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‘So, he finished with me,’ said Susie, taking a sip of her coffee. It was cold and bitter although she refused to draw any parallels, and besides, Friday evening felt like a lifetime away and the woman who had been eagerly getting supper ready, all puffed and buffed and full of anticipation, waiting to be proposed to, a total and rather naïve stranger.
Nina stared at her, and her mouth dropped open. ‘You are joking.’
Susie shook her head. ‘Unfortunately not.’
‘Oh my god, but I thought –’ There was a little pause. ‘You thought –’
‘I know what I thought, Neen, but I was wrong, really, really wrong. Wrong about everything,’ said Susie, bizarrely feeling guilty for having deprived Nina of her fabulous hat-and-plum-silk-suit day.
‘Oh god. I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry,’ said Nina, jiffling around with pure discomfort. ‘I feel awful now.’
Susie smiled, trying hard not to let her voice crack or break. ‘If it’s any consolation I probably feel worse.’
‘Oh, Susie.’
Susie held up a hand. ‘Please, Neen, whatever you do, don’t be nice to me – no sympathy, no hugs or I’ll cry.’
‘God, what a complete bastard,’ snapped Nina. ‘I mean, I could never really see what it was you saw in him myself, but – you know.’
Susie sniffed and nodded. ‘I know.’
Good friends might disapprove of your choice in shoes, handbags or men but they would defend to the death your right to have them.
Nina shook her head. ‘And just when it was going so well. Is it too soon for details or would you like to get it off your chest, bearing in mind we’ve got a life class in ten minutes and Electric Mickey will be arriving any minute now?’
‘He wants a baby.’
Nina’s expression crumpled like damp origami. ‘What? Who wants a baby?’
‘Electric Mickey; who the hell do you think I mean?’
‘Not Robert? Oh please, please tell me you’re joking,’ she hissed, eyes so wide now that she looked as if she had been electrocuted.
‘Yes, of course Robert.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Nina paused, features folding and refolding as she considered the prospect. ‘A baby. Jesus. Really? Who would have thought it? Bloody hell. Broody. With those ears.’
Ears? Susie stared at her. How come she had never noticed Robert’s ears? ‘Presumably you got them to put the suit and the hat on lay away?’ asked Susie.
Nina nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Till the end of the week. I mean it could have been an autumn wedding – or the Caribbean. That hat would never have travelled.’
‘There you go then,’ said Susie with forced good humour. ‘Problem solved. Oh, and by the way, Alice is having a baby apparently. I’m going to be a granny in January.’
‘Sweet Jesus, it’s been one hell of a weekend,’ said Nina, slumping back into the armchair, exhausted by all the facial contortions.
At which point Electric Mickey ambled in through the double doors carrying a basket of organic carrots, the tab end of what looked and smelt suspiciously like a joint clenched between his last remaining teeth.
‘Yo,’ he said, setting the basket down between them. ‘Y’okay?’
No changing room or false modesty about Electric Mickey: the second that the basket was down on the bench he started getting his kit off, which, despite appearances, although well worn was also well washed.
Naked as a jaybird, save for his sandals – broad-fitting with a therapeutic footbed – Mickey neatly folded everything – faded cotton dungarees and a spotless white tee shirt, not being a man who had embraced layering or underwear as a concept – in beside the carrots and said, ‘So where do you want me today then, ladies?’ without a trace of salaciousness.
Susie smiled up at him, wishing as always that she had stood up as soon as he came in: the view from the armchair was not one that she would have cared to share with many.
‘Well, we were thinking classic Roman today,’ said Nina, getting to her feet. ‘I’ve got you a nice pillar and a plinth set up over here by the gas heater.’
Electric Mickey was in his late fifties, former sailor, reformed alcoholic and ex-electrician with an exquisitely broken nose, skin the colour of good coffee, and with one of the most beautifully defined bone structure and musculatures that Susie had ever seen. His whole body was lean, wonderfully proportioned, with great definition and muscles as taut as knotted string from working dawn to dusk in the little market garden that he shared with his wife, Jolie. He was a mature masterpiece of the human form, which was why Susie booked him over and over again to pose for her classes to prove that you didn’t have to be eighteen to be beautiful.
