Dinner at Rose's (35 page)

‘SMELLS GOOD,’ MATT
said, opening the kitchen door just before seven. My heart gave a ridiculous little lurch and I wanted to leap across the room into his arms, but managed to limit myself to smiling at him over a pot of peas. He grinned back as he crossed the room to kiss Aunty Rose.

She laid a hand on his cheek for a moment, and then held it out so he could help her to her feet. ‘It will be,’ she said. ‘Contrary to what these ill-bred young strumpets imply.’

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ I said. ‘Will you carve, or should we get Matt to do it?’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Kim. ‘He just hacks lumps off. Aren’t you going to kiss Josie, Matt?’

‘All in good time,’ said Matt. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘Roast pork, garlic bread, a green vegetable medley and potato and strawberry gratin,’ I told him.

‘That’s novel,’ he remarked.

‘It’s a shame you’re all so unadventurous,’ said Aunty Rose mournfully.

‘I resent that,’ I said. ‘I’ve eaten deep-fried crickets.’

‘It’s your own fault,’ said Matt to his aunt. ‘We’ve been scarred by years of Mussel Surprise.’

‘So many surprises,’ I reminisced. ‘And almost all of them nasty.’

‘You weren’t even here for the one with the whole chil-lies,’ he said.

‘And that Portuguese fish thing,’ Kim added, carving the roast pork in a most professional way. ‘The one with the tiny purple octopuses in it, poor little things.’

‘Torn kicking and screaming from their mothers,’ said Matt, shaking his head.

‘Sit down,’ Aunty Rose ordered. ‘You will all eat up your dinners and be grateful.’

I WOULDN’T RECOMMEND
potato and strawberry gratin, although Percy liked it. Aunty Rose sat carefully erect in her chair and pretended to enjoy her dinner while the rest of us pretended not to notice the effort it took. Kim told us a very funny (and I expect entirely fictitious) story about her latest run-in with her geography teacher, and Matt and I concentrated on not grinning at one another across the table like a pair of feeble-minded idiots.

Hazel came into the kitchen as we finished. ‘Here you all are,’ she said with a sorrowful and faintly wounded air. ‘Having a lovely little dinner party.’ The casual observer would have assumed she had just cooked a nutritious dinner for her family and they hadn’t bothered to let her know they didn’t want it, rather than that she had been getting her roots redone in town.

‘Percy’s eaten all the potato and strawberry bake,’ said Matt, ‘but have some pork. It’s beautiful.’

‘No, no,’ said Hazel. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll throw something together at home. Rosie, darling, don’t you think you should lie down? You don’t look at all well.’

‘How very unflattering,’ said Aunty Rose.

‘You children shouldn’t have let her cook for you,’ Hazel added. ‘You won’t attempt the dishes, Rosie?’

‘Of course not, with three slaves.’

‘I think Matthew has got quite enough to do, and it’s time you started your homework, Kim darling.’

‘I’ve done it,’ said Kim. ‘Did it at the physio clinic.’

‘Even homework looks good compared to conversation with Amber,’ I observed.

Matt pushed back his chair. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’ve got to look round the cows before bed. Want a ride home, Toad?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Kim. ‘Aunty Rose, that was lovely. Thank you so much.’

I picked up the wood basket and accompanied them outside. Matt held out a hand for it, but I shook my head. ‘I’ll do it – you’ve got cows to check.’

‘Close the door!’ Hazel called.

Kim pulled it to, not slamming it but with a certain decisive crispness. ‘Sorry to leave you with the dishes, Josie.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said, putting down the wood basket and reaching up to finally kiss her brother. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘You wouldn’t mind
anything
at the moment. I could put you in a sack and beat you against a trough.’ There was something touching about Kim’s adoption of her brother’s sayings.

‘True,’ I admitted, and Matt’s arms tightened around me.

‘You’d better go back in and get on with the dishes, Cinderella,’ he said, kissing the tip of my nose and then letting me go.

‘Come back, if you’re not too tired.’

‘I will.’

‘You guys are so cute,’ said Kim.

‘Put a sock in it, Toad,’ he ordered, but as they went across the gravel he slung an arm around her shoulders and she rubbed her head against his shoulder like a kitten.

‘CALVING COW?’
I asked as he let himself back into the kitchen. He had been gone an hour and a half and I had reached new heights of housewifely accomplishment in his absence. The dishes were done, the dogs fed and put to bed, a week’s worth of kindling had been split and a pot of vegetable soup, complete with pork bone, was simmering on top of the wood stove for the next day. Spud lay curled on his beanbag, paws twitching just a little as he chased rabbits in his sleep.

‘Two,’ said Matt. ‘Both breech.’ He had a long smear of mud across one cheek, and I crossed the kitchen and wiped it off with the tea towel. He made a face at me. ‘Sexy.’

‘It could have been worse – I could have spat on a hanky.’

