Back to the Farm Ch. 02

"Oh." Matt was sympathetic. "That can be really expensive."

"Yes." Melissa glared at her friend. "You know Gemma, p'raps you'd better start taking those antihistamines again."

"Good idea," she agreed cheerfully before turning to Matt as they reached the front entrance. "Well, it was nice to meet you at last. Melissa's told me so much about you."

It was Matt's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Really?" he said disbelievingly. "What's she told you?"

Gemma seemed to give the question serious thought. "Mostly that she hates you, to be honest," she said at last, pushing open the door and leading them outside. "But I think it's about time you two buried the hatchet. You should take her out to dinner. Talk things through."

"Gemma!"

Matt twisted in time to see the full horror in Melissa's eyes and had to repress a smile. "Right. Thanks for the advice. I might just do that."

"Gemma?" Melissa said, her tone dangerously quiet. "A word please—before yougo?"

Matt backed away. "My car's just over there," he said warily, gesturing to the corner of the car park. "I'll er—I'll wait for you there, okay?"

Melissa watched him walk most of the way across the tarmac before turning back to Gemma. "I can't believe you said that!" she hissed.

"'My car's being repaired'. You liar! What car? You can't even drive—you came here by bus." Gemma's eyes narrowed as she peered across the car park. "Though that's a very nice car he's got there. Brand new. And bloody expensive, by the look of it."

"Gemma! You're supposed to be my friend!"

"Iam your friend. Which is why I think you twoshould bury the hatchet. Preferably not in each other's heads, mind."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't drop these down that drain." Melissa held Gemma's keys over the grille. "I have never been so embarrassed."

"Oh come on, Melissa! You're going to have to spend some time with this guy over the next few weeks. Why make it any harder on yourself?" Gemma threw her a despairing glance. "You're grieving for an uncle you both adored. You need each other right now."

Melissa's temper flared. "I don'tneed Matthew McKenzie."

Gemma shook her head. "I disagree. I think you do. I've been listening to what you've said about him and you two have far too much shared history for things to stay as they are. Besides." She grinned suddenly. "You said he's not married and he's bloody gorgeous."

Infuriated, Melissa gave a heavy sigh. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Yes you have. You're lying again. Now give me my keys." Gemma held out her hand, smiling as Melissa slapped them into her palm. "Have a good time."

"Well." Matt smiled at Melissa as she slithered into the leather seat beside his. "She seems nice."

She fixed him with a glare. Men always wanted to know more about Gemma. "Don't even think about it. Yes, she's blonde, she's slim but let me tell you right now, she's happily attached and her boyfriend's built like a brick shit-house."

"Whoa!" Matt gave a short laugh, switching on the ignition. "That's not what I meant."

"Really? You're saying she's not your type?"

"Oh, I'm not saying anything. You are." And startling her, he slung an arm around the back of her seat, reversing out of the space so rapidly the tyres screeched.

"Do you mind?" she gasped. "I haven't put my seatbelt on yet."

He stopped the car with a jerk. "Go ahead, put it on," he said, pulling on the handbrake and folding his arms.

She reached for the belt, aware of his steady gaze as she tugged it awkwardly across her lap. But to her dismay she discovered her fingers were shaking too much to push the metal prong into the socket.

"May I?" Without waiting for her reply he took the end from her hand and fastened the belt. "There you go. Can we drive on now?"

"Fine." Unable to look in his direction as they moved off again, she allowed herself a cautious glance around the interior of the car, noting first the plush trim then the dashboard, its dials and displays worthy of a spaceship console. "Nice car."

"Thank you." There was a pause. "Look, Lissy—"

"Melissa."

"Sorry.Melissa." He sighed heavily. "I know you don't like me very much, but please, couldn't we call a truce for now? Whether you like it or not, we're going to have to meet up like this quite a bit over the next few weeks."

She winced at the uncomfortable echo of Gemma's words. "I never said I didn't like you."

"Ah no—let's get this right. Youhate me." Matt casually drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Strong word that, hate. But to be honest, I'm not sure why. Any chance you could explain?"

She felt his eyes on her face as they halted at a set of traffic lights. "Oh, you know why. Don't pretend you don't."

