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CHAPTER 25
‘How come you haven’t got a hangover?’
Matt massaged his temples and stared blearily at Rosie over his Weetabix. She paused from wrapping her mother’s crockery in newspaper and gave him a proper once-over. He’d fallen into a deep sleep the minute they’d got home last night, and he did look a bit rough this morning.
‘I didn’t drink much. I was mostly on orange juice and lemonades.’
‘Very wise. That horrible beer was stronger than it looked.’
‘Did you enjoy the evening?’
‘Yeah, it was amusing.’
‘Amusing? What do you mean?’
‘It was a laugh seeing all the local yokels jigging about to Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran. Honestly, a disco in the village that time forgot! You were so right about this tin-pot little place.’ He glanced through the window at the leaden grey sky. ‘And the weather is freaking awful.’
Rosie sat back on her heels and brushed hair from her face. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever described Heaven’s Cove as tin-pot, and loads of places run eighties discos. It’s fashionably retro.’
‘Moronic, more like,’ grumbled Matt, prodding his spoon into his congealing cereal.
‘I’m quite fond of these people, actually,’ she told him, wondering if Matt classed Liam as a local yokel. Had she once done the same? What a terrible snob she’d been.
Matt ignored her and jabbed at his phone on the worktop, which had just beeped with yet another message. He read it and smiled.
‘Anything important?’
‘Just work stuff. Nothing for you to worry about. Any chance of a cup of tea seeing as we’ve been working so hard?’
Rosie wiped newsprint from her hands onto her jeans and pushed the half-filled cardboard box to one side. Actually, she’d been working hard but Matt not so much. Since getting up, he’d spent most of the time on his phone, complaining about the intermittent signal. But a cup of tea would go down well and she could do with a break.
Matt watched her closely while she filled the kettle and retrieved the teapot from a box. She’d been thinking too much about last night and had packed it by mistake.
‘It must have been awful growing up here in the middle of nowhere,’ said Matt, drumming his fingers on the worktop.
‘Not really. I thought it was the most boring place on earth sometimes but I had loads of space to run around in, and fresh sea air to breathe, and people in the village who looked out for me.’
Matt sniffed. ‘Well, I’m glad I was brought up in exciting London. Get yourself into that Epping bloke’s will and you can buy property there, somewhere like Chelsea or Kensington.’
‘Neither of which have any coastline, and I love the sea.’
‘Blue sea in Spain, sure. Not the freezing cold, grey sea around here.’
‘It can be bracing at times. But we have blue sparkling seas too, you know. And green waves, the colour of moss, that roll into shore. Sometimes the sea looks black when storm clouds are banking on the horizon, or calm and pale as milk. It’s always changing and always beautiful.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Life doesn’t begin and end in London or Spain, Matt. And I don’t want to get myself into Charles Epping’s will. If I do go to see that man, it’s because I’m looking for answers, not a meal ticket.’
‘Chill out, Rosie. Of course getting answers is far more important than any inheritance. Honestly, you’re no fun any more.’
She felt a sharp stab of irritation. She didn’t usually stand up to Matt but he was being a complete arse this morning. ‘Sorry if I’m not the life and soul of the party. My mother’s just died, my childhood home is about to be demolished, and I’ve discovered that my real father isn’t who I thought he was.’
‘I know, babe. It’s all dreadful, but at least I’m here to support you. Come here.’ Matt pulled her into his arms and she rested her head against his chest. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you that cup of tea instead?’ He led Rosie to the stool he’d just vacated and moved his bowl out of the way, though not into the dishwasher, she noticed. ‘While you’re drinking your tea, I’ll have a shower and perhaps a little lie down first because my head is absolutely banging.’
The tea helped. Rosie sipped it slowly and picked up Matt’s spoon, which had dripped milk across the counter. Her distorted reflection in the shiny metal showed up the pale streak of paint in her fringe, as though the secrets swirling around Driftwood House had turned her prematurely grey.
Matt’s vibrating phone made her jump and the spoon clattered onto the worktop. His mobile was driving her mad this morning with its incessant beeping. A quick glance revealed yet another text from Carmen, who was certainly working hard this morning, probably with a hangover too, after her birthday celebrations.Matt, you are always…That was all the preview on the screen revealed.
