As Matt walked past the open driver’s door to join me on the path, Jimmy’s hand reached out to stall him. His voice was low, and he probably never intended me to hear what he had to say, but the street was suddenly quiet and I clearly heard his low entreaty.
‘Take good care of her, Matt. She’s had quite a tough twenty-four hours.’
To say my father looked relieved to see me walk through the door was an understatement. And although I knew that a large part of that was due to his natural instinct to worry about me, I realised too that an even greater part was that the burden of entertaining a less-than-good-humoured Matt could now be handed over to me. I correctly guessed it had been a pretty tough several hours since his arrival while they awaited our return.
‘He’s been pacing up and down the living room like a caged lion,’ whispered Dad as we stood together in the welcoming kitchen, making a fresh round of teas and some toast. I wasn’t really hungry but it had been a welcome excuse to escape to the kitchen and find out what exactly had happened when Matt had turned up and found us gone.
‘Sorry you had to deal with that. I don’t know what he’s so wound up about.’
My dad stopped placing mugs and spoons on the tray and turned to give me a long appraising look. No words, just a look.
‘What?’ I asked, playing dumb. ‘What?’
My attempt at nonchalance was ruined by the warm flush that suffused my cheeks. And the more my dad continued to stare at me in that knowing parental fashion, the hotter they grew. I don’t know what he knew exactly, or guessed, but I don’t think he was that far off the mark.
‘Just be careful, Rachel, or someone will get hurt.’ And then he softened the entreaty by wrapping his arm around me and pulling me tight to his side. ‘And I don’t want it to be you.’
By the time the tea and toast were consumed, a little good humour seemed to have been restored and naturally enough they both wanted to hear about everything that had happened in London. It took quite a while to regale the entire account of the last twenty-four hours, obviously omitting all that had occurred the previous evening from my narrative. I was pretty certain no one in the room wanted to hear that sorry tale – especially me.
There was a long pause when I eventually finished, while they both absorbed what I had told them.
‘So do you remember everything now?’ pressed Matt hopefully.
‘No, not really. Well, not at all, if I’m being totally honest. But at least now I guess I know what hasn’t happened.’
The disappointment on Matt’s face was obvious, and I couldn’t help but think that some of it was aimed at me personally, rather than the situation. It was almost as if he suspected that I just wasn’t trying hard enough to remember: and that if I put a little more effort into it, everything would come flooding back.
‘Never mind, love,’ supplied Dad, reaching over to squeeze my hand reassuringly. ‘It’s still early days yet. At least now you have somewhere positive to start from when you meet the amnesia guy this week.’
‘Yeah, that’s what Jimmy said.’
Matt’s face stiffened in irritation at the name, but fortunately he let the comment pass unchallenged.
‘And in the meantime, I’ve sorted out anything I could find around here from the last five years that could help you remember.’
He sounded so delighted that it was hard to suppress a groan when several hefty-looking albums and a box of selected memorabilia were produced from the side of the settee and laid onto the coffee table before me.
‘Now, I’ve just got to go into town for a while, so you two can browse through these. I’m sure Matt will be able to answer any questions you have – probably far better than me. I don’t suppose you tell me the half of what’s really going on in your life!’
Considering recent events, that was probably just as well.
I was several pages into the first album when the front door clicked shut at my father’s departure. Moving closer to my side on the settee, Matt gently removed the album from my hands and slid his arms about me, drawing me towards him.
‘Let’s leave the old photos for now, huh? I think I can find a much better way of helping you to remember.’
And before I could say anything to stop him, or even consider if I wanted to stop him at all, his mouth was on mine, powerfully and persuasively commanding me to respond. And after a moment of immobility, I did. Perhaps this was the very thing I needed to jolt my memory back. Maybe it wasn’t just in fairy tales that the prince could kiss the sleeping princess back to life. And Matt, with his sexy good looks and masterful self-confidence, was accomplished enough to elicit a response from a shop mannequin – let alone the woman who’d been on the receiving end of those kisses for the past seven years.