Page 9 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘Come where?’

Jay’s voice startled me somewhere above my left ear, and I jumped. ‘Oh! Jay! I thought you were still with the cake.’

‘I daren’t trust myself alone with it. Another sugar flower fell off and I couldn’t just leave it on the plate. You know how it goes. So, are you two going anywhere nice? Having a couple more days down here, perhaps?’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I have work on Monday.’ Currently, I worked in an Italian coffee bar, and I was on the breakfast rota that day, so had to be there for our 6 a.m. opening. It had been pointless asking to swap with Angelina as she wasn’t a morning person at all. She would just grunt and growl at people until at least 10 a.m., which wasn’t what customers wanted with their morning cuppa. ‘I’ve got an address of somewhere to visit in London.’ I held the napkin up. ‘A gallery in Mayfair.’

‘Very nice. Scoping it out for your own exhibition are you?’ Jay knew my ambition in that respect.

I looked at him carefully, wondering whether he was teasing me. I mean, little old me even thinking about searching out a Mayfair gallery and asking them to exhibit my work? It sounded far-fetched. But Jay looked interested, not judgemental, and definitely not as if his next words would be: ‘You’ll never get your work in somewhere that high-end.’

I waited a second or two for that phrase to come out of his mouth just in case, but it didn’t.

‘Not at the moment,’ I said carefully. ‘Edie suggested I have a look as it’s a really good gallery. Something to aspire to, I think.’

‘It can’t hurt to visit it. Even just for a look-see.’

‘No. So I’m heading over there this week.’

‘What day?’ Again, Jay looked interested.

‘Um — Wednesday, probably. I finish work at twelve, so I can go after that—’

‘Ohhhh!’ Rosie suddenly squealed and looked stricken. ‘I’ve just remembered I can’t do Wednesday. I have a photo shoot in Hay’s Galleria! Oh bugger. I can’t get out of it either . . .’

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Jay. ‘I’ll come with you, Tilds. If that’s okay?’ I just nodded stupidly — why, oh why would it not be okay Jay? You look even more sweet with that icing smudge on your nose . . . I wonder if I could just lift my finger and . . . I shoved my hand in my pocket before it did anything untoward.

Jay continued: ‘I need to be in town on Wednesday anyway, so I’ll meet you if you want some moral support. I was going to see if you guys were free anyway. Rosie? Obviously, you’re going to be busy during the day, but maybe we can all go out somewhere in the evening. If I can pinch your sofa, of course.’

‘That works for me,’ replied Rosie. ‘I was only going to see Damien, so we can all go out together.’

‘Damien?’ Jay and I both said his name at once.

‘What on earth do you want to see that irritating man for on a Wednesday night?’ I added, a note of horror in my voice evident even to me.

‘He asked if we could get together to discuss some publicity for something. I . . . oh. Oh.’ Rosie stared at us. ‘He wants publicity for that doesn’t he? For his Masochism—’

‘—Machismo.’

‘—Machismo exhibition. Oh dearie me, I’m so sorry!’

‘And so you should be,’ I replied coldly. ‘And anyway, what does he think that Darling! magazine can do for him in that respect?’

‘We do have the social columns at the end,’ Rosie offered. ‘The ones where people show off gift bags and things, and get caught snogging people they’ve dissed in the press because they’re drunk. You know. From the posh parties.’

‘Hideous social columns,’ I muttered, taking a swig of my wine. It was a little warm now and I pulled a face. ‘Hideous posh parties.’

‘Social columns?’ A voice I didn’t recognize chipped in. ‘And posh parties? Any that I might have been involved with?’

‘Flora!’ Cerys moved over to the newcomer and kissed her cheek. ‘Good to see you. Matilda, this is Flora. Flora, Matilda. Rosie’s friend from London.’

‘Good to meet you.’ Flora was small and pretty. She had a cheerful, friendly face and a snappy, shiny, rose-gold coloured graduated bob. ‘Rosie’s mentioned you lots. How has it taken you this long to come to Padcock?’ She held her hand out and shook mine enthusiastically.

‘Work, mainly,’ I replied. ‘It’s hard to get time off in my job. I work in a coffee shop.’

‘Oh tell me about it.’ She shook her head. ‘I work in event planning and my hours can be irregular to say the least. But this weekend Geraint and I made sure we could come, even just for the evening. We don’t get a lot of chances to come here, as he’s a musician at the Royal Opera House, but we juggled schedules and may even have bribed colleagues to be here tonight.’ She winked. ‘That’s him over there, propping up the bar with Ninian, and chatting to Sam who’s just trying to do his job, and probably doesn’t need to be bothered.’ She pointed over to two men leaning on the bar. Ninian was, I knew, the slightly dishevelled russet-haired one, so Geraint must be the dark-haired one who was dressed in equally dark clothes and looked as if he wouldn’t be out of place stomping around the Yorkshire moors, declaiming poetry. Sam, then, was the tall man behind the bar with a smile to rival Jay’s and hair not quite as fair. ‘Jay deserved the party,’ continued Flora. ‘We live in London, so we’re staying with Sam and Cerys over the pub.’ She indicated the ceiling with a hot-pink nail. ‘Cerys said you two were in her flat, or we’d have been in there instead. The room we’re in is full of baby stuff. I’m not sure how one small person can need so much stuff, but there you go.’ She smiled to show she was joking.

‘It needs unpacking and putting in the nursery,’ said Cerys, ‘but Sam seems to think we have plenty of time. I, on the other hand, think that twelve weeks isn’t very long at all.’