by Mel Sparke
“Matt!” his father hissed at him.
“What?” Matt frowned back.
It was just the normal sort of insult that he’d throw at Cat - and heaven knows she could take it and dish it back just as hard. Wasn’t he even allowed to be normal any more? Did his dad mean for him to go tiptoeing around the house now, forever minding his manners?
“I think you should say sorry to Catrina!” said Matt Snr, looking slightly flushed above his red Pringle golf jersey and white shirt.
“You’re joking!” laughed Matt, turning away from his father on his right and staring at his ‘friend’, sitting to his left.
He expected Cat to be grinning back at him or even sticking her tongue out in his direction, but instead she blinked her heavily mascara’d eyes at him and assumed an angelic expression.
What’s she playing at? thought Matt, wondering what the cherubic act was all about.
“Well?” he heard his father again. “Aren’t you going to say sorry?”
If the journey home from Ibiza the day before hadn’t been so short, Matt might have blamed jet lag for the weirdly surreal bubble he felt himself trapped in. For a start, his dad never told him off. For another thing, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever eaten in the dining room.
In fact, eating in the dining room was as alien to Matt as finding his own stuff shoved to one side on the shelf above the bath to make room for a plethora of creams, conditioners and other womanly toiletry bits that had transformed the landscape of the bathroom in his absence. And because it all seemed so bizarre, the only thing Matt felt he could do was treat the whole situation as a giant joke. And a bad one at that.
“Cat, I didn’t mean any disrespect to you or your flowers,” said Matt, putting his fork down on the plate and his hands on his heart. “Or your teeth. I’m truly sorry. Will you ever, ever forgive me?”
Cat shot him a flickering, warning look before she smiled forgivingly at him and nodded.
“Of course!” she trilled, sugar sweet.
Even if Matt hadn’t worked out what Cat was up to, one thing was certain: he was actually quite glad that she’d done the thing with the flowers (even if it did look like an explosion in a greenhouse). Mainly because it blocked his view of Sylvia Osgood quite nicely.
From his side of the table, all he could see of Cat’s mother was the top of her head with its sheath of smooth, highlighted hair scraped back into a ponytail. Her pinched, sharp face was nowhere to be seen.
“Anyway,” said his father, seemingly satisfied with the apology and quickly moving on, “could someone pass me some of that bread?”
Immediately, Cat grabbed the basket that was placed between herself and Matt and passed it over to his father.
“Here, Mr Ryan!” she said in a breathy, little-girl voice, stretching out of her seat and reaching her arm across the table.
“Now didn’t I tell you, Catrina?” Matt Ryan Snr smiled playfully. “Didn’t I say no more Mr Ryan? Please call me Matthew!”
Matt stared open-mouthed at his father. This was all getting far too cosy.
He’ll be suggesting she calls him ‘Daddy’ next, he scoffed silently.
“OK, Matthew!” giggled Cat.
“Catrina, could you pass me some of that bread too, please?” came Sylvia Osgood’s clipped voice.
To Matt, it sounded like the same tone a dog trainer might use to curb a boisterous Alsatian puppy and, interestingly, Matt saw how the smile swiftly slipped away from Cat’s face as she sat herself back down in her chair.
In the silence that suddenly descended over the table, Matt decided to turn his attention towards his food. Apart from breakfast on the aeroplane, Matt had eaten nothing the day before - what with the shock of his new living arrangements - but he was certainly making up for it today.
“Have we always had these?” Matt asked, wrinkling his nose up at the enormous white dinner plate in front of him, with its band of ostentatious gold around the rim. Normally, he and his dad ate off the same set of plates they’d had for years - plain and pale blue, complete with chipped edges thanks to hundreds of careless loadings into the dishwasher.
“I just bought them,” replied Sylvia from the other side of the table, stretching out a long, manicured hand and moving the floral disarrangement to one side, all the better to see Matt.
Her voice, he noticed now, was low and matter-of-fact, her gaze steady and cool, as if daring Matt to make something of it.