He slid his arms around my waist. ‘How’s Aunty Rose?’

‘Asleep,’ I said. ‘Or she was twenty minutes ago. Want to go and check?’

‘In a minute.’ He bent his head and kissed me in an unhurried, expert sort of way, and it was touch and go between staying upright and slithering bonelessly to the floor between his feet.

‘Bloody hell,’ I whispered, stepping back and leaning against the table for support.

‘What?’

‘It’s a bit frightening, feeling like this.’

‘I know,’ he said. He reached out and ran the side of his thumb very softly down my cheek. ‘I can’t quite believe I’m allowed to touch you.’

I turned my head and kissed his hand in blatant adoration. Just then there was a low growl from the other side of the kitchen, and Spud gave a short hoarse bark. ‘What’s up, mate?’ I asked.

‘Perhaps he doesn’t approve,’ said Matt.

But Spud wasn’t looking at us; he was staring fixedly across the kitchen.

‘It must be a possum,’ I said. ‘He scared me half to death a couple of weeks ago, growling in the middle of the night. I just about rang you to come and chase away the axe murderer.’

‘Charming,’ he remarked. ‘You weren’t worried that the axe murderer might get me?’

‘Never occurred to me,’ I said. ‘It’s because you’re so strong and manly.’

‘Flattery,’ said Matt, ‘will get you nowhere at all.’ He kissed me again, let me go and went up the hall to look in on his aunt.

He was only gone a few moments, and as he came back into the kitchen he pulled the hall door closed behind him. ‘Asleep. Come here.’

I went, putting my arms around him, but when he ran both hands up under my top I protested weakly, ‘It’s not our house.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but it’s over eight hours since I had sex with you, and I can’t hold out any longer.’ He cupped my breasts in his hands and I very nearly whimpered.

‘Someone might come,’ I whispered.

‘Who? And the dogs would bark.’

‘The griffon’s watching.
And
Spud. Not to mention the axe murderer.’

‘Don’t you want to, Jose?’

‘Oh, dear Lord, yes,’ I admitted. I pulled his sweatshirt up over his head and threw it neatly over the griffon’s.

‘He was probably quite keen to see,’ Matt remarked.

‘In that case I
really
don’t want him watching.’

‘Spoilsport.’ He kissed me again. ‘I love you.’

‘Same. Oh – I haven’t got any condoms.’

‘I have,’ he said. ‘I came prepared.’

I looked at him with deep admiration. ‘And you weren’t even a Boy Scout. What a legend.’

Chapter 31

A
T TWO TWENTY-NINE
on Wednesday afternoon, Cheryl, wearing her blue Waimanu Physiotherapy shirt, manhandled an enormous and lavishly chromed all-terrain mountain buggy through the front door. ‘Afternoon, girls,’ she said.

‘Hi,’ said Amber, coming out from behind her desk to peer at the baby. ‘Hi, Max. Can I get him out?’

‘Absolutely,’ Cheryl said. ‘Just don’t paint his toenails again – Ian’s mother got all worked up about it. Jo, can you have a look at my back before you go? Amber said there was a slot.’ She went ahead of me into the consulting room and began to unbutton her shirt without bothering about the door. ‘T6, I think,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Subluxated the bastard.’

I followed her in and shut the door. ‘You must watch your back when you’re lifting Max in and out of the car,’ I lectured in my best professional voice. ‘Try to use your knees, and make sure you put his capsule in on one side and then the other.’

‘Thank you
so
much,’ she said. ‘None of those things had occurred to me.’

‘Lucky I reminded you then. Hands on opposite shoulders, please, and rotate to your left.’ Cheryl twisted obediently. ‘That would be your right.’

‘Oh, shut up, or I’ll dock your pay. That’s catching, there.’

‘Right. Other way? Crikey, there’s not a lot of movement.’

‘Which would be why I’m here,’ she said.

‘Be quiet. Bend forward.’

‘How’s Rose today?’ she asked, bending.

‘Not very good. Yesterday was a bit better, but she’s just shrinking to nothing and we can’t do anything to help – now back.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Cheryl to the ceiling. ‘If you need more time off we’ll figure something out.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You’re wonderful. Okay, lie on your back and we’ll see if we can get this thing to move.’

‘I normally do thoracic manipulations with them on their fronts,’ she demurred.

‘I don’t. Lie down and stop arguing.’

‘I’m not at all sure about your bedside manner,’ she said, lying down and crossing her arms.

I stood at her head and slid one arm under her, holding her across the shoulders with the other. ‘Don’t complain – you’re in a very vulnerable position. Breathe in . . . and all the way out.’ I pressed her back down against the table and there was a most satisfying crunching sound. Customers
love
satisfying crunching sounds; they really feel they’re getting their money’s worth. Physiotherapists the world over are plagued by people who think that spinal manipulations are an instant cure for chronic injuries and that strengthening exercises and improved posture are for losers.