His broad chest was covered with a sprinkling of white wiry hair, which travelled down in a fine line over his solar plexus and belly to regions further south, thickening as it did to a dense pelt framing his wedding tackle in a ruff as lush as the coat of a well-fed polar bear.
By contrast, the top of Mickey’s skull was completely bald and shiny, despite him having a thick beard and a great curtain of white hair sprouting from below the bulge of his not inconsiderable cranium, cut pudding-basin style, by Jolie, to shoulder length. Occasionally there were a couple of fine plaits in it, once in a while a bright twisted thread or piece of ribbon, which he seemed totally oblivious to – but today there was only hair. Electric Mickey was a great natural landscape of textures, surfaces, colours and shades for the students, and a joy to draw.
‘Fancy a coffee, do you?’ asked Nina, indicating her mug.
‘Not for me, thank you, Neen, don’t want to be dashing off to the loo every five minutes. Carrots if you want them,’ he said, nodding towards the basket. ‘Should be some Swiss chard next week. Now, what are we today? Toga on? Toga off?’
Susie smiled. ‘Off would be great. You’re a bit early though. The students won’t be back till two. Do you want to slip a robe on so’s you don’t get cold?’
‘Don’t mind if I do. I’ve just dropped my granddaughter off at nursery,’ he said, by way of explanation, taking the blue towelling bathrobe Nina offered him. ‘She wanted to get there early today; they’ve got their teddy bears’ picnic this afternoon. She’s got a new dress and we had to fill the van up with all her bears and then me and Jolie did little sandwiches and carrot cake.’ He smiled fondly. ‘She’s so excited.’
Susie sighed. Mickey, with his Father Christmas good looks, was the stuff of which proper grandparents were made.
Her own mum and dad had been perfect for the job too. Had they ever doubted they were ready? Susie’s mum had always seemed to know the right thing to do or say, although she had died when Alice and Jack were little, and Susie’s dad was forever patiently heading off to the shed to mend Jack’s punctures or his pedal car, chivvied on by Susie’s mum – they were made to be grandparents. Susie looked up and caught her reflection in a window and for a split second saw her mum’s features in her own. Surely Susie wasn’t quite there yet? Surely there had to have been some kind of mistake?
‘We were thinking Classic Roman – one of the senate staring out helplessly as the Carthaginians sack Rome,’ Nina was saying. ‘I had one of the girls in floristry whip you up a set of laurels.’ She rummaged around in one of the cupboards. ‘Here we are,’ she said, handing him a leafy crown which he cheerfully plonked on his head. As he took to the dais the first of the students started to trickle back in and set up their easels around him.
‘Actually, I think you’ll find it was the other way round, the Romans sacked Carthage,’ said Mickey, settling himself into position to get the feel of the pose. ‘It was the Barbarians who sacked Rome – the Vandals and the Visigoths and the Gauls, I think.’ He lifted one arm towards the pillar, eyes fixed into the middle distance; a vision in his faded Marks and Sparks dressing gown and matching laurels.
‘So, how did your weekend go?’ he asked Susie, getting himself comfy. ‘Neen was telling me all about it on Friday. Did he go down on one knee? Jolie’s been looking for a reason to get all dolled-up; she’s seen this really great frock in a shop in town – it’s cream and blue with all these tiny little pearl buttons down the front.’
Susie didn’t look but she guessed he was miming. Hopefully Jolie had got hers on lay away as well.
It was late afternoon when Susie finally arrived home. She banged the back door open with her hip and dropped a pile of shopping bags onto the kitchen table. From his basket by the Aga, Milo opened one rheumy eye, decided that on balance she was probably not a burglar, and settled back down to sleep.
‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ Susie called out in her best soap-opera Americana, before plugging in the kettle. ‘How’s it going, Jack? I’ve bought all your favourite comfort food.’
‘Mashed potato with onion gravy, a decent steak and a good bottle of Merlot?’
Susie swung round in surprise. Framed in the hall doorway was a tallish man with broad shoulders, short, dark greying hair, a deep tan and a broad grin. He most certainly wasn’t Jack. He was wearing an oversized black tee shirt with an abstract design across the front, faded jeans and trainers, and looked oddly at home in her house.
