‘He didn’t know me though,’ I object.
‘I know. It is silly.’
‘It’s very sweet though,’ I say, slightly doubtful.
‘You think I’m an idiot.’
I smile at him. ‘Maybe. But in a nice way.’
He snorts. ‘There’s no need to patronize me.’
‘Whatever you say, boss.’
* * *
So then we go to bed. It’s nearly midnight, somehow. We don’t bother to wash up. Edward pushes his chair away from the table and says, ‘I can’t wait any longer, come on.’
It makes me feel dizzy, I suppose. I’m not sure what to say, so I get up as well. He holds out his hand and I put mine in it, and then he leads me out to the landing.
‘It’s upstairs,’ he says.
‘I know. I’ve been in your bedroom,’ I remind him.
‘Have you? When?’ He turns to look at me, startled.
‘You asked me to close your window. I wasn’t snooping,’ I add, although that probably makes me sound guilty.
I follow him up the stairs to the second landing. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if this is odd, the way I feel. I wonder if I even know how I feel. My heart’s banging in my chest; I feel untethered from my normal self.
He pushes open his bedroom door and turns back to look at me. ‘I feel like there’s a lot of pressure about this? Even though we were in bed together earlier?’
‘It has a certain amount of portent,’ I agree, leaning against the doorframe to watch him as he flicks on the light and goes to close the curtains. I think of something. ‘Who’s Corinne?’
He turns back to look at me. ‘Corinne?’
‘You had a card from her. Edward Hopper painting.’
‘Oh, I suppose I did. She’s a friend. Lives in St Andrews.’
‘A friend? Like Lara?’
He laughs. ‘Better than Lara. But I suppose so, yes.’
‘Are you still seeing her?’
‘I don’t think I’d count what Corinne and I do as “seeing each other”.’
‘No? What do you do?’
He roots through the top drawer of the bedside cabinet nearest the window. ‘Do you want candles?’
‘If you have some. I certainly don’t want an overhead light,’ I say, and he laughs.
He holds up a tin. ‘Vanilla, I think.’
‘Perfect. So, Corinne?’
He lights the candle and puts it on the cabinet. ‘Here okay?’
‘I’m sure that’s fine. Are you avoiding my question?’
‘Turn off the light.’
I click the switch and my eyes gradually adjust. ‘Edward?’
‘No, I just hardly ever see her. Maybe once a year, or every eighteen months maybe. We do usually go to bed. But I doubt she’ll be heartbroken that won’t be happening anymore.’
‘It won’t?’
He looks at me, serious. ‘I’m all yours now. Aren’t I?’
‘I don’t know. Are you?’
‘Thea. I don’t know if you’ve missed something here but I’m absolutely crazy about you.’
I grin at him in the dim light. ‘Are you? That’s nice. I mean it sounds so unlikely, but I think I believe you.’
‘You should.’
‘How long before you’re grumpy with me again?’
‘I don’t know. A week?’
This makes me laugh. ‘As long as that?’
‘If you’re lucky. Are you coming in? Or staying in the doorway?’
‘This is the trickiest bit, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t let it be tricky. Come to bed.’
I close my eyes. ‘I’d like you to say that again.’
‘Thea, come to bed.’ He comes closer, his face in shadow. He puts his hand to my cheek, and I close my eyes. I’m shaking. He dips his head to kiss me, and I feel as though I might just melt away, knees weak. He’s warm, his arms round me, our bodies pressed together.
‘Oh God,’ he says. ‘I just… I really like you.’
‘I know. I really like you as well. It’s okay.’ I pat him gently. ‘You shouldn’t worry.’
‘I do though. I worry that–’
‘We can worry later; give it a couple of days, right?’ I slide my fingers between the buttons of his shirt, feel his skin warm against mine.
‘Yes.’ He kisses me again. ‘I never usually worry about this sort of thing.’
‘You surprise me. But anyway, try and channel that careless freedom. It’s no good both of us being tense.’
‘Are you tense?’
