‘It was,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I was trying to say and you saying it has only proved I’m right.’
Suddenly aware they were no longer alone, Cathy looked up to see the waiter at their table.
‘Had time to look over the menu, folks?’ he asked brightly.
Cathy glanced at Matthias and they grinned at each other.
‘Could you give us five more minutes?’ Matthias asked. ‘I promise we’ll stop talking long enough to give you an order when you get back.’
The waiter nodded. ‘Sure thing – no need to rush.’
He walked away, Cathy hardly noticing, her gaze trapped in Matthias’s again.
‘We’re never going to get any food at this rate,’ he said, laughing, though he made no move to do anything other than look into her eyes.
Eventually, she managed to tear herself away and blushed as she put her attention to the menu again. ‘We should probably…’
‘We should,’ he said, but when she looked up he was still gazing at her.
‘Menu!’ she said and laughed, making him chuckle too.
‘Right,’ he said, finally making a move to read his. ‘Let’s see what there is.’
Matthias was a lot more knowledgeable about Spanish food than Cathy. She’d spent a lot of time over the years cooking as well as baking, but she tended to concentrate on the things her mum would like and usually ate the same. As Miriam got sicker their choices had become smaller because her appetite had waned and she’d found fewer and fewer foods tempting or palatable, and so, to some extent, Cathy’s choices had shrunk too. It had just been easier to go with what her mum wanted rather than cooking separate meals, but it meant that she’d stopped experimenting with different cuisines and had baked a lot more of the sweet treats that her mum would always eat.
Cathy had been torn about what to order as she’d wanted to try so much, so in the end they’d gone for small tapas-style portions, as they had the first time they’d come here, but this time they chose more varieties including garlic shrimps, a meatball dish called albondigas, patatas bravas, chicken wings and even some octopus.
But despite enjoying what she’d tried, and even making a note to find recipes so she could replicate some of it at home, if anyone had asked her to describe what she’d eaten afterwards she’d have found it difficult, because all she could think about was the man sitting across from her. She hardly registered the tangy tomato sauce that came with the meatballs, or the sharp green olives with the shrimp, but she’d memorised every line on his face, the way his nose wrinkled when he laughed, the resonant timbre of his voice, the way one lock of hair in his swept-back fringe refused to sit with the rest, the feel of his hands whenever they’d crept to meet hers, the woody scent as he’d leaned close to share a joke or a stolen kiss.
As the evening drew to a close, they had another friendly disagreement over the bill and Matthias, again, insisted on paying, but only once Cathy had made him agree that next time they met he’d let her cook for him because she didn’t want him to keep paying for her and he didn’t want her to splash out on him. So he settled up and they stepped out onto damp pavements made glassy by a sharp frost, his arm around her shoulders to pull her close as she shivered at the sudden change of temperature.
‘I don’t suppose you want to go somewhere else?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready for the night to end yet.’
‘You’re making a habit of that,’ she said, laughing. ‘I seem to recall you saying the same thing when we went to the theatre.’
‘Yes, but that was early to be going home…’ He looked at his watch. ‘I suppose around now there won’t be much open except for nightclubs.’
Cathy wrinkled her nose. ‘If you’re going to suggest a nightclub then I’m afraid, for the first time tonight, I’m going to have to disagree. I think my days of clubs are long gone.’
‘Mine too,’ he said. ‘I was hoping that would be your answer. In which case… we could grab a coffee?’
‘There won’t be anywhere open for coffee.’
‘My house is always open,’ he said with a hopeful smile. ‘I promise no funny business and I’ll take you home as soon as you want to go.’
‘We could go to mine for that matter,’ Cathy said.
‘We could,’ he agreed, ‘but… well, I need to take Guin out for a last pee before he settles for the night.’
Cathy laughed. ‘Oh, I completely forgot about poor Guin! Of course, let’s go back to yours; we might as well. I don’t mind coming with you to walk him.’
‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘I think Guin would too.’
Half an hour later Matthias’s car came to a halt outside a darkened house in a terraced street. Cathy knew the neighbourhood, characterised by eighteenth-century terraced houses, though she’d rarely visited anyone who lived there. Her cottage was almost at the opposite side of the town.
Unclipping his seatbelt, he smiled at her. ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘No palace, I’ll admit, but at least I had the foresight to clean up earlier today.’
‘I wouldn’t have cared,’ Cathy said.
‘Oh, I think you would,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have wanted to come back. Guin makes enough mess of his own with all that hair, let alone mine.’
‘What, your hair? Do you lose it that quickly?’
He grinned. ‘Cheeky. I could change my mind about this coffee, you know.’
‘You could.’
‘But I wouldn’t.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
With another grin he got out of the car and Cathy followed. But then he stopped dead on the pavement, staring at his front door. For a moment, Cathy couldn’t understand what had halted his progress, until she made out a shadow and then someone who had been sitting on the step get up and walk towards them.
It was Tansy. Her face was in gloom, but there was just enough light from the nearby streetlamp for Cathy to recognise her. She looked from Matthias to Cathy and then back again.
‘What’s she doing here? Are you two…?’
‘What are you doing here?’ Matthias asked.
Tansy rammed her hands on her hips and stared at him. ‘Are you seeing her?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes, it matters! When did this happen? How long ago? Why didn’t anyone tell me?’
‘Because it’s none of your business, Tans.’ He frowned and positioned himself, ever so subtly, between her and Cathy. ‘It’s almost midnight. How did you get here?’
‘Walked. It’s not that far.’
‘In the dark? Alone? Anything could have happened to you!’
‘I couldn’t stay at home, could I?’
‘Why not? What’s happened this time?’
‘I’m not saying anything in front of her.’
‘Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it in front of Cathy.’
‘She’s not family.’
‘Then don’t say it. Go home and call me tomorrow.’