He got up from the table, ‘Sorry to leave you with all this.’ He gestured at the bench.
He was even a tidy cook, Isabel thought, looking at the neatly stacked pots and pans. ‘Don’t be silly, that’s our arrangement remember. You cook, and I’ll clean, and having just sampled your culinary skills I think I got the winning end of the deal.’
He grinned and shrugged into his jacket. ‘It’s nice to have someone to cook for.’ As he reached the top of the stairs he paused and called over to her, ‘You know, Isabel this is your flat too, so feel free to have your friend over.’
Isabel, still sitting at the dinner table rather full to move just yet looked over at him blankly. She didn’t have any friends on Wight except Brenda. She wasn’t sure she could count her as a friend though given she was her boss and she’d only known her for two days.
‘Er, the friend you were meeting after you left here yesterday.’
Her face felt as though someone had turned the oven dial to high heat.
‘Oh, I see,’ Rhodri said. ‘Very sensible.’
‘You can’t be too careful,’ Isabel said. ‘You know stranger danger and all that.’
Chapter 26
‘Penny for them?’ Rhodri said appearing in the kitchen with an empty mug in hand. It was Friday morning, and they’d settled into a companionable routine of sorts over the course of the week. His day began well before hers. He liked to squeeze in a few early morning hours painting downstairs in the gallery before opening up for the day. Rhodri would usually appear in the kitchen in search of a hot beverage and to exchange morning pleasantries while Isabel was still in her pyjamas reading the latest island news over coffee and toast, much to his amusement. It wasn’t that she liked to keep up with Wight’s current affairs so much, it was more that it made her feel like a proper Islander when she sat reading the paper and she liked that feeling.
The days panned out with Isabel heading off to the Rum Den at midday and reappearing back at Pier View House when her dinner break rolled around. Her waistband was already feeling a tad tighter thanks to her second helpings each night.
At the sound of his voice this morning, however, she recalled their conversation over dinner last night and hoped by confiding in him as much as she had he didn’t think she was a total loser. It had begun with her breaking her mum’s golden rule of talking with her mouth full as she told him, ‘You should have been a chef you know. You missed your calling.’
Rhodri had put down the spoon upon which he was using his fork to twirl his pasta up. ‘You’ve bolognaise sauce on your nose.’ He grinned before adding, ‘And thank you for the compliment, but sometimes when a hobby becomes a job, the joy can disappear from it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Isabel had asked, picking up the napkin next to her glass of wine and using it to wipe off the offending sauce.
‘I love to cook, it relaxes me but having to cook and under pressure too would be a completely different thing. I’d turn into Gordon Ramsay effing and blinding. It’s the same with my painting. If I were to paint full time and try to earn a living from it, then it would become forced, and a lot of the pleasure I get from the process would disappear. I like the freedom of being able to paint what I want, not what someone else wants me to. It’s the same with cooking. Not a great attitude to have if you want to make a living at something. Hence I run a gallery selling other people’s work.’ He’d popped the pasta laden fork in his mouth.
‘I’d like to see some of your work,’ Isabel said. The easel upon which he was currently working was always hidden away under a sheet by the time she ventured downstairs for the day. Rhodri didn’t reply, and she’d pondered over what he’d said while running a finger around the edge of her bowl to mop up the last of the tomato sauce. It was another dinner time misdemeanour that would have got a slap on the hand from Babs Stark. Yes, she’d thought, savouring the sauce, she could understand what he was saying.
‘And Isabel, I could say the same thing to you about your singing you know. You have a beautiful voice so why aren’t you doing something with it? How come you’re presently pulling pints in a pub and not a YouTube sensation? Not that there is anything wrong with pulling pints. I’m curious that’s all.’
That had taken her aback. It reminded her of a game of ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ she’d played as a youngster with Steven Flintoff who’d lived across the way. She’d thought for a second, unsure how far she wanted to go with this conversation and then decided to tell Rhodri the truth. There was something open and honest about him that invited her to confide. ‘When I was a kid, all I ever wanted to be when I grew up was a singer. The thing is though it’s not enough just to sing, you have to be the full package, and I’m not.’ She’d shrugged. ‘I never had the confidence to put myself out the front of anything really and to just go for it. And, I’m okay with that, I have come to the conclusion I’m a bit of an introvert.’
Rhodri looked incredulous. ‘With that hair? And what about the way you barrelled on
