Page 19 of A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews
‘I have that dough proving,’ Mattie said stiffly, though that mythical dough would have proved so much by now that it would have colonised most of the kitchen. ‘And FYI, I like lots of things, including kneading dough.’ Mostly because she could work out all her aggression about the many things she hated while she was kneading it.
There was nothing left to say and the atmosphere was so deflated and awkward that Mattie couldn’t wait to hurry back to the safe space of her kitchen. She was just stepping through from Classics to Regency when she heard Nina, who didn’t possess an indoor voice, say, ‘I don’t know why you and Mattie are at each other’s throats all the time, Tom, when you have so much in common.’
‘We have nothing in common,’ Tom said, though Mattie had to strain to hear him.
‘You both hate Christmas and romantic novels,’ Posy piped up.
‘I don’t hate romantic novels, I just never ever want to read one …’
‘Tom and Mattie sitting in a tree, talking about how much they hate Christmas and K.I.S.S.I.N.G.,’ Nina chanted, and there were giggles and snorts from the cheap seats.
Tom huffed with great disdain. ‘The day I K.I.S.S. Mattie is the day that Satan goes to work on ice skates.’
With the brainstorm over, and Noah returned from his business trip, it was time to move Nina out. Noah arrived with a rent-a-van and a triumphant toot of its horn as soon as the brainstorm was over.
‘Can’t wait to get me on his own again,’ Nina said with great satisfaction and another wink as Noah and her brother carried her mini bar shaped like a ship’s prow down the stairs. With all the winking, it was a wonder that Nina hadn’t irreparably damaged an eyelid.
With Nina moving out of the largest room, Tom moved in. To give him some credit, he asked Mattie if she wanted to toss a coin for it.
‘I’m more than happy for you to have it because I never want to move my stuff again,’ Mattie said, as she helped Nina pack up her staggering collection of skincare and beauty products. She even had an old-fashioned hood-dryer at the back of her wardrobe.
‘If you’re sure.’ Tom didn’t even bother to wait but was out of the room like a greyhound. ‘We can use the box room for storage. The flat’s not really big enough for three people, is it?’
Mattie thought back to her eight-woman, four-bedroom student house-share but now they had a truce over the room allocation, she couldn’t bear to be at loggerheads again. Besides, they’d never be able to agree on a flatmate and more to the point, Mattie had a whole Le Creuset set, a collection of vintage enamelware, a slow cooker and a bread machine back in Hackney, which her mother kept threatening to donate to charity.
‘Anyway, a third flatmate would just complicate things,’ Nina insisted, as they all took a break from packing and moving and re-moving for a restorative cup of tea and a piece of the festive cranberry and orange shortbread. ‘Whatever flavour, boy or girl, it’s going to lead to sexual tension.’
‘I don’t see why it would,’ Mattie said, giving Tom a flinty look, which he returned. ‘If a girl moved in and she and Tom fell in love, then why would I care?’
Tom didn’t blink. ‘Exactly. If some man with the patience of a saint moved in and fell in love with Mattie and she felt the same way, I’d be amazed, astounded, but I wouldn’t care.’
‘You would when the shagging started,’ Nina said imperturbably as everyone else choked on their shortbread. ‘Believe me, you’ll be able to hear everything and I meaneverything. There was the time that Verity—’
Noah clapped a hand over his new bride’s mouth even as Tom said, ‘Stop! I’m begging you. Whatever you’re about to say, I know that I’ll never be able to look at Verity ever again if you get to the end of that sentence.’
‘Anyway, we’re not taking on a flatmate,’ Mattie said quickly. ‘We’re going to use the box room for storage.’
Nina pulled a face as if using the box room for storage was a wasted opportunity when one of them could be having sex with an imaginary third flatmate in there. ‘Your call,’ she said then looked from Mattie to Tom and back again. ‘I know you’ve taken a vow of chastity, Mattie …’
It was hard for Mattie to remember why she’d ever missed Nina because she certainly hadn’t missed Nina’s knack for inserting herself in other people’s business. ‘Not a vow of chastity. Just a vow that I’m not going to waste the best years of my life onsome worthless maninstead of reaching for my dreams.’
‘Not all men are worthless,’ Noah muttered, as Tom sighed wearily.
‘And as for you, Tom, have you ever even been out on a date?’ Nina asked, and Mattie leaned forward because she didn’t want to miss a word of this or the discomfited look on Tom’s face, as if the collar of his shirt had suddenly become three sizes too small. ‘Are you into women? Or are you into men? Or are you into both? No judgement, but it’s been four years and you’ve never once shown any interest in getting down and dirty.’
‘Nina, Nina, Nina,’ Noah said, shaking his head, but his expression was more indulgent than exasperated.
‘You know, it’s not too late to get a divorce,’ Tom told him, his expression entirely exasperated. ‘There’s not a judge in the land who’d expect you to stay married in the face of such emotional cruelty.’
‘Not emotionally cruel, just curious,’ Nina said. ‘But if neither of you are going to bring anyone home for fun sexy times, then at least you don’t have to have a set of boring house rules. Like, don’t come into a room if there’s a sock over the door handle unless you want to get an eyeful of—’
‘House rule! Neither of us are to ever bring anyone home for fun sexy times,’ Mattie said desperately. ‘All those in favour, say aye!’
Tom raised his hand. ‘Aye! For the love of God, aye! And also, on the subject of house rules, can you make sure that you wash up after you’ve cooked. It’s just that it’s a small kitchen and …’
‘I always wash up after myself,’ Mattie snapped, stung at the accusation that she didn’t. She prided herself on always running a neat and tidy kitchen. Then her eyes drifted towards the sink where everything she’d used to make her shortbread was piled up, waiting to be washed. ‘Except when people are so desperate to eat that they don’t give me a chance to do the washing up. You had four shortbread, Tom,’ she added accusingly.
‘Fine. I won’t eat your baking if you don’t leave the washing up not done,’ Tom said as if it were something that he could easily forego.
