by Bloom, Anna
No, it wasn’t like that at all.
“What’s it like then?”
“Matthew is a friend from uni. Once we were best friends.”
Hannah’s face dropped into a picture of startled gormlessness. It would have been funny if we weren’t discussing Matthew and dancing around the edge of me acknowledging my ridiculous obsession. “He’s the guy you told me about the other day.”
“Yes.” He’s always the guy I talk about. Never was a thought more depressing.
“He’s the one with the girlfriend so you became his best friend.”
“Yeah. For the record I don’t advocate that.”
“What happened to his girlfriend?”
“She became his wife.”
“Oh. That’s not a happy story.”
“Nope. They’re getting divorced through… or are divorced. I’m not entirely sure.” I winced. I should have got to the bottom of that conversation.
Hannah smiled. “Okay, it’s getting better—I thought we were heading for a Shakespearean tragedy for a moment.”
I wanted to high-five the girl for the acumen of using the phrase ‘Shakespearean tragedy’. This was the Ronnie Childs tragedy and Shakespeare had nothing to do with it.
“He lives in Scotland.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And well, it’s complicated. Lots of things that should have been said but weren’t. Lots of miscommunications.”
“Did you love him? You know… before you met Dad.”
Well, that’s the question. I should have expected it, really. “I don’t know.” And yes. “It’s a long time ago now though. I never expected to see him again.”
“But you wanted to though?”
I should’ve stopped the conversation, but it was like I’d tamed Godzilla with my lasso of awesome parenting and I didn’t really want it to end.
“Why did you marry Dad if you were already in love with someone else?”
Her question sat uncomfortably on my stomach like acid after a rich meal. “Hannah, I hadn’t seen Matthew in a long time.”
My answer jangled in my ears, but I couldn’t think any more on that.
“So what happens now? I’m guessing you don’t want to punch this client in the balls anymore?”
“Hannah!”
“You said it, not me.”
“I guess Monday I go to work, and I try to give his company the best rebrand I can.”
“But what about how you felt? Have you told him?”
“Sort of.” I thought I did when our lips met like that. “Not in so many words.”
“So maybe you should go to work and show him, even better tell him.”
“I like your enthusiasm for this, Hannah. But he is going back to Edinburgh.”
“Has he told you that?”
“About five thousand times; very, very clearly.”
“Have you said maybe you don’t want him to?”
She smirked again when I didn’t reply. There were several elements to this conversation that could have been making her give me that look.
“Okay, bedtime. You’ll be as moody as sin tomorrow.”
She got up from the chair. “You know, Mum. I don’t think Dad would mind this.”
I huffed out a breath of air. I didn’t have an answer. Life it seemed had twisted itself into complicated knot of questions which I didn’t have the answers to.
“Oh, can I go to a party Monday night?” The cheeky mare. She got me while I was distracted.
“Sure.”
I could sense her questioning gaze as she lingered at the kitchen doorway. “Maybe you should get some sleep too?”
“Uh, huh.”
When she’d gone, I got up and went to the old Welsh dresser on the long wall of the kitchen. Ignoring the fancy plates with gold and red patterns and scalloped edges, I opened one of the doors. Tucked inside was a tin that rattled with a ring that to me sounded like sleigh bells on snow. I grabbed some paper from underneath the tin and settled back down at the table.
Opening the tin, I fished about for what I wanted. For the first time in a very long time I pushed a pencil tip against a plain sheet of paper.
With my right hand holding the pencil, I lifted my left to my lips, pressing my fingertips against the flesh which had finally owned a Matthew kiss.
It was mine now, in my memory bank, mine to cherish and keep.
I baked hot at the memory of the heat and tingle that his tender lips and bold tongue created.
I didn’t draw anything for the rebrand. Instead I drew him, in pencil, soft and bold, just like he’d drawn me in his notebook.
Cranky Pills
“Hannnnnaaaaahhhhh!” I screamed up the stairs.
