Page 34 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
I’m still so impressed by his transformation that I barely react at first when my dad swigs down the last of his pint and narrows his eyes slightly. He rubs his chin, though, which is often a sign of impending trouble. That’s usually the way he prepares to say something awful. Something awful that he will then justify by shrugging and saying ‘Well, I’m just telling it like it is!’ He seems to think this excuses every horrible thing thatcomes out of his mouth, and that it somehow makes him some kind of folk hero fighting for the cause of truth and justice, rather than just a twat.
‘Aidan,’ my dad says, his voice taking on that ‘everyone, listen to me’ tone that automatically puts my back up. ‘It’s a shame you didn’t meet our Sarah ten years ago, son. She should have popped out a couple of babies like Sally did, given us some more grandkids. Suppose she’s probably too old now, so no chance of that.’
There is a stunned silence as he speaks, as he ‘tells it like it is’. Why he felt the need to say that, to embarrass me, I will never know. He probably doesn’t know himself, other than he likes to be the focus of everybody’s attention. Whether that’s for negative or positive reasons seems to be irrelevant to him.
Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ booms incongruously in the background, and even my mum looks taken aback. She steps away from him, as though trying to distance herself from the comment, and Ollie stares at his shoes. Aidan, to give him credit, is the first to recover. Maybe it’s because he didn’t grow up in my dad’s shadow, and therefore isn’t as anxious about him as we are.
I feel his hand tighten around mine, and he tugs me very slightly closer, so we are just about touching. I’m used to taking crap like this from my dad, but I have to admit it’s nice to not feel alone for once.
‘Your daughter is an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman, Mr Wallis,’ he says, his voice firm but even. I can tell he’s angry, but I doubt any of the others could. ‘She’s built a career from her sheer talent, she works incredibly hard, and she makes time to be a good friend, sister and aunt. Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever met such an amazing lady. I don’t care about her age, and I don’t want children– there are already plenty of those in the world, many of them in need. I’d also point out that there is a lotmore to Sarah– to all women– than simply producing babies. They weren’t put on this planet just to act as breeding mares. Now, could I get you another drink, sir?’
My dad splutters a little, completely out of his comfort zone at somebody daring to disagree with him.
‘Hear hear!’ says Lucy, clapping her hands. ‘Auntie Sarah, he’s not just hot, he’s a feminist!’
Everyone apart from my father laughs at this, and I feel a sliver of tension creep into my jaw. Is this the point where Dad decides to try and fight his way out of a corner again? I can tell Sally is worrying about the same thing. Aidan stands a little taller, and uses those extra inches to look even more capable. He is a lot younger, a lot fitter, and would never hurt a man in his seventies. But my dad doesn’t know that. I see the cogs turn in his brain. Offering him a drink was genius; it gives Dad an out and allows him to save face.
‘Yeah, go on then,’ my dad says, obviously deciding to take it. ‘I’ll have another pint, thanks pal. Eight quid, mind!’
‘That’s okay,’ Aidan says, smiling. ‘I can afford it.’
‘The bar isfree!’ Sally replies, rolling her eyes in exasperation. It makes us all laugh again, and the moment of danger passes. For now at least.
Aidan orders us all drinks, and passes them around. I watch him with wonder, surprised yet again by another layer being revealed. When he’s done, he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in next to him, dropping a sweet kiss on the bare skin of my shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper, as everyone else chats among themselves. ‘Nobody has ever stood up for me like that before.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he whispers back. ‘I’ve dealt with a lot of assholes in my life. Your dad doesn’t even make the top ten. And by the way, I meant what I said earlier. You do look stunning.’
Chapter Thirteen
The party is a huge success, and both the girls have a blast. The dance floor is packed all night, with the DJ mixing up modern songs I’ve never heard in my life with classics for the whole group. Aidan further impresses with some slinky moves, as well as some very energetic jumping to One Direction’s ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. Even Libby giggles around him, coming out of her shell in a way that warms my heart. He leads us in a line dance to ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ that should be uncool, but all of the teenagers absolutely love.
The last song of the night is ‘Wicked Game’ by Chris Isaak, which is surprisingly popular with the younger crowd as well as the oldies. ‘It was inFriends,’ Libby tells me– which is also surprisingly popular with the younger crowd.
As the song starts, Aidan leads me onto the dance floor and holds me in his arms, effortlessly guiding me in a slow and sensual shuffle that I lose myself in a little too easily. Irest my cheek against his chest, inhaling his cologne, and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s so tall he makes me feel dainty, even in my heels, and I let myself enjoy the moment.
‘Thanks for this,’ I say, as we swirl. ‘It’s… Well, you were perfect. Apart from being late.’
I feel his chest rise and fall in laughter. ‘I wasn’t late. I was waiting until the time was right. The right amount of people, the right song… maximum impact.’
I look up at him, grinning in surprise. ‘What? You were lurking outside? And “Moves Like Jagger” was the song that said “Go, go, go!” to you?’
He smirks and replies: ‘What can I say? I’m a showboater– or at least I used to be. I guess I kind of missed it. The suit, the power plays. Making beautiful women swoon with my amazing kisses.’
‘You make yourself sound like James Bond! And I didn’t swoon.’
He swoops me backwards in an unexpected dip, then easily brings me back up. My heart is in my throat as I thud slightly against his body.
‘You would have done,’ he says, ‘if I hadn’t been holding you so tight.’
I’d like to argue, but we’d both know I was lying. That kiss was spectacular. ‘Smug doesn’t look so good on you, Mr Bond,’ I settle for saying. I’m lying again. It all looks good on him. I’m so unsure of everything right now. I’m dressed up, on a dance floor, in the arms of a man who is sixteen years my junior, in front of my whole family. Even more amazingly, I just don’t care.
The song is drawing to a close, and I know the night is at its end. That whatever magic spell has been cast will sadly be broken. I feel a sudden and wholehearted kinship with Cinderella.
‘This reminds me of clubbing when I was younger,’ he says, as the room gets brighter. ‘When the lights came up and you finally saw who you were dancing with, you know?’
‘Not really. I wasn’t a clubbing kind of girl. I was more of a “going to the library” kind of girl.’
