Making a snap decision, she shook off her bathrobe and pulled the dress over her head, going to the mirror as she squirmed around to reach the back zip. Last time she’d worn this dress her mum had been there to do it up for her, and this time she struggled. Eventually, she got it all the way up and took a long, critical look at herself. She’d put on a little weight since she’d last worn it and she’d probably have to breathe in all through the play, but it didn’t look too bad. In fact, it looked good. And besides, it was going to be a nightmare to get off again with nobody to start the zip off so perhaps that was a problem she could spend time dealing with later rather than now, when time was a bit more precious, because she still had her hair to do and make-up to put on, and Matthias was due to pick her up in half an hour.
With a last look in the mirror and a nod of approval, she went to heat up her curling tongs.
The knock on the front door was bang on time. Cathy had been sitting on her sofa for the last ten minutes, completely ready and watching the clock. Was that a bit sad? Perhaps, but as there was no one around to witness it, what did it matter?
She leapt up from her seat now and rushed to the door to open it and find Matthias smiling on the doorstep. But then his easy smile disappeared and he stared at her.
‘What?’ Cathy looked down at herself, suddenly uneasy. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Wow,’ he breathed.
‘It’s too much, isn’t it?’ she asked, gesturing her dress. ‘I’ve overdone it, haven’t I? I’ll go and get changed… Have I got time?’
‘Don’t do that!’ he said, his smile returning. ‘I only meant: wow, you look incredible!’
Cathy relaxed. ‘I do?’
‘God yes! I mean… absolutely stunning!’
‘Oh…’ Cathy waved away the compliment, blushing violently. ‘It’s an old dress.’
‘It’s the person wearing it I’m bowled over by, not the dress.’
Cathy’s blush became deeper still, and she was quite sure a passing troop of scouts would have been able to toast marshmallows on her face if they’d had a sudden hankering for them.
‘My lady,’ he added, offering his arm. ‘Verily, we should make haste, lest we miss the start of the performance.’
Cathy giggled. ‘Forsooth, my lord,’ she replied. ‘I would not… OK, you got me, that’s about the only bit of old-fashioned talking I know.’
‘That’s about my limit too,’ he said. ‘I expect we’ll be reciting sonnets when we come out.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it,’ Cathy said, taking the coat she’d made ready from the hook in the hallway.
‘No,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘neither would I.’
Cathy had been past the theatre plenty of times over the years, but she had to admit to not taking all that much notice of it and she’d never been inside. The few shows she’d been to see – the obligatory Christmas panto, the odd musical or band tour – had always been at Linnetford’s larger main theatre. The one that Matthias drove her to tonight was housed by a tiny rococo building that had once been a rather grand bank. When the bank had closed its doors for the final time, at some point during the seventies, the building had stood empty for another decade until some enterprising soul with more vision than Cathy ever could have had saw its potential and set about turning it into an alternative arts venue. The stone of the exterior had been sandblasted to its former dove grey, the roof, doors and windows had been replaced, and the derelict land that lay behind it had been paved to provide a small car parking space, enough for the five hundred or so patrons that the auditorium was able to hold. As they stepped inside, Cathy found herself in a sumptuous interior with painted frescoes on the ceiling depicting Greek and Roman myths, stone columns, stained-glass windows, plush red carpets, a heavy rosewood bar and brass fittings.
‘It’s gorgeous in here,’ she exclaimed, gazing around. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been walking past it for all these years and never came in. If I’d known how lovely it was, I’d have done it years ago.’ She looked at Matthias. ‘Do you come here a lot?’
‘I’ve been half a dozen times,’ he said. ‘Not as often as I’d like to.’
Cathy recalled briefly that Erica had said her brother was quite arty – was this the sort of thing she meant? If it was, Cathy hoped she wasn’t about to show herself up because she’d hardly taken a lot of interest in stuff like this before and she felt she was mostly quite ignorant about it. She also thought, however – and she hoped she was right – that Matthias was far too kind to make her feel silly, even if she did say something that sounded silly and uneducated.
