The First Time I Saw Your Face (21 page)

Picking up his rucksack, he almost sprinted for the door and felt as if he was tottering out of the hall, just managing to wave at Finlay.

What the Hell had he done? It had been too friendly, too intense. He walked rapidly away, his heart gunning until the panic started to subside. It was all right, no harm done, get a grip. And maybe he’d done the right thing. Some part of his brain must have been telling him that honesty was definitely the best policy with Jennifer. Well, his brand of honesty anyway. That’s why he’d blurted, that’s why he’d done that hand-holding.

He should stop thinking about how weird it had been and think about what he’d done right. He’d got her talking about Cressida; shown her he wasn’t hyper eager to find out about what she was up to. Getting Cressida’s name wrong was a touch of his old magic. It was all good stuff. And when he got to the cottage, he’d put on his new trousers, turn up the music and give O’Dowd the finger.

He stopped walking. The carrier bag, where was the carrier bag? With all that emoting he’d genuinely forgotten it. What if she opened it and found the trousers? How would he explain them? He started to race back to the hall. Was he actually turning into forgetful Matt Harper?

As he reached the hall, Jennifer was coming out with the bag. ‘Here you are, you left it on the table,’ she said,
‘and, you know, Matt, don’t think I’m being funny, but there’s more to Newcastle than Primark. It has some really good clothes shops. Or I could point you in the right direction on the Internet; I buy a lot of mine like that.’ She was giving his jacket and jeans and the carrier bag a sympathetic but pained look, and he knew he was safe.

‘Sieve for a brain,’ he said stowing the bag safely under his arm. ‘Better be off.’

‘No, let me give you a lift.’ There was real warmth in her voice and it was there later in the car when she said, ‘Thank you for earlier, Matt. You’re really … tuned in to how it feels sometimes. You always seem to know the right things to say.’

‘Not always.’ He felt all at once out of his depth. ‘Ha … hmmm … I think we both know I can really put my foot in it sometimes.’

She gave him a little sideways glance that made him wish he’d insisted on walking home.

‘Oh, yes, I know about your foot,’ she said. ‘In fact, back there I was half-expecting you to tell me to put a brave face on things.’ She gave him her lovely wide, warm smile, and he thought what guts it took to laugh after that humiliating incident and how much he liked it when she pulled his leg.

He wobbled along to Peter Clarke after she dropped him off, needing to hear O’Dowd’s voice to toughen him up.

‘I’m making progress; we’ve started to talk about Cressida. And she called me Matt for the first time,’ he reported like the good little lackey he was.

‘Hold the front page,’ O’Dowd said tersely, but Mack was looking upwards at the stars, wondering at how much brighter they were here and how behind the main ones you could see great swathes of other, fainter ones. Lack of light pollution, he supposed.

‘Hey,’ O’Dowd said, ‘stop doing whatever you’re doing and listen. The old bastard upstairs has started making grumbling noises, he hasn’t got my patience. He wants a bit more progress. That girlfriend you made up …’

Mack stopped looking at the stars. ‘Ye-es.’

‘Make up some problems you’re having with her. Women love all that, you can cry on Jen’s shoulder, she can offer you advice. That’ll lead nicely on to Cressida’s love life.’

‘You’re joking, that girlfriend is my insurance. I’m not doing … Aahhh … whaaat … no, no.’

There had been a sudden noise in the grass near the legs of the bench, something bashing about, and then Mack saw a rabbit disappearing at speed, followed by something reddish-brown, long and sinuously fast. There was a bout of high squealing in the dark and then nothing.

‘What the Hell’s going on?’ O’Dowd shouted.

Mack got his breath back. ‘Something in the grass chasing a rabbit … think it’s just caught it and killed it.’

‘Let that be a lesson to you, my son,’ O’Dowd said slowly. ‘Now do what you’re told about that girlfriend and next time you ring … more progress.’

CHAPTER 19

Jennifer sat in the pub and wondered if that was Matt’s knee touching hers or the leg of the table. She didn’t dare move to find out. She wasn’t going to do anything to mar this little bit of perfection: just the three of them, Doug, Matt and her around a table. No Lisa, no Jocelyn, no one else.

