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FORTY-SEVEN
Shortly after his return, we met up with Matty at Ferko, a patisserie in Hampstead.
‘London’s oldest coffee shop,’ he informed us, as if he were some kind of tour guide. ‘A proper icon. They used to serve tea in real silver teapots back in the day. They don’t do that any more but just wait till you clock the cake trolley. The marzipan cookies are to die for.’
My mother’s face twitched at the mention of things worth dying for.
Being at Ferko was like slipping behind the Iron Curtain. Dark wood panelling. Studded velvet seats. Marble-topped tables.
‘Popular with wartime refugees,’ Matty said.
It was easy to see why.
He’d waved us over from a spot by the window, opened his arms wide for a hug. My mother stiffened as he embraced her.
‘You okay, Ams?’
She looked away.
‘Coming down with something, maybe.’
‘Dangerous time of year,’ he replied. ‘Savage things going round.’
She cleared her throat, made a scooping motion at the back of her skirt as she sat down. Immediately she started fiddling with the silverware, picking at her napkin, scowling.
I gave Matty an extra tight hug to make up for her stinking mood.
‘You’ve got a moustache.’
He gave the ends a twiddle.
‘What do you think?’
I wasn’t sure.
‘You look completely different,’ I said.
‘Well, I didn’t grow it to look the same.’
He kept touching it during the afternoon.
‘Still there,’ I told him.
A week later he’d shaved it off and started growing a beard.
A new disguise.
He seemed happy that afternoon; joking, laughing away. But there were dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale and pouchy. And despite his best efforts to jolly her along, my mother was as brittle as a damaged reputation, one of Nanna G’s favourite expressions.
A waitress wheeled over a laden trolley. It clattered across the deep red carpet making the plates rattle. She straightened the lace cap on her head, snarled, ‘Cake?’
Matty rubbed his hands together, wide grin.
‘Ah, quality. I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving,’ my mother snipped.
I felt my muscles tighten. How could she ruin Matty’s homecoming like this, after everything I’d said? She wasn’t even giving him a chance.