“Hmph,” Matt grunted non-committally and began stabbing at his food with his fork.
“I still think the set with the polka dots was cuter,” said Cat, looking just as disgusted with her mother’s choice as Matt was.
“Polka dots?!” Matt spluttered, spraying specks of food over the table.
He noticed Sylvia Osgood recoiling slightly. He was pleased. He felt so pleased that he fleetingly toyed with picking his nose too - that might really get her regretting that she’d moved into this male-only household.
“What’s wrong with polka dots?” said Cat defensively to Matt, before turning her attention to his father. “Honestly, Mr Ry— Matthew, your son has no sense of style!”
“Well,” his dad blustered, “I don’t suppose I have much style sense either, I’m afraid, Catrina! Ha ha!”
Matt’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth across the table at this little exchange. It suddenly struck him that his father had more time for his new house guest than his own son.
So, one lousy conversation about Ibiza and it’s a case of subject closed, is it? he thought bitterly.
When Matt had come back home from Anna’s late the night before, he’d found his dad sitting up waiting for him in the living room, full of apologies about getting his homecoming date wrong, and full of explanations about what had happened while Matt had been away. After that, Matt had finally given his dad a potted history of how things had gone on his two-week adventure, thinking he’d be able to elaborate more in the morning, since his father had planned the next day off.
But it hadn’t worked out quite like that; knowing his son was safely home, Matt Ryan Snr hadn’t been able to resist the lure of the office and had already left for work by the time Matt stumbled from his bedroom.
And now, sitting around the dining table, no one seemed remotely interested in talking to Matt about his trip. It was as if they were all far more interested in their own little world, in this boring big house in boring old Winstead…
I might as well be back out in Ibiza since nobody even cares if I’m here or not, Matt moped.
“Hee hee!” Cat suddenly giggled mischievously. “Do you remember the last time the four of us were all sitting around a table together?”
All three turned to look at her, Matt Ryan Snr smiling quizzically, while - without realising it -Sylvia Osgood and Matt Jnr donned the same cautious frown, wondering what Cat was going to come out with next.
“I can’t think…” said Matt Ryan Snr. “When was it, Catrina?”
“When Matt nearly burnt the house down! Remember? We all ended up sitting round the kitchen table once the firemen had left!”
Cat might have been grinning, but no one else was. It had been a shocker of a night all round: gatecrashers starting a fight at Matt’s party and sending the candles flying; the basement den being engulfed in smoke and flames; Matt Ryan Snr and Sylvia Osgood arriving in time to see fire engines storm up the drive… And that, of course, had been the biggest shock of all - up until then, Cat and Matt had no idea that their respective parents were going out with each other.
“Cat, for a start, I didn’t try and burn the house down, and anyway, how can you giggle about it? Didn’t you nearly die that night?” Matt pointed out brutally.
What he said might have sounded harsh, but it really irritated Matt, the way Cat could reinvent events in her own head, editing out vital details to fit what suited her. And it was true - Cat might have died of smoke inhalation, if Zac, the guy she’d subsequently dated, hadn’t pulled her
from the den in time.
“Now, now. Let’s not talk about the fire - that’s all in the past.” Matt Snr tried to defuse what he saw as another potentially touchy subject.
“But one thing about the fire,” Sylvia Osgood began, sweeping aside his attempt to change the conversation, “I noticed that the wallpaper out in the hallway is grubby - it must be smoke damage from back then. We should think about redecorating that.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” Matt’s father’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But, yes, why not. Since we’ll be having the decorators in anyway…”
“To do what?” asked Matt.
Nothing in the house had changed for years (apart from the necessary repair work down in the den after the fire). With his father working away a lot, thanks to his property developing business, Matt’s mother had taken charge of furnishing and decorating the house. Even though she’d left years ago, her mark was still all around them.
“Haven’t you spoken to him?” Sylvia Osgood muttered rather ominously to Matt Snr.
“About what?” countered Matt.