Godzilla’s Mum was in town. With a cracking bloody headache.
“I have to go now.” My fingers stuck to my forehead as I swiped at it. It was hot. I was hot. I don’t know, something was hot. And not sexily.
“I’m coming.” She flung open her door and then punished the stairs as she came down them. The neighbours must hate us—official.
“Sorry, Han…” I faltered. “What have you got on your face?”
More eyeliner smudged around her eyelids than my skin had seen in a decade—admittedly mine wouldn’t be seeing any in a while because of my mirror graffiti work.
“And what’s wrong with your eyebrows?” They’d doubled overnight. I was pretty sure they weren’t that big last night.
“It’s just make-up. I’m going to that party, remember? You said I could.”
Ma’s tut was six syllables long from the kitchen. I turned and glared before refocusing on Hannah. “But, Han, Sweetheart, the party isn’t until this evening, that’s a whole day of school away, and you still haven’t given me the details about it.” I stared at her face. Where were her freckles? And what was with the brows? “Mr Jewson will ring my office before I’ve even got to work if you go like that.”
“Wow, Mum, you look nice.” Hannah appraised my blue dress and black heels. I’d dug deep in the back of the wardrobe looking for anything that would distract from my face and the lack of sleep. I high-fived myself because it was working until she said, “Aren’t you putting any make-up on?”
“I have.”
“More. Put more on.”
“I tell you what, why don’t you come closer and rub your face on mine and we can share what you’re currently loading.”
Godzilla’s reptilian eyes squinted into a slither.
“I’ll let you off that because you are in a romantic crisis.” The sass on this girl knew no bounds.
“Hannah. Shush.” I glanced over my shoulders to where Ma pretended to do her crossword at the kitchen table. I’d already survived the Spanish Inquisition over my morning mug of tea. Hannah frowned. “And anyway, you don’t get to let me off things. I’m the parent, remember?”
A snort blasted from the kitchen.
Okay. That’s was enough. I turned back towards where Ma sat. “Have you got something to say? Anything of any use to me or Hannah right now?”
Ma eyes widened, her mouth falling open. “No.”
“It sounds like you have.”
“No, Veronica. I haven’t.” Her fingers smoothed the crossword and that familiar pang of guilt that I’d upset someone made my stomach ache. “But don’t forget your date tomorrow evening with Bridget’s son.” My stomach, already tied into knots, tightened even more. A bit like fine origami in the crushed grip of a toddler.
“I haven’t forgotten.” I had. Totally. I stared her down for a full minute and waited for her to make a noise or facial expression. When she didn’t, I swung back to Hannah. I didn’t know what she saw in my eyes but whatever it was, it made the protest she had pursed on her lips evaporate. “You get your coat on and grab your stuff. I’ll go and get the wet wipes. You can fix your face in the car.”
“But Ange said it looked nice.”
“She’s not your mother, Hannah, I am.” I did a doubletake as I launched i
nto the cloakroom for a packet of baby wipes. “And when did you speak to her?”
“This morning. I showed her my make-up, and she said to remind you she’s in town.”
Shit, I’d forgotten, what with the dinner with Matthew, and the kissing thing.
“Okay, let’s go, let’s go.” I circled my hand and tried to coax her out of the house.
“Looking sensational today, Boss Lady.” Fred wolf-whistled from where he perched on Natalie’s chair. Natalie gave a little jump when she clocked my outfit and then clapped loudly.
“Wowser, Ronnie. What happened?”
If they all started to clap, I swear I’d shut us down.
“Look at those legs.” Fred’s gaze lingered hot on my tights.
“That’s an utterly inappropriate way to speak to your boss,” I said, giving him a chastising glare.
“But you love me so you could never sack me.” He lounged back, his smile wide.
“Did you get my text on Saturday night?” I tried not to fluster at his gaze while I mentally rolled through all my previous outfits to the office, confirming that I had in fact worn this dress before.
