Page 17 of Hard Tail
Matt grinned. “If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer the two quid.”
I nodded. “It’s probably just as well. I think the authorities tend to frown on unofficial disinterments, anyway. And my mum would kill me.”
***
My sandwiches from Asda tasted like plastic garnished with blotting paper by comparison. I choked them down with the aid of a smoothie—had to get some vitamins in somehow—and prepared for another long, lonely afternoon.
Only to find I was rushed off my feet booking in repairs and services. Perhaps the decent weather we’d been having had prodded people to make sure their bikes were roadworthy—at any rate, I wasn’t complaining. I just hoped Matt wouldn’t be, seeing as he was the one who’d have to do the actual work.
I hardly saw Matt until it was closing time—just quick words in passing as he brought out bikes people had come to collect and took in others to get to work on them. When the bell jangled dead on six o’clock, I had to stifle a groan—didn’t the customers realise we had homes to go to?
On seeing it was only Adam, I gave a relieved smile. “Are you here for Matt?”
“’S right. Goin’ f’r a beer.” He gave me a long look.
Feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope, I escaped to the back room to tell Matt his friend was back. As he wiped his hands on a greasy rag, the necklace caught my eye. “Matt?” I said without thinking.
“Yeah?” He turned. Smiled.
My stomach flipped over. “Er. Your necklace.” I faltered. I couldn’t just come out and ask him about it; that would be weird. “It’s really nice.” I cringed internally but forced myself to carry on. “Unusual. Did you get it on holiday?”
Matt’s smile wobbled. His gaze darted over my left shoulder to where I realised Adam had followed me in. “This? Oh—no. I mean, um. I can’t really remember. Probably in a shop somewhere. I mean, obviously, it must have been a shop. Cornwall, maybe. Or somewhere else. Probably.” He was blushing crimson by the time he finished speaking, and he was looking anywhere but at me.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Why would he lie, if there was nothing to hide?
