really. Overall they’re not bad for their age.’
‘We are still talking about bedside cabinets here, are we?’ he asked. Cass could hear the humour in his voice.
Rocco and Cass went back a long, long way, to the dim distant days when Rocco had been her boss, and Cass had been married to Neil, and Rocco hadn’t been married to her mother, Nita.
Cass had introduced them at a cheese and wine party at the local college where she’d been teaching interior design part-time. Rocco had been her head of department, Nita had been happy but lonely, and Cass had got Rocco down as gay.
Cass had assumed they would get on, but she hadn’t assumed they would get on quite so well as they did. Twelve years on, and Rocco and Nita were still getting on well. The fact he was around fifteen years younger and fit as a butcher’s whippet seemed to present no problems at all to either of them.
Cass brought in a tray of tea and the biscuits. ‘So, what are you up to?’
‘At the moment? Work-wise we’ve got some corporate stuff and we’ve just taken on a complete makeover for some media type, art deco mad, hence the cabinets. She’s bought one of the apartments in Vancouver House.’
‘Down on the old wharf?’
‘S’right. Cold Harbour. You’d have thought the marketing guys would have come up with something a little cheerier—Cold Harbour. I mean, what does that sound like?’
Cass grinned. ‘Nice conversion, though. I remember the days when it was full of junkies and rats down there.’
‘Cynics might say it still is, they’re just driving Porsches and Beamers these days. How about you? You busy?’
‘Ish—why, have you got something for me?’
Rocco grinned. ‘Might have, there’s a nice little job in Cambridge coming up in the New Year that I thought might be right up your street.’ He glanced at the computer screen. ‘And the cabinets are cute.’
‘They certainly are. As I said, very nice.’
‘Presumably that means you’ll be doubling the price if I say I’m really interested?’
Cass grinned. ‘What else are family for? I’m sure we can do a deal…So, how’s Mum?’
Rocco took the mug of tea she handed him. ‘Fine form, although she’s still trying to persuade me that we should sell up and buy a fucking barge. I’ve told her I get seasick in the bath but she won’t have it. Anyway, we’re going over to Amsterdam to look at a Tjalk some time soon. And before you ask, it’s some kind of huge bloody canal boat. She’s arranged for us to go sailing with these two gay guys who own it. She’s thinking “party”. I’m thinking Kwells. How about you?’
‘Nothing so exciting. Choir trip in few weeks, which should be fun—we’re going to Cyprus. Oh and we’ve got a concert-cum-dress rehearsal before we leave. Can I put you and Mum down for a couple of tickets?’
‘Don’t see why not. And how’s what’s-his-name?’
‘Gone but not forgotten.’
‘What was his name, help me out here?’
Cass shrugged. ‘No idea, he came, he went—you know what men are like.’
‘You’re making it up,’ said Rocco, helping himself out of the biscuit tin. ‘Oh—oh, wait—it’s on the tip of my tongue. Jack, Sam—’
‘Gareth.’
‘That’s it,’ he said, with a mouth full of crumbs. ‘I thought you were quite keen?’
Cass dunked a custard cream. ‘Which just confirms what kind of judge of character I am. Bottom line? Once the initial lust had cooled down, it took me about two days to work out that we had nothing in common. Worse, he was picky and undermining. He was always making little jokes about my weight or my hair and stuff, and then when we were out spent most of his time ogling other women…And then he got blind drunk at Lucy’s wedding—you know Lucy, from across the road? Makes silver jewellery? Anyway, he tried to pick a fight with the best man and he kept calling his ex-wife a brainless muppet, and I just knew that one day that brainless muppet would be me.’
‘So you jumped ship?’
Cass nodded. ‘I most certainly did.’
‘And how did he take it?’
‘Well, he was hurt and then he was weepy and then he was angry. And then a couple of weeks later I was talking to a mutual acquaintance and sure enough, I’m the muppet now.’
Rocco pulled a sympathetic face, no mean feat with a mouthful of custard cream. ‘Not in my book. Anyone else on the horizon?’
Cass laughed. ‘What is this, Mastermind? No, there is no one on the horizon at this particular moment. But to be honest, at the moment I’m that not fussed.’
Rocco looked horrified. ‘What do you mean not that fussed? You’re fit, you’re gorgeous, talented, great company…’ He grinned. ‘Your mother worries about you. How am I doing?’
‘So far, so good. Maybe I should get you to write my lonely hearts ad. The problem is, Neil’s a hard act to follow. I keep picking idiots.’
‘Is that all?’ said Rocco. ‘Realistically, if you kiss enough frogs one of them is bound to turn into a prince. It’s purely a numbers thing.’
Cass sighed. ‘To be honest, Rocco, I’m all frogged out.’
He looked pained. ‘How about coming to Amsterdam with us?’ he said. ‘There’s plenty of room. You’d be doing me a favour. Your mother can play at pirates with the beautifully buffed Hans and Bruno while we go shopping or do the markets and the museums. It’d be fun.’
Cass laughed. ‘With two poofs, my mum and her toy boy? I don’t think my ego could take it.’
‘In that case, how about coming round to supper instead? We could talk about this job in Cambridge—your mum’ll cook you something yummy. Nita would love to see you, and we’ll go through our list, see if we can’t fit you up with someone.’
Cass fixed him with a stare.
‘What?’ he protested. ‘I owe you one.’
Cass laughed. ‘My mother doesn’t count—and besides, I’ve been on some of your blind dates before. I don’t want anyone over sixty, and no one without teeth need apply.’
‘Harry was a good bloke.’
‘He was sixty-eight.’
‘He was kind.’
‘He had dentures that clicked.’
‘You can be so picky. He was loaded. What about Fabian?’
‘Anyone who left their wife the previous evening is right out. Okay?’
‘Be fair—we didn’t know about that.’
‘He cried all the way through dinner.’
Rocco shrugged. ‘Maybe it was your mother’s cooking—who knows? I promise you that this new man is gorgeous.’
‘You’ve already picked me one out?’
‘Your mother always says it’s good to have something tucked away for a rainy day—and besides, she’s worried about you.’
‘So what’s new?’
‘Well, the one she’s got in mind is bright, the right size, right age, requisite number of teeth. Say yes, you know your mum’s dying to take you on a guided tour of the new kitchen—did I tell you we’ve got to have the roof off the bloody house now? Anyway, she’ll cook and while she’s in there griddling and steaming away I’ll show off, get horribly drunk and make a complete fool of myself.