by Shears, KT
I knew, of course, that I couldn’t. She must have seen me as I scurried past her doorway, head down, and she appeared in Matt’s office a few minutes later.
‘What are you doing?’ she said, accusingly, as I stood there with his house key in my hand.
‘Matt asked me to come by and pick up his house key and get him some things,’ I said, coldly.
‘What? Why? Isn’t he in Spain?’ Sarah looked puzzled, and then suspicious. Did she think I was stealing? I reflected that this was an ideal opportunity to rake about for incriminating material, but there was no way I was doing that after Matt’s father had died.
‘Yes,’ I took a deep breath, knowing Sarah wouldn’t like what I was about to say. ‘He’s asked me to fly out there today. His dad died last night, and he wants some help with arranging things.’
She looked like she’d been slapped.
‘He asked you to fly out there?’
I nodded, feeling slightly smug at the obvious annoyance and disappointment on her face. I could tell she thought it should have been her, and I reflected that perhaps she had seen more in her relationship with Matt than was there. I might even have felt sorry for her, but I remembered her words at the picnic, the way she spat them at me, spitefully, and I just couldn’t. You reap what you sow, I thought.
‘Yes, my flight leaves at lunchtime so I really have to get on.’
I moved past her to the door and left her standing in the office.
Chapter twelve
Matt’s house was typically him, I thought, as I tried to find the various items he’d asked me to bring. The décor was bright and colourful, and the pictures on the wall were cheerful and bold.
I could hear Barry’s voice in my head, ‘Well, go have a poke around for fuck’s sake’, but I quickly banished him to the back of my mind. It was getting increasingly easy to do that.
Matt had some framed pictures on his mantelpiece and I pored over them, fascinated. There was a close-up of a beautiful young woman, caught mid-laugh. The same girl featured in another picture; this time she had her arm round Matt’s shoulder and an older couple were standing beside them, all grinning at the camera. It must be his sister and his parents. They were an attractive family, I thought.
I looked into his sister’s eyes, and wondered what on earth had happened to her.
I packed Matt’s things into my own case – I hadn’t wanted to pay for excess luggage, so I was travelling light. I had pondered what to do with my car, but Matt had a big enough driveway so I parked my little Mini in front of his own car. It could stay there till I got back.
I called for a taxi and arrived at the airport in plenty of time. I’m a nervous traveller, always paranoid some unforeseen event will lead to me missing my flight, so I always turn up hours in advance. Better late than never, my mum always said. I wandered around the shops while I waited for my flight to board, wondering if the clothes I’d packed would be suitable. I had no space for any more, though, not with Matt’s funeral suit in my bag, so they’d just have to be.
After I boarded the plane, I was somewhat disappointed to find my neighbour was already firmly wedged into place when I got to my seat.
‘Och, you’re no sitting in here, are you’ he said, sighing.
I said that yes, I was afraid I was sitting there.
He heaved himself to his feet, and we did an awkward little dance as I squeezed past him into my window seat. He lowered himself back down, with considerable effort.
‘No much room on these planes, eh?’ he said, gesturing at his tummy straining to escape from the confines of the armrests. ‘Obviously no made for fat bastards like me.’
I laughed and he took that as further invitation to carry on.
‘Whit you going to Madrid fir then? Holiday? Visiting your wee boyfriend?’
I shook my head.
‘Neither. A…friend of mine’s dad has died and I’m going to help him with arrangements.’
He puffed out his cheeks sympathetically.
‘Och, that’s a shame. Just a friend though, is he?’
I blushed and hid myself behind my magazine for the rest of the flight. His innocent remark had hit home.
We landed in Madrid on time. The warm air hit me as I got off the plane, and I was glad I’d worn a summery dress I’d found languishing at the back of the wardrobe.
I just had hand luggage, so, once I was through passport control, I was able to head straight to the pick-up area.
I was actually nervous about seeing Matt, which was ridiculous. My heart was beating fast and I felt like I was sweating, which wouldn’t be attractive in the slightest.
