Page 40 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
Aidan stays in the city for another night, but I make the drive back to Budbury. I’ve enjoyed seeing my nieces and my sister, but life in the capital just doesn’t feel right for me anymore. I’ve made more genuine friends in less than a month in Dorset than I did over decades in London, and I’m happier away from it.
I am still very much a work in progress, but there is at least progress. On my first day here, when I moved in, I was built entirely of barriers. I hated the idea of going to the pub, of meeting new people, of joining in with anything at all other than the bare minimum social interaction required.
Now, I voluntarily go to the café on a regular basis, and I actually say hello to people on the street. For me, this is the equivalent of a total personality transplant. Part of me suspects I’ve been drugged or brainwashed in some way– I still recall Matt’s warning about the cake, and I’ve eaten an awful lot of the cake. Still, it’s nice to have options, to be able to lock myself away and work, or mooch around my little house in solitude, knowing that only a few steps away there is always somebody to chat to, tolaugh with, to simply pass the time of day. This might be normal for other people, but for me it is something of a revelation.
Then, of course, there is Aidan. I really don’t know what to do about Aidan. Not that I need to do anything at all. He has proved himself to be a profoundly good friend in a short space of time, but he has also made it clear that he wants more than friendship. The memory of that kiss, no matter how performative it was, is burned into my mind. But also burned into my mind is the knowledge that I have never been good at relationships.
In fact, I’ve managed to fail at every single type– from rare and uncomfortable one-night stands all the way through to marriage. I’m not friends with any of my exes, and my husband Will and I stopped speaking the minute the ink was dry on the divorce papers. If I let this thing with Aidan develop beyond what it is now, then I can’t help thinking that I will lose him. Is it worth the risk? Yes, I find him crazily attractive, and yes, my libido has definitely given him the seal of approval, but really, is it worth it? If we become lovers as well as friends, how do I salvage the latter when it inevitably goes wrong?
I know that’s a defeatist way of looking at things. Maybe it won’t go wrong. Maybe we’ll live happily ever after and adopt Wolfdogs together until we’re both old and frail and the dogs need to pull us around on mobility sleds. Except, of course, that will be much sooner for me than it will for him.
Is that what this is really about? The age difference? Thedeep-rooted belief that I can’t actually give him what he needs long-term, as opposed to what he thinks he wants short-term? A man like Aidan should have it all. He shouldn’t be lumbered with a woman like me. I’m not only significantly older than him; I’m also emotionally stunted. Will once told me my walls were up so high, he felt like he needed grappling hooks just to try and communicate with me. Maybe that’s still true.
I’m thinking about all of this perhaps more than usual, because I’m due to meet Aidan in the pub this evening. We haven’t seen each other for a few days, and he messaged to invite me out for a drink. It’s the twins’ actual birthday today, so it feels appropriate.
I call them before setting off to make the arduous trek all the way to the other side of my street, and it doesn’t help that all they talk about is Aidan. I try and downplay it a little, but they’re both excited for me. It’s very sweet, and I feel like a bit of a fraud. I think they’ll be more disappointed than me when we ‘split up’.
I hear some yelling and door-slamming in the background, and cringe at the thought of Ollie and Sally having a row on the girls’ special day. I distract them by inviting them down to visit over Christmas or New Year, and they immediately disagree on which. Lucy insists it has to be Christmas, because there will be no cool NYE parties in the countryside; Libby prefers New Year, so she can avoid all the cool NYE parties in the city. I leave them to sort that out themselves and for a while we talk about their upcoming school trip to Athens. Libby studies Art, and Lucy studies Classics, so it’s something they’re both looking forward to.
After that, it’s time to go. I lock up behind me, but realise that I don’t feel anywhere near as paranoid as normal about leaving the house. Since my showdown with Scott Jones in London, I feel so much better. Cheryl, my investigator, has passed on a file of information to her colleagues in the police, and though I’ve been warned nothing might come of it, I do at least feel like I’ve done something positive. I have the suspicion that he won’t bother me again. Or maybe just a hope. If he does, then I will deal with it. I have to start believing that I can. I need to be Not A Wuss in all aspects of my life.
Even, I think, as I pause outside the pub, when it comes to Aidan Calloway. I know I am building this up into something itdoesn’t need to be. I am creating drama and disaster out of thin air. It’s fine to do that in my work– it’s what I get paid for– but in my personal life? Not quite so cool.
I seem to be spending a lot of time persuading myself that getting closer to Aidan would be A Very Bad Thing. But what if I’m wrong? What if I decided to be brave, like I was with Scott? What if it turns out to be a Very Good Thing?Bloody hell, I’m annoying.I need to stop thinking and start doing. Aidan is great. He’s gorgeous and he’s funny and he’s kind, and he wants me. Lord knows I don’t have a clue why, but he does. Why am I being such an idiot about it?
I need to go with the flow and see what happens. Be more organic. Actually walking through the door into the pub would be a really good start to that.
