Page 65 of The Girl You Left Behind
A residual shudder escapes her.
“Are you okay?”
“Sorry. Yes. It’s... it’s been a long time.”
His arms tighten around her, a silent answer. Another silence.
“Are you cold?”
She steadies her breathing before she answers. “Freezing.”
He lifts her down and reaches for his shirt on the floor, wrapping it around her slowly. They gaze at each other in the near dark.
“Well... that was...” She wants to say something witty, carefree. But she can’t speak. She is afraid to let go of him, as if only he is anchoring her to the earth.
The real world is encroaching. She is aware of the sound of the traffic downstairs, somehow too loud, the feel of the cold limestone floor under her bare foot. She seems to have lost a shoe. “I think we left the front door open,” she says, glancing down the corridor.
“Um... forget the door. Did you know that your roof is missing?”
She glances up. She cannot remember opening it. She must have hit the button accidentally as they fell into the kitchen. Autumnal air sinks around them, raising goose bumps across her bare skin, as if it, too, had only just realized what had happened. Mo’s black sweater hangs over the back of a chair, like the open wings of a settling vulture.
“Hold on,” she says. She pads across the kitchen and presses the button, listening to the hum as the roof closes over. Paul stares up at the oversized skylight, then back down at her, and then he turns slowly, 360 degrees, as his eyes adjust to the dim light, taking in his surroundings. “Well, this... It’s not what I was expecting.”
“Why? What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.... The whole thing about your council tax...” He glances back up at the open ceiling. “Some chaotic little place. Somewhere like mine. This is...”
“David’s house. He built it.”
His expression flickers.
“Oh. Too much?”
“No.” Paul peers around into the living room and blows out his cheeks. “You’re allowed. He... uh... sounds like quite a guy.”
She pours them both a glass of water, tries not to feel self-conscious as they dress. They look at each other and half laugh, suddenly perversely shy in clothes.
“So... what happens now? You need some space?” He adds, “I have to warn you—if you want me to leave I may need to wait until my legs stop shaking.”
She looks at Paul McCafferty, at his kind eyes, at the shape of him, already familiar to her very bones. She does not want him to leave. She wants to lie down beside him, his arms around her, her head nestled into his chest. She wants to wake without the instant, terrible urge to run away from her own thoughts. It is time to live in the present. She is more than the girl David left behind.
She does not turn on the light. She reaches for Paul’s hand and leads him through the dark house, up the stairs, and to her bed.
•••
They doze. The hours are a glorious, hazy miasma of tangled limbs and murmured voices. She has forgotten the utter joy of being wrapped around a body you can’t leave alone. She feels as if she has been recharged, as if she occupies a new space in the atmosphere.
It is 6:00A.M.when the cold electric spark of dawn finally begins to leach into the room.
“This place is amazing,” he murmurs, gazing out through the window. Their legs are entwined, his kisses imprinted all over her skin. She feels drugged with happiness.
“It is. I can’t really afford to stay here, though.” She peers at him through the half dark. “I’m in a bit of a mess, financially. I’ve been told I should sell.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“It feels... like a betrayal.”
“Well, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave,” he says. “It’s beautiful. So quiet.” He looks up again. “Wow. Just to be able to peel your roof off whenever you feel like it...”