“Er, no… Urn, well, you see, Matt… Er…” Matt’s father shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of where to start. So Sylvia started for him.
“Matt, your father says you spend most of your time downstairs in the basement room, is that right?”
Matt nodded warily. He did spend most of his time in the den; that’s where his sound system was, as well as his own TV and video. Matt was usually to be found down there, lounging on one of his bean bags any night he was at home. Some nights, he never even made it up to his bedroom on the first floor - instead, he’d just pull open the sofa bed and fall asleep listening to music on his headphones.
“Well,” Sylvia continued, fixing him with a no-nonsense stare, “because of that, and because your bedroom is right next door to ours—”
Matt’s teeth went on edge at her casual use of the word “ours”.
“—we thought we could knock through and turn it into an en-suite bathroom.”
“It would make sense to have an extra bathroom,” Matt’s dad chipped in, before his speechless son could respond. “Now there’s the four of us, I mean.”
“Exactly,” nodded Sylvia. “And beautiful house that this is, it’s not really being used to its full potential.”
But Matt tuned out of what she was saying -he’d heard enough already.
“Matt! Matt, don’t be like that!” his father called after him as Matt got up and stormed from the room.
CHAPTER 7
ANNA SMELLS A RAT
There were five minutes to go before The Loud were due on stage and Matt was doing his final checks at the sound desk.
Being back at the Railway Tavern, and being back among his friends in the band - who treated him like a fifth member - had helped raise his bruised and battered spirits. Ollie and Billy in particular weren’t the sort of guys who would allow anyone to be down for too long. After a barrage of jokes from those two, and enthusiastic questions from Joe and Andy about his trip, Matt had begun to feel more like his old self than he had done in the last couple of unsettled days.
Still, it’s not exactly the Espace, is it? he thought to himself as he glanced round the smoky pub, with its tacky fake Victorian decor and ramshackle mix of clientele. It was a far cry from the hip young clubbers and ultra-modern setting he’d been used to working in the past few weeks.
Suddenly, a pair of arms entwined themselves around his waist and squeezed tight. Matt knew it couldn’t be Anna - she was sitting at a table near the front with Maya, Alex and Joe’s girlfriend, Meg - so there was only one person it could be.
“Sonja!” he grinned, swivelling his head around to look at his favourite female friend.
“Hey, gorgeous!” smiled Sonja Harvey, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek. “Don’t you look handsome with your tan?”
“Where have you been?” asked Matt, although he already knew.
On his first night home, Anna had filled him in on what everyone in the crowd had been up to while he’d been away; the main event being Joe and Meg going through a rocky patch, but getting even closer after they’d cleared the air.
“Newcastle for a couple of days!” replied Sonja, wiping away a smudge of pinky lip gloss from his cheek with her thumb. “I decided to go on the spur of the moment, since Owen is too busy to take any time off at the moment.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Oh, yes!” Sonja beamed. “It was great to see Owen, of course. But while he was busy working, I just mooched around the city; y’know? Trying to get to know it a bit before I move there in September.”
“So it’s definite now, is it? Did the A-level results come in while I was away?” asked Matt, trying to remember how the time-scale worked in these matters.
“No - the agony goes on for a while yet,” Sonja joked, tossing back her straight blonde hair. “But I think I’ll get the grades I need. Still, enough about boring exams—” Sonja was much more anxious about her results than she was prepared to admit. “—What about you? Come on - I want to hear all about Ibiza. Every last detail!”
“What - in three minutes?” laughed Matt, looking at his watch.
“OK. OK,” grinned Sonja. “But once the band’s done their set, you’re all mine. Even if you’re bored to death telling everyone about it, I still want my turn.”
“Bored? Are you joking?” said Matt, wide-eyed. “It was brilliant! I could never get bored talking about it. In fact, you’ll probably have to tell me to shut up once I get started!”