"No, I'm not sure I do." He sighed again. "Unless of course, you're still holding a grudge against me for the way Jason and I treated you that summer all those years ago—fourteen years ago to be exact. But you're not, are you? Because that'd be ridiculous."

She swallowed hard. "I don't think it's ridiculous. Not really," she faltered, maddened he could dismiss their behaviour so readily. "You were pretty cruel."

"Lissy, we were kids! It was teasing."

"Teasing?"

"Yes, teasing. We were two seventeen year old boys spending the summer with a fifteen year old girl who happened to have red hair. What did you expect? That's what boys do."

"Is it?" Melissa couldn't believe her ears. "Do you have the faintest idea how much that 'teasing' hurt me? To have someone call you every name under the sun? Carrot Top, Cheeseball, Copperknob, Coppertop, Belisha Beacon, Freckle Features, Ginger Nut, Matchhead, Volcano Head—"

"Oh come on!" Matt shot her a grin. "You have to admit some of those are actually quite funny."

"Oh, right. Funny?" She stared back, aghast. "You think its funny to have someone tell you day after day how ugly you are? That having red hair is a genetic mutation and that every redhead in the world should be lined up against a wall and shot? That's funny is it? That'steasing, is it?"

Matt frowned. "Now hang on. I don't remember saying any of that."

"No." She shook her head, suddenly deflated. "You didn't. But Jason did. Mostly when you weren't around. But even when you were you never stopped him. You never once stood up for me. You let him treat me like dirt the whole time. Why? Why did you do that?"

To her dismay, those ever-present tears began to blur her vision again. "Nearly all of my childhood memories have you in them. I can't remember a single summer without you. We went everywhere together, did everything together. You were my best friend. And then—you weren't." She blinked hard and turned away, staring unseeingly out of the side window.

The horn sounding from the car behind broke the awkward silence. The traffic lights had turned green. Matt cursed under his breath before pulling rapidly away from the junction. "You make it sound like I was the only one who'd changed," he said at last as they left Mickleton behind. "You were completely different that summer too."

"I was completely different?"

"Yes, you were." He gave her another sidelong glance. "You made it quite clear you didn't want Jason there, even though the poor git had had a bloody awful time. His Mum and Dad were always splitting up and getting back together again and then finally, that year they decided to have the messiest divorce in history. Neither of them wanted Jason to live with them."

"I can'tthink why not."

"Oh Lissy, have a heart!" He scowled. "It was bad enough for me, being packed off to boarding school from the age of seven but at least I had a home to go back to. And in the summer I had Uncle Charlie and Aunt Suzie too. Jason didn't. Can you imagine what that must have been like? To be in the middle of a war zone when you're just a kid?"

Melissa glared at him, incensed. "So you're saying it was okay for him to bully me, right? Because he was from a broken home?"

"No, I'm not saying that!" Matt seemed equally annoyed. "I'm saying you never gave him a chance. I'm not surprised he didn't like you. You made no secret of the fact you didn't want him there, did you? He was my friend and you were jealous."

"I was jealous?" She gave a snort of astonishment. "I didn't give him a chance? You know, that really isn't how I remember it."

"No, I'm sure it isn't," Matt replied, sarcasm weighting his tone. "How strange."

"But you were there the first time we met!" She shook her head in desperation. "He didn't giveme a chance. Don't you remember?"

"No, I don't." He sighed again. "But I daresay you're about to remind me."

Wanting to scream, she stared at him for several seconds. Then, abruptly, the bubble burst and the remaining fight in her drained away. "No," she said quietly. "What would be the point? Whatever, Matthew. Have it your way."

He shot her a surprised glance then shrugged. "Fine."

After a minute or two, she peered across to find Matt staring at the road ahead, his lips set in a firm line. She turned away, conscious neither of them had acknowledged the other contributing factor to that miserable time. The memory of that never-to-be-mentioned-again, passion-filled kiss they'd shared the summer just before she'd turned fifteen. Had he forgotten that too? It didn't seem likely. But she sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to bring it up.

Only when the car finally rolled down the hill into Ebberlea did she feel her spirits lifting again. She gazed out of the window at the familiar grey stone buildings. "This place hasn't altered much in twenty years."

"Hasn't altered much in a hundred years," Matt agreed, sounding relieved the silence had finally been broken. "The houses have probably changed hands a few times though."

