Page 105 of If We Were Young

His body moved with tranquillity, so carefree, with his jumper pushed up at the elbows, his face alive with easy smiles and bright eyes. So very different to the man who sat in my office back in London.

So much of the old Matthew.

“Don’t be rude about your Aunty Annie,” Lynn scolded. “She can’t help the fact she can’t see properly.”

Matthew laughed. The sound tingled down my spine. Then he steered the two boys towards what I guessed must have been a front room. Lynn held her arm out, beckoning for me to follow her towards a room at the end of the hallway.

“Aunty Annie likes sherry a bit too much, and won’t admit that she’s drunk,” she said as we walked along. I tried to glance over my shoulder to see where Matthew had gone. He’d left me. Who would cut in when I had nothing to say?

Lynn carried on, her chuckle deep and throaty. “So she always says her eyesight is failing. It’s a family joke that she’s blind with sherry.” She cast a glance over me. “You have bonkers relatives I’m sure. Every family has them.”

I shrugged, already feeling like I failed. “Uh. Not really.” I wanted to fill the gap. “It’s my mother, my dad’s dead…” I trailed off. Why did we never see any of Dad’s family anymore? I’d never noticed.

“Oh.” She motioned to the kitchen table. “Well, not to worry, lass, you’ve got off lightly if you ask me. Too many busybodies in this family. They drive me mad always interfering. Would you like to have a drink while I finish a few things up here?”

“Can I help? I’d like to.” I pulled a face at myself which Lynn must have seen.

“Do you know how to layer a trifle?”

“Uh. Well, no.”

“I’ll talk you through it. Matthew will be a while with the boys, I think.”

I nodded. “They must miss him. London is a long way from here.”

“Terribly. Not helped by the fact their moth—” she cut herself off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t speak out of turn. Matty is always telling me off for sticking my nose in—guess I’m not unlike the other members of this family.”

I wanted to know what she was about to say as much as I wanted to know the cure to world hunger. What about their mother? What had she done? Why wasn’t she in any of the family pictures in his house?

“Where’s your husband? I’d love to talk about the rebrand with him. Matthew is obsessively protective over it. I guess I can understand though. It’s been in the family a long time, yes?”

Lynn looked at me blankly. “Ronnie, love. Matthew’s father is dead. Tonight is his memorial dinner.”

My face did nothing other than hang open in gaping surprise. Air rushed against my tongue; that’s how wide it flapped. “Oh. I’m so sorry. Bloody hell, Matthew didn’t say.”

I stared at the ceiling for a moment trying to pull myself together. Why didn’t he say anything?

“It’s hard, for him, always has been.” Lynn’s face softened. “They had such a strained relationship, and then towards the end Matthew tried to heal it, but time slipped away too fast before he could really achieve what he wanted.”

“Oh.” I had a thousand and one questions. My cheeks were hot. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Well you’re only working on the project, aren’t you? I guess there’s no reason for Matty to say everything.” She shot me a sharp glance. Jeez could all mother’s do that look?

“Uh, yes. I’m just hired for the rebrand, we haven’t got long left.” Oooh. I can’t breathe. “Not long left at all, just a few days.” My chest caved a little and I bent to ease the pain.

“Ronnie. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I said, but it sounded like someone had their hands clasped around my neck.

“Here, have some water.” She stepped up to the old-fashioned porcelain butler sink and pulled the brass handle, splashing water into a glass she grabbed from the draining board.

“Thanks.” I sipped at it when she thrust it into my hand. “How long has it been since your husband passed away?”

“Today is fourteen years.”

Her gaze ran across my hand. “Oh. My husband died five years ago.” The way I said it, the way the words felt as they worked their way free was like I was talking about someone else. I was embarrassed for myself and filled with a revulsion that must have shown on my face because Lynn patted my hand.

Her kind face, with the warm eyes and the lips that curved like her son’s, crumpled. “Oh, Ronnie. I am so sorry. You are very young.”