Susie stared at him. Maybe she’d missed something. ‘What the f—’ she began, as he stepped forward, hands up in a gesture of surrender.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, don’t panic – you must be Susie, Jack’s mum? I’m Matt, Matt Peters. I’ve been working with Jack. Actually, I’m still working with Jack.’ He laughed, waving a large suntanned hand across the front of the tee shirt before holding a hand out towards her. She realised with a start that the jazzy abstract on the front of his shirt was magnolia emulsion.
‘It’s all right, they’re clean, I just washed them,’ he said.
‘You’re painting my spare room,’ she replied, more statement than question.
His handshake was warm and firm and something inside her tingled as his fingers closed around hers.
‘Most certainly am, amongst other things, ma’am – me and your boy have been working our butts off all day. We’ve got quite a lot done actually. It’s looking good. And it’s a great room – I really enjoy DIY and I love those little casement dormers and the stripped doors and boards.’
‘And where exactly is Jack?’
‘We needed a few more bits and pieces – some screws, brush cleaner – so he’s nipped into town to pick them up.’
‘Nipped? How the hell did you manage that? In my experience, Jack is pathologically incapable of nipping.’
‘Comes from working on archaeological digs for so long. It’s been here for three thousand years, what difference is ten minutes going to make?’ He grinned. ‘He should be back any minute now. He’s taken my car; he knew where the shop was, and besides, I was up a ladder at the time. Seemed sensible.’ With that the man took two mugs off the draining board and set them down on the worktop alongside Susie. ‘So how did your day go? Jack said you teach at Fenborough. You look completely knackered.’
She peered at him. ‘Well, thanks for that.’
‘Not a problem.’ He opened the fridge. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
Susie still hadn’t quite got a handle on this. ‘Whoa there, cowboy. Hang on a minute, I’m confused. Can you explain what exactly you are doing here and what you were doing up a ladder in my spare room?’
The man smiled. ‘Emulsioning.’
Susie put her hands on her hips and waited.
‘Ceiling’s all done, we’re just putting a second coat on the walls. Do you mind if we talk over tea, only I’m totally parched? It’s really hot up there. The wood stain is all done on the skirting board and the doors. It’s looking good, although I think it would look better with another coat. Why don’t you come up and take a look for yourself? We thought we’d make a start on the floor tomorrow –’
Susie frowned at him. Tomorrow? Mind racing, she took the tea caddy down off the dresser. Meanwhile, Matt pulled out a chair and sat down, sitting well back from the table in his paint-stained tee shirt.
‘What I actually meant was what are you doing here in my house, besides giving my spare room a makeover?’
‘Ah well, I’m over here for the same get-together as Jack – funders, backers and all that baloney. Only for some bloody reason they’ve postponed the presentation until the end of the week – Friday – which is bloody annoying as our team have only got limited access to the site, but then again I have to keep telling myself that we’re none of us indispensable and everyone else is still hard at it, and this is just as important as anything we could be doing with a trowel. The stuff ’s been in the ground this long, another few days won’t matter … Great cottage by the way, I love what you’ve done with it. Anyway, I rang up to make sure Jack was okay – you know, the whole Ellie thing – and Jack said you needed a hand and I’m at a loose end. Et voilà.’
‘So you’re here till Friday?’
Matt nodded. ‘Well, if you don’t mind. I’m more than happy to earn my keep. I really enjoy decorating.’
Susie looked him up and down, appraising him without really meaning to. Realistically Matt Peters didn’t look like the kind of man who ought to be at a loose end. He was probably late thirties, with strong, even features, and big brown eyes framed by a network of fine lines that softened his expression as he met her gaze and smiled straight back.
‘Would you mind if I just nipped upstairs and took this tee shirt off while the tea’s brewing?’ he said. He had good hands. ‘Jack loaned it to me to work in, which was great, but I’m worried that I might be spreading wet emulsion all over the place.’
With that, he was up and away, leaving Susie with far more questions than she really needed after a long day at work.
While he was upstairs Susie started to unpack the shopping. She’d bought all the summer food Jack loved: French bread and hummus, tiny sweet cherry tomatoes, coleslaw, potato salad, ham, prawns, all kinds of delicious deli finger food, along with good cheese and chocolate éclairs and custard doughnuts, a bottle of wine, some beer and some soft drinks in case alcohol was not the answer. As if.
As she started packing the fridge Susie heard the gate open, then footsteps on the path, and without looking up said, ‘Hello, I’m glad you’ve finally shown up. I need a word with you.’