“Bad date, was it?” Fred’s gaze swept up my legs again, and I shot him the ferocious glare of a caged lion.
“Something like that. Will you cut it out? We’re at work.”
“Oh, Ronnie. Mr Carling is already in your office.” The pink on Natalie’s cheeks deepened.
He was here already? I didn’t have my game face on yet.
What was my game face?
Did I even have one?
“Why are you flushing?” I asked her to stall the moment. My lips tingled at the prospect of Matthew standing in the other room.
“No reason.” She shrugged, but I could tell her lie a mile off, just like I always could with Hannah. “Shall I bring in tea?”
“Yes, please.” I hiked in a deep breath. This was fine. Totally and utterly fine. Last night we checked the theory… I didn’t know what the conclusion was, but we’d investigated it, checked it out… My stomach tightened and a little pin prickle of sweat flourished against my skin.
Totally fine.
Except no. Of course it wasn’t fine.
Matthew sat at the round meeting table, his face like thunder.
“Hi.” I pushed at my hair, remembering a second too late I’d pinned it up. My fingers trapped under the pins, no chance I could remove them without wrenching my hair free. “Sorry I’m a tad late. I had issues with the school run.”
I yanked at my hair and felt it settle into shredded feathers in place of the smart updo.
He made a very Scottish infused grunt; oak aged barrels of whisky and rain.
The air in the room set my skin on hyperactive mode, or maybe it was him; the hairs on my arms stood on end.
Be brave, Ronnie. Last night you were in his arms, pleasurably breathless as you teetered on the edge of everything that this could be.
I hesitated as I strode forward. His eyes flickered to my legs, but his lips pressed into a line.
The Kiss. It failed the theory test.
My chest whooshed like someone had punched me in the sternum.
Oooh. Wow.
The kiss I’d been thinking about all night like an obsessive on the verge of a restraining order hadn’t impacted him the way it had me.
The truth shadowed his eyes, the set of his shoulders, that little slash of a line he had on his face instead of a smile.
The warmth of the night before, that press of my face into his back, the imprint of material on my cheek, it’d all evaporated in the cold light of day.
I flinched under his gaze and tweaked the hem of my skirt. “Matthew, I’m so—” His phone trilled on the desk, the aggressive vibration making it move across the smooth surface.
“Carling,” he snapped into his phone, his eyes grazing over my face with sheaths of cold metal.
I stood and shifted from foot to foot. Had I woken up in an alternative universe? I thought last night we got through all this…
“Yes. Thank you, I’m aware of the meeting.”
Picking up his biro, he gouged a blue line in his black-bound notebook. Not a sketch book, I guessed.
“Monday. Nine. I won’t forget.” Lowering his phone, he stabbed at the screen to switch off the call.
“Everything okay?”
“Divorce settlement meeting.”
Oh, okay, well that explained the grump.
“We okay?” I motioned between us.
“Yes.”
No smile.
I opened my mouth to say something, I don’t know what, when the lift doors chimed and the sounds of heels clacked against the flooring of reception. That’s how quiet it was in my office as Matthew murdered me with his death glare. Watching him as I was, with the intensity of someone borderline mentally unhinged, I was sure I caught the briefest of flinches, but he quickly hid the flicker that darted across his face.
“Matty, there you are!”
“Amanda.”
She glided in, hair smooth, power suit crisp and sharp. Her face contoured to within an inch of its existence.
“Gosh, you look rough. Didn’t you sleep? I told you to stay in the hotel with me.”
Okay, that time there was a definite flinch.
What did she mean ‘with me’?
“Grr.” He made that sound. Like a big Scottish oaf.
“Well, Matty, I just spoke to your mother, and she’s asked me to remind you about tomorrow evening.”
For a split-second he lost all restraint and the cool businessman shimmered in front of me, showing me a flash of the person underneath; like a mirage but only if the mirage was for an excessively tall and moody abomination of a man. “Shit.” He pushed a hand through his hair, and I watched the strands, almost feeling them smooth against my palm. Amanda coughed and cleared her throat.
