Kit and his father approached the table cautiously from opposite directions.
‘Hold this,’ she said to Kit, nodding to the palette knife. When Kit had taken hold of it, she let go. ‘Don’t let it get away,’ she said, nodding to the encroaching chocolate before turning to rummage in the drawers.
Kit and his father exchanged puzzled looks.
‘Here,’ she said, turning back and handing a spatula to her husband. ‘I need to find a tin to put it in. I think there’s one in the cupboard under the stairs. If you could just …contain it until I get back.’ She bustled off and Kit and his father looked at each other in bewilderment.
‘What is it?’ Kit’s father hissed as soon as she was out of earshot.
‘Haven’t a clue.’
‘You don’t know?’ His father looked panicked.
Kit shook his head. ‘I was going to ask you.’
‘How would I know?’
‘You’re the one who lives here.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Well, I thought maybe you’d … had it before.’
‘I’ve never seen it before in my life.’
‘Hey, you’re letting it escape.’ Kit nodded to where the mixture was oozing around the sides of his knife towards the edge of the table. Colm started batting it back with his spatula.
‘Could it be some class of trifle gone wrong? Or a mousse?’
Colm hissed frantically.
‘No, it’s warm,’ Kit said, indicating the steam gently rising from the chocolate. It looked like an evil swamp from a children’s story.
‘So it’s something you cook,’ Colm said thoughtfully, as if trying to solve a crossword clue. ‘Chocolate … soup? We had chocolate soup in that fancy restaurant you took us to in New York, remember?’
‘But you wouldn’t put chocolate soup on the table, would you?’
‘Well, I don’t think this is deliberate, in fairness. Something’s gone horribly wrong.’
‘It looks like a gigantic cowpat,’ Kit sniggered.
‘It’s not funny,’ his father reprimanded. ‘Anyway, you don’t cook a cowpat. Come on, think. We have to figure it out before she gets back,’ he said, looking anxiously towards the door.
Kit looked around for clues. ‘There’s a cookbook open on the counter,’ he said, twisting his neck to see it.
‘Great. You hold the fort here and I’ll go and have a look.’ After pushing the chocolate mixture well back on both sides, he abandoned his spatula and hopped over to the counter.
‘Well?’ Kit turned to look at his father. He was holding the book in his arms, frowning down at it.
‘It’s a cake,’ he announced.
‘A cake? Are you sure?’
‘It’s a cake, I’m telling you. Look.’ Colm brought the book over to Kit and pointed to a picture of a tall, two-tiered chocolate cake, covered in thick luscious icing, sitting on a cake stand. The page was covered in flour and grease stains.
‘Is that it?’ Kit asked, looking between the photograph and the mess on the table.
His father just nodded, apparently dumbstruck.
Kit prodded the lake with a finger. ‘I think there is something solid under there.’
When they heard Laura coming back towards the kitchen, Colm ducked back to the counter and replaced the book, and resumed his position with the spatula.
‘Phew! I need to clear out that cupboard,’ Laura said, coming back into the room bearing a tin.
‘Smashing-looking cake,’ Colm said, smiling at her.
‘Oh dear,’ Laura said, ‘it was supposed to be a welcome
home cake for Ethan, but it hasn’t turned out quite right.’ ‘Not at all, it looks great,’ Colm said. ‘Lovely and moist.
Isn’t that right, Kit?’
‘Oh, um, yeah. It looks really … wow.’
‘Nothing worse than a dry cake,’ his father continued, gamely batting the mixture back.
‘Well, I thought maybe if I could get it all into a tin, it might set in the fridge.’
‘Good idea. Right,’ Colm said, ‘all hands on deck.’
When they had wrestled the two flat discs of sponge into the tin with an assortment of spatulas and fish slices, they scooped the icing up and poured it in on top.
‘I wanted it to look so pretty,’ Laura said sadly, surveying the slurry of chocolate in the tin. ‘It doesn’t look anything like the picture in the book. I don’t know what went wrong.’
‘Maybe you should have let it cool before you put the icing on,’ Kit said.
