‘At least I’ve got the hang of it now. Putting something else up will be easy. And the insurance will cover it.’ She was babbling, trying to make out that everything was okay when it wasn’t. She went to sit down on the stairs, and then jumped back to her feet as she realised the stair carpet was as wet as everything else.
‘It’s more than just the money, though, isn’t it?’ His quiet comment cut through all her pretence of being able to cope with this.
‘Yes. I’ve only been here for eight months. It was…it is the first time I’ve had a place of my own. I did everything myself.’ It had almost been a point of honour. Beth had wanted to show everyone, herself included, that she could manage her life on her own terms after Pete had left her.
‘Then I’ll bet you’ve already done plenty of things that seemed impossible at first. The initial shock is always the worst.’
Was he really so sure about that? ‘I could kick myself. You know, I’ve never even been up in the loft to look at the water tank or the pipes. The surveyor said they were okay and I just took his word for it. Maybe if I’d….’ She tailed off before her tears choked her. It was already too late to mend the damage that had been done to her dream. Everyone who had ever said that she couldn’t fend for herself had just been proved right. And she’d proved it with her own stupid negligence.
‘It’s not your fault.’ His tone was gentle but firm. How did someone get to be that sure about life?
The belief that she could cope with whatever life threw at her had just been unceremoniously ripped away, leaving her naked and shivery. And even though he was saying all the right things, Matt’s solid dependability wasn’t helping. The temptation to look as pathetic as she felt and cling to him was too much to bear.
Beth straightened herself, ignoring the handstands her stomach was doing, and swung the torch beam up from the carpet, trying to inspect the damage calmly. ‘I can do this.’
‘Yes, you can. It’s a bit of a mess right now, but this is the worst of it. The water’s off now and I’ve drained the tank.’
Thanks for reminding me. It was Matt who’d had the presence of mind to do that straight away, not her. Beth turned away from him, wiping her face with the sleeve of her coat.
‘The back room isn’t so bad,’ he continued. ‘It’s worst in the hall and the sitting room.’
Beth nodded, trying not to start crying again and feeling the tears trickle down her cheek anyway. What the hell—a few tears weren’t going to make this place any wetter.
‘Come and take a look.’ He took her hand, holding it tight, and guided her to the small dining room, which lay behind the sitting room. She could see a few dribbles of water running down the walls but the carpet was dry to her touch and the furniture looked undamaged.
Th
is wasn’t so bad. ‘Thank you for helping out. I’ll be okay now.’ She wanted him to go before his reassurance became completely indispensable. Then she could inspect the damage, have a good cry and work out what she was going to do next.
‘No, you won’t.’ Jack lay motionless against his shoulder, obviously tired and bored. ‘You’ll freeze in this weather with no heating and in a wet house. If you want to stay with a friend then I’ll take you wherever you need to go, but I live five miles down the road and I have a spare bedroom that’s warm and dry. Come and stay with us tonight. There’s nothing more that we can do until tomorrow.’
Beth stared at him. Warm and dry sounded like heaven at the moment, but she couldn’t. She would rather be here, however uncomfortable it was. ‘I’m fine, really.’
Matt gave a little gesture of impatience, and Jack stirred in his arms. ‘No, you’re not fine. And you most certainly won’t be fine tomorrow if you spend the night here.’ He gestured up and to the front of the house. ‘If your bedroom’s above the sitting room, then it’s going to be wet through. It’s already below freezing outside and you’ve no heating.’
Cold disappointment dripped into Beth’s heart. He was right, of course, but she still didn’t want to admit that she was reliant on the hospitality of a virtual stranger. She stared at Matt, unable to think of anything to say that sounded even vaguely rational.
‘Are there any friends or family close by that you can call?’
Beth shook her head. ‘On any other evening I’d call Marcie. But it’s her wedding anniversary tonight and she’s been planning it for weeks. And my parents are away in America, visiting my younger brother.’ She could probably make it down to Charlie’s place in London before midnight, but if she did he’d still be reminding her about this in thirty years’ time.
‘So come back to our place. The hospital’s vetted me, so the chances of me not being an axe murderer are pretty much in your favour.’ The veneer slipped and an irresistible grin broke through. ‘And my son will vouch for me.’ Jack was dozing fitfully now and didn’t seem disposed to vouch for anyone at the moment. ‘When he wakes up, that is.’
Beth’s resolve wavered. The heat of Matt’s smile was about the only thing around here that was much above freezing. ‘I don’t suppose that anywhere I want to go includes a hotel, does it? There’s one a few miles down the road.’
‘Right in one. No hotels.’
If she was going to take him up on his offer, she may as well do it gracefully. Beth smiled up at him and saw a glimmer in his dark blue eyes that looked suspiciously like triumph. ‘Then your spare bedroom sounds like a lifesaver. It’s very kind of you, thank you.’
Matt had left Jack curled up in a chair in the dining room while he had helped her wipe the puddles from the few good pieces of furniture she had and prop them up off the soaked carpets. The sofa cushions had been arranged on their ends around the sitting room so they could drain a little and he had rolled up the old rug, which was completely beyond saving, and dumped it in the back garden.
She had drawn the line at letting him into her bedroom but after seeing the waterlogged state of her bed had reluctantly called him to help her tip the mattress on one side against the wall. They had gathered up her soaking quilt and some of her clothes and put them into plastic bags in the boot of Matt’s car and Beth had picked up her photo albums and her jewellery box and tucked them away on the back seat. Almost as an afterthought she had fetched her laptop, which seemed to have survived the deluge, and had found that Matt had picked up her textphone and was carefully wiping it dry.
With one load of clothes in the washing machine and another in the dryer, Beth finally allowed herself to relax into the sofa in front of the open fire at Matt’s, watching the logs sizzle and spit as heat drove the moisture from them. Jack had claimed a place next to her and Matt had prepared soup with French bread for them all.
‘That was nice. Must be home-made, it’s got chunky bits.’
‘My mother makes it. My parents live close by and she delivers it by the gallon and puts it in the freezer.’ Matt was sitting on an easy chair, drawn up by the fire, inspecting her textphone. He had changed into jeans and a sweater and his short fair hair was dishevelled from where he had been running his hand through it, making him look even more like a grown-up version of the child that was currently dozing in her arms.