Page 22 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
I have a moment where I feel borderline ashamed, because I could actually be his mother. He’s not a child, not by any means, but still… it feels slightly forbidden. He might be a gorgeous guy with an old soul, but he’s still too young for me.
I did enjoy my evening with him, though, and found him to be interesting company– certainly better company than the person I’d spent the last few days with, i.e. myself. He told me more about his family, or at least the part of it he likes, and he is a well-travelled and cultured guy beneath the slightly wild appearance. ‘I’ll be happy if I never wear a suit again,’ he told me. ‘In fact I’d probably walk around naked all the time if the weather allowed. I was dressed up in tuxedos and paraded around at parties from the age of two, and it sucked.’
I ignored the nakedness reference, but was fascinated by the childhood and family life he described. Mine was so very, very ordinary: my dad was a school caretaker throughout my childhood, as well as a borderline alcoholic and a bully; my mum worked nights behind the tills in a twenty-four-hour petrol station. We lived in a small three-bedroomed semi in Billericay, and a weekend in Margate was considered an adventure. Everytwo years we’d go to Benidorm, where my abiding memory is of sunburn, scuttling around to find shade and refusing to wear a bikini because I was too shy. My mum and dad would start their day with a full English and then he would drink himself into oblivion. There’s nothing wrong with any of that– Sally always had a whale of a time making friends and snogging boys– but for me it was torture.
I’ve travelled a lot as an adult, at times during the year when the sun was less likely to see me end up with third degree burns, and have seen many amazing and beautiful places, but the way Aidan talks, he is very much a citizen of the world rather than an occasional tourist. All of which makes it astonishing that he lives here, in this tiny patch of sleepy countryside. It’s like finding an exotic butterfly in a world of moths, or a peacock in a flock of pigeons.
Despite his background, he is down-to-earth, easy-going, and surprisingly open. It was only when he mentioned his father that he clammed up. Something bad has gone on there, without a doubt. I try not to let my imagination fill in the gaps, which is difficult for me. A bit of an occupational hazard really.
I spend a couple of hours working, checking over the edits I’ve recently done, and when I’m satisfied, I send them back over to my editor. She will take a while going through them, and until then, I’m kind of at a loose end. I already have a few ideas for my next book, but I don’t want to throw myself into it just yet. Maybe I deserve a few days off. I could sort the house out properly, do some more exploring, even pursue that ever-elusive goal– to just relax.
Before I can decide, there’s a knock on the door, and I open it cautiously. I really should get a spyhole installed. No chance of peeking through the curtains without the intruder spotting me. Outside, I find my near-neighbour, Edie May. The one who is almost a hundred and lives with a ghost fiancé, apparently. Shereally is very small, and her tiny face looks up at me like a pale, smiling raisin.
‘I come bearing exciting news!’ she announces, as I invite her inside. Even I don’t feel threatened by Edie, although that could of course be a terrible mistake. She would, after all, be the perfect assassin. Nobody would ever suspect her.
Once safely in the living room, she looks around as though studying for signs of change, and nods approvingly. ‘Nice to see somebody living here properly. It was a rental for a long time, and once Katie and her nippers moved out, nobody stayed for more than a few nights. It was one of those… what do you call ’em? Bear D&Ds?’
‘Airbnb?’ I suggest.
‘If you say so, dear. Anyway. Now we’ve got you for keeps, and that’s a marvellous thing. You must pop in for tea. I’m only a few doors down. But today, I have an invitation for you…’
She grandly passes over a silver envelope, and looks at me expectantly while I open it. It’s printed on thick silver card embossed with purple velvet in a fleur-de-lys design. I run my fingers over it. It reminds of old-fashioned flock wallpaper. On the back, I see that my presence is requested at Briarwood House for a Grand Halloween Ball. The dress code is ‘Supernaturally Stylish and Freakishly Formal’.
‘I’m chairing the organising committee,’ Edie tells me proudly. ‘On account of I’m almost dead, and therefore very in touch with the other side.’
I stay silent, scared of responding in a way that might be offensive. She gives me a cheeky wink and adds: ‘To be honest, all I do is boss the others around a bit and tell them made-up scary stories about the place. So, now you can sort your costume out, and there’s a number on there for our WhatsApp group if you want to join. Now I just need to get one of these to that newyoung chap out by Eggardon, the one who’s got them all in a tizzy…’
She looks at me speculatively, eyebrows raised. Is she setting me up, I wonder? Does she somehow know I was out with him last night? Can she dream-walk?
