Page 59 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
When I’m with him, I feel better. I feel like my whole being is smiling.
That should, of course, be the moment when some kind of mental light bulb pops in my head and I embrace my new future. But I’m simply not built like that, so it takes a little longer. That is all right, I tell myself as I head downstairs and make myself a ginger and lemon tea. This is a big decision, and it is not in my nature to rush.
I lean against the kitchen counter and watch the robin in the courtyard garden. The rain has paused, and he is out there in all his red-breasted glory, head tilted on one side, eyes shining. He’s probably wondering what I’m going to do about Aidan. Maybe he’s my guardian angel robin, sent to watch over me in times of need. I laugh at the idea, and he immediately flutters away. So much for that.
I finish my tea, put the tea bag in the bin, and then very carefully and very slowly wash my mug. After that, I grab my coat and my car keys, and practically run out of the house. I need to see Aidan. I need to tell him I’m sorry. I need to tell him that I love him, too. I might add in some extras, like ‘I’ve beenthe world’s biggest arsehole’, or ‘you complete me’, or I might just kiss him until he has to forgive me. Whatever I need to do, I am going to do it. After all this messing around, this now very suddenly feels urgent. It’s not so much a bulb going off in my head as a whole field of flood lights.
I dash towards the car, and see Becca walking down the street with Sam and Little Edie. They all stare at me as I run, and Becca asks: ‘You okay? Need any help?’
‘No, thank you though! I’m just off to do something reckless!’
‘Oh good,’ Becca replies, grinning. ‘That’s the spirit! Say hello to Aidan for me…’
I laugh and start the engine. I drive carefully to Hazelwell, because I remember how close I came to an accident earlier today. There is very little traffic, but the roads are wet and it’s very dark out on the countryside lanes. Streetlights are not a regular occurrence, and the night sky is clouded, hiding the twinkle of the stars and the glow of the moon. Tiny flying creatures are illuminated by my headlights, and I remember the young fox we saw that first night we properly spoke. It feels like a different lifetime. The one before I let Aidan sneak into my world.
I am tense but also exhilarated. My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white, and I have to keep reminding myself to breath. I am determined to say my piece, to let him know that I want to try and make a go of this thing between us. I need to say it, and I can only hope that I’m not too late. A little paranoid part of me wonders if I am. What if I pushed him away one too many times? What if he’s decided I’m more trouble than I’m worth? The man told me he loved me and I ran away. Then I refused to answer his calls all day.
No, I reassure myself, that will not happen. Aidan is not an idiot like me. He will listen, and he will understand, and he will forgive. That is the way he has behaved towards me ever sincewe met. With kindness and integrity and… that smile. Lord, that smile.
It makes me grin to myself even thinking about it, and the last mile or so of the twisty-turny journey seems to last forever. I pull up outside the gates to the house and switch off the car engine. I hear one of the dogs let out a howl, and I know that at least one of them has heard me. Right. Action time.
I have my apology all planned. I have my ‘I love you’ ready to go. I’ve looked at this from every possible angle, and this is what I need to do. I want to be happy, and for the first time in my life, I also feel like not only do I have a shot at that, but I deserve it as well.
I get out of the car, still grinning, and walk through the first gate and up to the second. The lights from the house are shining out, and they fall on Aidan’s big black jeep, parked where it usually is. I freeze when I notice something else right next to it.
An unbearably cute VW Bug in bright red. I edge slightly closer, gripping the metal bars of the gate, staring through. It’s close enough that I can see the stickers in the back window. The pictures of the wolves howling at the moon.
The curtains to the living room window are open, and I see Aidan in there. Then I see Melody, walking towards him and wrapping her arms around his waist. He returns the embrace, holding her tight. They stand like that, engulfed in each other, for what feels like eternity. The room looks cosy, and I imagine the romantic music, the roaring fire. The bed he is clearly about to take her to.
That’s when I blink and retreat away from the gate so quickly I almost fall over. I’ve seen enough and have no desire to watch what happens next between them. I can far too easily imagine.
I stagger back to my car, desperate to get away. To get away from this place, from the fact that Melody is here. His friend, who also comes with benefits. I remember him telling me abouttheir arrangement, how they were there for each other when it suited them both. And now there they are, clear as night, enjoying their benefits already.
I was wrong, I tell myself bitterly. Wrong about it all. He has run out of patience. I have pushed him away one time too many.
I have lost him.
The sad thing is, I think, as I drive away again, that I can’t even blame him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After that, I do the only sensible thing. I go home, alone, and drink a bottle of wine. I allow myself one night to throw a pity party. I listen to songs like ‘Winner Takes It All’ and ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’, and my personal favourite, ‘I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself’. Both the White Stripes version and the Dusty Springfield classic. It kind of sums up exactly how I feel, perfectly capturing the sense of emptiness that has descended on me.
I thought I’d known heartbreak before. I thought I had known betrayal before. But it turns out I was wrong, because Nothing Compares 2 This. I feel absolutely dreadful, physically and emotionally sick, in a way I’ve never experienced.
I torture myself with images of Aidan and Melody, of their love-making, their walks with the dogs, the simplicity and warmth of their relationship. The flip side of having the kind of imagination that allows me to write books for a living is this: it’s almost impossible to control. The fantasies take on lives of their own, and before long I have them married with kids. A boy and a girl, obviously.
I feel such a mix of things– humiliated, stupid, regretful, and above all, sad. Just very, very sad. For that very brief time, I genuinely hoped. It was like being shown a rainbow, then going back to life in shades of beige.
Knowing that at least some of it is my own fault doesn’t help. It would be easier if I could write Aidan off as a bastard, but I can’t even do that. He tried so very hard with me, and each time I slapped him down. I rejected him because of my own insecurities, my own fears. My inability to communicate. My basic crapness. I had my chance, and I blew it.
I’m surprised at how quickly he’s moved on, but I imagine how hurt he must have been. After spending the last month courting me like a gentleman, wooing me, supporting me in every possible way, I finally show him some encouragement. And then, the morning after, when he tells me that he loves me, I become monosyllabic, then angry, and then I run away. Add to that the fact that for the rest of the day, I also ignore his phone calls. If a man did that to a woman, we’d call him all kinds of rude names. It would be a shooting offence.
After all of that, after me rejecting him, he has taken solace in the arms of his friend with benefits. The one who has always been there for him. And why shouldn’t he? I haven’t been much of a friend to him at all.
Cherie messages me asking how I am, and I simply tell her I’m tired and staying at home tonight. That is completely true, even if it’s only a small part of the story. Idon’t want to talk to her about what has happened right now, possibly ever. This is a small place, and I don’t want to have to leave it. I don’t want things between Aidan and me to become so awkward that it is impossible for us both to live in Budbury.
That might be a forlorn hope, I know. How am I going to react the next time I see him? How will I possibly manage to behave like a normal human around him? I can’t imagine beingat the café and seeing him run along the beach. I can’t imagine bumping into him in the pub, or hearing about him from the others. What if Melody becomes more of a fixture and she starts hanging around as well? I think then, maybe, I would have to leave. I’m not sure my poor fragile heart could take it.