I saw him before he saw me. He was wearing jeans and a tightly fitted t-shirt, and my breath caught in my throat as I drank him in. He really was a gorgeous man, I thought, as I crossed the plaza towards him. No wonder Sarah was nuts about him.
He caught sight of me and waved. He looked tired, but he still managed a smile. My ‘be professional’ mantra went out of the window in a jiffy, and I flung my arms around him.
‘I’m so sorry, Matt.’
This time, he hugged back right away, and we stood, embracing, for a few seconds. He smelled so good, and I took a deep breath. Where his bare arms touched my bare skin, little goosebumps sprung up. My body was betraying me. After all these years together.
Matt released me and looked concerned. ‘Are you cold?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just a draft from the air conditioning,’ I lied.
‘Here, let me take that. Is this all you’ve brought?’ he asked, taking my case from me.
I shrugged. ‘I travel light. Don’t worry, all your stuff is in there.’
We headed out of the airport, and I followed Matt across the large car park. He put my case in the boot and then opened the passenger door for me. I climbed in, wishing I hadn’t worn a skirt. It’s difficult to get in and out of a car without exposing more than you wanted and I was concerned he may have got more than he bargained for. Matt got into the driver’s seat and we pulled away. We sat in silence for a few moments, me enjoying the new scenery, and him concentrating on the labyrinth of roads leading out of the airport.
‘How are you holding up?’ I asked, when he had negotiated past the trickiest bit.
He shrugged.
‘I’m ok. It’s my mum I’m worried about. She’s barely slept and she won’t eat. I tried to talk to her about funeral arrangements and she just cried, so I don’t know what to do.’ He sighed, wearily. ‘It feels like I’m caught in a bad dream.
I made a little noise of sympathy. ‘She just needs time,’ I said. ‘The practical stuff is a lot to think about, if she’s still trying to come to terms with losing her husband.’
Matt nodded. ‘I know, it’s just..’ he broke off and glanced at me. ‘This is all new to me. When my sister died, I was a wreck, you know? And I didn’t have anything to do with the arrangements. I couldn’t have, I was a mess. Mum did it all. And now I realise how much she must have gone through, and I feel like the worst son in the world for not helping her. And now she just sits there crying.’
I laid my hand on his arm, his skin cool under my hand. If the gesture surprised him, he didn’t show it.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ I said, gently chiding him. ‘Everyone deals with grief in a different way. You may not have helped then, but you can help her now.’
He smiled, wanly. ‘Thanks, Alice. It’s so great of you to come. I just needed someone to help with the practical stuff, you know?’
I nodded. ‘ I understand and, really, it’s my pleasure.’
Matt’s parents’ house was only half an hour from the airport. It was a gorgeous, white-stone property, with a large swimming pool, and roses climbing up the porch.
‘Wow, this is gorgeous,’ I said, impressed.
Matt opened the boot and lifted my case out.
‘It is nice, isn’t it? My parents moved here after my sister died, I think they wanted a fresh start.’
&nb
sp; He led me inside, and I was grateful to find the property was air-conditioned. I don’t do well in the heat, nor does my hair.
A woman in her 60s was sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen. Despite the redness round her eyes, and her pale, tired face, I recognised her from the photograph in Matt’s house. This must be his mother. She looked broken, and I felt awful for her, and for Matt. Losing your child and then your husband, how do you recover from that? I wasn’t sure you ever could, not really.
I’d interviewed my fair share of parents struck by tragedy; their teenage son killed in a late-night car crash, their baby daughter dead of some cruel and unforgiving disease that had ravaged her tiny body. It never got easier, and it was my least favourite thing to do. But I was always amazed by how happy some people were to speak to me. It was as if telling me all about their loved one, getting into print, made them feel, somehow, like part of them was still alive.