Funny how Doug being there didn’t feel wrong, but comforting. Like having stabilisers on your bike before you launched yourself off for the first time unsupported. And she was definitely in pre-launch mode. She remembered that: the way you couldn’t get enough of seeing the other person’s body. She thought about Matt’s knee under the table and watched him talking, moving his hands in that expansive way he had. She looked at his eyelashes; those incredible brown eyes, and the pleasure of it all felt like pain. She wanted him; her body was telling her that. Under that jumper and those jeans there was a body she yearned to feel naked and vulnerable against hers. She wanted to smooth her hands down over his backside and pull him
in to her. She looked at his hands again, wondering how many women they’d held and imagining how they would feel on her skin.

Doug said something and laughed and Jennifer was bumped back into the reality of sitting across a table from a good-looking man who a) had a girlfriend and b) probably wouldn’t go for someone who looked like a dropped vase.

‘Sorry, Doug?’ she asked and he repeated what he’d just said about Angus.

‘It was like watching some barfly perving your old auntie.’

Jennifer understood they were picking over Angus’s performance again. Somehow, since the last rehearsal, Angus had decided to play the Duke as himself: a slightly past-it ladies’ man, unaware that his large gut and aged patter had tipped him over into a parody of the fanciable, cheeky lad he used to be. It had been a master class in making a tit of yourself.

Finlay was now making him stay behind to apologise to Lisa and Jocelyn, one of whom was not put out at all, while the other was snarking for Britain.

Jennifer looked towards Matt to see what he thought. He had his mobile in his hand and was frowning down at it.

‘Sorry, need to answer this,’ he said, getting up and going out. Jennifer felt his knee still against hers and realised it had been the table leg all along.

Doug appeared to be checking who else was in the pub,
and she wondered if he was searching for Pat. There were just the old guys playing dominoes over near the window and a couple doing synchronised crisp-eating in what looked like an excuse not to talk to each other. Someone was playing the slot machine and there was a steady beat of blips and buzzing.

Doug pursed his lips. ‘Doesn’t look promising,’ he said, jerking his head in the direction of the door. ‘Told me on the way here, she’s giving him a hard time. Sounds like round two’s just starting.’

From that whole speech, Jennifer only heard, ‘she’ and ‘hard time’. Picking up her glass, she fumbled it to her lips, hoping the cool orange juice would meet the rising heat in her chest and somehow cancel it out. She wasn’t sure what emotion she was feeling: it could be fear.

Don’t get ahead of yourself; it’s simply a bit of trouble with the girlfriend.

Doug was frowning so hard he looked all nose and eyebrows. ‘Mind you, seems a bit of a strange relationship. Together two years, yet he never mentions her. It’s like she doesn’t really exist. Divvn’t even know her name. Do you know what she’s called?’

Lucky
. ‘No, I don’t. I get the feeling he’s a bit shy about her.’

Jennifer needed the cool orange juice again when Matt returned. It was obviously raining outside, and his hair was wet. She watched a droplet of water run down the side of his face until he brushed it away, and she had a sudden picture of him wet in the shower.

There it was then. She
was
thinking about him naked. She really had to concentrate hard to listen when Matt said to her, ‘Sorry, explained to Doug, I’m having a bit of argy-bargy with my girlfriend. I was hoping she could come up at the weekend, but no go.’ He made a face and put his phone on the table, and Jennifer felt like a hypocrite when she offered sympathy. She didn’t have time to feel it too much because Doug suddenly asked, ‘What’s she called?’

Matt looked a little taken aback, said ‘Sonia’ quickly and then shut his mouth.

‘Sonia?’ Doug repeated uncertainly.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Sonia what?’

Matt picked up his pint and took a large gulp.

‘Sonia what?’ Doug repeated. ‘What’s her surname, your Sonia?’

‘Hadrian.’

Doug couldn’t hold in his laughter, and Matt gave him a hurt look.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Doug said, ‘but think about it – Sonia at the shop and Hadrian at the wall, it’s a bit funny. And you had the nerve to laugh at Postwoman Pat.’

‘I did, didn’t I?’ Matt said gloomily.

‘Perhaps she’ll be able to come up another weekend, or for the play?’ Jennifer suggested.

‘Doubt it.’ He looked like a kicked puppy. ‘That was her only free weekend for a while. Big case on at the moment. HM Revenue and Customs. Bit hush-hush.’