“Well, you know me, Matt - I’m never afraid to tell you to shut up,” Sonja teased. “But you’ll have to fill me in on how things are going at your place - now that you’ve got my lovely aunt and cousin living with you…”
“God, talk about a shock to the system,” groaned Matt. “When I was away, all I was worried about was coming home to a really scary credit card bill. I hadn’t really banked on finding my home invaded!”
Both he and Sonja automatically turned their gaze to the bar, where Cat was flirting her heart out with Dylan, a friend of the band who’d covered on the sound desk while Matt had been away.
“She’s been like this with him the last couple of weeks,” Sonja told Matt. “Hovering round the sound desk all through the gigs.”
“And do you think Dylan’s into her?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know - he’s a bit of a hippy airhead, isn’t he? He probably just thinks she’s being friendly or something, instead of trying to get her claws into him!” Sonja laughed.
“Poor guy,” grinned Matt. “Someone should warn him, shouldn’t they?”
“Maybe one of you lads should take him aside and give him some brotherly advice!” joked Sonja, before adding, “Still, it’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?”
“Creepy?” frowned Matt.
Although he wasn’t overly fond of the sight of Cat at the moment, he still didn’t see anything creepy about her flirting with Dylan. After all, that was just normal Cat behaviour.
“Yeah - considering she went out with his brother not so long ago.”
“Of course!” said Matt, remembering that Zac had come up in conversation only the night before. He’d been at Matt’s party with his big brother Dylan and, after rescuing Cat, they’d dated for a while till Zac had got sick of her being pushy, occasionally selfish and most definitely flirtatious - and not just with him.
“So is my darling cousin driving you mad?” Sonja asked, turning her attention away from Cat’s tangled love-life and back to Matt.
“Oh, yeah! She really seems to have got her feet under the table,” Matt moaned.
“So I’ve heard. And she seems to be totally in love with your dad!”
“What?” yelped Matt.
“Not in a weird way! It’s just that I don’t think she can quite get over the fact that your dad has, a) let her move into her dream house,” Sonja began counting off the reasons on her fingers, “a
nd, b) is nice to her, which is more than her own mother ever is. Even if my Aunt Sylvia has thawed out a bit since she started dating your dad!”
Somewhere in his brain, Matt understood what Sonja meant. But his head was too clouded with negative thoughts to be particularly understanding towards either of the Osgood women.
“Oh, here we go - the lads are on!” Sonja pointed out. “Catch you later!”
“Yeah, later,” nodded Matt, watching his friend wend her way over to join the others.
His heart skipped a beat when he noticed how deep in conversation Anna and Kerry were - so intense that they hadn’t even noticed Ollie and the others picking up their guitars and getting ready to start their set.
A forgotten, uncomfortable memory suddenly stirred in Matt’s mind: a memory of Kerry stumbling upon him kissing someone on the steps of the DJ booth in the club in Ibiza… It was stupid that the event made him feel guilty, he knew, but he felt guilty all the same. The girl -Trudie - was someone Ollie and Kerry had got stuck with on holiday, along with her drongo boyfriend, Bonza. Trudie had helped Matt hand out flyers for his first night’s DJing and he’d been eternally grateful. But not grateful enough to snog her - Trudie had completely taken him by surprise by jumping on him.
Kerry had flipped out at him about it, but she’d come to realise he wasn’t to blame - after a lot of grovelling on his part. Kerry had also promised she wouldn’t tell Anna about it, but now the way their heads were bowed together, he wasn’t so sure….
“…so I guess, after everyone raving the way they were in the club, it must be tough for him to come back to a place like this. I mean, the Railway Tavern is nice and everything, but doesn’t exactly compare to a packed out club, where everyone treats you like a superstar,” shrugged Kerry, who was putting forward her theory about why Matt looked so glum this evening.
“I know,” sighed Anna. “And the stuff going on at home isn’t helping either. Even though Cat promised me she was going to be on her best behaviour.”
“Well, you know what Cat’s best behaviour is like - it isn’t necessarily that good,” said Kerry, pulling a face. “Still, Cat’s an angel compared to that girl Trudie I told you about!”