After All - Part Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Seven

Dylan smiled as he heard a furious rap at his office door, “come in!”

The door burst open and Matilda almost fell into the office, “how the hell did you do that?”

Brandy who had arrived the previous day was sat next to him and looked between them with wide eyes.

Matilda gave a little apologetic grimace and then relayed the list - “two Premiership footballers, a soap star, a former Blue Peter presenter, a Hollywood Oscar nominee AND three PGA Tour players? Dylan you’ve had thirty six hours. How the hell did you do that?”

Brandy laughed from beside him, “and what the hell is Blue Peter?”

Dylan chuckled, “it’s a really famous magazine type show for kids.” Turning back to Matilda he smiled, “I told you I could do this. Plus there are thirty players all with rooms coming from the offices in Manhattan. Is that good enough?”

She beamed at him, a true happy smile, and he felt a zing hit him in the chest, “I’ll never admit to saying this,” she turned and hissed, “Brandy close your ears...” Turning back to him she chuckled, “Dylan Wallace you are amazing!”  Then with a triumphant ‘hmph’, she marched out of the room, or rather bounced if Dylan was honest.

When he looked up Brandy was shaking her head, a knowing expression on her face.

                “What?”

She shook it again, “nothing, just funny seeing you being all gooey eyed.”

 He snapped his head up and glared at her, “I am NOT gooey eyed, I’m just glad we’re getting along. Ok?”

With a hearty laugh, Brandy stood up to get on with her work, but then added, “yep, and she didn’t just call you amazing. It’s quite nauseating, really it is.”

But she laughed as she stood to leave.

He’d brought Brandy out to be a more diplomatic link between the States and there, and it seemed to be working, instantly everyone loved her, and she slotted into life with more ease than anyone he’d ever known. As he watched her leaving the room she sang rather melodically, “Me and you and you and me. No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be. The only one for me is you, and you for me...so happy together.’

With a grunt he threw his scarf in her direction, “The Turtles? Really? Did you know my mother dated one of them when I was a kid?”

But he was chuckling as she closed the door behind her, chuckling at her cheek, as he and Matilda were tolerating each other, that was as far as it went. No more.

There were six weeks until the golf weekend, now that they had solid confirmation; Mattie could get back to the job in hand, the renovation. the first eight rooms had been greeted with rapture by Dylan, and the first guests to experience the ‘luxury’ rooms, so much so that Dylan wanted to convert every room on the top two floors to that specification as soon as possible, without disrupting plans for both the golf tournament and the weddings and functions already booked in the coming weeks. It was a mean challenge, but her preliminary meetings with the builders were pleasing, tomorrow the work would start.

A few days later she got back to her flat at eight, it was the earliest she’d been home all week, but since their argument she didn’t feel that she could stay in Dylan’s suite, despite him insisting it was fine. She showered and was about to peruse the takeaway menus when there was a firm knock at the door. Tightening the gown around her, she strolled over to the door and as she opened it was almost hit over by the door flying open and Andy bursting in.

                “You’re ok! Thank God. You’re not answering your phone and you’re NEVER here when I knock...”

She sighed, “I’m ok, you know that.”

Andy stared at her for a moment, “you went back. You’ve gone back to HIM.”

Mattie smiled, “no, I’ve gone back to the job I love. This is a good thing.”

Shaking his head he backed out of the room, “you are crazy. Who picks up the pieces when he rips you into two again?”

Wide-eyed with shock, she couldn’t believe what was happening, “Andy, this is MY life.”

Shaking his head he left, slamming the door behind her.

Mattie took a deep breath; Andy had been a rock over the years, there to help her out. He was right; he’d helped her pickup the disseminated pieces of her life when she’d lost everything in one fell swoop, her mother, the love of her life...and SO much more. Andy had turned up with wine, food, and the job section of the paper. He’d been good to her, when he had no reason to.

But did that give him the right to question her? Accuse her? Make sweeping judgements on her choices? Strolling back to the kitchen counter, she opened a menu trying to decide between Thai or Indian food. But her head was suddenly preoccupied. Dropping the menu, she marched to the door and across the corridor and rapped aggressively on Andy’s door.

It took four similar raps until he opened it standing there as sullen faced as a moody teenager.

                “Who the hell do you think you are?”

He gave a shrug of feigned disinterest, “look, I’m just telling you how it is.”

She shook her head, “no. You think you know what’s best for me, and that makes you no better than him. I am my own boss, I am not about to stop that now. Ok?”

Without waiting for an answer she stormed back into her apartment.

The next morning Mattie was having a quick meeting with Dylan before she spent time supervising the renovators when there was a knock at her door.

                “Come in,” she called and all three looked up. Brandy was there taking minutes, but in all honesty her knowledge was in valuable, she knew exactly how to control Dylan, it was an art form Mattie loved watching.

Mark from reception peeped around the door, “delivery for you Mattie.” And with that he produced a bouquet of flowers. Simple yet really pretty.

Taking them she blushed at the obvious scrutiny from the other two present.

                “Aren’t you going to open the envelope?” Brandy asked with a smile.

Mattie felt a little awkward as Mark retreated, and reached for the small sealed square. Inside was a card and it was hand written.