It takes me a while to answer this. ‘Less tense now,’ I say, finally. ‘Mm. Gosh you’re good at kissing.’
He rests his forehead against mine. ‘You say the nicest things.’
‘I also think you’re quite handsome,’ I say. ‘And you make me laugh.’
‘This is all good news.’
‘Isn’t it.’
I begin to undo his shirt, kissing his collarbone, his chest. I lay my ear against his heart and hear it beating. I put my finger on his nipple, and then my tongue. He groans, and I lay my hands flat on his belly, his sides, smooth skin, stroking, two fingers pushed into the waistband of his jeans, my other hand pressing against him, my palm against his erection, firm through the denim.
‘I think you should take off your clothes,’ I say, and he hurries to do so, wriggling out of his jeans and abandoning his shirt. Then he’s in bed.
‘Your turn,’ he says, so I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor. I unpin my hair and take off my bra and knickers and climb in beside him, skin on skin.
‘Oh God,’ he says, which makes me smile to myself. He glows golden in the candlelight. I feel powerful, alluring even, full of sexual strength, confident in my ability to please and arouse. I don’t always feel like that, and I’m not saying it will last, but that’s how I feel now: lustful and filled with desire. It’s a long time since I felt like this; I’d almost forgotten what it was like.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says.
‘Especially when I’m not wearing my socks, eh?’ I say, which makes him laugh.
* * *
Later, he says, ‘Have you spoken to him? Chris, I mean?’
‘Not for a long time.’
‘How often do you talk to him?’
‘Oh, hardly ever. We email. Not often. But occasionally. I sent him a birthday card. Which is more than he managed for me.’ I smile. ‘That was the last time we spoke – on my birthday.’
‘In June? That’s ages ago. What does he think about you staying up here?’
‘I don’t know. Probably relieved to have me out of the way. Makes it easier for them to do coupley things with all our friends. I hope that doesn’t sound bitter; I don’t mean it to.’
‘But you haven’t heard from him since… last week?’
‘Has he told me himself, do you mean? That he’s going to be a father? No. I don’t know if he will, or if he’ll assume I know, or…’ I shrug.
‘And how do you feel about that, now?’
‘Oh, well, I think he’s mad,’ I say. ‘Think how old he’ll be when it’s twenty. I don’t think it can have been his idea. I know I was worried, last week, about that. But I’ve thought about it, and I don’t believe he… I think you were right. That if he’d wanted that, he’d have told me.’ I frown. ‘Have you never wanted children?’
‘God no. No. Complicated business, isn’t it? Never met anyone, and anyway, even if I had… The whole thing’s screwed, the inheritance bollocks. I’d hate for my great-grandchildren to be all, “We could have had a title. That bastard.”’ He laughs.
* * *
In the morning, as we eat breakfast in the kitchen, he says, ‘You should move in here.’
I choke on my toast. ‘What?’
He pours more coffee. ‘Move in. Here. Live with me.’
‘You’re properly mental. Oh my God.’
‘Why?’
‘What d’you mean, why? Jesus. You d
on’t have sex with someone once’ – I hold up my hand – ‘okay, twice – or whatever – and then move in with them.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it would be ridiculous. Anyway, you’ve never done that before. Asked someone to move in.’
‘No, but that’s no reason not to, is it? I think it would be good if you lived here. In fact, I think we should get married.’ He grins at me.
‘You flipping what?’
He laughs. ‘I don’t expect you to agree with me about that.’
‘No, well, I can’t anyway, can I? Even if I thought that was a good idea, instead of thinking you were… unbalanced. I’m married to someone else.’
‘Yes, but you’ll be divorced, won’t you, in a bit. So you can move in straight away, and then we’ll get married later.’
I shake my head at him.
‘Why not? It’s easier, isn’t it? I mean what’s the point of driving backwards and forwards? I’d like it if you lived here.’
‘You barely know me.’ I frown. It’s more tempting than I’m going to admit.