‘Ah, you can’t trust those cookbooks,’ Colm said. ‘They use trick photography and all sorts of things. I bet there’s a mistake in the recipe. You should throw that book out.’
Kit mentally rolled his eyes, but said nothing. ‘So, when’s Ethan coming home?’ he asked as his mother put the tin in the fridge.
‘He called from the airport,’ Laura said. ‘He’ll be home tonight – or in the early hours of tomorrow, actually.’
‘Right, well, I have to get on with clearing out the back bedroom for him,’ Colm said, wiping his hands on his jeans. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
When he had left, Kit started helping his mother to clear up.
‘You look very chipper, sweetheart,’ she said, smiling at him curiously.
‘Yeah, well, you know I told you I met up with Romy the other night? Well, we’ve been hanging out together a bit and … I’m moving out.’
‘Oh!’ His mother looked pleased and concerned in equal measure. ‘That’s fast work, isn’t it? I mean you’ve only just met her again—’
‘Oh no! I’m not moving in with her. She has a flat she’s going to rent cheap to me. It’s in her house, but we’re not going to be living together as such.’
‘Oh, well that’s great, honey,’ she said, smiling. She seemed reassured, but Kit could see she was a little deflated at the same time.
‘It’s so great to be with Romy again, though,’ he said. ‘I’m really glad you suggested I look her up.’
‘Well, I’m happy you’re friends again. You know I was always very fond of Romy. You two made a great pair,’ Laura said.
Kit couldn’t stop smiling as he loaded the dishwasher. Being with Romy again was so comfortable and easy, and he realised he hadn’t felt that relaxed in a long time. Romy had always been able to make him feel that everything would be all right, and he felt more secure already knowing he had her in his corner again. He was even beginning to think that he might be able to have a life here after all. Perhaps he could even have the sort of life his parents wanted for him – the sort of life he wanted for himself. He was so tired of hiding and living in fear of exposure. He might be deluding himself, but he had loved Romy once. Maybe he could again …
After she had collected Luke, fed him and put him down for his nap, Romy sat down at her computer and opened up a new spreadsheet to work on the figures for Kit’s house. No matter what way she crunched them, they were coming out looking pretty daunting. She really wanted to make it work, but she tried to be detached and dispassionate about it and not to allow her enthusiasm for the project, or her desire to help Kit, influence her calculations. After all, that was why she was good at property developing. She made decisions based on sound business sense, and didn’t allow herself to get emotionally involved in her projects. However, since Kit already owned the house outright, she thought there was a chance she could make it work. It would be tight, but might just be feasible – particularly if she could find a potential buyer before they started. She searched the internet for comparable properties to get a feel for the market, then she sent a couple of emails to some upscale estate agents she dealt with, asking if they had any clients currently looking for a house like Kit’s. Then she rang Danny.
‘Hi,’ she said when he answered the phone. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m okay. Keeping busy, you know.’
‘I was wondering if you’d be able to come round and babysit on Wednesday?’
‘Huh! Taking advantage of my single status already? Have you got a hot date?’
‘Hardly. Where would I find a hot date? Anyway, I meant during the day.’
‘Sure, no problem. What are you up to?’
‘I’m just helping … um … someone,’ she said vaguely. ‘I got a tenant for the basement flat and I’m helping him move his stuff in.’
Danny sighed heavily. ‘Romy, when are you going to realise they’re your tenants, not your friends. You should keep your distance – keep the relationship strictly professional.’
‘I know, I know.’ She had already anticipated his disapproval. Despite the fact that he was a complete pushover himself, Danny was very protective of her if he thought someone was taking advantage of her helpful nature. ‘But you know I’m no good at staying out of it. He doesn’t have any transport and I’ve got the van—’
‘That’s what removal companies are for. Let him get his own van. It shouldn’t be your problem.’
‘It’s just, he’s a bit strapped for cash—’ She stopped herself, realising that would only make it worse.
‘All the more reason, then. You need to start off on the right foot or he’ll have you down as a soft touch.’