‘I just hope you like it,’ he said. ‘I know Shakespeare isn’t to everyone’s taste, but I think we’ll be alright with this – it’s one of the lighter plays. I definitely wouldn’t subject you to Richard III – it would put you off for life.’
Right now, Cathy wouldn’t have cared if they were watching the cleaners sweep the aisles as long as she was here with him, but she wasn’t about to say that.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said. ‘I’m interested to see what I’ve been missing.’
‘I won’t be offended if you don’t like it,’ he said. ‘It’s not to everyone’s taste. And please, don’t be afraid to say so at the interval – if you’re really hating every minute then we’ll leave and find something else to do. I won’t mind at all and wouldn’t like to think that you’ve suffered in silence.’
‘I’m sure I will like it,’ she said.
‘But promise me you’ll say so if you don’t. I realise that I’ve sprung this on you without really asking.’
‘But you did ask. You asked and I said I’d be up for it – remember? And I’m happy you’ve thought of something a bit different – left up to me we’d be drinking tea at Sainsbury’s café.’
He burst out laughing. ‘Much as I’d usually avoid that sort of thing, I think even that would be OK if I was with you.’
Cathy smiled up at him, caught almost instantly in those soft hazel eyes, the hustle and noise of the foyer melting away. She felt herself drawn in again, desperate to feel his lips on hers, but even now, at the back of her mind was a little voice that warned her she’d have to wait, no matter how much she wanted to. That was right and proper, wasn’t it, even though she didn’t feel much like being proper where Matthias was concerned. In fact, the more time she spent in his company, the more she felt like being very improper indeed…
‘We’ve got time for a quick drink before we go and get our seats,’ he said. ‘Can I get you something from the bar?’
‘Hmm, yes, that sounds lovely. I don’t know what I want – how about you surprise me?’
‘You still trust me to surprise you after I’ve brought you here?’
Cathy giggled. ‘I like it here! So far at least. I absolutely trust you.’
‘OK…’ he said, looking doubtful. ‘You like gin?’
‘Who doesn’t?’
‘Right… something with gin coming up.’
Cathy still had the smile stapled to her face as she watched him walk to the bar. It didn’t matter if she hated this play, if she hated the drink he brought back for her, because she was certain she was going to love this night, here with him. She was certain that she would have loved it wherever they’d gone.
She took a moment to glance around the room as he talked to the bartender. There were more young people than she’d imagined there would be: early twenty-somethings, teenagers, even parents with children that couldn’t have been older than nine or ten. She’d expected it to be full of older couples, people who looked cultured and professional, who might have big-shot, well-paid jobs, but for the most part, everyone looked fairly ordinary, a lot more like her. At least she didn’t feel out of place in her best dress, because there was a mix of outfits too, everything from smart casual characterised by blazers teamed with dark, sharp denim, to sequined metallic tops and frocks. It didn’t seem to matter what anyone was wearing and nobody seemed to care that they
’d all gone for a totally different level of formal.
After a few minutes, Cathy looked to see Matthias coming back to her with two glasses.
‘I took some advice from the guy at the bar,’ he said, handing her one of the glasses. ‘So if you don’t like it I’ll go and shout at him for you.’
Cathy laughed as she took it. ‘I’m sure it will be lovely. What’s in it?’
‘I’m not altogether sure. I know he mentioned lemon and mint… I think it’s called a Southside or something.’
‘It sounds nice – I love lemon and I love mint leaves, so…’
‘When he said what was in it I thought most people probably like those things.’
‘You’ve got the same?’ Cathy asked, looking at his glass.
‘I figured: what the hell? Why not give it a go? It looked good.’
Cathy took a sip and it was good. It was dry and bitter and sweet all at the same time, zingy from the lemon and fresh from the mint, though she couldn’t figure out where the sweetness was coming from. It was a bit like trying to unravel the ingredients in a slice of cake when she tried something for the first time without knowing what was in it. If she could figure it out, maybe she’d try to make this for herself at home. She didn’t usually bother drinking much in the house because it was just no fun alone, but maybe having this would bring back fond memories of tonight. And who knew, maybe in time, she wouldn’t be drinking it alone…
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the auditorium is now open if you’d like to take your seats. Tonight’s performance of Twelfth Night will begin in ten minutes.’
