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‘Oh, I can see that, dear. Don’t you worry.’ Valerie turned to Tony. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait for us to get further acquainted.’
Tony caught Mel rolling her eyes and winked at her as she gathered up as many bags as she could while her mother took one in each hand. As they tottered out the door Mel slung her mother a murderous look.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Right, so he had one night to figure out how to be a convincing fiancé for a few days. He remembered the towering suitcases. At least, he hoped it would only be for a few days…
***
‘This is a very homely apartment you’ve got here, Melanie.’
Homely? In her mother’s vernacular that meant ‘pokey’.
‘I like it.’ And she did. The apartment above the shop was small, but it was all she needed. Open-plan living with a small kitchenette, one bedroom, and a bathroom. The landlord had allowed her to splash a little paint on the walls. And although lemon yellow wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she liked it. It reminded her of the bedroom she’d spent so much time in at her grandma’s.
‘And there’s an awful lot of stuff here for a spot where you just need to sleep…’
God, the Spanish Inquisition would’ve been easier to deal with. Nothing got past Valerie. She had a knack of sizing someone up and seeing their weak spots, or the secrets they were hiding, in seconds. She wasn’t afraid to let them know about it either. Like Tony and the drunken women…
‘Well, Tony’s living area isn’t exactly large…’
‘But he has a huge building? Surely he could take over one of the pub’s bedrooms, maybe knock a wall out and create some room for you? I mean, you’ve been together how long now? At least a year?’
Mel groaned inwardly. Lying to her mother about her relationship status had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to stop the constant badgering about settling down with a man. She’d kind of hoped the vet was going to become the real-life embodiment of her fake boyfriend, but that hope left when he did. And the last thing she’d expected was her mother to visit. That wasn’t something they did… well, apart from the times when something had gone wrong in her mother’s life… which begged the question, why was she here? What had gone wrong?
‘Yeah… we’ve been going out just over a year now.’ Mel felt the walls starting to close in on her. Her previously cosy apartment now felt like it was about to choke her.
‘Well, he really needs to sort that situation out. I’ll talk to him. I can’t have my girl living out of a suitcase.’
Air. There was none. The world was starting to spin. Mel walked to the window, pushed it open and breathed in the brisk, wintry air. Although tinged with wood smoke it felt fresh, clearing, invigorating.
‘And don’t tell me you’re pregnant? Have you set a date for the wedding? We’ll move it up. I don’t want my only child to be an unwed mother, or worse, look like a marshmallow in a wedding dress.’
Mel spun to her mother, anger pulsing in her veins. What right did she have to come in here and tip her nice, secure, routined-up-the-yin-yang life upside down? Hadn’t she done that enough?
‘Mother. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired. I’ve been up since the wee hours. I’ve worked all day in the café. Then worked all night for Tony. And look, it’s the wee hours again. I need to get some sleep. And I don’t need to be harangued about every aspect of my life...’
Her mother’s soft-blue eyes welled up with tears. Of course, she was able to give it but not take it. Nothing had changed there. But despite everything, seeing her mother in pain tugged at her heart. Same way it always had.
‘After all, there’s plenty of time for you to do that.’ She lifted one eyebrow and gave her a small, teasing smile, glad to see the tears recede as fast as they’d built up.
‘Oh, Mel.’ Her mother swept over and pulled her into her lean embrace. ‘What a mean old cow you must think I am. I only want the best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
You wanted the best for me? Mel was glad her mother couldn’t see the grimace on her face. When had she ever wanted the best for her?
‘Now, since you’re not with child, you sleep on this perfectly comfortable-looking couch and I’ll take your bed.’ She felt a kiss brush the top of her head. ‘There’s a good girl.’
***
Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.
‘You kids stop playing with the door before I throw an overcooked muffin at your heads. Now get out of here and get to school,’ Mel yelled, searching for a pen underneath the sofa where customers usually waited for their takeaway coffees.
‘Nice arse!’
Mel nearly hit her head in shock. What kid in town had a baritone voice, let alone the cheek to say that to her?
‘Woohoo! Breakfast and a show!’
‘You lot. Cut that out. Show the lady some respect. She’s about to cook you the finest breakfast you’ve ever had.’
Mel wiggled her way backwards from under the sofa and stood up, clutching the pen. She smiled gratefully at Tony, who was staring in irritation at the rugby team as they piled into the café, their big frames filling up her chairs and tables, their aroma of deodorant and sweat competing with the aroma of freshly baked bread.
What was that look all about? And why were his fists clenched? Because they’d gone all caveman on her? Was he…? She flicked the idea away. No. Surely not. He couldn’t be jealous… just acting jealous, in case her mother was around. Acting like an overprotective fiancé. And speaking of her mother… was she still in bed?
Mel checked the time on the whitewashed reindeer clock on the wall that was surrounded by retro mirror art. Just past ten and she was still sleeping? She’d hoped she might have the decency to come and give her a hand this morning, maybe put together a few paninis or ice a cake, but no, that would mean Valerie was doing something for someone else for a change. And since helping her daughter out would serve no benefit to her it was never going to happen. Mel gritted her teeth in self-directed irritation. When would she stop giving her mother the benefit of the doubt?
Tony placed his hand on Mel’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. ‘Are you going to keep perving at the players or are you going to thank me?’
Mel considered shrugging his hand off. With no mother about there was no reason to act all touchy-feely with each other, but it felt warm, safe… possessive. Like he actually cared for her well-being. The hand on shoulder could stay, she decided. ‘Thank you for what? Bringing business into the café or giving me a cheap thrill? It’s nice to know my “arse” is still considered “nice”, even if the compliment came from a guy who I’m pretty sure might be closely related to a Neanderthal.’
Mel met Tony’s eyes. The irritation had abated, but she couldn’t miss the way he kept flicking his gaze between her and the players, as if making sure they were ignoring her, showing the lady ‘some respect’. Maybe he was being territorial? Or maybe he simply didn’t like women being treated like meat. Perhaps there was more to Tony than just a good time.
‘Thanks for defending my honour back there.’ She resisted the temptation to bat her eyelashes and add ‘my hero’. The last thing she needed to do was make the mess they were in even more muddled by flirting with Tony.
‘Well, I couldn’t have my betrothed being admired by other men and not say something. It would be unseemly. Um, small question, Mel…’ He lowered his voice and dropped his head closer to hers. ‘How are we going to explain our engagement to the town? Because I get the feeling your mother will not be discreet about it…’
Bugger. Mel hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t really thought