"I daresay the locals can't afford to live here anymore." She sighed. "I wonder if Mr Anderson still runs the Post Office?"

"No. They closed the Post Office a few years back after losing a long and bloody battle to keep it open. Charlie said the old boy never got over it. He died last year. His wife still runs the shop part though."

"Oh." Melissa frowned. "At least Mike and Jean still own the pub."

"Yeah. After all these years. We could drop in for a drink and something to eat on the way back if you like. Check the arrangements are okay for the wake on Friday."

"It's not a wake. It's a funeral tea."

"And Gemma said I should take you out to dinner."

She heaved a sigh of frustration. "I don't think so."

Matt uttered a growl. "Oh, come on Lissy. You'll need to eat at some point this evening, won't you? Is the idea of spending more time with me really that terrible? I promise to be on my best behaviour."

"For heaven's sake—how many times do I have to tell you? My name is—"

"—Melissa," he finished, thumping his left hand on the wheel. "Of course it is. Would you give me a break? I've called you Lissy since we were kids. Your mother called you Lissy. Aunt Suzie and Uncle Charlie called you Lissy. It's going to take me a while to get used to it, you know. Old habits die hard. What's so bad about being called Lissy anyway?"

She'd only just figured out the answer to that herself. It seemed as though practically all of the people who'd called her Lissy were dead. The hard lump formed at the back of her throat again. "No one calls me Lissy anymore. Just call me Melissa, okay?" She heard him mutter something under his breath and gazed out of the window for inspiration to change the subject. To her relief she found some almost immediately. "Oh! Someone's done up the factory."

Last time she'd passed through the village the old boot and shoe factory had been almost in ruins, every window smashed by vandals, tiles missing from the roof. Now the building had been restored to its former Victorian glory, although was clearly no longer a business property. "It's been converted into flats."

"Yep. Well, four apartments actually."

Catching the nonchalant note to Matt's voice, Melissa groaned. "Flats, apartments—what's the difference? Architect-speak."

He smiled. "No, it isn't, actually. An apartment is usually on one level. And it's about the concept. What sounds best, apartment or flat?"

"Neither. Both words just mean a group of rooms in a building."

"I beg to differ. I'd prefer to live in an apartment. Sounds more spacious."

"Sounds more American."

"Exactly." Matt was grinning. "Like I said, it's a concept. Though those apartments are more like lofts, to be honest."

She rolled her eyes, exasperated now. "What's the difference between an apartment and a loft?"

"Ah, now you're getting technical. A loft is more open plan. No walls, no doors. More like one room subdivided into sections. Kitchen, living area, dining area, etc."

She silently wondered whether that meant her tiny studio flat qualified as a loft. "With a separate bathroom I hope? Could be embarrassing if you had guests otherwise."

He shot her an amused look. "Yep, they generally have separate bathrooms. Those lofts back there certainly have."

"You've been inside to look?"

He didn't answer immediately, busy checking the road for traffic before turning right at the T-junction. "I designed them."

"Oh." That explained the nonchalance. She turned to look at him. "Am I supposed to say well done?"

"Nope." But his cheekbones lifted as though he was trying to repress a smile. "Just doing my job. That's how I happened to be around at Christmas."

She bit her lip. Christmas. When Matt had discovered Charlie was ill and she'd been left out of the loop. "But you're not around very much these days are you?" she ventured. "How come you're out of the country so much?"

Matt shrugged. "Ah well, I get the good jobs by virtue of being the only unattached partner in the practice. The others have families. Doesn't go down too well to ask one of them to spend months halfway round the world so good old Matt goes instead. It's been okay. I've seen some places I thought I'd never get to see, all expenses paid."

"And you don't get fed up with living out of a suitcase?"

He grimaced. "Want the truth?" There was a pause as he pulled the car into the slip road. "I'm sick of it. I should've beenhere." He waved his hand towards the gate. "Not seven thousand miles away."

She looked up at the battered rusting sign swinging above the gate.Beech Tree Farm. The hard lump returned to the back of her throat. "I'll go and open up."

As she stepped out of the car, the cold wind whipped her hair into the air and made the white dress flap around her legs. It was much breezier here than it had been in Mickleton but then the farm was on high ground. The weather had always seemed more extreme here. Mostly she remembered long hot lazy summer days but when they came, the storms had been spectacular.