‘Mum, this is Alice, my PA.’ Matt put his arm round his mother’s shoulders and she looked up at me, managing a weak smile.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Westwall.’ I said, sincerely. ‘And I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.’
‘Annie, please.’ She stood up and crossed over to me, grasping my hand. ‘Thank you, I’m afraid it’s all a bit of a shock, and I’m not sure…’ She gestured around her, helplessly.
‘Just go and rest, Mum,’ Matt said, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the room. He was back in about 30 seconds, and looked at me apologetically.
‘I’m sorry, she’s just…’
‘I understand.’ I smiled reassuringly at him.
‘Here, let me show you your room.’ He lifted my case and gestured to me to follow him. We went up winding set of stone stairs, and down a cool, tiled corridor, stopping in front of a thick wooden door. He pushed it open, and stood aside to let me enter first.
The room was gorgeous, beautifully decorated in pale pastel colours, with a large four-poster bed. A large window let in the light, and I could see there was a wonderful view across the countryside.
‘I hope it’s ok…’ he began, anxiously.
‘Oh it’s perfect,’ I enthused, crossing over to gaze out of the window.
He joined me, laying my case down at the bottom of the bed. His arm touched mine as we stood together as the window, and I had to resist the urge to stroke it. I felt a yearning for physical contact. It should be him, really, seeking comfort, but I felt like I needed to be taken in his arms and held. But he just stood, gazing out of the window, clearly his thoughts somewhere else.
‘So, what do you need me to do?’ I asked, slapping my hands together in a brisk fashion.
Chapter thirteen
I spent the rest of the day making phone calls. While Matt had got in touch with close family and friends, his father had a huge address book, bulging with acquaintances and old business contacts. Between the two of us, we ploughed our way through determinedly. Matt had arranged a time and place for the funeral that morning before I’d arrived, so we were able to give the details. From the response we got, we knew it would be a big turnout.
‘Have you thought about the wake?’ I asked.
A look of panic crossed his face.
‘Oh god, no. I guess we have to have that here? How will we organise it?’ He wrung his hands, looking panicked. ‘Mum won’t be up to making sandwiches and snacks for all those guests.’
I cut in, and in a soothing voice said, ‘Matt, don’t worry about it. We’ll get a caterer. Hell, I’ll make the sandwiches myself if it comes to it. Everyone likes peanut butter and jam, right?’
I made him laugh, and he seemed surprised that he was still capable of doing so.
‘How’s your Spanish?’ he asked.
I thought back to my confusing conversation with the taxi driver.
‘Er, passable.’ I lied.
Fortunately, the first caterer I called spoke excellent English and understood what I wanted straight away. It was no problem, he said, he would be happy to take it on and provide sandwiches, cakes, and a limited selection of hot food for guests. Did I want beverages too? You bet. I crossed that off my list. Matt hovered in the background, anxiously.
‘Sorted,’ I said when I hung up.
‘You’re a marvel,’ he said, and I felt myself go red slightly.
‘Have you picked out a coffin?’
Matt looked miserable.
‘No. The thought of going to look at coffins… it makes me feel sick.’
I nodded, understandingly. ‘I’ll come with you, it won’t be so bad. I promise.’
I took his hand and squeezed it tightly, and he didn’t seem uncomfortable at1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 the gesture.
‘Trust me’
***
It hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared, although it was clear he was feeling emotional and I’d tactfully gone off to look at something else to give him a few minutes to gather himself.
His dad had evidently been a practical man, and Matt wanted his coffin to reflect it. Nothing fancy, just a plain, good quality, casket. While Matt paid, I spoke to the undertaker and settled the arrangements for transporting the body from the morgue into his care. I didn’t want Matt to have to deal with it.
By the time we got back to the house, it was quite late. His mum was finally asleep, and, after Matt had checked on her, he opened a bottle of wine for us and we went out to the veranda.
‘Thank you, Alice,’ he said. ‘You’ve been an absolute lifesaver today. I’m so grateful, I can’t even begin…’
‘Shush,’ I said, blushing slightly. ‘All in a day’s work.’
