Page 43 of The Matchmaker
“Here.”
Both sets of eyes swing my way.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Gemma says, as Nush smiles a beat too late before writing it down.
Something squirms in my stomach, and Gemma sits forward like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Katie—”
“Am I boring?” I interrupt.
“Kind of,” Nush says, before Gemma can respond.
“You’rebusy,” Gemma says, shooting her a look. “Not boring.”
“I don’t have any hobbies.”
“Because you’re busy.”
“I don’t have any ambition.”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t need ambition. You have everything you need.”
Nush nods in agreement. “There is nothing wrong with a simple life.”
“I’m not a Hobbit!” I slump down as my existential crisis grows. “I don’t even know what I want in a partner. How can I run a matchmaking festival when I don’t even know whatIwant? How do you know?” I ask Nush, who shrugs.
“I’ve always had an excellent sense of self.”
“And what about you?” I demand to Gemma. “Do you know?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “I’m not looking for anyone right now.”
“But you still know,” I press.
“I mean…yeah,” she says, still reluctant. “He’d obviously have to be good for Noah. And I guess I’d like someone with a steady job. Financially secure.” A pause. “I like brown eyes,” she adds on a mumble, and Nush brightens.
“Yes, brown eyes. I love brown eyes. I’m putting that down for me too. Kind brown eyes.”
“And I’ve always had a thing for arms,” Gemma says, as I stare at them.
“And backs,” Nush says. “Muscly backs.”
Gemma nods. “Or when they—”
“Okay, matchmaking over,” I announce, getting to my feet. “You’re right. It’s a bad idea. I’ll get someone proper to do it.”
“But I thought you—”
“I’ll figure it out,” I say, only to jump as a sudden bang echoes off the walls, followed by two more even louder ones that occur in such quick succession, it’s almost deafening.
“What the hell is that?” Gemma yells, as Nush slaps her hands over her ears. She looks up as if the roof is about to cave in, but after living down the road from a construction site for the past few weeks, I know exactly what it is, and am already moving, following the noise out of the barn and across the field to where the grass meets the forest. The girls follow and we’re only a minute or two through the trees before we see them. Two construction vehicles and a dozen men in the near distance, all standing aside as they fell an oak tree while another splinters to pieces in a whirring machine.
“It’s the golf club,” I say, as the three of us stare at the destruction in front of us. “They’re making way for the golf club.”
“They’re going to end up clearing half the forest at this stage. There won’t be anywhere to—Nush!” Gemma grabs Anushka, clutching her into a bear hug as she tries to march forward.
