Page 39 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘And — I said that you were here. Is that okay?’

‘Yeah.’ I felt my shoulders slump. ‘I suppose I should have told her where I was going.’

‘She said she was trying me first, and her next message was going to be to your parents. She couldn’t think where else you might be.’ There was another pause. ‘And then she asked if we’d had a chat about anything.’

‘And you said?’

Jay looked at me. ‘I said just general stuff. That you were interested in the Padcock landmarks for a project, which is why you were here. I didn’t tell her I . . . knew.’

‘Thanks.’ I accepted the glass, and took a large glug. The wine was cold and fruity, just as I liked it. So I took another gulp. ‘I suppose that’s for her to tell you when she’s ready.’

‘Yes.’

We were both silent for a moment, then Jay shook himself out of it first. ‘Right — I’m really sorry, but I’ll have to get to work now before Sam gets swamped by the customers. They’re starting to fill up the place. You’d best grab your table.’

I turned and sure enough saw some people coming in. A group of purposeful-looking ladies with large notepads and folders headed to a row of tables at the side of the bar, the tables set out as if they were going to be an interview panel.

I settled down on my own table, ready to watch the goings-on. And I was, just a little bit, excited about it.

* * *

Amongst the incoming Spatchcock patrons, I saw Polly heading in, looking rather shifty, I have to say. She cast a glance around the bar, settled it briefly on Jay, and then, surprisingly, kept scanning the place until she saw me. There was an odd moment where she held my gaze, reddened, and then almost — almost — smiled. I blinked.

Was it a proper almost-smile, or a supercilious almost-smile — you know, if, perchance, she had seen me sitting in my wimpy limpet solitude, and realized Jay was fair game behind the bar as he wasn’t with me. I could sense myself holding my breath as she walked slowly towards me.

‘It’s Matilda, isn’t it?’ she asked.

I nodded. I wondered if she was about to tear a proverbial strip off me for daring to hang around with Jay. I decided that I would cut that one off at the pass.

‘Yes. I’m friends with Rosie. Jay’s sister. I believe you might know her? I’m just down here for a couple of days. On business.’ Yes, it was a little white lie, but if I did decide that at some point my pictures could illustrate the Padcock Pathway, I could class this weekend as a business trip.

‘Rosie. Hmm. Yes.’ Polly’s lip curled just a little, and I wondered what Polly thought of my friend. Did she dislike her? Was there any love lost between them? Was Polly jealous of Jay’s sister? I felt my eyes widen — gosh. If Polly was jealous of his sister, she’d hate me, even if I was just a friend. Because let’s face it, she didn’t know our relationship was just platonic (dammit!). I mean, I’d appeared here out of nowhere and was basically dressed up like a bar groupie, and sitting so very close to the bar where Jay was—

Then Polly threw me with her next words: ‘Rosie scares me a bit. She’s so — confident. I feel really intimidated by her. To the extent that I can’t speak. It’s pretty embarrassing. I just — clam up.’

‘Wait, what?’ I stared at her in surprise. ‘Rosie intimidates you?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded. ‘Totally. I mean, she started off in Cerys’ tea room, and now she’s working for a magazine. In London!’

‘Well yes she is. But she’s not a scary editor or anything with a mean reputation. Rosie works on a lot of the photo shoots. I mean, she’s met a few celebrities, and done some exciting things but, at the end of the day, she’d be the first to tell you it’s just her job, even though it sounds unbelievably exciting to the rest of us.’

‘Hmmm.’ Polly cast her eyes around the bar, sounding unconvinced. She made no move to leave, and I wondered if she realized I was quite intimidated by her — her proximity confirmed the fact that she was a stunningly statuesque red-head with porcelain skin and quite possibly the best figure I’d ever seen. Yes she was wearing ripped jeans and a Ramones t-shirt, but I could see that beneath the casual outfit was a figure that made me very envious indeed. It made it worse that I was sitting down. My 5-foot-4 inches personage felt a little shorter than usual, and I was definitely more conscious of my rather pear-shaped figure spreading over the seat I was in.

‘Is that it?’ I asked politely, forcing those awful thoughts of my spreading bum aside. ‘You just needed to check I was Matilda?’

‘What? Oh. Yes. Part of it.’ She shrugged. ‘And — I wondered if I could ask you something as well.’

Oh God — here we go, I thought. This is where she confronts me about the imagined relationship she thinks I have with Jay . . .

‘Fire away,’ I said, a little stupidly. I mean, who the heck says “fire away” in normal conversation?

‘Thanks — may I?’ She waved at the seat next to me and, as I couldn’t think of a way to say “no”, I nodded, and she folded herself into it. ‘Oh, this is awkward,’ she said. I cringed inwardly. You’re telling me! Her gaze darted around the bar. ‘Thanks for letting me sit down. I feel a bit obvious standing up. Anyway — I can’t help but notice your style.’

Eh? What?

‘My — style?’ Almost unthinkingly, I found myself plucking at the fabric of my frock. It had started life as a sixties dress pattern I’d found in a vintage shop and a roll of fabric from my favourite market stall.

‘Yes.’ Polly nodded at my daisy-patterned clothing. ‘I mean, I couldn’t wear anything like that at all. I’d be so embarrassed.’