‘Wow, does that mean we’d better drink up quick?’ Cathy asked as the public address announcement came to an end. ‘I might be drunk if I knock this back all at once!’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘we’ve got ten minutes yet. And anyway, even if you do get drunk I’ll look after you.’
‘I might be a bit embarrassing, though.’
‘You could never embarrass me.’
She smiled. ‘We’ll see if you’re still saying that when I’ve asked for the hundredth time what’s going on in the play.’
‘Ah, but you’re missing the point of Shakespeare.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Nobody really understands what’s going on – they’re just here because they think it makes them look clever.’
Cathy giggled. ‘Does that apply to you too?’
‘Of course! How else was I going to impress you?’ He took a sip of his drink and fixed her with a smouldering gaze that made her want to forgo the theatre and find somewhere private to spend the rest of the evening with him. ‘So, tell me,’ he continued, still gazing at her, ‘how’s that working out? Am I impressing you yet?’
‘You were impressing me the moment you said hello by the canal,’ she said, and then snorted with laughter. ‘Oh, God, that sounds like a line from some cheesy romantic comedy, doesn’t it?’
‘You impressed me at hello?’ he replied with a grin. ‘A little bit but I’m more interested in the fact that my ploy is working.’
‘It’s a ploy? So you’re not really this clever at all?’
‘Nope.’
‘I don’t believe you. Erica says you’re clever.’
‘Erica thinks that chair is clever,’ he said, nodding at a nearby barstool.
Cathy grinned. ‘I won’t tell her you said that.’
‘You can tell her – she’s heard it enough times from me so she wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘I think you’re secretly clever too, but you’re trying not to make a big deal of it,’ Cathy said. ‘I mean, I know that you have a very clever job.’
‘Me?’ he pointed to himself and grinned. ‘It might sound clever but it really isn’t.’
‘I don’t believe you. Erica says you save lives.’
‘Well… I suppose I have been known to assist in the odd bit of lifesaving.’
‘Like what?’
‘If I started to tell you now we’d miss the start of the play. Do you think you can stand the suspense of waiting for a while to hear me flex about my own coolness?’
Cathy laughed. ‘I can’t wait!’
‘Well, I’m glad to see I’m managing to impress you.’
‘You are,’ she said. ‘And you’re not even having to try…’
Twenty-Three
Cathy had been mesmerised from the moment the curtains opened. Her original doubts had proved valid because half the time she didn’t have a clue what was going on, but that didn’t seem to matter. She became swept up with the lavish staging, the sumptuous costumes, the massive performances, daft songs and rhymes, the poetry of the speeches, the enthusiasm of the audience and the general atmosphere. Every so often Matthias would whisper in her ear to ask if she was OK, or to clarify something he thought she might not have quite got – though this never made her feel stupid because he did it in such a subtle and respectful way that she couldn’t possibly have felt insulted. Besides, whatever his reasons for leaning in close, his breath in her ear and his scent did things to her that made her forget the play more than once.
During the interval he got them more drinks and insisted on paying – even though Cathy had argued that it was the twenty-first century and there was no reason he ought to be footing the bill for the entire date. They chatted easily back in the foyer, mostly about how she’d found the play so far and about which part Matthias’s friend was playing. (One of the ship’s crew, as it happened. Cathy didn’t like to say that, even though Matthias had told her, she’d probably struggle to tell who he was because there were quite a few of them and their costumes were very similar.)
Shortly after the beginning of the second half, Cathy felt a hand settle on hers with a gentle squeeze. It was the grown-up equivalent of the yawning-hand-around-the-back-of-the-seat at the cinema, but Cathy didn’t care. A quiver of pleasure sent the hairs at the back of her neck on end, and she wanted to kiss him more than ever. It would have to wait, and although she was still enjoying the play, now she wanted it to finish quickly too because she was sure that the evening would end with that kiss and she couldn’t wait. All she could offer him right now was a smile as he glanced across to check that his attention was being well received, and the one he sent in return almost set her on fire. She hadn’t felt like this in so long, not since Jonas, and the anticipation was enough to make her feel drunk.