‘That’s not true, is it? We’ve been working together for six months. I’ve never met anyone I’ve liked even half as much. And I know we’ve only just started sleeping together, but I’m planning for it to be a long-term thing.’
‘Are you?’
‘Aren’t you?’
I look at him, and then look away. ‘Well, I’m not planning for it not to be,’ I admit, grudgingly.
* * *
We open the shop. It’s quite odd to be there doing ordinary shop things. I expect everyone knows he fired me, so there’ll be questions when people see me in here. I guess I’ll just have to suck it up. Strangely, the idea is not as grim as the thought of telling people why I hadn’t been in.
Midway through the morning, while I’m up a ladder dusting shelves, Jenny comes in and bangs her hand on the bell aggressively. Edward looks up.
‘Hello,’ he says, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘As I said yesterday, and the day before, you can bloody well apologize to Thea and give her back her job,’ she says.
‘Oh. Well’ – he looks across the room to where I balance, head touching the ceiling, on the highest step of the stepladder – ‘I don’t know if I can do that.’
‘Why the hell not? I’ll be in here shouting at you every day until you do,’ she says. ‘That woman’s the best thing that’s ever happened to this place.’ This makes me blush. I should get over there before she says anything even more embarrassing.
‘She is, yes,’ Edward agrees, and I climb down the ladder and hurry across towards them.
‘What? Why did you sack her, then?’
‘It’s all right,’ I say. ‘I got him to change his mind.’
She turns quickly, and grins at me, relieved. ‘Oh, thank God for that,’ she says. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she says to Edward.
‘Yes,’ he nods. ‘Fair enough.’
‘Good news anyway,’ she says to me. ‘How did you get him to change his mind? He’s usually stupidly stubborn.’
‘Yeah, I guess I was persuasive,’ I say, avoiding Edward’s eye. He laughs.
‘She was. Very persuasive.’
‘Huh. Well. Good. And you’re all right?’ she asks me.
‘I am now, yes.’
She frowns at me. ‘You’re sure?’
I nod.
‘So what was that all about?’
‘He miscalculated. It’s all fine now.’ I clear my throat. ‘I hope.’
‘I hope so too.’ She shakes her head at him. ‘Seriously, Edward.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I don’t deserve her.’
Jenny narrows her eyes and looks from him to me and back again. I’m pretty sure I know what she’s thinking. I’m not sure I want anyone thinking anything, at least not at the moment. Give it a while, yeah?
‘Thanks for coming in to have a go at him,’ I say. ‘I’m touched.’
‘She’s been in every day,’ says Edward.
‘I know he can be a dick, aye,’ says Jenny.
‘I don’t think he means to be,’ I say. I glance at Edward, who smiles at me. My heart contracts. Oh my God. Shit. Does he always smile at me like that? Can she see it? Shit.
‘Hm,’ says Jenny. ‘Okay, good. Don’t do it again, Maltravers.’ She looks at her phone. ‘I’d better go – I’ve got someone coming in. I just grabbed five minutes to come over here.’
‘Thanks,’ says Edward, ‘I appreciate it.’
She looks at him suspiciously. ‘You sound almost sincere,’ she says.
‘I am.’
‘Huh. Well, I’d better run. Don’t let him take advantage of you,’ she says to me, and I’m proud of my straight-faced ability to assure her that I won’t.
The bell jangles behind her.
‘Good lord,’ he says. ‘I suppose you know I’ve had half the town in here to tell me how brilliant you are.’
‘Pfft. That seems unlikely.’
‘Not at all. Constant stream of abuse and everyone’s best “we’re very disappointed in you” expressions. And fair play to them. I mean, you are brilliant. And I intend to take advantage of you fairly comprehensively.’
I frown. There it is again. What’s that feeling? It’s like… Oh my God. We stare at each other, and then I clear my throat and look away.
Twenty-Four
It’s been so long since I started a relationship, there are things I’ve forgotten about. I can’t remember the protocol. And it’s different when you’re middle-aged. Or it seems different – I can’t just phone all my friends and excitedly scream at them. Although that’s more or less what I want to do. I’m not sure what to do, who to tell.
