Page 12 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
‘Here he comes!’ says Laura, sounding insanely excited as she points through the window. I want to look away, or go to the loo instead, but something about the mood compels me to follow suit. Maybe it’s all the talk of this man’s alleged supernatural qualities, because I’m a sucker for even a hint of a mystery. Whatever the reason, I join in, staring out of the window.
I glance around and bite back the laughter. It is an amusing sight: a group of grown women, cups and glasses halfway to their lips, looks of anticipation on their faces as they wait. Laura in particular looks like she might be about to spontaneously combust.
I turn back to the window, and see what all the fuss is about. Oh. Wow. My goodness. I blink a few times, and work hard at not audibly sighing. That would be embarrassing after myvaguely self-righteous thoughts of just a few seconds ago. He is… Well, he is a work of art, to put it simply. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair. Powerful legs in action as he runs, his bare chest and pumping arms displaying the kind of physique you generally only get to see on television. He is eating up the distance, and all of our heads turn to follow him as he reaches the path that leads from the bay.
‘Now he goes up into the village,’ Laura says, her voice full of wonder. ‘You and Becca could actually sit in your living rooms and watch this, you lucky cows!’
I laugh out loud, and can’t imagine it: me sitting behind the net curtains, peering out and waiting for this man-God to jog past as the highlight of my day. It would be too humiliating. But maybe the upstairs window could work…
‘Oh my God!’ she says, jumping up to her feet in a flurry of discarded cake crumbs and excitement. ‘He’s stopped! He’s not going into the village… He’s coming here!’
She leaps away from the window and runs her hands through her curly hair, her face bright red. The other ladies all follow suit, dashing back to the original table. I stare through the glass and see that she is right: after a moment of hesitation, he is turning towards the café steps.
‘Quick!’ Auburn says, tugging at my shoulder. ‘Come over here or it’ll look like you were perving at him through the window!’
‘Yes, Sarah,’ Zoe adds, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘Don’t you know it’s wrong to objectify men like that? Disgusting attitude!’
I’m still scurrying over to the other table when he appears in the doorway. He stands there, slightly out of breath, covered in a light sheen of sweat, sunlight cascading over his muscular shoulders.
‘It’s like a gift from God…’ Laura mutters, as she waves at him. He smiles, and it is a stone-cold killer of a smile. There is a collective swoon, as he pulls the door open.
‘Are you closed?’ he asks, pointing at the sign. ‘It says you are, but then I noticed the place was full. The windows were steaming up a bit.’
Yes, I think, biting my lip to keep the laughter back, that would be because of the sheer amount of lust flying around. Or, to be more polite, appreciation.
‘No, no, we’re never really closed!’ Laura says, ushering him inside. Close up, he is even more jaw-dropping– a wide mouth, defined cheekbones, thick, slightly long hair. He has a top tied around his waist, and he tugs it back on over his head. Laura looks distinctly disappointed.
Luna yaps and then runs over to him. He immediately crouches down to give her a tummy tickle, and she rolls around in ecstasy.
‘That’s Luna,’ Laura says, ‘and I’m Laura. Let me introduce you to everyone…’
She goes around the table giving our names, and naturally enough when she gets to me, I feel my face blazing up.Stop it, I tell myself.There’s no need to be embarrassed. He can’t read your mind.Besides, in my experience, middle-aged women are completely invisible to young men anyway– we simply do not exist in their universe. Their eyes skim over us on the way to something more appealing and relevant. He is no older than his mid-thirties, possibly even younger than that.
His eyes, a really quite dazzling shade of green, linger on mine for a moment as we are introduced. I wait for him to skim past me, as expected, but he doesn’t. A small smile plays on his lips, and for a second I worry that he actually can read my mind. Or that he’s a hypnotist. Shit, what if he’s a hypnotist? What ifwe all end up squawking like chickens every time somebody says the word ‘marshmallow’ or something?
‘Ladies,’ he says, giving us a small bow, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Aidan. I run past here most days.’
‘Do you really, love?’ says Cherie, keeping an admirably straight face. ‘Well, isn’t that nice! Our door is always open. Unless it’s closed, and that usually means we’re in the pub. Can we offer you some cake, or coffee, or?—’
‘Anything at all!’ finishes Laura, grinning up at him. ‘You’re living in the old Hazelwell place, out near Eggardon Hill, aren’t you?’
‘I am. It’s beautiful. My own little patch of paradise. I’m from New York originally, and this is very different. Exactly what I needed.’
You can hear the States in his voice, but also a hint of British. At a guess he’s someone who moved around as a child.
‘Have you had any spooky experiences?’ Auburn asks. She glances at me and adds: ‘Eggardon Hill is the stuff of legends. Iron Age hillfort. Personally, I love it, but there are all kinds of stories. Hauntings. Ghouls. Cars mysteriously breaking down.’
I’m intrigued and vow to go and explore as soon as I can. I love things like that, and find ancient sites fascinating. I can look at stone circles all day long, and my mind conjures up all kinds of wonderful stories to go with them. My own mind is often a bit like my own Netflix. The upside of that is that it’s free; the downside is that I can’t switch it off, and the curse of having a vivid imagination is that you can imagine the bad just as easily as the good.
Before I was truly successful as a writer, I bought a ticket for the National Lottery. I lay in bed that night and fantasised about my new life as a millionaire, and it started well– financial security, freedom, world travel, multiple donations to animal sanctuaries– but within a few minutes, somehow my brain hadtaken me on a darker path– getting kidnapped, being pursued by con men, dying alone and scared in my Mayfair mansion. It was quite the ride.
‘Nothing spooky so far,’ he says, grinning. ‘Other than the most supernaturally beautiful sunsets. Never seen anything quite like it. Anyway, I can’t stay today. Just wanted to show my face. Next time, I’ll come in with proper clothes on, and join you for a coffee. Zoe, Auburn, Cherie, Laura, Becca, Max, Sarah– I hope to see you all again soon.’
I can’t believe he remembered all of our names, and from the way he looks at us all individually as he speaks, he’s even matched them to the right people. Maybe there actually is something Halloween-y about him, like Cherie says. He definitely looks the part, with his piercing green eyes and all that muscle. Like he could be a weretiger or something…
He looks at me for a few more moments, and I start to wonder if I have cake smeared on my face.
‘Sarah’s new here too,’ Laura pipes up, as he turns and walks towards the door. ‘You should get together. Swap notes.’
