Page 97 of The World Outside My Window

‘Actually I’d love one, thanks. It’s been one of those days.’ Laura has been trying to cut back on her drinking over the last couple of weeks, but it’s going to take some time. This evening, she really needs a drink. She sits as Ben pours them a glass each, then he sits down beside her. She’s aware of his proximity, but she doesn’t move away.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were doing all of this? I could have helped you. I mean, I have done it all before.’

‘I know.’ She puffs out her cheeks and looks down at her hands. ‘The thing is…’ She meets his eye, his gaze steady. ‘The thing is I’m sick of being helpless, of always having to rely on other people.’

‘You’re not helpless, Lau.’ She tries not to shiver with pleasure at his use of the diminutive of her name. It feels so familiar. So intimate.

‘I am. I’ve always had someone to do things for me. Practical things, I mean. My parents, then Debs, then Jim. I—’ She stops. ‘I’ve never had to learn to look after myself. Not really. It makes me feel ridiculous.’

Laura’s hand is on the table next to her wine glass, and as Ben reaches for his own glass his skin brushes against hers. His hand stills beside hers, resting on the base of his glass, and she tries not to think about it moving across, just a tiny distance, hardly anything at all, and touching her. God, it’s been a long time since she could even contemplate a man touching her, even Jim. What is happening to her?

She looks up at Ben and his face is thoughtful. He reaches out with his other hand and lifts her chin. ‘Listen to me, Laura.’ His voice is low and serious. ‘You are the least ridiculous person I know.’

She hardly dares to speak, her breath caught in her throat, her heart fluttering against her ribcage. She gives a small nod instead.

‘You are so strong,’ he continues, and his hand moves from her chin to rest on her cheek. She wants to turn her face so her mouth rests against his palm, and leave a trail of kisses from his hand down his wrist—

He pulls his hand away suddenly and her skin where it has been feels cold. She searches his eyes, trying to work out what he’s thinking.

It’s odd, she thinks, that Ben was the first person she thought of when she needed help with this. Getting back into cooking felt like a huge step for her. It reminded her of the darkest days, of the night of the attack. It reminded her of being someone she wasn’t any more. But Ben was the one to encourage her.

‘Think of it like therapy,’ he said the first time she mentioned it. ‘It’s something you’ve always loved. I think you’d soon find your stride.’

So she’s started small, baking cakes, making shepherd’s pies and bolognese, a chilli, then some steak – a shared dinner with Ben that she didn’t like to think of as a romantic meal for two. Until Ben made a suggestion.

‘Why don’t you start a small catering business?’

She looked at him as if he’d gone mad. ‘I can’t do something like that.’

‘Why not?’ He shrugged. ‘You’re a chef, and you said yourself you need to start earning some money soon, now that you don’t have Jim’s wage coming in every month. It means you can work from home, at least at first.’ He held his hands out. ‘Seems like a no-brainer to me.’

Although she dismissed it at first, the seed was planted and over the weeks it grew, spreading its fronds and petals into every corner of her mind until she couldn’t ignore it any longer. Ben was right. Jim might have let her keep the house, but the condition was that he wouldn’t be giving her anything else on top of that. She really did need to start earning some of her own money, and soon.

She drags her mind back to the present, to her and Ben sitting at the table together, her paperwork spread out in front of them. She clears her throat and tries to ignore his distracting presence beside her and concentrate on what she came here to do.

‘So, will you help me?’ She can’t look at him, but stares down at the papers before her instead.

‘Of course.’

Over the next hour, they work through the forms together. As she gathers the paperwork afterwards, she can feel her head spinning – from the wine, from too much concentration, from Ben’s proximity? It’s hard to know, but she closes her eyes for a moment to focus. When she opens them again Ben is watching her. He’s moved closer and she feels the air vibrate between them.

‘Thank you,’ she whispers. Her vision is filled with him and all she wants, she realises, is to feel his touch. She pushes the thought away. She’s betraying Jim, she— She stops. There is no Jim. She owes him nothing any more.

She sits statue-still, hardly daring to breathe as the seconds tick by. Then slowly, inch by agonising inch, Ben starts to move closer. He watches her, a question in his eyes–is this okay?– and she nods imperceptibly. For the first time since the attack, she wants to be touched. She almost needs it. Her breath hitches as his lips brush hers oh-so-softly, and she shudders with desire. Then their mouths are against each other’s, his tongue seeking hers. He presses his hand to the back of her head, gently, and she rests hers on his thigh, and it feels as though they’ve always meant to be together. She no longer feels scared of being wanted.

The phone peals out and they leap apart, Laura’s heart thrumming, Ben’s face flaming.

‘I—’ Ben starts.

‘You—’ Laura says.

The sound of the ringing phone fills the room. The moment is broken and as Laura catches Ben’s eye she starts to laugh, the sound rising up from her belly, through her windpipe and bursting out into the air. It rips through the room as the ringing stops, and Ben looks at her, surprised. Then he starts laughing too, at the absurdity, the released tension, the desire – all of it comes rushing out at once.

Slowly, the laughter starts to subside, and they sit, their hands still touching, Laura’s lips burning.

‘Well, that broke the mood,’ Laura says.

‘It did.’ Ben looks suddenly serious.

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