Matilda Next Door - Kelly Hunter Page 0,12
for lunch. It’s Moroccan and it’s good. After that, head for the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square—no cheating and going back to the apartment to mess with my sock drawer. Start with the Titian exhibition. Take your time. When you’re done head back to my place, put some music on and relax. Pour yourself a drink, sit back in the club chair by the window and toast your courage in getting out there and facing your fears.’
‘How are you seeing inside my head?’
Because he was.
‘You’re not exactly a cipher.’
‘You haven’t seen me in years! You never keep in touch unless someone nudges you to. I grew up. I should be an enigma to you by now.’
He scratched his head and left a tuft of hair sticking out. ‘But you’re not. What you are is overwhelmed and scared by the huge sea of humanity on your doorstep, but it will pass. Once you get out there and get used to it, your confidence will return.’
‘Promise?’ She felt like a child all over again. A fretful, needy, sheltered little soul and how did he know?
‘You’re going to love it. Also, my shirt looks shockingly good on you.’
‘I—what?’
‘I’m going to call the hotel boutique now. It’s called … I don’t know … something starting with S. It’s between the jewellery store and the tourist shop with all the Dr Who telephone booth underwear and at least twenty rows of fridge magnets of the Union Jack. They’ll be expecting you within the hour.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Please, Matilda. You can. I want to do this for you. Consider it my thank you for all that you do for the people who raised me.’
Chapter Four
Henry Church wasn’t one for extreme self-reflection, but coming home to Wirralong and stepping into a world of ageing grandparents and neglected farmland didn’t make him feel good about the life he lived in London. He hadn’t been around to see the struggle his grandparents faced on a daily basis. He’d learned over breakfast one morning that his grandfather hadn’t renewed his driver’s licence the last time it was due.
‘I wouldn’t have passed the test,’ he’d said when Henry had quizzed him on it. ‘But I can still drive on the farm. It’s private property. Tractor practically drives itself, if you give it the right instructions.’
Which somehow wasn’t reassuring at all.
His grandmother barely cooked these days. Said she’d left the oven on overnight one-too-many times. She microwaved pre-cooked meals instead, and the ones that didn’t come from the Moores came from the frozen dinner section of the supermarket. The well-stocked kitchen pantry of his childhood now held a couple of boxes of long-life milk, salt and pepper, tea and bad coffee, tinned soup, peanut butter, vegemite, and several jars of Tilly’s homemade jam.
The house was clean though, his grandfather’s doing. And the vegetable garden remained his grandfather’s pride and joy. And with Henry around to do some of the heavy work, his grandfather seemed to have no trouble tending his wife too—heartbreakingly gentle with her when she was in a good mood and firm with her when she wasn’t.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Henry began two nights later, after he’d cleared his plate of lasagne and garden-fresh salad and gone back for seconds. ‘You’ve only the breeding flock left and there’s a lot of feed out there going to waste. What if I run a new fence through the middle of the gully paddock? You could lease the back paddocks, and arrange for the maintenance to fall to someone else.’
‘No loading yards out there,’ his grandfather said.
‘They could use the main yards.’
‘No.’
‘But—’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll build a set of yards at the far end of Campfire Road.’
‘Where am I going to get the money from for you to do that?’ his grandfather wanted to know.
‘I have the money.’ He had more money than he knew what to do with, and was perfectly willing to spend it.
‘No.’
‘Or, we could get a manager in. Take a load off that way.’
His grandfather bristled. ‘Are you suggesting I don’t know what I’m doing?’
‘No.’ It was Henry’s turn to rock the negatives. ‘What I’m saying is that you are retired, but the farm is still a farm and needs tending. Weeds to keep in check. Erosion measures to see to. Water flow to keep track of. Wildlife corridors to monitor. You taught me this. How to be a steward of the land.’
His grandfather wouldn’t look at him, but his grandmother did, her lips a thin line and her posture rigid.
‘He did teach you.