‘Well, the thing is, he’s not just a tenant. He’s … an old friend.’
‘Who?’
‘Look, um … I think Luke’s waking up. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you on Wednesday, okay?’ She knew Danny would go ballistic if she told him it was Kit, and she wasn’t in the mood right
now. Time enough for him to find out on Wednesday.
‘Romy—’
‘Really, I’ve got to go.’
‘What time?’
‘Oh! Whenever suits you. Early in the morning would be best, but it probably won’t take too long. I don’t think he has much stuff.’
‘Okay, I’ll be there around ten. And Romy—’
‘Great, thanks. See you then. Bye.’
Chapter Ten
On Wednesday morning, Danny arrived at Romy’s house early. He sat and had coffee with her, taking Luke on his lap and keeping him amused while she ate her breakfast.
‘So who’s this new tenant, then?’ he asked.
Romy sighed. There was no point in putting off telling him any longer. Kit would be here soon and he’d find out then anyway. ‘It’s Kit.’
Danny gave her a meaningful look.
‘What?’ she said defensively. ‘He was looking for a place, I have a place – it suits us both. Saves me putting in an ad and vetting all-comers.’
‘I thought you wanted to get a handyman for that flat.’
‘Kit’s going to be the handyman.’
Danny just rolled his eyes. ‘So, first he has you project managing his house, and now you’re letting him move in.’
‘As a tenant. He’ll be paying rent. And I told you he’s going to pay me if I decide to help him renovate the house.’
‘Just don’t come crying to me when he has you washing his jocks.’
‘Noted. So, any plans for the weekend?’ she asked to change the subject.
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘Plenty of offers. Everyone’s trying to get me to go out, but …’
‘Not ready to get back in the game yet?’
‘Nah. You know I was always rubbish at that whole scene anyway.’
‘Well, it’s only been a couple of weeks. You’ve plenty of time before you end up on the shelf like me. Why don’t you come over tonight? We’ll have a quiet night in – you, me and Lesley.’
‘All the single ladies?’ He grinned.
‘Hey, don’t knock it. Being a spinster gets a bad rap. It’s fun. Did all those years of watching Sex and the City teach you nothing?’
‘I’m not knocking it. Count me in.’
‘Cool. We’ll help you embrace your spinsterhood.’ ‘I can’t wait.’
The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be Kit,’ Romy said, going to answer it. ‘You remember Danny?’ she said, as she led Kit back into the kitchen.
‘Yes! Hi. Nice to see you again.’
‘Hi,’ Danny said, his tone not entirely friendly. ‘So you’re the new handyman?’ He eyed Kit up warily.
‘Um, yeah. Seems so.’
‘Danny’s babysitting so I can help you with your stuff.’
‘Oh great! Thanks.’
Danny threw Kit a look that said he wasn’t doing it for his sake.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ Romy said, not wanting to leave Danny and Kit together for too long. Danny’s protectiveness of her was touching, but his hostility was starting to get embarrassing. ‘The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish,’ she said idiotically.
‘Take your time,’ Danny said. ‘I’ve nothing on today.’
‘Okay, thanks. See you later.’
‘Sorry if Danny was a bit … off,’ she said to Kit once they were outside. ‘He’s not in a great mood these days. He’s just been dumped.’
‘Oh, right. I thought he seemed a bit grumpy. I’d have thought it was something I said, but all I said was hello.’
‘Well, it doesn’t take much at the moment,’ Romy said as they got into her van. ‘He’s pretty devastated.’
‘Poor guy. Had they been together long?’
‘Over two years. Danny thought this was “the one”. We all did.’
‘So did she go off with someone else, or—’
‘He. Paul,’ Romy said as she backed out of the driveway. ‘And Danny doesn’t know for sure, but yes, he thinks there was someone else.’
‘Oh, so Danny’s …’
‘Gay, yes.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Why would you? The last time you’d have seen him he’d have been, what – twelve? I don’t think he knew himself at that stage.’
‘So when did he … come out?’
‘When he was sixteen.’
‘And your parents were cool about it?’