Doug gave an impressed whistle and Jennifer wondered if Matt’s girlfriend had a lovely face to go with her important job.

Matt was on his feet again, pushing away his pint. ‘Sorry. I’m terrible company this evening. I’m going to walk home, clear my head.’

‘Are you sure? In this rain?’ she said. ‘It’s really no trouble to drop you off.’ His defeated expression was getting inside her, making her forget that he was out of her reach. So easily, she could just stand up and put her hand on his face and find out what his skin felt like.

He shook his head; wouldn’t hear of having a lift from either her or Doug and just ambled off. They had to call him back to pick up his phone. On his way out, the barman handed him a notebook, telling him he’d left it in the Gents’.

‘Poor bugger.’ Doug looked thoughtful again. ‘You might be right about that shy thing – told me he’d love to have a look round a Northumberland farm, but felt it was too pushy to ask you.’

I’ll go and get him, take him there now.

‘I’ll check with Dad,’ she said, and Doug winked at her. ‘Good lass. Be even better if you could arrange it for this weekend; take his mind off things.’

‘You’re a really nice friend to have,’ she said and watched Doug blush, and in all honestly she didn’t know whether she was talking on Matt’s behalf or her own.

When she returned home later, she made two phone calls. The first was to Alex and she told him slowly and very distinctly that she could not go to the theatre with
him, she was sorry, but something had come up that made it impossible.

The second call had to wait till early morning and even then she dithered, picking up her phone and putting it back on the bedside table next to the glass of water and the copy of
Twelfth Night
. She was acutely aware of the silence of the house – her mother sleeping, her dad and Danny out in the barn.

When she picked up the phone again, she did dial, and a sleepy Cressida answered.

‘Sorry, Jen, I’m completely knackered. We’ve been doing riding scenes today. Hang on …’ Jennifer guessed Cress was counting the time difference out on her fingers. ‘It’s the middle of the night there, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong … but could you do that thing where you talk until I’m ready to?’

There was a soft giggle. ‘Hey, there’s nothing I like better than talking about myself. So … let’s see. Filming’s started, of course, got a horse that likes me, the director a real sweetie, and very patient. Most of the cast and crew not bad, although there seem to be a lot of ponytails and beards around. Very 1980s.’

‘How’s the temperature?’

‘Let’s just say, the climate here was cool for the first few days, with not a cloud in the sky. Well, it was for me, but Rory’s voice coach was getting very hot and bothered and that’s when a nasty storm came up from South America way. Now the poor voice coach has been sent back to LA slightly singed round the edges.’

‘She’ll not be helping Rory with his diphthongs anymore?’

‘Indeed not. Anna Maria felt it was too much for the poor girl, too hands-on. Consequently there now seems to be a real build-up of heat right over my trailer, which I’m trying to cool down, and South America’s looking stormy again.’

Jennifer wondered if this sounded like gibberish or whether it was obvious Rory had been pre-occupied with screwing his voice coach until Anna Maria had got her sent home. Now Cress was having to cool Rory’s passion and keep on the right side of his wife.

‘Also, that nice Canadian girl,’ Cress said, ‘she’s got a part—’

‘Matt’s having trouble with his girlfriend,’ Jennifer got out, all in a rush.

‘Ah, I see.’ Cress said, carefully, ‘I see, and … how does that make you feel, sweetie?’

Jennifer looked around her bedroom as if the wardrobe or even the desk could offer an escape route.

‘I’m imagining him naked. He was wet with rain earlier, and I kept seeing him in the shower. But I shouldn’t, it feels way too much like …’

‘… hoping?’

There it was: Cress was spot on again.

‘Much too much like hoping, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. All I know is that I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking for months and months and now I’m not. It’s wonderful and painful at the same time.’

‘Jen, that’s good. No, brilliant. And remember what I said. Don’t run in the opposite direction if he advances.’

She looked at the wardrobe again. If she just got in and closed the door, could she stay there?

‘He’ll have to come to me, I can’t go to him.’

‘Fine, but don’t put him off. Promise?’

‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re really bossy?’

‘Only all my boyfriends and fellow actors. And, missy, there’s something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’

‘Not just bossy, but like a little terrier with a bone. All right, all right. He’s coming to the farm. Well, I have to ask Dad, but I know he’ll say yes.’