                “Sorry. I was out of order. Only cos I care. Dinner tonight? Andy.” She knew they’d be from him, and she appreciated them all the more. Hand delivery like that wasn’t cheap. And she deserved an apology; he had been out of order. Andy had been right about one thing the previous night, he had been her greatest friend over the last few years. She didn’t want to lose that, these flowers were a sign that he didn’t either.

Smiling she placed the card beside her, “they’re from a friend. Nice hey?”

Brandy gushed for a moment, then they carried on their discussions.

“Nice flowers!”

Mattie looked up to see Sarah at the door to her office.

                “Came to see if you want to grab some lunch...”

Smiling Mattie closed her laptop, “as much as I love the chance of lunch with you, I’m sensing wedding hell?”

She grimaced, “well, because of his mother we’re changing the venue...then there’s his sister. There’s a presumption that she’ll be my bridesmaid.”

                “And you don’t want to?”

She shrugged, “there’s my best friend, that was all I wanted, and he’s have his as best man. Why overcomplicate things?”

Mattie stood with a grin, “and why don’t men grow a pair of balls and tell their mothers’ to back right off?”

Sarah nodded, linking her arm through Mattie’s, “you’re not wrong.”

They sat at the cafe in the golf club, on the veranda in the sun. It was a lovely June day, and they wanted to make the most of the weather.

Dylan marched out of the golf club offices, the captain of the team was a pompous old bastard and he was sick of the man running rings around him. Poor Tony, he was a professional player and he was continually cuckolded in the club by a man who played off double figures. He’d been called by Fabio who as the manager of the leisure part of the complex had his work cut out for him.

The meeting had been hell and they’d made no progress with a stubborn old man, but as he stepped out of the building the sun was shining, the place was busy, and the gardens were perfect, the flowers blooming. The place looked amazing.

As he smiled he heard laughter to his right, the small veranda overlooking the first tee, and sat there was Sarah, and the owner of the most familiar laugh to him, Matilda. She’d not been far from his mind since this morning and those flowers. She’d looked so pleased, so smug when she read the note that accompanied them that he’d felt a moment of what he could only call pain. They were a shoddy bunch if truth be told, more suited to a petrol station forecourt than a delivery by courier to an office. He hated that he sounded so snobby, but the thought of someone dating Mattie was a difficult thing to imagine, but if she were to have a latest beau, then he at least wanted it to be someone worthy of her. And this Andy...he’d seen the name and the message, but then she’d deliberately left that note on her desk, he was sure of it, but this Andy, he seemed to be small fry, and she deserved so much more.

Like a wide boy who leaves her hundreds of thousands of pounds in debt? Was he much better?

Sighing he continued back to the hotel, he was heading to New York in a couple of days; he had a lot to do first.

                “Where’s Matilda?”

Dylan was frustrated; he was flying late that afternoon and was trying to finish off a few things before he left. He wasn’t at the office and so far was finding his staff incompetent when it came to finding her.

Sarah sighed, “she’s not in. She’s got a migraine, called this morning.”

He groaned, “she gets dreadful migraines, I forgot that.”

                “Really?” Sarah sounded shocked, “I’ve not known her have one before.”

                “She has a lot,” he reassured her, “but they only last a day or so. I’ll try and catch her on her mobile.”

As he hung up he sighed, she’d suffered with blinding migraines SO often when they were together, the various doctors and consultants he took her to over the years had put it down to hormones as she got them around the time that her period was due.

He shook his head, it felt wrong thinking of her and intimate private details about her after all that had happened...but they were married for several years, he knew EVERYTHING about her, especially that the only thing that helped was a dark room, chocolate - despite the doctors saying it should have the opposite effect, and ice packs for her neck.

Suddenly he wanted to help her, so he dived in his car, calling up her address as he set out across London. He stopped at a shop en route and picked up a bag of ice cubes and a huge bar of fruit and nut chocolate. It had been her favourite a few years back, did things like that change?

He wasn’t sure, so he carried on his journey loaded with the very specific gifts.

He looked at the screen on his phone and the message from Brandy containing Matilda's address, and then the sight in front of him, what could only be described as a monstrosity. She’d told him she lived in the East end of London, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the place he was staring at. A rundown high-rise the he half expected one of the Kray brothers to emerge from. He doubted his car would be there when he returned either.

Storming to the lift, he felt his anger grow as he thought of her coming home here at all times of day and night...alone. It was simply NOT acceptable. She was a woman who had a natural elegance, she walked, dressed and spoke in a way that would make her a target around these parts, even thought he knew she didn’t have much money, it seemed as though she did.

Taking the lift he breathed through his mouth not wanting the smell to permeate his brain, someone had peed in there, fairly recently if the damp corner was anything to go by.

Shaking his head he tried to control his anger, he was SO annoyed that she’d had to live here. How had her father allowed it? Or her brother? Did no one else care?

He sighed, and it was another thing that was his fault. How many reminders were there going to be to the wrong he’d dealt her?

As the lift stopped at her floor he exited it, then marched along the corridor to the door identified as hers. Taking a deep breath he failed dismally to control his anger, instead he gave a brisk rap, then almost hyperventilated as he waited for her to answer.