Page 92 of Between Us

In this burgeoning attraction to Matthew McKenzie, was she the world’s biggest hypocrite? She’d tried in vain to get a charge to stick with Joe, and yet, ‘heavy flirting with oneof our best mates, a New York minute after we split up’, was hardly acceptable.

Joe didn’t need to know. He’d never know. Nor did Matt, for that matter. Or not explicitly.

‘Kids, I’m going to turn in, I’m beat,’ Lorraine said, once all chores were finished, towels thrown over beer taps, drip trays up-ended.

‘You do look tired,’ Roisin said, then, in case it sounded like a dig, added, ‘Very well-earned exhaustion, too. What a fête! Meatball was a star turn!’

‘Don’t pander to that grotesque beast. You’re like Neville Chamberlain with Hitler. Thank you, both of you. I’ve had compliments about how our efforts were the best of the village all day.’

‘Pleasure,’ Matt said kindly as she left them.

Roisin sensed her mother might’ve been chastened by Roisin’s outburst over Ryan, and that was no bad thing.

‘Right then, Roisin Walters,’ Matt said, picking up two glasses upside down by their stems and setting them down on the bar top. ‘Manhattan?’

‘Hell, yeah,’ she said, getting a shiver at the prospect of their being alone together.

57

Roisin was experiencing a surge of pleasure such as she’d not known in a long while. She’d warmed to The Mallory: no longer was it a prison with frilly pelmets. She saw it as Matt did; it enveloped her instead of oppressing her. The glow of sconce lights on the red walls, the dark wood, the leather stud-back booths and tartan stools, the rumble of the dishwashers: soothing. As was the velvet quiet of the countryside beyond the windows.

She’d always found the noise of the city relatively comforting and the silence of the countryside spooky. Times were changing.

The Manhattan was helping.

‘I believe I have to pass your phone number on to Imogen,’ Roisin said. ‘Tireless work.’

‘Which one was Imogen again? Did she have the head thing, that royal children wear?’

‘Which one– phew. Though today of all days I can’t complain about your allure. I’m so grateful to you acting as a lighthouse to today’s mermaids.’

‘Don’t say that, thanks.’ Matt frowned.

‘Why not?’

‘It’s not complimentary.’

‘How could that not be complimentary?’ Roisin said, puzzled.

‘When it means a puddle-deep peacock of a man, slutting about. Sneaky denigration. You sound like Joe.’

‘Ouch,’ Roisin said, though he was right. It was admiration wrapped in needless mockery.

She thought on it. If Matt was intimidating to Joe or anyone else, it was through no intention of his own. Being prettyandsmart was simply what he was. Easing their discomfort about this overachievement with ridicule was a price he was expected to pay, like a toll booth he had to pass. She could see why, sometimes, he lost patience with it.

‘I suppose if you’re told you’re hot often enough, it loses its lustre,’ she said, tongue inside of cheek, deciding to steer the ship to calmer waters.

‘So now I’m conceited?’

‘No! I honestly never thought being called fit insulted anyone.’

‘That’s not what you said, and you know it. You meant I’m a letch, who exploited it today to general economic advantage. Being a successful letch is still a letch.’

‘Alright, I apologise for any suggestion you are attractive to women. I withdraw my wholly unfounded and defamatory accusation. Satisfied?’

They both laughed.

‘Matt. We’ll both feel nauseous if I try sincerity, but I wasn’t running your efforts down,’ Roisin said. ‘The wayyou’ve sorted this place out has blown me away, to be honest.’

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