Love to Hate You: Ask Vicky...

Chapter Nineteen - Time Out

'Mattie?' Rafe called, as he stepped inside their apartment. It was eerily quiet; far too quiet for their son to be in residence. Rafe Paxton wasn't the sort of man to call someone's name in futility. He knew when it was a lost cause, and so, after one unanswered call, he let out a weary sigh and resigned himself to the fact that wife and son were not at home. He briefly wondered if she'd have gone to Vicky's but he quickly dismissed that idea, because Vicky hadn't left work early, and neither would Mattie want to make her feel guilty about her new promotion.

Pulling out his phone, he went to call his wife, when he spied a folded note from her on the kitchen counter. Picking it up, he read it and let out a groan of frustration.

"Gone to your mum's. Planning on staying the rest of the week. Please don't follow me down there. I need a bit of space. Mattie."

Instantly, Rafe's phone was pressed to his ear.

'Mum,' he said, 'is Mattie there?'

'Yes,' she sighed, 'and she's told me what happened. Whatever possessed you to -' But Rafe cut her short.

'Let me speak to her,' he demanded.

'She doesn't want to talk to you right now.'

'Mum!' Rafe growled.

'I can't make her speak to you,' Ramona said gently; well-accustomed to her son's demanding ways.

'Then put me on loud-speaker. I assume you're in the same room?' With a reluctant exhalation, Ramona followed her son's instructions, and the moment he heard the muffle of background noise amplified, he said, 'You drove down to Guilford when you were upset? With Sebastian in the car?' He shook his head in horror. 'You could have got yourself killed.'

'Your mother came to pick us up, you stupid twat!' Mattie told him, in a scathing tone of voice.

'Small mercies,' he said, his body sagging with relief, because he didn't mean to be critical of his wife, but she truly was an appallingly bad driver. 'Thank you,' Rafe sighed. 'For not driving all that way. And you, Mum, for keeping them safe.'

'I'm not sure your preoccupation with road safety is helping matters, Raffey,' Ramona rather astutely pointed out. She couldn't share her son's concerns about Mattie's driving, as she'd been fortunate enough not to have had to risk her life by sharing a car with her daughter-in-law behind the wheel.

'No doubt,' Rafe agreed, 'but I was worried when I saw her note. I was picturing a smashed-in windscreen; her body lying across the bonnet of the car. Sebastian could have -'

'Again,' Ramona put in, 'I'd remind you that you're on loud-speaker and you might want to keep your visions to yourself.'

'I've made you some paper flowers, Mattie,' Rafe said; his tone speculative, as though the origami could make up for the firing and the insult to his wife's driving. 'And I love you. More than ever; more than anything in the world.'

'You've got a funny way of showing it,' Mattie accused, as Sebastian piped up in the background, saying "Dada. Dada. Dada up." 'No, Sebastian,' Mattie shushed. 'Daddy can't pick you up. Daddy's at home. We're with Grammy. Phone,' she explained. 'He's just talking on the telephone.'

'Hello, Sebastian,' Rafe said, his voice soft and cooing. 'You be a good boy for Mummy, okay?'

'Oh, you know I'll take him the moment he gets grizzly,' Ramona shushed. 'I wouldn't leave poor Mattie to deal with a grumpy baby on top of this mess you've made. Why ever did you do this, Raffey?'