Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [89]
“Yes,” said Leonie. She turned to Matthew. “I’ve done a few sketches for you, Matthew. Remember? You said that you might do something with this place?”
Matthew frowned. “Yes, well, I hadn’t really decided. Not definitely.”
“They’re just sketches,” said Leonie. “And I’ve made a card model. It gives you an idea of how things might feel.”
Matthew looked at Pat. It was, she thought, a mute plea for help. “Is there anything wrong with this flat?” she said. “It seems pretty nice to me.”
Leonie, who had addressed her remarks to Matthew, now A Person from Porlock 185
turned to Pat. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it,” she said.
“But we can make much more of things, you know. Just about anywhere can be improved if you take a hard look at it. Made more user-friendly, if you see what I mean.”
“But this isn’t meant to be user-friendly,” said Pat, gesturing towards the hall. “This is Georgian. This is what it’s meant to be like.”
Leonie smiled. “We don’t have to live in museums,” she said.
“That’s the trouble with this town. It’s a museum.”
“Maybe you could show me the sketches,” Matthew interrupted. “Then we could see.”
Leonie reached into the large black folder that she had brought with her. “Right,” she said. “Here we are.” She took out a large piece of paper and unfolded it. “Here’s something.”
They stared at the neatly-traced sketch, drawn on draughtsman’s paper.
“Here’s the hall,” said Leonie, pointing to the sketch. “That’s the welcoming space. At the moment, you come in and what do you see? Nothing. The hall leads nowhere.”
“But is a hall meant to lead somewhere?” asked Matthew.
“Well, what else should it do?” asked Leonie. “You don’t live in it, do you? Unused space.” She tapped the paper. “You’ll see that I suggest that we take down this wall here, which allows the hall to flow into this room here, to absorb it. You get a much better sense of being drawn into the living space, you see. The spaces will talk to one another.”
Pat stared at the sketch. It was a short while before she established the orientation of the plan, but once she had done that she realised that the room which was being absorbed into the hall was her own. “My room,” she said quietly.
“What was that?” asked Leonie.
“I said, my room,” Pat replied.
Leonie looked to Matthew for an explanation.
“Pat’s staying with me,” he explained. “For the time being.”
Leonie took her hands away from the plans. “I see.” She looked at Pat in a curious way. There was something about her look which made the younger girl feel unsettled. It was not an 186 An Invitation to Dinner
unfriendly look, but it was not uncomplicated. The best word to describe it, she thought, was bemused.
“These are just ideas,” said Leonie after a few moments. 60. An Invitation to Dinner
Feeling uncomfortable sitting in the kitchen with Matthew and Leonie, Pat retreated to her room with the excuse that she had more unpacking to do. Leonie smiled at her as she left, but it was a puzzling smile, and she found it hard to interpret.
“So,” said Leonie after Pat had left. “So, Matthew, who’s our young friend?”
Matthew blushed. “She works for me,” he muttered. “In the gallery.”
Leonie raised an eyebrow. “And the room goes with the job?”
Matthew did not reply immediately. He had not expected Leonie’s visit and now he found himself resenting her arriving without warning. He had met her only once before, on that occasion when he had invited her back to India Street for a pizza. They had got on reasonably well on that occasion and had made a vague agreement to meet again. Telephone numbers had been exchanged, but he had not called her, and she had not called him. He had toyed with the idea of doing so once or twice, but had decided against it. He was just not sure that he liked her. Perhaps he did; perhaps not.
They had talked on that occasion about possible renovations to his flat, but he had not encouraged her in any way. And now here she was, with a set of unasked-for drawings, expounding about rooms talking to one another and fluid spaces. What business