date.’
Michelle turned and considered the options in the back of the fridge door. A small, slightly hard piece of cheese, an unopened bottle of wine and half a pint of milk.
‘Right. Is there any bread?’
Sean shook his head.
‘Well what else have you got?’
Sean looked around at the cupboards before flinging one open. It was full of plates. He furrowed his brow and tried the next cupboard along.
‘How long have you been staying here?’
‘Couple of weeks.’ He shrugged. ‘I eat out a lot.’
‘Clearly.’
The picture in Michelle’s mind was of Sean all suited up pouring wine in an elegant restaurant for an even more elegant woman. It wasn’t great but it was an improvement on imagining what he might have got up to with the owner of this apartment. At least she could look him in the eye while she thought about him going out on dinner dates.
Sean’s intrepid exploration of the cupboards revealed a sugar bowl, and half a bag of dried spaghetti. ‘Pasta?’
‘Is that all there is? Seriously?’
‘Like I said, I eat out a lot.’
‘Ok.’ She took the bag of pasta and popped it down on the counter along with the cheese, milk and eggs. ‘Cheesy pasta then.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Sounds like the only option.’
Michelle busied herself in the kitchen, finding that she seemed better able to work out where his mysterious lady friend stored the cooking essentials than he was.
Twenty minutes later she was spooning pasta into bowls and Sean was pouring wine into glasses. They sat opposite each other at one end of the dining table. Sean swirled a big mouthful of spaghetti onto his fork and tucked in. ‘It’s good. Cheesy.’
Michelle took a gulp of wine and allowed herself a smile. ‘Considering the raw ingredients, it’s practically miraculous.’
‘You’ve worked wonders. Do you cook a lot?’
She nodded. ‘It’s a useful skill.’
‘To make cheesy pasta?’
‘To make something out of not very much. Clever cooking is a great way to save cash.’
She took another sip of wine and Sean topped up her glass. She glanced at the goblet. She was drinking more quickly than she was used to.
‘My mum taught me to cook.’
Why was she telling him that? The wine. It must be the wine.
‘You’re close to your mum?’
‘I was. It was actually her idea that I take this trip of a lifetime holiday.’
Sean raised an eyebrow in question.
Michelle swallowed. ‘It’s what she wanted me to spend my inheritance on. She died. At the end of last year. Cancer.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was very quick. She wasn’t even ill really.’ That still rocked Michelle. She’d had people close to her pass away before. Mum’s sister, Auntie Barb, for one, but there’d been a progression: treatment; improvement; then more treatment; and a long interminable decline. There had been tasks Michelle could do; things that needed organising.
With her mum it had been different. A routine visit to her GP on Monday. Admitted to hospital on Tuesday. Officially dying by Wednesday. There had been conversations about hospices and specialist nurses, but there hadn’t been enough time for any of those things. Tanya Jolly had been told by an official looking man in an official looking white coat that she didn’t have much longer and her body had taken him at his word.
They fell silent. Normally Michelle would do anything to avoid talking about her mother, but tonight something felt different.
‘People say I look like her.’ She blurted the words out, pointing at her long red hair. ‘I get this from her.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Hardly. I sort of hate being ginger.’
‘It’s beautiful.’
Michelle wasn’t sure how to respond. It was flattering, but she’d already let him get her back to this apartment and then drunk too much of his wine. Compliments were easy.
‘What about your dad?’
Michelle shook her head. ‘I don’t really see him any more.’
Sean leaned towards her across the table and rested