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‘Well, if I’m making gravy, I like to flavour it to complement the meat it’s going with. If it’s beef, I’ll put in some red wine, if it’s pork, I’ll add cider, and so on. I have no idea how they make one single gravy to go with beef, turkey, and pork.’
‘It’s probably Bisto.’
‘Mm. You may be right. Anyway, they had all the trimmings as well. People were loading their plates so high you’d have thought they hadn’t eaten all week.’
‘The thing I don’t get with carveries,’ I tell him, ‘is when people mix things up. The whole point of a roast is that it should be cohesive, with the right sides and sauces for the meat.’
‘So no mint sauce with your turkey then?’
‘God, no! And I’d only let you have Yorkshire puddings with beef.’
‘I think that’s a bit fierce. Everyone loves a Yorkshire pudding. What about pigs in blankets?’
‘Chicken or turkey only. Same with Brussels sprouts and bread sauce.’
‘Wow, okay. And I thought I was bad with the generic gravy!’
‘I’d love to do a Sunday roast in the café. We could do it properly. No generic gravy, and only the sides you’re supposed to have.’
‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘I love cooking a Sunday roast. It’s pure comfort food, especially when you follow it up with something like apple crumble and custard. You don’t need to eat for the rest of the day after that.’
‘Only if it’s winter.’
‘What?’
‘You can’t have apple crumble and custard in the summer. It’s just wrong. You need something with cream or ice cream in the summer. Eton Mess, something like that.’
He considers for a moment. ‘I guess I understand that. You wouldn’t want a hot, stodgy pudding on a warm summer’s day, I suppose. I do miss doing the Sunday roasts, but I just can’t see how we could make it viable. Apart from the fact that neither of us could work seven days a week, we just wouldn’t be able to drag people away from the pubs. They’ve cornered the market, so I reckon good luck to them.’
‘I guess you’re right. I’m going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?’
‘Yes, please.’
As I fill the kettle, I reflect on our conversation. On the surface, it would seem that everything is back to normal, but it’s clear to me that we’re still skirting around the issue of our encounter this morning. Matt is concentrating on the screen again, but he’s not relaxed and sprawled in the way that he usually is. He’s sitting forwards and looks tense. Either whatever he’s watching is so riveting that it’s got him on the edge of his seat, or he feels it too. I really don’t want an atmosphere between us, but I’m not sure I’m feeling brave enough to confront the elephant in the room either.
I consider the options as I pour boiling water onto the teabags and let them brew. If I don’t say anything, this undercurrent is going to linger, and I definitely don’t want that. But what if I say the wrong thing and one of us gets upset? That would make things infinitely worse. Matt and I have had a very harmonious relationship to date, which is nice but means I have no idea how he deals with conflict. What if he’s a sulker? I couldn’t bear that.
In the end, I make a decision. I carefully place the mugs of tea on the coffee table and settle myself on the sofa next to him, tucking one leg under the other like Katie does, so I can face him. I try very hard not to look at his thighs, but it’s proving difficult. I’d love to run my hands up and down them, and…
‘Matt,’ I begin. ‘I think we need to talk about this morning. Can you turn the TV off for a minute?’
He obliges but says nothing. His face is completely inscrutable as he turns to face me, and I’m suddenly plagued with doubt. What if Katie is wrong, or I’ve misread the signals? What if he’s just had some bad news, and that’s why he’s acting slightly odd? There’s only one way to find out.
‘When I invited you to stay with me, I guess I didn’t really think about the practicalities of sharing a bathroom, particularly one with no lock on the door,’ I begin.
‘It was a surprise when you burst in,’ he agrees, without meeting my eyes. So far, so awkward.
‘The thing is, not to put too fine a point on it, we’ve both seen things that can’t be unseen, as it were, and I’m worried that it’s made things difficult between us. There’s been a strange atmosphere ever since.’
He sighs. ‘I know. I’m sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea. Would you like me to start looking for somewhere else? Or I could have a word with Mick, see if there’s some way I can move back next door and he can work around me.’
‘That’s a nice thought, but no. Even if you did that, we’ve still got to work together. I don’t want this atmosphere in the kitchen in the café. It’s such a happy place now that’s Rita’s gone, and I don’t want anything to drag it back down. I love working with you, and I like to think we’ve become good friends. But at the moment, every time I look at you, all I can see is you wearing nothing but that towel.’
He grins. ‘Did you like it?’
‘Of course I liked it!’ I cry exasperatedly. ‘Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You are one fine specimen of manhood, Matt.’
‘You’re not too bad yourself, if you don’t mind me saying.’