‘Aidan?’ I ask.
‘The very same! No idea what his surname is though, do you?’
‘I… Uh, I think it’s Calloway?’ I know it is, because he told me so last night. Thus allowing me to look up his family on Google, and invade yet another person’s privacy in a totally hypocritical way. I’m not going to feel too bad about it; I’m sure he’s done the same with me, and I’ve no doubt that Laura and the others will have done too. It’s natural to be curious.
The Calloways, it turns out, have been one of the most influential families in the States for generations. Old money east coast, and currently headed up by Aidan’s father, Benedict. Maybe I was prejudiced by what I’d heard about him, but I couldn’t help thinking he did look like an arrogant asshole, just as Aidan described him. A handsome silver fox type to be sure, maybe in his sixties, but with dead eyes and a smirk. I came across a few pictures of Aidan at events and parties, and a story about his parents getting ‘amicably’ divorced. At that point I forced myself to stop. It was all getting way too personal and gossipy, and was probably all nonsense anyway.
Edie nods and gives me a little smile. ‘Calloway. Well, I suppose I’ll walk out to his place, or maybe go on my bike. I’m sure my hip will be okay…’
I’m alarmed at the thought of her doing either of those things, but I have the sneaky suspicion I’m being played anyway. Edie is clearly well loved by this whole community, and nobody would hesitate to offer her a lift, including me.
‘I’m heading out to Max and Gabriel’s place later,’ I say, playing along. ‘Would you like me to drop it off for you?’
‘Would you mind?’ she says immediately, digging in her bag and magically coming up with a matching invitation to mine. ‘I had it with me just in case I encountered some kind soul… Anyway, I must be off. I’m going as a Bride of Dracula, and I have a dress fitting!’
I have no idea if that is true or not. It’s impossible to tell with Edie. I see her off, smiling as I watch her walk steadily away on her sensible shoes. Everyone she meets on the street stops to chat, and I’d guess it might take her a solid hour to walk from one end to the other. It’s not a bad way of life really, certainly very different from London, where even when you’re young you can go weeks without talking to anybody.
I stare at the invitation, and wonder if he’ll go. From what he said last night, he’s had his fill of formal events, though this being Budbury, I’m guessing it won’t be formal in any recognisable sense of the word. I also wonder if I’ll go. I’ve enjoyed my forays into friendship since I arrived here, but I’m still not ready to fully commit. I’m still probably the kind of person who would cross the road to avoid chatting to anyone. I am the anti-Edie. I also have my niece’s birthday bash to go to, between now and then, and that might use up all of my social battery for the month. In fact, after that one, I might have to lock myself in a dark room for a week to recover.
There’s time to worry about all of that later, I tell myself. For now, I need to get myself to Max’s place, collect my goodies, and find a way to deliver this invitation, that ideally doesn’t involve me coming face to face with Aidan Calloway. I could do with a day or so to let the memory of those dreams fade away.
I head to Maxine’s first, where I am greeted by a screaming donkey and the sound of a barking dog. Thisturns out to be Gary, her little black mystery hound who was a rescue fromHungary. He looks like every breed of dog ever was put in a big mixing bowl and combined to create him. He’s a friendly little chap once he’s had a good sniff of me, though, and is definitely more outgoing than Gabriel. He nods at me when he comes into the kitchen for a coffee, and then disappears outside. ‘He’s a man of few words,’ Max says, watching him go and smiling. ‘Luckily I make up for it by being a woman of many.’
I suppose she has a point. I mean, I can be on the quiet side myself. What if I ended up with a guy who was just the same? We’d barely speak. We’d be silent over the dinner table and ignore each other on romantic nights out.
‘So,’ she says, spreading various colour charts and fabric samples over the big old pine table, ‘I rooted these out for you. Obviously, it depends on your tastes and your budget, but these might give you a few ideas. If you need any help just let me know. Gabriel is super-handy and can do most jobs, plus I’ve built up a lot of good trade contacts now. And I’m always available for a shopping trip. Only for house stuff, though. Not clothes or shoes or whatever. If you need a new frock, you’re on your own.’
I thank her for the help and add: ‘Are you going to this Halloween Ball? I suppose I might need a new frock for that…’