As she turned round she was amazed to see Robert standing on the doorstep looking horribly sheepish. He was clutching a bunch of forecourt flowers and a bottle of wine and looked and smelt as if he had just climbed out of the shower.
‘You didn’t ring,’ he said. ‘I was a bit worried about you, I thought I’d just pop round and –’
At which point Matt stepped into the kitchen, still busy pulling on his shirt, fastening buttons and tucking it into his trousers.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_e562314b-1db0-5695-9582-010fa9fa7b7b)
‘God, that’s so much better,’ Matt said with an easy grin. ‘Is the tea brewed yet? If you want to carry on unpacking the shopping, I’ll pour the –’ At which point he looked up and spotted Robert.
For an instant there was complete silence. The two men looked at each other and then Robert reddened furiously.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ he snapped, his expression hard and set. ‘I came round to see if you were all right but you’ve obviously been making short work of recovery. How long has this been going on?’
‘What? Oh for god’s sake, Robert,’ said Susie, getting to her feet. ‘How long has what been going on?’
‘Don’t play games with me, Susie. Who exactly is this man? I’m not a complete fool, you know,’ he said.
Susie stared at him. It was a close call, though, she thought grimly. She was about to explain, about to say, ‘For goodness’ sake, Robert, grow up, this is a friend of Jack’s. They’re painting the spare room, I’m not sure exactly what the deal is but Matt was here when I gothome from work –’ when something stopped her, and instead she pulled herself upright and, meeting his gaze, heard herself saying, ‘And what exactly has it got to do with you, Robert? After Friday’s little debacle I don’t think it’s really any business of yours what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with, do you?’
Apparently that wasn’t the reply Robert had been expecting. He spluttered, looking for all the world as if Susie had slapped him, his complexion deepening dramatically from red to a rather unattractive purple. He opened his mouth to say something and then, thinking better of it, snapped it shut. He looked at Matt and then at Susie, and finally said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I have to say that I’m shocked. I thought you and I had something special. I thought that you loved me.’
‘Really?’ Susie asked, as evenly as she could manage. The cheek of the man. ‘And I thought after the conversation we had on Friday that all bets were off.’
His mouth opened and closed like a freshly landed haddock.
‘I was coming round to see how you were, to comfort you – to talk. I thought that we were friends. I’ve always tried to treat you reasonably, Susie,’ Robert said.
The man was a real caution. She managed to avoid asking him when exactly that was and instead decided to put him out of his misery. ‘Robert. This is Matt,’ she said, indicating Matt, who was rooting through the drawers for teaspoons. ‘He works with Jack, he’s here helping to decorate the spare room.’
‘Really?’ said Robert, his expression and his tone suggesting he was not at all convinced. ‘That all sounds very cosy. When was this all arranged then?’
‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,’ said Matt.
‘I bet it was,’ growled Robert.
Matt, refusing to rise to the bait, grinned and held out his hand. ‘Hi, you must be Robert,’ he added warmly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Susie stared at him.
Robert’s face was a picture. She could see that he was torn between finishing whatever he had come for and marching off in high dudgeon.
‘I was rather hoping that we might be able to talk,’ he said to Susie. He glanced at Matt. ‘In private, if you wouldn’t mind. Seems every time we need to talk there’s someone here.’ He tried out a smile, although if this was Robert’s idea of social grace and conviviality, she really was well out of it.
Meanwhile, Matt, apparently oblivious to the tension around him, was busy pouring the tea. ‘Do you want a cup, Bob?’ he said, proffering the pot. ‘We’ve only just made it. Sugar, milk?’ he continued conversationally, oblivious to the silence.
Robert stared at him. ‘No. No, thank you, not for me,’ he said. ‘I’m fine.’
‘How about a cold drink then?’ asked Matt, nodding towards the beers Susie had taken out of the shopping bag and arranged on the countertop.
Robert declined with a quick shake of the head. ‘No –’
‘Juice, then? You know we really ought to get the rest of this food packed away, Susie,’ said Matt. ‘Do you want me to make a start while you’re chatting?’
This time it was Susie who stared at him. He sounded so easy, so very familiar, as if they had known each other for years. It suddenly occurred to her that he was deliberately trying to wind Robert up, and it was working. As their eyes met Matt winked and Susie felt her temperature rising.