Before Cathy knew it, the play was over and they were filing out of the auditorium. Matthias reached for Cathy’s hand again and she smiled, that delicious feeling of barely contained excitement creeping over her once more.
‘What now?’ he asked as they stepped out onto the street, the cold air like a slap after the warmth of the packed theatre. ‘Would you like to go on somewhere for a while?’
‘Would you?’ Cathy asked, trying to sound cool even though inside she was shouting: YES!
‘There’s a nice bar not far from here. We could get a snack, maybe another drink… At least you could get another drink and the designated driver here could knock himself out with lemonade.’
‘That sounds good,’ Cathy said, nuzzling into him, the action so natural she hardly realised she was doing it. But then she shot up again as she heard her name being called.
‘Cathy…?’
She turned around to see Jonas with a woman. His wife, she had to presume. His manner was open and friendly but he was still the last person she wanted to see right now.
‘Cathy…’ he said again, staring towards them. ‘I thought it was you. You’ve been to see the play? I never had Shakespeare down as your sort of thing.’
‘I didn’t think it was yours either,’ Cathy said. She glanced at his wife, and then Jonas did the same to Matthias.
‘Oh,’ Jonas said, ‘you haven’t met Eleanor, have you?’
Jonas’s wife smiled. ‘Hello.’
‘No, hi, Eleanor. This is Matthias,’ Cathy said.
The situation was getting more awkward by the second but Jonas j
ust couldn’t seem to grasp that. She wanted nothing more than to get away, but perhaps that would make it seem weirder to Matthias, and she didn’t want to be raising those sorts of questions this early in their new relationship. She’d felt certain that tonight would be the first of many nights, but it might not be if Matthias was put off by the thought of complications.
Was Jonas a complication, though? She couldn’t – at this precise moment – figure out how she felt about him, apart from the fact that she really wanted him and his wife to get lost.
Perhaps Jonas got the body language, because his next sentence was to that exact end.
‘We really ought to get going,’ he said. ‘I just thought we’d say hello.’
‘It was nice to see you,’ Cathy replied. She glanced up at Matthias. He didn’t seem to have noticed anything untoward in the exchange and for that, at least, she was very glad.
‘You too,’ Jonas said. ‘Bye, Cathy… Matthias.’
Matthias gave an airy smile. He turned to Cathy as they walked away. ‘A friend of yours?’
‘An old friend,’ Cathy said. ‘Someone I knew years ago. I don’t know about you,’ she added, determined to get back to where they’d been just before they’d been interrupted by her past, ‘but I’m ready for that drink.’
Eventually Cathy got her kiss, and it had been worth waiting for. Gentle yet intense, respectful and lustful all at the same time, she could barely recall the last time she’d been kissed, but she could never remember being kissed like that.
Matthias had been spot on again with the bar he’d chosen for their follow-up drink. It had been Spanish-themed, full of warm wood, bright tiles and soft lighting. They’d spent the last hour until the bar shut sitting close, nibbling on tapas that Cathy hadn’t really cared about. Not that it wasn’t very good, and ordinarily she would have been marvelling at the flavours, but tonight all she wanted to do was drink in everything Matthias did and said.
She’d had two more cocktails and so Cathy had added a vague tipsiness to the heady feeling of being with him. Still in that good phase when she was drunk enough to enjoy it, and not too far gone to wish she hadn’t had the last one after all, it undid any remaining inhibitions she might have had, so that when he did kiss her, as they said goodbye on her doorstep, she didn’t think about it. There was no uptight doubt, no concentrating on whether it was right, on what he thought about the way she did it; it was only easy and passionate.
Cathy's Christmas Kitchen: A heart-warming feel-good romantic comedy Page 17