found it hard to interpret.
“So,” said Leonie after Pat had left. “So, Matthew, who’s our young friend?”
Matthew blushed. “She works for me,” he muttered. “In the gallery.”
Leonie raised an eyebrow. “And the room goes with the job?”
Matthew did not reply immediately. He had not expected Leonie’s visit and now he found himself resenting her arriving without warning. He had met her only once before, on that occasion when he had invited her back to India Street for a pizza. They had got on reasonably well on that occasion and had made a vague agreement to meet again. Telephone numbers had been exchanged, but he had not called her, and she had not called him. He had toyed with the idea of doing so once or twice, but had decided against it. He was just not sure that he liked her. Perhaps he did; perhaps not.
They had talked on that occasion about possible renovations to his flat, but he had not encouraged her in any way. And now here she was, with a set of unasked-for drawings, expounding about rooms talking to one another and fluid spaces. What business was it of hers who stayed in his flat? What precisely was she suggesting anyway? That he was taking advantage of a vulnerable young employee? It was all a bit too much.
“She had a bit of trouble in her last flat,” he said evenly. “I’m helping her out.”
Leonie took a sip of her coffee. Matthew noticed that she
was looking at him over the rim of her mug. Her expression, he thought, was one of scepticism.
She lowered her mug. “Nice for you,” she said. “Very nice.”
Matthew looked away with mounting irritation. “Look,” he said. “I’m not sure that I’m all that keen on doing any structural alterations to this place. I didn’t think that you were serious back then.”
Leonie sighed. “They’re just some ideas I had,” she said.
“Nothing more than that. I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything.”
“No,” said Matthew. “Well, thanks anyway. Thanks for going to the trouble.”
Leonie folded up the plan and slipped it into her case. Her manner was cool. “That’s fine,” she said. “I enjoyed doing it.
You get a bit bored designing extensions for boring little houses in the suburbs. It’s nice to imagine doing something more challenging.”
She had abandoned her plan so readily that Matthew felt slightly sorry for her. Australians were direct speakers, and perhaps she had not meant to sound snide when she referred to Pat’s presence. Perhaps there would be the possibility of a friendship here – nothing more than that, of course, at this stage.
“Have you been back to the Cumberland Bar?” he asked politely.
Leonie shook her head. “No. I had a long weekend in London and then a friend from Melbourne dropped by. She stayed for a week. You know how it is when you have friends staying. Busy.”
“Yes, of course.” Matthew hesitated. Leonie’s visit had made him forget his disappointment over Pat’s rebuff – for that is how he thought of it – and now the thought of asking Leonie out to dinner seemed attractive. It would make up, too, for any disappointment she might feel over the rejection of her drawings.
“I’m sorry about the plans,” he said. “You must have spent a lot of time doing those. And then I . . .”
“Don’t think about it,” said Leonie reassuringly. “If you knew how many times drawings of mine have been torn up, you 188
wouldn’t think about it for a moment. It happens. Architects are used to it.”
“Well, at least let me take you out to dinner,” said Matthew.
“As a thank-you.”
Leonie laughed. “I thought you were never going to ask,” she said. “Yes. Dinner would be nice.”
Matthew rubbed his hands together. “I’ll book a table for two somewhere,” he said.
“Make it three,” said Leonie. “Would you mind very much?”
“Three?” Matthew wondered whether she thought that Pat would be included, but why should she imagine that? Surely he had made it clear enough that although he and Pat were living together, that was all they were doing together.
“My friend,” said Leonie quietly. “My friend, Babs.”
Matthew was perplexed. “Your friend from Melbourne? Is she still staying with you?”
Leonie laughed. “No, not her. She’s gone off to Denmark.
Babs is my friend here. You know. My friend.”
Matthew saw her bemused expression and realised that he had not been very perceptive. Mind you, how was one to tell?
After all, she had accepted his invitation when they had met in the Cumberland Bar; she should have told him, or given him some indication, rather than relying on him to pick up the signals which were, anyway, non-existent as far as he could make out.
He made a quick recovery. That, at least, sorted that out. It would indeed remain a simple friendship. “Of course. That’s fine. The three of us. Now where shall we go? What sort of place do you like?”
“I’m easy,” said Leonie. “But Babs is wild about Italian. Do you think we could . . . ?”
“Of course. Italian.”
