Page 30 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
‘Maybe we can,’ I say quietly. ‘Maybe we can. I get… nervous, I suppose. I’m easily spooked. It takes a lot for me to peek out of my shell, and in the past, whenever I’ve done that, I’ve ended up being hurt. I’m not in a great rush to go through that again, so I make no promises. I can be your friend. I can help you with the dogs. Anything else… Well, I have no clue if I’m even capable of anything else right now. I don’t want to lead you on in any way.’
He nods and looks away for a moment. ‘All right. I can handle that. But tell me one thing. I’m not imagining it, am I? That there is this spark between us? Because if I am, tell me now, and I will stop pursuing anything other than friendship. Because I’m also notthatguy.’
‘What guy are you, exactly?’
‘I’m the guy telling you he likes you. I’m the guy telling you he thinks you’re beautiful. I’m the guy telling you I can’t stop thinking about you.’
Oh, I think, feeling the heat rise inside me.Thatguy. It’s not just my face that is hot right now; it’s my whole body. My eyes run over his broad shoulders, his long jean-clad legs, his thick, dark hair. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man I find so attractive. Even looking at him makes me breathless.
I could take this as a way out, I know. He’s asked the question, and I need to answer it. I could simply tell him thatyes, he is imagining it, and leave it at that. But I would be lying, and I really don’t think I could bring myself to do that.
‘No,’ I answer simply. ‘You’re not imagining it.’
He turns to look back at me, and gives me the smile. His green eyes sparkle, and he looks so damn perfect that if a magical rainbow suddenly appeared behind him and a choir of angels started singing his theme tune, I wouldn’t be at all surprised.
‘Good. I won’t push. We’ll go at your pace. Friendship first. Hot, wild sex and screaming orgasms later.’
He winks at me, and I laugh so loud I startle birds from trees.
‘Who knows? Anyway. Now we’ve cleared the air and laid down some boundaries… how do you fancy meeting my entire family?’
Chapter Twelve
The next two weeks pass in a slightly bewildering blur. I paint the downstairs rooms of my house, and am thrilled with the result. Despite many lovely offers of help, and of course the temptation of seeing Aidan carrying out manual labour and possibly even wearing a tool belt, I do it myself. The house is small and I like decorating. I enjoy all of the dull and tedious processes of it– the cleaning, the masking tape, the careful placement of the dust sheets, then the actual act itself. It’s really quite zen in its own way.
It also makes it even more satisfying to sit in my little cocoon of a home in the evening, reading a book and enjoying the peace and quiet. It feels more likeminenow, somehow. Maxine has been round and declared my floorboards in decent condition, ready to be sanded down and painted or varnished, depending on my tastes. That’s a job for later, because it will involve someone else with better skills than mine coming into my home. Gabriel, I would feel safe with, but somebody completely new? I’m not ready for such craziness.
I have paid a visit to Briarwood, and been given a guided tour by Finn, Auburn the pharmacist’s husband. He had the air of a slightly weary father, even though all of his charges are technically adults. The house itself is a grand affair, perched on a hill overlooking the village, obviously once a very noble place. I’m told it went from being a base during the war to being a private boarding school for children whose parents were either not around, or not interested in looking after them. One of the orphaned youngsters who lived there grew up to be a businessman and inventor called Tom Mulligan, who bought the place after it had fallen into dereliction, and restored it.
Now, he uses it as a hot-house residential for bright young things to experiment and hone their skills. It’s like Hogwarts for engineers. Tom himself isn’t around, because he is married to Willow, Auburn’s sister, and lives with her in Spain. At least I think I’ve got all of that right. There’s a lot to remember about this place and the way everybody is interconnected. It’s like a very benign spiderweb of relationships.
I have been to Edie’s house for tea, a few doors down from mine, and was surprised to be greeted in the living room by a life-sized cardboard version of the dancer Anton du Beke. Edie’s favourite, apparently. She is a mine of information about the village and its past, as well as an absolute hoot.
I have visited with Cherie on several occasions, and she has called in here as well. I think she likes having someone to sit and chat with, someone else who also doesn’t have a partner or children. The last time she came, we stayed up until the early hours, drinking the sloe gin she’d brought with her and talking nonsense. It was such a lot of fun, I kind of wished we could just move in together. That is the first time I’ve ever thought that about anyone, even my husband, Will. When we lived together, I always felt protective of my space, keen to keep a bubble of my own territory.
