. Next thing I know, I’ll be carrying timber while you do all the clever bits.”
Matt smirked. “I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”
“Liar.”
He grinned.
With exaggerated dignity, Owen placed the Allen key on the floor. “Fine. But when this bookcase is standing proudly in the lounge, I expect my contribution to be acknowledged.”
“It will.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll tell everyone you made an excellent pot of PG Tips.”
Owen pointed at him. “Mock me all you like. At least I know how to boil water.”
Matt waited until Owen had disappeared into the kitchen before laughing aloud.
Poor bloke.
He’d built a successful career, travelled the world, somehow accumulated hundreds—maybe even thousands—of books and films…
And yet a flat-pack bookcase had defeated him in under an hour.
“You see all those boxes piled high in the dining room?” Owen called out from the kitchen.
Matt glanced at them. There had to be at least twenty that he could see. “Yeah.”
“That’s phase two.”
“Phase two?”
“We unpack them.”
He let out a theatrical gasp. “Forget paying me by the hour. At this rate you’d better throw dinner into the deal as well.”
A loud snort reached his ears. “I happen to have the number for a very good Chinese takeaway.”
Matt grinned. “You’re on.”
“Good. I was planning on ordering anyway. It seems a shame to eat Chinese on my own when there’s free labour in the house.”
Half an hour later, Matt had three bookcases assembled, and Owen had begun ferrying boxes from one end of the room to the other.
Matt cut through the tape on the first one and stared at the neat rows of plastic cases.
“So… what are these again?” He picked one up. “DVDs? I think my parents have cupboards full of them.” He glanced over at Owen. “There’s this amazing new invention you might’ve heard about. It’s called streaming.”
Owen didn’t even look up. “I’ve heard mixed reviews.”
Matt laughed. “Seriously though… I never knew anyone who owned this many.”
He set another box on the floor. “Own? Young man, this isn’t a collection.” He patted the nearest box. “It’s a carefully curated archive.”
“Is that what we’re calling hoarding these days?”