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‘That sounds lovely,’ I reply, ‘but there’s no need for me to come up. We just bought hot chocolate for the café. I’m sure a mug of that will do the trick.’ In truth, I feel a bit awkward about going into his personal space.
Matt wrinkles his nose in distaste. ‘That’s instant, though. Mine is the good stuff, trust me.’ His crooked smile reappears.
I think for a moment. He’s trying to be kind again, I know, and I probably ought to have a look at his flat at some point, given that I now own it. I return his smile.
‘Go on, then. Lead the way.’
Matt’s flat is not at all what I expected. I can see what Jonathan meant when he said that the flats were in need of modernisation; the kitchen units are ancient, the carpets are threadbare, there appears to be no double glazing, and there is Artex everywhere. I’m amused to spot that even the light switches have little Artex surrounds. What surprises me is how clean it is. It may be shabby, but there isn’t a speck of dust to be seen anywhere. Every surface is spotless.
‘Make yourself at home, I won’t be long,’ he instructs as he disappears into the kitchen, so I try to settle myself on the sofa. I think most of the springs must have gone, as I sink so far into it that my bum is practically on the floor, and I suspect I might be stuck. In the end, after a lot of wriggling, I manage to pull myself out and sort of perch on the edge. The only problem is that I’ve obviously pressed on my bladder during the contortions I went through to free myself, and I now need to wee.
‘Can I use your toilet?’ I call.
‘Sure, help yourself.’
The bathroom is hideous. The bath, sink, and toilet are bright pink, and the tiles are light grey with gold swirls and pink flowers. There’s an electric shower over the bath that looks depressingly like the one in Paul’s flat, and I find myself wondering if it’s similarly ineffective. Matt is very well-built, so it would take him ages to wash himself if his shower was as bad as Paul’s. An image of Matt in the shower pops into my head and I force it out again as fast as I can. That’s a complication I definitely don’t need.
‘Here you go.’ I’m perched back on the sofa as Matt appears with two steaming mugs and hands one to me. ‘This will cure anything.’
I have to admit that it smells good and, when I take a sip, the flavours are intense. It’s hot chocolate, but on steroids. I suspect the calorie count is enough to make any dietician faint, but it tastes incredible.
‘The good stuff, right?’ Matt is watching me and smiling. I meet his eyes over the rim of my mug and nod.
‘The secret,’ he continues, ‘is that I’ve melted real chocolate into the milk instead of using powder, and I’ve added a little bit of cream to make it extra luxurious.’
‘It’s amazing,’ I tell him.
‘I can’t take the credit, I’m afraid. It’s Nora’s recipe. She used to make vats of it, and it was one of our best sellers.’
‘I take it Fred axed it?’
‘One of the first things to go. The dark chocolate Nora used was expensive so, even though we made a healthy profit on each cup we sold, he took it off and replaced it with the powdered stuff.’
‘Hm. It would be a good thing to reinstate, wouldn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted hot chocolate as delicious as this before.’
‘I think so. We used to offer it with marshmallows and squirty cream as well, but I think it’s best on its own like this.’
I look at him as the realisation of what he’s up to dawns on me.
‘Matt, are you doing a number on me?’
His eyes widen and he holds out his hands in mock innocence. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!’
‘Yes, you do. You’re gently trying to push the image of what the café was like in Nora’s day, selling me her vision, in the hope that I’ll get drawn in and decide not to sell.’
‘You can’t blame a guy for trying!’
I don’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed with him. I take another sip of the hot chocolate. God, it’s good, there’s no denying it.
‘Can I ask you one more favour?’ he continues. I look at him warily. Now I know what his agenda is, I’m on my guard.
‘Go on.’
‘If you’re free tomorrow morning, why not come in and meet some of the regulars? Rita’s got a doctor’s appointment or something, so you won’t have to deal with her. It’ll be the first time we serve the new stuff we bought, so it’ll be interesting to see if anyone notices.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ I reply. ‘I think you’re trying to get me to look at the café as if it’s some one-eyed rescue dog that nobody else wants because it’s ugly, and I’ll end up feeling sorry for it and adopting it.’
‘Okay, no pressure. I just thought it might help to give you a better flavour of the place than you got when you first visited.’
