Page 83 of A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews
‘Lofty voice? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Tom said in a voice that was pretty bloody lofty, but before Mattie could call him on it, he took her hand again and her heart did the quickstep all over again. ‘Deal!’
Mattie had never been so disappointed with a handshake before.
Sadly, there was to be no trip down memory lane featuring a prepubescent Tom because within ten minutes of Happy Ever After opening on Monday morning, the last but one shopping day before Christmas, Bertha had a meltdown.
Tom was the only person, apart from Nina who was currently convalescing in Bermondsey, who knew how to calm her down and change her till roll and Tom was nowhere to be found.
Mattie eventually tracked him down in the furthest reaches of the erotica/Paranormal anteroom where he was furtively stuffing his face with a breakfast panini.
Mattie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so disappointed in someone.
‘Chiro texted me to say that he hadn’t seen me in a while and I thought that it wouldn’t do any harm to have one for old times’ sake,’ he explained, a little defensively.
Mattie tried to be the bigger person. Especially as everyone knew that her croque guvnor and croque missus were much better.
‘Bertha needs a new till roll,’ she said and what she thought would be a neutral tone of voice came out rather huffy. ‘Apparently, you’re the only one who knows how to put one in.’
‘Fine,’ Tom said rather huffily back and it set the mood for the rest of the day, which culminated in another shouting match at just gone three when Tom decided to interrupt the only break that Mattie had had since seven that morning.
She’d been on speakerphone to Sandrine for ten minutes – just ten minutes! – to finalise the Christmas food shopping list while she also went through a last-minute delivery that had come in from one of their book suppliers. Her mother planned to be at the supermarket at crazy o’clock in the morning to do a full food-shop and then start cooking for the Christmas Eve party she hosted for her friends and neighbours every year.
‘I’ll just have to trust Ian to put all the food away, but it’s been ten years and still he doesn’t understand my fridge system,’ Sandrine said.
‘He putseggsin the fridge, what kind of monster does that? Shall we get an extra jar of goose fat, just in case?’ Mattie looked up to see Tom positively glowering at her from the door of the back office, where she was hiding.
‘Matilda,’ he bit out. ‘If you can bear to tear yourself away from this pressing business, I have a queue to pay and a queue for the Mistletoe Booth and they’ve got tangled, so can you come and untangle them? Sometime before Christmas would be great.’
‘Tom! It’s Sandrine,la mère de Mathilde,’ Sandrine said with a tinkling laugh. ‘Now don’t be cross. You’ll get lines on that handsome face of yours. Although, then you’ll look handsomeanddistinguished. You men are so lucky! Anyway, my Mattie will be with you presently.Dans un minute.’
Sandrine believed that you caught more flies with honey than vinegar, while Mattie wished that Tom would buzz off with his unreasonable demands and all-round, all-purpose loftiness. Also, if they didn’t have enough goose fat, then Christmas wouldliterallybe ruined.
‘The job that I get paid for is to run the tearooms,’ she began furiously as she terminated the call. ‘And …’
‘Well, it doesn’t look like you’re doing that job either!’
That was when Mattie stomped off, bodychecking Tom with her hip on the way, and they’d sniped at each other for the rest of the day. Maybe it might have resolved itself if they’d had another tired night on the sofa, eating takeaway and leaning against each other, but they both had other plans.
After the shop had closed and everyone but Mattie – who was furiously kneading dough – had gone home, Tom was collected by a brace of Banter Boys.
‘We always go out the night before Christmas Eve to drink London dry. The Met have already put out an APB warning people to lock up their daughters,’ Phil explained, when Mattie, hearing a chant of ‘Oi! Oi! Oi!’, had gone outside to investigate.
‘Somehow I doubt that very much,’ Mattie said, with a bowl tucked under her arm as she kneaded her dough like her life depended on it, and they all guffawed, except for Tom who came out of the shop door looking pinch-faced and peeved as he shrugged into a coat as frayed and tweedy as his jackets.
‘You can come if you want,’ Phil said, which made a mockery of their claim on the capital’s daughters. Tom went from pinch-faced to looking as if he was sucking on a whole bag of lemons, so Mattie was tempted to accept the offer.
But winding Tom up wasn’t the fun that it used to be. In fact, it made her sad and anyway she had her own hot date for the evening.
‘It’s a tempting offer, but I have other plans,’ she said just as Pippa turned into the mews, her stride confident and her hair bouncy. She was the only person Mattie knew who could wear a white wool winter coat and keep it spotless.
‘Mattie! Tom! Phil! Mikey! Costa! Daquon!’ One of Pippa’s many superpowers was being able to remember people’s names, which left all the Banters Boys’ mouths hanging open as they looked at Pippa with shock and awe. ‘Haven’t seen you since your Christmas party. Happy Holidays one and all!’
‘We could stay …’ Phil began to say …
‘But we won’t,’ Tom said firmly, marching across the mews as his comrades in arms lingered in front of Pippa who was quite oblivious to the love in their hearts. ‘Come on! This beer isn’t going to drink itself.’
The Banter Boys stumbled after him, Daquon dragging his heels long enough to say to Pippa, ‘You on HookUpp? ’Cause we should totally hook up.’
‘That’s very sweet, but I don’t think so,’ Pippa said. Then she beamed at him, because she knew how to let a man down gently. ‘But have a great Christmas. And I would say have a happy new year but I believe that you either make a conscious decision to be happy or you don’t. Right?’