I called Xanthe when I got home, the day after I slept at Edward’s the first time. He wanted me to stay again, but I felt like I should be – is cautious the right word? I didn’t want to just give up my own space, my own home. However much I wanted to be with him.
She was amused, but pleased, I think.
‘Ah, there, I expected that to happen. I thought he liked you. When he took you away to his beach house. I was surprised nothing happened then.’
‘Beach house? You make it sound a lot more glam than it is,’ I object. ‘It’s just a shed. I don’t think you could say he “took me away” either.’
‘I think you could say exactly that. And are you seeing him, or what?’
‘Well, yes–’
‘There you are then.’
There wasn’t much I could say to that, annoyingly.
* * *
‘Hey, so, tediously,’ says Edward, leaning on one elbow to look at me, ‘I have to go to London next week.’
‘London?’ I’m puzzled.
‘Yeah, you know – big city, down south?’
‘Ha ha. But why? For a sale?’ He’s never been south of Newcastle since I’ve known him.
‘Yeah, there’s a thing at Sotheby’s.’
‘Get you,’ I say, secretly impressed. ‘Sotheby’s!’
‘I thought about cancelling, but that seems–’
‘Cancelling? Why?’
He shrugs, avoiding my eye. ‘Oh, you know… change in circumstances…’
‘What, cancelling because of me?’ I’m embarrassed.
He nods. ‘But, um…’
‘Well, that seems foolish. I’ll still be here when you get back, won’t I?’ We look at each other for long enough that my heart starts thumping. I clear my throat and look away. ‘How long are you going for?’
‘Oh, I usually go for a week or so.’
‘A week? Really?’ I’m shocked, and it must show on my face.
‘I do know people in England,’ he says, amused. ‘People I don’t get to see very often.’
‘Friends?’
‘Yes, I imagine that’s what you’d call them.’
‘Er, friends like… Corinne?’ I don’t want him to think I care about Corinne – I really don’t – but he’s called these women
‘friends’ before.
‘Not exactly. I’ve known Corinne a long time, but most of my London friends I’ve known longer. And they’re generally men,’ he adds, ‘if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Generally?’ I can’t really believe it’s me saying this; I think I might sound jealous. I’m not, though – at least, I don’t think so? Am I? I’ve really never been jealous of anyone. And I think – I think – I’d trust Edward not to sleep with someone else, even if he went to stay with someone he’d slept with before. Would I?
‘I usually stay with Alan and his wife. Or Davey. You’ve seen a picture of Davey,’ he says. ‘He’s the one with the spliff in that photo on the dresser.’
‘Aw,’ I say, distracted by the thought of Edward’s university pals. ‘Where do they live?’
‘Alan and Trix live in Putney. Davey lives in Wandsworth. If I stay with one, I see the others. And usually some other people.’
‘From college?’
‘And a couple from school.’
‘I thought you didn’t have any friends from school?’
‘I’ve a few.’
‘You don’t talk about them.’
He shrugs. ‘Henry. He’s a consultant at the Royal London. He’s often too busy to meet. Kirsty, she works for the BBC, she’s married to Raj; they live in Peckham. Their house is great, they bought it when houses in Peckham were very cheap. They pretend it’s Camberwell,’ he adds. ‘Puts three hundred grand on the asking price.’
‘Blimey.’
‘Yes. So. Do you want to come with me?’
I’m startled by this invitation. ‘To London?’
‘That’s where I’m going, yes.’
‘But what about the shop?’
‘Admittedly, sometimes it seems inconvenient that you work here. By which I mean you could easily come with me if you worked somewhere else.’
‘Short notice,’ I say, pretending to consider this.
‘Apart from that.’
‘Well, I–’
‘And maybe spending a week in various spare bedrooms having to meet a bunch of strangers when we’ve only been together ten minutes would be…’
The Bookshop of Second Chances Page 27
