Mum’s the Word. Kate Lawson

in her house.

      Susie stared at him. Maybe she’d missed something. ‘What the f—’ she began, as he stepped forward, hands up in a gesture of surrender.

      ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, don’t panic – you must be Susie, Jack’s mum? I’m Matt, Matt Peters. I’ve been working with Jack. Actually, I’m still working with Jack.’ He laughed, waving a large suntanned hand across the front of the tee shirt before holding a hand out towards her. She realised with a start that the jazzy abstract on the front of his shirt was magnolia emulsion.

      ‘It’s all right, they’re clean, I just washed them,’ he said.

      ‘You’re painting my spare room,’ she replied, more statement than question.

      His handshake was warm and firm and something inside her tingled as his fingers closed around hers.

      ‘Most certainly am, amongst other things, ma’am – me and your boy have been working our butts off all day. We’ve got quite a lot done actually. It’s looking good. And it’s a great room – I really enjoy DIY and I love those little casement dormers and the stripped doors and boards.’

      ‘And where exactly is Jack?’

      ‘We needed a few more bits and pieces – some screws, brush cleaner – so he’s nipped into town to pick them up.’

      ‘Nipped? How the hell did you manage that? In my experience, Jack is pathologically incapable of nipping.’

      ‘Comes from working on archaeological digs for so long. It’s been here for three thousand years, what difference is ten minutes going to make?’ He grinned. ‘He should be back any minute now. He’s taken my car; he knew where the shop was, and besides, I was up a ladder at the time. Seemed sensible.’ With that the man took two mugs off the draining board and set them down on the worktop alongside Susie. ‘So how did your day go? Jack said you teach at Fenborough. You look completely knackered.’

      She peered at him. ‘Well, thanks for that.’

      ‘Not a problem.’ He opened the fridge. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

      Susie still hadn’t quite got a handle on this. ‘Whoa there, cowboy. Hang on a minute, I’m confused. Can you explain what exactly you are doing here and what you were doing up a ladder in my spare room?’

      The man smiled. ‘Emulsioning.’

      Susie put her hands on her hips and waited.

      ‘Ceiling’s all done, we’re just putting a second coat on the walls. Do you mind if we talk over tea, only I’m totally parched? It’s really hot up there. The wood stain is all done on the skirting board and the doors. It’s looking good, although I think it would look better with another coat. Why don’t you come up and take a look for yourself? We thought we’d make a start on the floor tomorrow –’

      Susie frowned at him. Tomorrow? Mind racing, she took the tea caddy down off the dresser. Meanwhile, Matt pulled out a chair and sat down, sitting well back from the table in his paint-stained tee shirt.

      ‘What I actually meant was what are you doing here in my house, besides giving my spare room a makeover?’

      ‘Ah well, I’m over here for the same get-together as Jack – funders, backers and all that baloney. Only for some bloody reason they’ve postponed the presentation until the end of the week – Friday – which is bloody annoying as our team have only got limited access to the site, but then again I have to keep telling myself that we’re none of us indispensable and everyone else is still hard at it, and this is just as important as anything we could be doing with a trowel. The stuff ’s been in the ground this long, another few days won’t matter … Great cottage by the way, I love what you’ve done with it. Anyway, I rang up to make sure Jack was okay – you know, the whole Ellie thing – and Jack said you needed a hand and I’m at a loose end. Et voilà.’

      ‘So you’re here till Friday?’

      Matt nodded. ‘Well, if you don’t mind. I’m more than happy to earn my keep. I really enjoy decorating.’

      Susie looked him up and down, appraising him without really meaning to. Realistically Matt Peters didn’t look like the kind of man who ought to be at a loose end. He was probably late thirties, with strong, even features, and big brown eyes framed by a network of fine lines that softened his expression as he met her gaze and smiled straight back.

      ‘Would you mind if I just nipped upstairs and took this tee shirt off while the tea’s brewing?’ he said. He had good hands. ‘Jack loaned it to me to work in, which was great, but I’m worried that I might be spreading wet emulsion all over the place.’

      With that, he was up and away, leaving Susie with far more questions than she really needed after a long day at work.

      While he was upstairs Susie started to unpack the shopping. She’d bought all the summer food Jack loved: French bread and hummus, tiny sweet cherry tomatoes, coleslaw, potato salad, ham, prawns, all kinds of delicious deli finger food, along with good cheese and chocolate éclairs and custard doughnuts, a bottle of wine, some beer and some soft drinks in case alcohol was not the answer. As if.

      As she started packing the fridge Susie heard the gate open, then footsteps on the path, and without looking up said, ‘Hello, I’m glad you’ve finally shown up. I need a word with you.’

      As she turned round she was amazed to see Robert standing on the doorstep looking horribly sheepish. He was clutching a bunch of forecourt flowers and a bottle of wine and looked and smelt as if he had just climbed out of the shower.

      ‘You didn’t ring,’ he said. ‘I was a bit worried about you, I thought I’d just pop round and –’

      At which point Matt stepped into the kitchen, still busy pulling on his shirt, fastening buttons and tucking it into his trousers.

Chapter 4

      ‘God, that’s so much better,’ Matt said with an easy grin. ‘Is the tea brewed yet? If you want to carry on unpacking the shopping, I’ll pour the –’ At which point he looked up and spotted Robert.

      For an instant there was complete silence. The two men looked at each other and then Robert reddened furiously.

      ‘Am I disturbing you?’ he snapped, his expression hard and set. ‘I came round to see if you were all right but you’ve obviously been making short work of recovery. How long has this been going on?’

      ‘What? Oh for god’s sake, Robert,’ said Susie, getting to her feet. ‘How long has what been going on?’

      ‘Don’t play games with me, Susie. Who exactly is this man? I’m not a complete fool, you know,’ he said.

      Susie stared at him. It was a close call, though, she thought grimly. She was about to explain, about to say, ‘For goodness’ sake, Robert, grow up, this is a friend of Jack’s. They’re painting the spare room, I’m not sure exactly what the deal is but Matt was here when I got home from work –’ when something stopped her, and instead she pulled herself upright and, meeting his gaze, heard herself saying, ‘And what exactly has it got to do with you, Robert? After Friday’s little debacle I don’t think it’s really any business of yours what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with, do you?’

      Apparently that wasn’t the reply Robert had been expecting. He spluttered, looking for all the world as if Susie had slapped him, his complexion deepening dramatically from red to a rather unattractive purple. He opened his mouth to say something and then, thinking better of it, snapped it shut. He looked at Matt and then at Susie, and finally said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I have to say that I’m shocked. I thought you and I had something special. I thought that you loved me.’

      ‘Really?’ Susie asked, as evenly as she could manage. The cheek of the