I push open the door and am immediately greeted by a wall of sound. Laughter, chatter, glasses clinking. I’ve never actually been in to the Horse and Rider before, and I look around in curiosity as I step inside. There’s a long, traditional wooden bar decorated with horseshoes, a roaring log fire, and approximately a million people.
I walk through the main room, excusing my way through the crowds as I look for Aidan, eventually finding him in a small side room. I see that he is not alone. Zoe and Cal are also here, and from the looks of the copper-topped table in front of them, have been for some time. Zoe stands up and waves her arms around when she sees me, and Cal immediately asks me what I’m drinking. When I try to object and offer to get a round, he looks deeply hurt and says: ‘I can’t let you do that– don’t you know I’m Australian?’
I have no idea how his national pride is tied in to going to the bar, but there you go. I ask him for a glass of red wine, noticing with amusement that Zoe already has a stack of pint glasses in front of her, and he leaves.
It’s only when he’s moved out of the way that I see Aidan properly, trapped in a corner by another fireplace, grinning at me. Next to him, I now notice, previously hidden by Cal, is a drop-dead gorgeous young woman. She has a shiny dark bob, huge brown eyes, and a petite but curvy figure that’s obvious even in her perfectly ordinary jeans and T-shirt. She looks to be in her twenties, and has that fresh-faced, natural prettiness that speaks of long hikes in the woods, treks on mountain trails, and dancing ’til dawn.
Aidan manages to stand up and move a stool out of the way, clambering over a backpack to reach me. He hugs me and kisses my cheek. I find it easier than normal not to melt because I’m too busy wondering who the hell the new addition is.
‘Sarah, this is Melody,’ he says, gesturing to the girl. ‘She’s been looking after the pack for me while I was away, and decided to stay on a few nights.’
Ah. All becomes clear. So, I now know who she is, but I still feel a little uneasy, caught off balance. She stands up to say hello, and nothing in her demeanour is anything other than open and friendly. So why do I still want to shove her out the door? Am I actually jealous? If I am, then I need to have a strongly worded conversation with myself, because I have zero right to be.
Cal and Zoe come back with a load of drinks, Cal carrying four pint glasses in his huge hands. He passes them out, and everyone other than me seems to be on beer. Zoe gives me a glass of Pinot, and I straight away feel like the odd one out. Like I’m their maiden aunt sipping a small sherry while they drop ecstasy and head off to a warehouse rave.
This, of course, is ridiculous. Although she is so small and funky she can pass for much younger, Zoe is somewhere in her forties, and Cal isn’t far behind. There is no reason for me to feel like this, but I do. The unexpected appearance of Melody (what kind of a name is Melody?) has definitely tripped me up. Iwalked in here intending to be full-on NAW, and now I feel like I’m actually a full-on W. I sip my wine and smile and chat, but all the time I’m wondering when I can slink away and go home.
Melody is, unfortunately, as nice as she is pretty, and she talks animatedly and with passion about her work as a conservation officer in the New Forest, as well as her volunteering with the rescue dogs. It’s interesting hearing her speak about them, and she obviously knows both Aidan and his pack very well. I suspect, from the easy way she laughs with him and the way she touches his arm when she speaks, that she knows him intimately. Or at least has done.
At first, thinking about that confirms that I am actually jealous, unfair as that is. But a few minutes after that sting fades away, I’m left with something altogether more familiar: sadness.
I hold it together just fine, taking part in the conversation and laughing in all the right places, but inside I am retreating. I’m very skilled at appearing engaged with the outside world while simultaneously running away from it, and tonight’s is a vintage performance. I get in my round– my dad drummed that into us from being kids– and only start making ‘going home’ noises when I near the end of that glass.
Aidan looks disappointed, and the others all try to persuade me to stay a little longer. ‘I’ve got to be up at the crack of dawn,’ I tell them, ‘to get ready for an online meeting with my publisher.’ It’s a big fat lie. All I have to do tomorrow is a bit of admin, and hand sign a big box of promotional hardbacks for the PR team.
The truth is, I can’t stand seeing him with this bright young thing by his side. She is age-appropriate; she is sweet and lovely; she is a Wolfdog guru, and she is the kind of girl who could grow old with him, not before him. I’m going to bow out of this scenario gracefully. In a way I’m glad this has happened; it stopped me from doing something wild and reckless that I may well have come to regret. Frankly, I regret even thinking about it.It was like a virtual door opening in my mind, only to slam back shut in my face.
I make my goodbyes, and escape into the chilly night air. I spot a car parked up near the pub, an unbearably cute vintage VW Bug in red. The back windscreen is decorated with stick-on pictures of wolves howling at the moon, and the name of the rescue. God. Even her car is cool.
I scurry across to my home, my little refuge, and fight with the key as usual. I can’t wait to shut the world out again. I’ve just about managed to open the door when I hear Aidan calling my name. I freeze briefly, and wonder if I can get away with pretending I haven’t heard him. It’s a tough lie to sell on a tiny street empty of traffic noise, but I give it a go. I’m into the hallway and about to close the door when he reaches me. Damn.
