like Bruce and Wolf.
The solution to that problem was obvious: pick a man who was not handsome and not, on the face of it, charming; some-184
body like Matthew, somebody quiet and decent. But could she ever be attracted to somebody quiet and decent? And what, she wondered, had quiet and decent men to offer? They made good husbands, perhaps; they would wash the car and help with the children, but that was hardly what Pat, at her age, was interested in. She wanted romance, excitement, the sense of being swept away by something, and Matthew, for all his merits, would never be able to give her that. Matthew would never be able to sweep anybody away; it was impossible.
There was the sound of voices in the hall – Matthew was speaking to somebody, and now he walked into the kitchen with a young woman behind him.
“This is Leonie,” said Matthew. “Leonie, this is Pat.”
There was a moment of silence as the two young women looked at one another. Pat noticed Leonie’s hair first of all, which was cut short, in an almost masculine style, and her black jeans, low on the hips. She’s the type to have a tattoo, she thought, somewhere; somewhere hidden. And what is she to Matthew?
Is she . . . ?
For her part, Leonie merely thought: interesting.
“Leonie’s an architect,” said Matthew as he pulled out a chair for the guest. “We met . . .”
“In the Cumberland Bar,” supplied Leonie. “A few weeks ago, wasn’t it, Matthew?”
Matthew nodded, and busied himself with pouring coffee.
“An architect,” said Pat.
“Yes,” said Leonie. She turned to Matthew. “I’ve done a few sketches for you, Matthew. Remember? You said that you might do something with this place?”
Matthew frowned. “Yes, well, I hadn’t really decided. Not definitely.”
“They’re just sketches,” said Leonie. “And I’ve made a card model. It gives you an idea of how things might feel.”
Matthew looked at Pat. It was, she thought, a mute plea for help. “Is there anything wrong with this flat?” she said. “It seems pretty nice to me.”
Leonie, who had addressed her remarks to Matthew, now
turned to Pat. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it,” she said.
“But we can make much more of things, you know. Just about anywhere can be improved if you take a hard look at it. Made more user-friendly, if you see what I mean.”
“But this isn’t meant to be user-friendly,” said Pat, gesturing towards the hall. “This is Georgian. This is what it’s meant to be like.”
Leonie smiled. “We don’t have to live in museums,” she said.
“That’s the trouble with this town. It’s a museum.”
“Maybe you could show me the sketches,” Matthew interrupted. “Then we could see.”
Leonie reached into the large black folder that she had brought with her. “Right,” she said. “Here we are.” She took out a large piece of paper and unfolded it. “Here’s something.”
They stared at the neatly-traced sketch, drawn on draughtsman’s paper.
“Here’s the hall,” said Leonie, pointing to the sketch. “That’s the welcoming space. At the moment, you come in and what do you see? Nothing. The hall leads nowhere.”
“But is a hall meant to lead somewhere?” asked Matthew.
“Well, what else should it do?” asked Leonie. “You don’t live in it, do you? Unused space.” She tapped the paper. “You’ll see that I suggest that we take down this wall here, which allows the hall to flow into this room here, to absorb it. You get a much better sense of being drawn into the living space, you see. The spaces will talk to one another.”
Pat stared at the sketch. It was a short while before she established the orientation of the plan, but once she had done that she realised that the room which was being absorbed into the hall was her own. “My room,” she said quietly.
“What was that?” asked Leonie.
“I said, my room,” Pat replied.
Leonie looked to Matthew for an explanation.
“Pat’s staying with me,” he explained. “For the time being.”
Leonie took her hands away from the plans. “I see.” She looked at Pat in a curious way. There was something about her look which made the younger girl feel unsettled. It was not an 186
unfriendly look, but it was not uncomplicated. The best word to describe it, she thought, was bemused.
“These are just ideas,” said Leonie after a few moments.
Feeling uncomfortable sitting in the kitchen with Matthew and Leonie, Pat retreated to her room with the excuse that she had more unpacking to do. Leonie smiled at her as she left, but it was a puzzling smile, and she
