disturbingly, that felt insanely good.
‘You all right? You look a bit flushed.’
Bloody Mrs B.
I nodded several times. ‘Absolutely. Cold out there, hot in here.’
‘It is pretty warm in here, no doubt about that.’
I kicked something out of the way and casually took a step back. Michael didn’t move, but his hand dropped away from my wrist.
‘I’m always diplomatic.’
‘Calling me an arse was diplomatic? Remind me not to send you to the Middle East to negotiate peace talks any time soon.’
‘Oh ha ha! Are you going to bring that up every time we disagree?’
‘I haven’t decided yet.’
I rolled my eyes at him. ‘Fine. You want the truth?’
‘Always,’ he said, looking at me, that intense gaze doing its thing again.
‘Right,’ I said, turning back to the kitchen and away from his entrancing eyes. ‘Congratulations, you have succeeded in making it twice as bad.’
‘That sounds more like it.’
I looked back at him. ‘I wouldn’t say that to anyone but you, you know that, don’t you? Tact is my middle name.’
‘I’m honoured to be special then.’
I shook my head. ‘Oh, you’re special all right.’
‘Aww, I’m so glad you think so.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake! Stop arsing about and help me find the kettle. I need a cup of tea before tackling this.’ I dropped my bag outside the door and began trying to pick my way between the detritus on the floor.
We were knee-deep in kitchen utensils and Michael’s face had taken on a bewildered look.
‘I don’t even know what this is. It looks like something liberated from a medieval torture chamber.’
I glanced up. He was peering at a scissor-like contraption with a half dome on each end. His fingers worked the mechanism and the two halves came together to form a globe.
‘I think it’s a meat baller.’
He looked at me, blankly.
‘You know. For making meatballs.’
‘She never once made meatballs. She barely ever cooked at all, actually. I can’t believe there’s all this stuff in here.’
‘Kitchen gadget catalogues can be very enticing.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. They make things sound so good that you wonder how you’ve lived without these wonderful inventions for so long.’
‘Oh.’ He paused, looking back at the item hooked on his finger and thumb again. ‘So do you have a meat baller?’ He snapped the ends together a couple of times and I giggled.
‘I do not.’
‘Do you want one?’
‘I don’t. Thanks all the same.’
‘Not much of a meatball maker then?’ He pulled the gadget off his fingers and tossed it into a box for donation.
‘I just use my hands.’
‘Usually the best tools,’ he said. ‘Do you cook a lot?’
‘When I get time. And have the inclination.’
He nodded acceptance. ‘Did your mum teach you how to cook?’
I cleared my throat a little. ‘No, not really. She wasn’t really much of a cook. I taught myself really. It’s not rocket science. If you can watch telly and you can read, then you can usually make something edible.’
‘That’s true.’
We continued in silence for a few more moments.
‘You said “wasn’t ”.’
‘Huh?’
‘You said “wasn’t”. Is your mum not around any more?’
‘No, she died about ten years ago.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘And your dad?’
‘He lives abroad. I don’t see him.’
Michael nodded, obviously getting the point that this wasn’t a subject I wanted to talk about. For some reason, I wanted to tell him not to take it personally and that I didn’t really talk about any of this stuff with anyone. Janey was an exception but I’d only told her everything accidentally thanks to a second bottle of wine and a particularly crappy day.
‘Do you cook?’ I asked, then glanced up at the state of the kitchen. ‘When you can find the oven, of course?’
He gave me a tilted head, you’re-being-a-smart-arse type of look and smiled.
‘I’m not bad. Ma taught us all, wanting to make sure that we didn’t starve when she sent us out into the world.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Yeah, I don’t mind it actually. Although I’m kind of rusty at the moment. I’ve not really done a lot for a while. I’m going to have to brush up if I’m to make anything decent for Christmas dinner.’
‘I’m sure the others will help you out if you get stuck.’
‘Probably. Or they may just sit and enjoy watching me struggle and squirm. You know, like brothers and sisters do.’
I smiled. I didn’t know.
Michael picked up on my non-committal reply. ‘No siblings?’
I shook my head.
‘Did you not find that lonely growing up?’
‘That’s everything from those drawers,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘Do you want to start going through them and see what you think you might want to keep?’
Michael gave me a long look, aware that I had blatantly directed the conversation away from anything personal and back to work.
‘OK,’ he said, eventually. ‘On the proviso that you’re able to tell