‘This is above and beyond the call of duty, Alice,’ Matt said, taking a sip of his wine. ‘I’m just so thankful. You’ll be staying for the funeral, won’t you?’
I was surprised and regretted not packing an outfit. I hadn’t imagined he would want me to come – I thought I was there as practical support, not emotional. But I found myself feeling pleased he wanted me there.
‘Oh, well, sure, I can.’
‘Oh, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to,’ Matt said quickly, misunderstanding my hesitation.
‘Of course I do, silly. I just didn’t bring anything to wear.’ I plucked at my summer dress. ‘I’ll need to go shopping.’
Matt brightened. ‘Maybe you can take my mum out tomorrow? She needs something for the funeral, but she’ll never go out on her own, and I’ve no idea what to look for.’
It didn’t sound exactly like a barrel of laughs, but I couldn’t really say no. The thought of trudging around with the devastated woman I’d seen in the kitchen earlier didn’t especially appeal. It would be a quick in and out job, I thought. I’d buy the first black tent I could find.
‘Sure, that sounds good.’
Matt seemed relieved. It was evident his mother was weighing heavily on his mind, and I thought how nice it was to meet someone who was so worried about how others were feeling. I can be a bit guilty of selfishness, myself, and Matt struck me as being pretty selfless.
We chatted for what felt like hours, until the bottle of wine was empty, and my eyes were starting to droop.
‘You look tired. Or drunk.’
Matt held out his hand and I took it. He helped pull me out of my seat, but then held on to my hand.
‘To bed with you.’ He led me through the house and upstairs, stopping outside my door.
‘Thank you for today, Alice. You’ve been truly amazing.’
He bent down and his lips brushed against my cheek. My heart quickened, and my stomach lurched. The touch of his soft lips against my skin made me tingle, and I had to restrain myself from taking his face in my hands, and putting my lips on his.
He released my hand and walked off to his own room, just a couple of doorways down. I watched him go and then went inside my room, closing the door behind me and sinking onto the bed. My heart was racing, and I felt flushed – and not just from the wine. I kept re
playing the moment – how it felt when his cool breath caressed my cheek, and his lips grazed across my skin. I’m sure it had just been friendly; we’d both had a little too much wine, and we had maybe got a bit over-familiar with each other. But I realised that somewhere, deep down inside, part of me hoped it had been something more.
Chapter fourteen
I woke up the next morning with a headache. Not unusual after drinking half a bottle of red wine, but unpleasant, nevertheless. I opened the curtains and looked out – glorious sunshine. I flipped open my suitcase and dug around, eventually coming up with a pair of cropped trousers and a fitted t-shirt. I vowed to buy a proper summer wardrobe when I got home; for the three days of sun we had a year.
My room had a sink in it, so I was able to wash my face and brush my teeth without having to scurry along the corridor to the bathroom, hoping Matt didn’t emerge from his room and see me looking like the Wicked Witch of the West. I looked in the mirror, grimacing slightly at the bags under my eyes. I delved into my case and took out my trusty moisturiser and foundation, applying it liberally to my dull, hungover skin. I gathered my hair into a high ponytail to keep it off my face in this heat.
I headed downstairs. Matt and his mum were already up, and the smell of coffee was extremely welcome. I was happy to see his mum looked like she’d got some sleep. Her eyes were still red, but she didn’t look as wiped out as she had the previous day. Matt was wearing a t-shirt and checked pyjama bottoms, and my tummy twisted as I remembered his kiss last night.
‘Morning,’ I said, sitting down on one of the stools. Matt passed me a steaming cup of coffee, and I took a long drink, feeling much better almost at once. Our hands had touched slightly during the handover and I thought again of the kiss.
‘Good morning,’ said Annie. ‘Did you sleep well?’
I’d slept, that was for sure. Well? If dreaming about Matt kissing my body all over was well, then yes, I did.