Picking her way around the potholes, she walked on the tips of her toes, hoping the thin spikes of her heels wouldn't catch in the ground. Why ever had she listened to Gemma? Dainty sandals were a ridiculous choice for tramping around a farmyard. She lifted the latch, first leaning on the gate then shoving hard until with a loud squeal, it began to swing in towards the driveway. She waited for Matt to bring the car inside, catching the top bar of the gate ready to close it again. But as she turned she spotted the ominously dark sky. "Looks like it's going to pour down in a few minutes," she told Matt when she climbed back in beside him.

He shrugged, looking back over his shoulder. "Probably just a shower. We'll be safely inside long before it starts." He released the handbrake and began to move slowly forward, steering carefully around the largest of the potholes, and grimacing as the car shuddered across the smaller ones. As the car gave a second violent lurch he swore softly under his breath. "You know, maybe the first thing we ought to do is arrange for the driveway to be resurfaced."

"I don't suppose that was high on Charlie's list of priorities."

"No." He frowned again as the car jerked again, forcing her to scrabble at the armrest for support.

"Aren't unmade roads an occupational hazard for you? You know, this isn't exactly the type of car I would've expected an architect to drive."

"Oh really?" He shot her a caustic glance, swearing again as the car dropped into yet another hole. "What sort of car should an architect drive then?"

"I don't know. Something with four-wheel drive. Something meant to get mud-splashed and filthy. A Land Rover or something."

"I'll bear that in mind for the next—oh, hell!" Spotting a huge crater, Matt slammed his foot on the brake and shoved the car into first. The car promptly stalled. Then the air turned blue.

"Matthew, do you mind?" she asked sarcastically. "I don't even know what half of that means."

He pulled a face. "Liar. P'raps you'd like to drive your car next time."

She stayed quiet, deciding this was probably not the time to confess that first she'd have to pass her driving test and buy a car. Still muttering, Matt dropped the gear stick into neutral and pulled on the handbrake before reaching to turn the keys in the ignition. Nothing happened. There wasn't even a whirr.

"What's wrong?"

Matt frowned and tried again. Still nothing. He removed the keys altogether, studied the car key for a few seconds then pushed it back in and turned. Silence. No lights on the dashboard.

"Ah. Houston, we have a problem," she quipped, suddenly nervous.

Matt responded with another stream of expletives. Then he tugged his jacket from the back seat and retrieved a mobile phone from the inside pocket.

"What happened?"

"I haven't a clue. At a guess, that last bump fried the electrics."

"I thought men were supposed to know about cars."

"Not this man. This man knows about computer-aided design, multi-million pound contracts and structural engineering. Not bloody cars." He began to tap at the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

He gave her anisn't it obvious? glare. "Someone whodoes know something about cars. Hi, Greg?" Someone had picked up the other end. "It's Matt McKenzie. Listen, I've got a bit of a problem with the—hello?Hello?"

The phone emitted a series of loud beeps then a rather odd squawk. "Great. Battery's dead." Still swearing softly, Matt leaned across Melissa's lap and reached into the glove box. "Damn. No charger." He twisted his head to look at her. "I'll have to use yours, if that's okay."

She looked at him blankly. "My what?"

"Your mobile." He sighed. "I'll reimburse you for the call if that's what you're worried about."

"Oh right." Melissa nervously moistened her lips. "I—um—haven't got a mobile phone."

Matt straightened up. "You mean you haven't got it with you."

"No, I mean I haven't got one at all." As his incredulous stare turned into a deep frown she bit her lip. "I've never needed one. No one needs to be in constant touch with me." Come to think of it, not many people phoned her at all. "I've never seen the point in having one." And she'd never been able to justify the expense of having one either, but she wasn't about to admit to her limited personal finances.

Matt gazed at her as though he considered she was extraordinarily stupid. "Never seen the point? What about personal safety? What about when you go out on your own at night?"

She tried to look affronted. "I try not to put myself in dangerous situations." And hardly ever went out at night.

"Right." Matt's expression was grim. "Okay," he said at last. "Not the end of the world. We'll walk up to the bungalow and call someone from there."

"Won't Charlie's telephone have been disconnected?"

"Doesn't matter. I've got a phone charger in my briefcase. I'll plug it in and use the phone while it's charging."