‘Hi,’ she replied quietly. She needed to remember to breathe.
‘God, I’ve missed you,’ Angie said, sinking her face into his neck, apparently oblivious to the undercurrent that was passing between Maggie and Tiger. ‘Come and have a cup of tea and tell me everything. And no missing anything out. I want to hear all of it!’
She hopped down and then took his hand and pulled him past Maggie’s door and into the heart of the house, leaving her standing there. She thought about following them, but this was so clearly Angie’s moment that she decided against it. There would be plenty of time to catch up later.
She went back to her desk and settled down, but she knew she would struggle to refocus her attention on her books. That smile, that private moment that they had just shared. Whatever there was between the two of them, it was clearly unfinished business.
12
Angie and Tiger chatted continuously until dinnertime. Maggie could hear the low rumble of voices punctuated by peals of laughter coming through the wall into her room. She would have loved to saunter into the sitting room and join in, but she didn’t. It wasn’t that she felt totally excluded, although that was part of it; it was more that this was clearly a precious time for Angie, and somehow, despite the tension that there still was between the two of them, Maggie didn’t wish Angie any ill. She wanted her to enjoy the reunion without anyone getting in the way.
It was clear that Tiger was special to her, that there was a deep bond between them. The separate rooms thing had been a surprise to start with, but actually, the way the pair of them interacted with one another put Maggie more in mind of siblings than lovers. Nothing she had seen had ever led her to a different conclusion, although this might have been wishful thinking on her part.
Then again, she would swear that whatever she had felt between herself and Tiger before was still there. He’d only spoken two words to her, but she knew. More could develop there, if she wanted it to.
But did she? That was the question. Tiger was only passing through. He was like a cowboy in one of those black and white films that her father enjoyed so much, blowing into town and then blowing back out again. And she still couldn’t dismiss the way he had left her standing there in the corridor that time. She had decided then that he was a player, and nothing had happened to change her mind about that. Tiger was definitely a girl-in-every-port kind of bloke, and heartache no doubt followed him around like a shadow. Was there really any point getting herself in a lather about him when he had all this going against him?
On the other hand, what was the point of life if you didn’t get yourself into the occasional lather?
Maggie changed her top, freshening her deodorant as she did so, pulled a comb through her hair and added a flick of dark mascara to her eyelashes. Casual insouciance, that was what she was shooting for and, she thought as she looked at herself in the cracked mirror, she had hit her target.
In the sitting room, Angie and Tiger were sprawled on the sofas, taking up one apiece. Leon was in the tiny kitchen chopping veg for his chilli and joining in with their conversation, asking questions where appropriate. Maggie was suddenly sorry that she had spent so long in her room. If she had known that Leon was here as well, she would have emerged sooner. Despite her confused feelings about Tiger, she was genuinely interested in what he had been up to since they had last seen him.
But it appeared she had missed all that. The three of them were now talking about who was the prettiest of Charlie’s Angels. The boys seemed to be plumping for Farrah Fawcett’s character, Jill, which was so disappointingly predictable. Boys always seemed to fall for that blonde hair/blue eyes thing.
‘Kelly was definitely the best-looking,’ Angie said. ‘With those cheekbones, and all that shiny dark hair. In fact,’ she said, turning to look at Maggie, ‘you have a look of her, Mags.’
They all turned to look at her as if to confirm or deny Angie’s statement.
Maggie pushed her hair away from her face self-consciously. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ she said modestly.
‘Actually, you do look quite like her,’ said Leon. ‘From what I can remember, anyway. It’s been a while.’
‘Imprinted on a teenage boy’s memory forever, that show,’ said Tiger, his eyes shining mischievously. ‘That and The Six Million Dollar Man. When I wasn’t having impure thoughts about Farrah, I was trying to run really fast and see round corners.’
They all laughed, and Tiger took his legs down from the sofa so that Maggie had somewhere to sit. She lowered herself on to the cushions carefully, making sure that no part of her touched him, but then as soon as she was seated, he swung his legs back up and flopped them down in her lap. She tensed and then relaxed into their new proximity. No one else seemed to have noticed.