Page 64 of Secrets at the Little Music Shop

A wicked grin. ‘You reckon?’

And, oh, there was a good deal more to him than that. I uncovered him, inch by inch, as he drew my jeans down over my hips, until we both stood naked.

He looked me in the eyes, drew me down to the floor. ‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes. Very, very okay.’

But he didn’t immediately enter me. Restrained and gentle, he teased me with his mouth, moving from nipple to bellybutton and then lower. I was almost exploding with heat.

‘Christ, Ben.’ I was gasping, couldn’t get enough air, enough words, enough . . . enough. A riotous shudder broke through me, a sensation of absolute rightness and I whispered his name. Too quietly to hear, but he was watching my face, saw my lips move and then with a small smile he was in me.

There was no pain, no forcing, just delicious delightful friction and wetness and the dust balling under my back as Ben moved, so, so gently at first, until he was sure. Then he finally gave it all he had and I was surprised again by the bursting feelings tearing through me, his sudden whisper of ‘Oh God,’ and then the feeling that my thighs had just exploded as he shook, holding me, eyes on mine so it felt as though he was inside my head.

We lay back on the dust-covered floor, breathing fast. Where our bodies were sticky with sweat little bunches of grey fluff collected, Ben’s shoulders were covered. I raised myself up on an elbow and looked at him. Naked he was a lot better looking, long and lean with muscles in all the right places, lightly covered in dark hair which whirled from between his nipples, swept past a below-navel-level mole to become an eyebrow-thin line down his body to his groin. He looked strong. He looked gorgeous.

He had his eyes closed, dark lashes netted on his cheeks like an image of Rock God perfection. I knew it was pointless speaking until he opened his eyes so I lay back, resting against his shoulder and breathing in the scent of sex and closed rooms. My thighs kept trembling with the aftermath of the explosions which had racked through me, feelings and sensations I’d never known existed.

‘You all right?’ Ben finally opened one eye and regarded me slightly blearily.

‘That was—’ I stopped. Couldn’t think of the words. ‘But I guess you’ve had plenty of practice, all those groupies and everything.’

His fingers played a refrain against my ribcage. ‘You’re missing the basic point of groupies, my love. There to please me, not the other way round.’

‘Chauvinist.’

‘Look. I’ve had my cock sucked seven ways to Christmas but nothing compares to what we just did. That, my dear Jemima, was making love, the way it should be.’ He slowly sat up and leaned his back against the wall. ‘You were expecting me to hurt you, weren’t you? I felt you flinch.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Ben burst out laughing. ‘Sorry? Jem, it’s not your fault.’ And then the laughter died and he shook his head, reaching out his arms to encompass me. ‘This is now, Jemima. For both of us. Forget what was, we make ourselves now.’

As I lay against his chest and felt his breathing slow, dropping into sleep, I wondered if it could really be that easy.

* * *

15th June

I love her. Christ, it feels like . . . I’m just totally . . .

This feeling, it’s like a brain-wipe. Like a reset button putting me back to who I was before, with this fantastic, wonderful, gorgeous babe, who wants me for what I am now, not what I used to be. And when I’m lying holding her, nothing that went before matters. Wouldn’t have it back as a gift. I never liked myself then. I only realise it now, now that Jem knows the core me, the real me, that what I was then was some kind of fake. All the posturing and the drugs, that was me trying to make myself into something I liked. With a head full of coke and E I could be anyone, anything. And that’s just what I was. Anyone.

When Dad died I felt I had to look after Mum and Emmie, had to be someone, and I had the band and they only had each other; it was all crazy stupid and I reckon I rebuilt myself into someone that could cope. Which is what Jemima did. She turned herself into something that was hard enough to take what was happening, but only on the outside. Inside, she was like me, hiding and scared. Lost.

And now we’re found. I’m found. Willow Down is going on without me and I don’t mind. Zafe will make a fine lead. I’ve got Jem and I will do anything in my power to make her happy. Because she’s saved me in some way I can’t even start to define.

I’m not saying it’s all over. Not yet. She looks at me sometimes as though she thinks I’m going to blow it all. I don’t think she knows that she’s the one with all the power, that she could destroy me, simply by leaving. I’m breathless with the thought that she might, one day, just pack and leave, even while I know I have to give her that freedom. Otherwise I’ve just caged her, haven’t I? And what kind of love would it be, that only came from inside a box?

I want to keep her, but I don’t want to tie her. I need her to be able to run, but not to want to. I need her to know that. I need her to feel safe with me. Fuck it, I just need her.

* * *

Saskia tapped her toe on the threadbare carpet. ‘I’m positive I told you I’d be here to pick up the cards today.’ She turned a little circle with an expression which made it look as though her upper lip was attached to the ceiling by invisible wires. ‘And I can’t believe you’re letting me down.’ The wires tightened and the lip curled a little more.

Rosie deftly buttoned Harry back into his rompers. ‘Honestly, Saskia. You never said anything about picking them up. I thought I had until next week.’ She lifted Harry. ‘Anyway I couldn’t have done them that fast, you must know that.’

‘Hmmm.’ Saskia tapped a nail against a tooth. There was an echo of falseness from both. ‘It may be that I have to rethink our contract, Rosie. If you’re going to do this sort of thing.’

‘What sort of thing?’ I waded in on Rosie’s behalf. ‘Looking after her son? Doing housework? It’s not like she’s off clubbing all hours, is it? What are you trying to do, confine her to the house?’

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