Matilda Next Door - Kelly Hunter Page 0,3
try desperately to keep up with whatever he was saying. It helped that the school was small enough for kids of all ages to mix in together. Wasn’t as if there was a lot of choice. No one had thought anything much of Tilly latching on to Henry or Henry letting her. They’d lived next door to each other, and caught the same school bus, morning and afternoon. He’d kept an eye on her the way a brother would. Stood up for her. Tolerated her. She knew things about him that no one else did. Friends.
Except that in the time he’d been away from Wirralong, that friendship had largely withered on the vine. Awkward Henry was back, just as closed up as ever he was, and it probably had something to do with how his grandparents had welcomed him home, or not. Nothing shut Henry Church down faster than his grandmother Bethany’s disapproval.
Tilly didn’t know if she had enough time to coax it out of him before she left, but maybe she could give him a heads-up. Tell him it wasn’t just him that Bethany reserved her vitriol for. These days it was everyone. ‘You really have to let me do some kind of chores for you while I’m staying at your place, otherwise I’m going to feel like the biggest sponge. I don’t want to feel like a sponge.’
‘You take my grandparents mail up to them from the letterbox three times a week, you pick up and deliver their grocery order once a week, and your parents do countless other things for them. You’re already doing plenty.’
‘Yes, but we do it for them, not for you.’
‘And how much thanks do you get?’
‘Your grandfather is always thanking us.’
‘And Beth?’
He didn’t even bother with a grandmother tag for her. Ouch. ‘Beth’s mind is not what it used to be. Her filter’s gone.’ Henry’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. ‘Not that she had much of a filter in place to begin with, I know,’ she amended. ‘Would it help to know that she’s far more even-handed with her eviscerations of character these days? You’re no longer her special whipping boy. Everyone gets their share.’
‘Does it help me to know that you go over there to help and have to put on a smile as a cruel old bat picks away at your every vulnerability?’ His voice had deepened, roughened. ‘No.’
‘Ah, Henry.’ She understood his need to protect her from that. He’d always had it. She’d always been warmed by it. ‘I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t smile and stand there, dumb as a post. I don’t smile at all, just talk right over her—pretend I can’t hear her—and carry on a conversation with your grandfather instead. That’s the way to go.’
He stayed silent and she figured she’d given enough unsolicited advice for now. ‘So … your gorgeous Trafalgar Square apartment is mine, all mine. I’m so excited. Tell me all about it.’ Could be he’d need another prompt, which she was more than happy to give. ‘What about keys, security, how to get in? How to get out and stay all security conscious? Because if I’ve heard it once that I need to remember to shut all the windows and lock all the doors on my way out, I’ve heard it a dozen times already from my parents. Truly, just because I don’t shut the doors or lock anything up around here doesn’t mean I won’t shut doors and lock things up over there. I know the difference.’
She had him smiling again as he dug in his pocket and tabled a set of silver keys. Damn but he was a breathtakingly handsome man when he remembered to smile. ‘The only door you’re likely to have trouble with is the front door to the building. There’s a daytime doorman who can usually be relied on to buzz you in. His name’s Len Stuart and he’s expecting you. Of an evening you’ll need the password for the keypad on the wall next to the main door, and that’ll get you in. It changes every Sunday. The elevator requires the door key to my apartment before it’ll work.’ He plucked out a key from the bunch he’d set down. ‘Meaning this one. There are two apartments on the third floor. Mine’s 3A. The other one is 3B and belongs to the Brownlows, and they mainly use it as a weekender. To get to mine, you step out of the lift and turn left.