‘Oh, yeah, absolutely. You know what Dad was like – always looking for an opportunity to nail his colours to the mast.’ She smiled. ‘Danny actually put off telling them because he didn’t want to be some kind of mascot for one of Dad’s crusades.’
‘Wow! I’ve never heard of anyone not coming out because they’re afraid their parents will be too supportive.’
‘I know. Anyway, sorry you didn’t see him at his best today. He’s usually a total sweetie.’
‘God, I don’t blame him,’ Kit said, sighing. ‘Still, it’s nice to know it wasn’t anything to do with me personally.’
Romy glanced over at him. ‘It was a little bit to do with you,’ she said, smiling mischievously. ‘He thinks you’re taking advantage of me.’
‘Oh! Am I?’ He looked at her anxiously.
‘I don’t know. But don’t worry – I’ve decided to let you,’ she said, grinning at him.
When they got to Kit’s house he led her straight to the kitchen, where they found his mother folding laundry.
‘Mom, you remember—’
‘Romy!’ she said, dropping the pale pink sheet she was holding back into the laundry basket and rushing forward to envelop Romy in an enthusiastic hug. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you,’ she said, pulling back. ‘It’s been such a long time.’
‘It’s really nice to see you too, Mrs Masterson.’ Romy had forgotten how fond she had been of Kit’s mum, but one look at her plump, friendly face brought it all back.
‘Call me Laura. You’re too old now for that “Mrs Masterson” stuff. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘Actually,’ Kit said, ‘we’re just going to go up to my bedroom first – start sorting out my stuff.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Her smile faltered, and Romy wondered for a moment if she was going to automatically object to the two of them going to Kit’s bedroom together, or tell them to leave the door open and not stay up there too long, like she would have done when they were teens. ‘Just try not to make too much noise,’ she said. ‘Ethan’s still sleeping.’
‘I’m not in any rush,’ Romy said. ‘We don’t have to start moving stuff right away.’
‘Well, come down for a coffee when you’re done. Your dad will help you with the boxes when you’re ready. He’s out in the shed.’
‘Okay. Come on,’ Kit said, nudging Romy’s hand, ‘better get started.’
He led her upstairs, taking them two at a time in long strides. Once again, she had that weird sensation of everything being smaller as he led her along the landing to his bedroom. The room was stuffed full of packing boxes, but otherwise it was pretty much as she remembered it – the same blue wallpaper, the same mismatching pale pink net curtains (though she could remember when they had been white), the same narrow single bed, the same posters on the walls. It was like no time had passed at all and, as if in response, she felt a squirming excitement in her stomach that brought her right back to her teenage self.
‘Wow, this brings back some memories,’ she said, looking around, letting the nostalgia wash over her. She could practically feel the teenage hormones hanging in the air like perfume. They had spent hours together in this room. Quite a few of those hours had been spent sitting on Kit’s bed pretending to do homework, their books spread out between them for camouflage, while they kissed and kissed, only breaking apart if they heard a step on the stairs. By the time Kit’s mother would look in to check on them, they would be sitting cross-legged opposite each other, their heads bent studiously over their books.
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Kit threw himself onto the bed, lying on it at full stretch. He edged to one side and patted the space beside him, looking up invitingly at Romy.
She lay down on the narrow bed, facing him, so close they were almost touching, and wondered if he was remembering the same things. She pictured him as he had been then, with his spiky hair and his eyebrow piercing, trying to look dangerous. He looked more dangerous now, his fair hair cut so close to his head giving a brutal thuggishness to his features.
‘I spent many happy hours up here cogging your homework,’ he said.
‘Well, that wasn’t all we did,’ she said, grinning, her gaze flicking to his mouth. She remembered those kisses as the best of her life – but maybe that was just because they were her first real kisses. Or perhaps it was because that was pretty much all they did. The kissing wasn’t just a preliminary to be rushed through so they could get on to the next thing – it was the main event. She looked again at his beautiful mouth and wondered if he was as good a kisser as she remembered. If they kissed now, would it live up to her memories?
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