Hard Tail(10)

"Would that be Olivia?" I asked archly as we sat at the table. Then I wondered if I'd gone a bit too far with a bloke I hardly knew.

Matt just grinned. "You've met her, then? No, she doesn't come round the shop much. She's not really into bikes."

"Might ruin those perfect nails," I suggested, my cattiness fuelled by relief he hadn't taken umbrage on her behalf.

"Or get oil on those white tunics of hers," Matt added, his unblemished eye twinkling. "We shouldn't diss her, though-she's all right, really. And Jay seems to like her."

As if that was a recommendation. Jay liked everyone. A middle-aged waitress in a brown pinny came and asked what she could do us for, so I ordered egg and chips with a mug of coffee (please, God, let it not be decaf), and Matt asked for the same. As we settled down to wait, he started fiddling with the little packets of salt and pepper that were in a cup on the table, and I started making bets with myself on how long it'd be before the table was covered in condiments.

"How long have you worked for Jay?" I asked, curious. Matt talked like he'd known Jay for ages, but then most people tend to do that five minutes after they've met him. Jay's just that sort of bloke.

"Er … " Matt looked like he was this close to counting on his fingers. "About eight months now. I knew him before that, though. We go biking together, Thursday nights."

"Just the two of you?" I asked more sharply than I meant to.

"Nah. There's about half a dozen of us. Well, not everyone comes each week-actually, it's been a while since we've seen Adam, I'd better give him a ring and see what's up-but on an average night, there's about half a dozen. You should come along," he added with a lopsided smile.




 

 

"I don't cycle," I said a bit shortly. "Haven't had a bike since I was in school," I explained, trying to sound friendlier. "It was a bit hilly where I went to university." Although, if I was honest, a lot of the students had managed with bikes.

Matt laughed, showing that broken tooth again. "You can't run a bike shop and not even own a bike!"

If it had been anyone else, I'd probably have become defensive. But Matt was so good-natured, it just wasn't possible to take offence. "I suppose it is a bit funny," I admitted.

"Why don't you have a look at the stock? Jay always gives a discount to mates; he'd definitely do the same for you."

I had to smile at his innocent assumption that the only thing that had been stopping me from owning a bike up to now was that I hadn't been able to get one on the cheap. "I'll think about it," I hedged and was relieved to see the food turn up-two huge platefuls of eggs with golden yolks and proper chip-shop chips, not the little matchsticks you get in fast-food places.

The next few minutes were spent passing the salt and vinegar-I'd always thought I was a bit heavy-handed with the latter, but Matt absolutely drenched his chips with the stuff-and hunting for the brown sauce in the little cupful of sachets. I noticed with approval that Matt, like me, kept his egg yolk unadulterated and only squeezed sauce on the boring bit.

Then I realised he'd seen me staring at his eggs, so I had to say something to cover my embarrassment. "So, er, did Jay tell you much about me? Apart from that I was married?"

"He said you were posh," Matt said cheerfully, his mouth half full of food.

I gave a nervous little laugh and spread some egg yolk on a chip. "We're brothers. I'm not any posher than Jay is."

"Yeah, you are," Matt contradicted me, gesturing with his fork and nearly taking my eye out. "Sorry. You don't talk like him, for a start."

"I don't?" How did Jay talk, anyway? I tried to think if he sounded, well, more common than me. All I could think of was that he sounded like Jay. I ate another chip, this one with a bit of egg white to get it over with.

"Nah. He talks like everyone else."

Great. My accent had social leprosy. "So how do I talk?"

Matt shrugged. "Well. Posh. Didn't you go to Oxford or Cambridge, or something?"

I could feel my face growing warm. "Durham, actually." So I hadn't got into Cambridge, so what? It wasn't like my mother constantly bewailed my failure …  Oh. Wait. She did. I took a gulp of coffee, finding the predominant flavour was the salt that had been deposited on the mug by the dishwasher. Still, as long as it had caffeine in, I decided I didn't care. 

"Is that where you met your wife?"

I was a bit thrown by the sudden mention. "Kate?"

Matt grinned. "Why, how many wives have you had?"

The furnace in my face turned up to Gas Mark 12. I put my mug down slowly. "Uh, just the one. And yes, we met at Uni." We'd been friends before we were girlfriend and boyfriend. A long time before. I think, in the end, it was just that neither of us could think of any convincing reasons to give to people when they asked, yet again, why we weren't going out. So we did, and it had seemed to work all right. The sex hadn't been brilliant, but Kate hadn't seemed all that interested in sex in any case, so that had taken the pressure off quite a bit. We'd been happy enough, I guess-until Kate had started wanting more from life than a husband who was more like a brother.