I’ve worked on my edits, sketched out a rough plot for my next book, and done some boring life admin like filing accounts. I’ve been busy, in a non-stressful, non-urgent way.
I have also continued to be very steadily wooed by Aidan Calloway, much to the café ladies’ delight. The more restrained of them, like Katie and Zoe, are interested but polite. The more raucous, like Laura and Auburn, are pretty much committed to the idea of me allowing myself to be seduced, just so I can provide them with a full report. ‘You need to take one for the team,’ Laura said. ‘As part of your initiation into our sisterhood.’
She said that last part very seriously, conjuring up images of them all donning robes and making me drink chicken’s blood out on the moors at midnight. Not that there are moors, but you know what I mean.
Aidan himself is taking it all in his stride, obviously used to the attention of women and happy to be in their company. A few days ago, we called in there together after a long walk along the cliff tops, damp from a sudden torrential rainfall and seeking refuge. Laura offered to run his clothes through the tumble dryer, and I could barely make eye contact with her. She has no shame at all, and even though he declined, she spent the rest of our visit hummingIHeard It Through The Grapevineby Marvin Gaye. It took me a moment, but then I remembered; it was the soundtrack to the old advert where the super good-looking guy strips off his clothes in the launderette.
So far, he’s taken me out to a gorgeous gastropub a few towns over, joined me on a visit to an art gallery in Lyme Regis, and cooked me dinner at his place. The man is infuriatingly accomplished. We’ve continued to work with the dogs and are making progress; they are starting to ignore me now rather than run away from me. It’s a start, at least.
I’m still borderline confused as to why he is bothering with me at all, but maybe that says more about me than itdoes about him. He continues to be a perfect gentleman, and seems genuinely satisfied to accept friendship with a healthy side helping of flirtation for now. There was a moment, when he dropped me off after dinner, when I thought he might try to kiss me. He opened the car door for me, and as I climbed out I tripped over my own feet and staggered against him. He immediately caught me and held me steady, our faces inches apart, our breath mingling in the cool night sky, my body pressed against his.
I felt excited and trapped at the same time, and my expression must have reflected that. He smiled, dropped a gentle kiss on my forehead, and said: ‘You look like a startled deer with those big brown eyes. Don’t worry, Bambi– you’re safe with me.’
As he drove off into the night, I stood on my doorstep, lost in thought. My emotions were very mixed, but the overwhelming one was disappointment. Even the soft brush of his lips on my skin had excited me, leaving my pulse racing in a way I’m really not used to. I was so distracted I stayed there, in the open, alone at night, for whole minutes without even considering whether an axe murderer might be on a rampage looking for victims.
Even now, days later, thinking about it makes me flush. It also makes me wonder why I’m resisting this thing, this attraction. My body is extremely keen on taking it further. As ever, it’s just my stupid brain holding me back. That and the fact that I like living in Budbury, and I don’t want to mess it up. When things go wrong with Aidan– and in my usual optimistic way I assume they will– I don’t want to have to avoid him, or for us to feel awkward around each other.
I try not to think about it now, as I get ready for Libby and Lucy’s birthday party. I’ll just end up stabbing myself in the eyeball with my mascara. Then my eyes will water uncontrollably, and I’ll end up having to do my whole face again. I have form for this kind of thing.
I haven’t exactly got the steadiest of hands right now. I’ve spent the whole afternoon with my sister, and my nerves feel like someone has doused them in petrol and then thrown on a hand grenade. I’m absolutely frazzled. She was stressed and highly strung, and as a result finding fault in absolutely everything. We were at the venue– a hotel near their home in Islington– all afternoon, and by the end of it I suspect the manager was ready to cancel the booking and take the financial hit.
Sally, in all fairness, is not normally awful to deal with. She is normally charming and enthusiastic, her caustic comments usually landing on the right side of bitchy. Today, though, she is really not herself. She sniped at everyone she came into contact with, nothing was good enough and the whole world was against her. I have no idea what is going on with her, and maybe it will all pass once the party is out of the way, but today has not been great. Everything from our parents to the balloon arch to the caterers came in for criticism. Everything except Ollie, I couldn’t help noticing.
