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“Call me Matt.” He smiles and then lifts his right shoulder in a shrug. “Mum’s spent the last eight weeks in Germany. She’s very ill, so I’m going there to help her with her travels home.” He takes another sip of his coffee and I can’t stop thinking he’s trying hard to avoid eye contact.
“I had a few bad weeks at work so I’m heading over early,” he explains.
Still no eye contact. This is too deep for me and I feel awkward. Four hours is by far not enough to talk emotional stuff already.
He leans back and his handsome smile is back. “Sorry about that.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. Wanna talk about it?” I ask, remembering mum’s words about good manners, but deep down inside I hope he doesn’t.
Matt shakes his head. “Na, not really. After all, I wouldn’t like to ruin your holiday. Tell me about your grandma’s diary.”
There’s a bit of excitement at the thought of the diary. “I found it amongst my mother’s belonging. I never knew my grandma. I have some vague memories of talking to her on the phone, but in those days, it cost half a car to call someone in Germany. She died when I was ten. It was a big funeral back then and a bit overwhelming meeting everyone in Mum’s family.”