“It’s just as well I remember these things. I’ve booked you on a sleeper tonight. That way you can be there for the morning.”
He graced her with one of those blinding smiles. The earth span in its glory.
“Thank you.” The frown came back far too quickly. “Although we need to be coming out with a defined rebrand today.” The death stare swizzled back in my direction. “Veronica, how long are we talking before we have any results at all?”
Veronica now, was it? What happened to hand holding and oxygen defying kissing?
Amanda curved an eyebrow and looked between us.
“It’s hard to come up with results when you won’t consider fundamentals such as changing the name so it sucks less.”
Ooh. That’s not very professional.
I huffed out a breath by way of apology.
This was no way to run a business. Five years I’d kept us afloat by remaining courteous, professional, and trustworthy.
“I told you already, the name has to stay.”
“And I told you you’ve cheapened yourself out of the high street. I can’t rebrand something that’s bloody dead.” My cheeks burned hot.
I was trying to dig my way out of the grave he shot me down into with his glare, when Amanda cleared her throat with more force. “I think the issue here, Matty, is that Ronnie doesn’t understand the business.”
“It’s a supermarket. I can research that perfectly well, thank you,” I retorted.
She looked at him like she had taken up communicating information with laser-beamed eye movements; not subtly either.
His skin tinged with pink right up to the tips of his ears. Wow, something made Robot Matthew flush? “No. Amanda, that is not a good idea.”
My gaze swivelled between them. Like being at a tennis match but you couldn’t see the ball. “What’s not a good idea?”
“Ronnie!” Amanda launched into her sing-song tone that meant she planned to bust some balls but would sugar-coat it, so it didn’t seem too bad. “You need to go to Scotland with Matthew.”
“Excuse me?” I took an automatic step back, one foot
already turning for the door. “No.” I knew he analysed my reaction. Yeah well, analyse this. “That would be awful. Like the worst idea I’ve ever heard. And I have plans, my mother has me set up on a date.” Oh, cringe.
Amanda shook her head. “No plans. We need this done, ASAP. The pressure is on, Ronnie, and right now The Childs Agency hasn’t given us much to use.”
“The circumstances have been difficult,” I protested. Mainly with him and the glaring. “It’s impossible to rebrand something if the business model is defunct.”
“You don’t want your name to go down with Supersaver Foods, do you? There will be coverage. It would be terrible if Supersavers dragged The Childs Agency down with it.”
“What?” Was she for real? I sensed a threat, but I couldn’t believe it came from her immaculately turned out sugar bonbon style of delivering a line.
“Amanda, that’s enough.” Matthew cut in and then cleared his throat. He turned and his face pinched with regret, determination, and something else which I couldn’t quite read. “Veronica, it makes sense. I can give you a tour, show you the stores, and you can meet some of the staff.” His face shadowed, exquisite with a momentary flash of pain. “Maybe then you will understand everything.”
For the briefest flicker, his dark stare landed on my mouth and my breath eased from my chest in a low ache.
“Excellent.” Amanda rooted in her leather laptop bag and pulled out a MacBook. “I’ll book some tickets for you, Ronnie. And Matty.” God, I wanted to punch her when she called him that. “I’ll tell your mother you’re coming.”
“Thanks.” His eyes still stole secrets from my face. “I’m sorry to disturb you from your plans.” Moody Matthew was back. I didn’t know what he thought I did on a week night but he’d saved me from death by Pinot, and Ben and Jerry’s.
Oh the date. Why did I even say that?
“Oh, shit.” I clamped my hands over my mouth. “Sorry.”
My unprofessional behaviour earned me the faintest of smiles. Amanda, typing, her fingers hitting the keys with the intent of a marching army, didn’t look our way.
“Hannah has a party tonight. I’ll need to collect her and make sure she’s home safe with Mum.” My face scrunched like paper. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”