by Judy Jarvie
Lisa’s voice was strained and croaky. Whether from crying or coughing Ailsa wasn’t sure, later when she thought about it.
“Lisa …”
“Your house is burning, Ailsa. Smoke, flames everywhere. Like a blaze in a movie. It’s awful, like a living nightmare.”
Ailsa tried to calm and focus. “You’re okay? Say you weren’t inside?”
“Yes. But we woke up when glass smashed. We were driven back by fumes and escaped through the window. The fire engines are here and we’ve lost everything. I don’t know what to say.” Her normally hard to faze, solicitor flatmate burst into tears. “Your room is burning and there’s a big hole in the roof. Acrid smoke everywhere and the neighbours are watching in their nightclothes.”
“As long as you’re okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Ailsa answered. Her fingers were shaking and the shock was kicking in.
Thank God they’re alive. Thank God they’re okay.
But already she knew it was the remnants of her life going up in smoke again.
All she’d had left of her family was the house her mother left her. Now there was nothing. She was finally without any heritage at all.
***
Ailsa and Nick didn’t get much work done together for all the wrong reasons.
Her previously mundane and innocent house was now unrecognisable; a black, charred carbuncle that still fumed with angry smoke and had transformed the sky into a swirling dark morass. The two huge fire engines had it under control thanks to lots of sooty-faced fire fighters. All was chaos; the front garden was trashed. Her family home had become a blackened, char-grilled death-trap that no sane person would ever wish to set foot in again. Forget, finding salvage.
The neighbours were incredibly kind with offers of help.
Somebody was already moving Andy’s motorbike from outside to their own front garden. Its bright polished metal and chrome contrasted with the mangled wreck of the place they’d once lived in harmony.
Lisa hugged her and Ailsa just let her cry. “End of an era.”
She found herself saying repeatedly. “Nobody was hurt. That’s all that matters.”
Crazily she couldn’t indulge in any emotion letting. Maybe it was shock? Or maybe losing her sister after a coma then watching her mother deteriorate through depression until eventual suicide through overdose, did that?
It dulled you to future pain.
You blocked the receptors for grief.
“I’m so sorry about your sister’s and your mother’s things,” said Lisa.
“None of it matters now.”
And boy did that do it. Ailsa trembled, heard herself splutter and gulp to try to control the flood of tears. Of course it mattered. They would always matter. But she’d gladly have dealt with ten thousand fires to have them both back with her.
And now she’d let them both down. She’d lost it all.
Nick was nearby and Ailsa purposefully hid her face in Lisa’s neck to hide from the ugly tsunami of emotions she couldn’t stem. Nick had seen her inflagrante delicto – surely snotty tears and emotion weren’t half as personal?
Yet somehow she felt way more vulnerable and naked.
His hand was on her back. A quiet offer of comfort in the chaos.
“Let’s get you out of here. All of you. I’ll find you hotels,” said Nick. “But we can organise rooms among people I know.”
“It’s okay,” Lisa said. “Andy has his own flat. My Aunty has a spare room too if Ailsa wants it.”
Ailsa didn’t answer. Nick pulled her to him, then bent to pick her up in his arms. She’d fallen apart; lost it. Maybe not sleeping at all due to a night of carnal passion was to blame but right now all she could do was cry and grieve and she was powerless to stop him carrying her away from the crash site of her life.
“Nobody was killed,” whispered Nick. “It’ll work out, baby. Trust me.”
Ailsa just gulped back the hiccoughs.
And let her protector take control.
He may be a temporary life coach.
Right now he was all she had.
***
“You’re staying here, we both are,” Nick told her shutting the door of Sally’s apartment. Sally had gone off with Johnny at her own insistence, bags packed into his gleaming jeep.
“Isn’t this unfair? It’s Sally’s place.”
“Actually I’m buying out Sally’s restaurant to free her finances up. Johnny and I are taking equal shares. So technically the place will be mine. Therefore blame me; I’m letting you stay. Satisfied?”
Ailsa looked at him as if he’d just said he was a Martian from an earth mars exchange programme come to observe earthly conduct. And finding it lacking.
“You serious?”
“Why would I lie?” Nick shrugged.
“I knew you were rich. Just didn’t figure real life monopoly rich.”
“Right now we both need somewhere to stay. Plus this makes a perfect base when I stop here to see Sally. Solves two problems.”
Ailsa watched him. She ignored the comment about Nick planning future visits. “What about Sally?”
“Johnny has a flat he rents out during Festival time and busy periods. It’s a luxury let; he’s a local property mogul on the side.”
“What doesn’t Johnny do,” said Ailsa.
Nick coughed. “I think my sister may have been added to his to-dos,” Nick said softly. “Anyway, what they do in private is up to them. You coming here was Sally’s idea. Who am I to argue? And who am I to throw stones at my sister refocusing on her bedroom potential when I feel the same way about you?”
“Sally and Johnny are really going for it?”
Nick nodded. “Free country and I’m not her keeper. And Johnny seems a good guy. He’d better treat her right though; she’s on the rebound and she’s fragile.”
“I can vouch he’s a good guy,” she told him. “I’ve just realised. I’ve nothing. No towel, no toothbrush. Only what I stand in. What a mess!”
“Things like that can be replaced, baby.” Nick pulled her to him. He kissed her temple softly. “And what about me? Am I a good guy too? Are you really okay with this? If you’re not I’ll go but I figured you might prefer company. A few days and you’ll wake up and see it’s sad but it’s not as bad as it could have been.”
Right now her head was all a spaghetti mess of chaos.
Ailsa knew she didn’t want to be alone.
She found Nick’s presence comforting. But was he closing in too fast? The way he’d comforted her after the fire warmed her heart. But freaked her too.
“I want you,” she answered and took his hand when he led her upstairs. She let him undress her like a child and chastely tuck her up in bed. But it was her who went to him and insisted they again make love.
Chapter Ten
Ailsa was enjoying having Nick Palmer as her own personal ‘Resolution Master Extraordinaire’ even if it was tragic circumstances that caused them to live together in Sally’s flat.
He’d taken it upon himself – nay insisted vehemently – that she would achieve all of her list of resolutions at his own instruction. She wondered if he was just trying to take her mind off losing her home, her possessions, her best friend and now departed lodger?
Fortunately she’d left her newly purchased clothes she’d credit-maxed for at work. At least she still had some things to her name. Nick arranged a huge delivery of ‘essentials’ and opening it all felt as indulgent as a bonus Christmas Day.
Nick’s explanation for his ‘sex therapy’ course of action was as follows:
One: he felt it was his duty to help her accomplish it at all costs.
Two: having sex with her was no hardship. And contrary to popular myth lately, with a young son living with him and a pressing job that took long hours, he hadn’t been having much bedroom action. Sex with Ailsa was exceptionally head-turningly good. The opportunity to reacquaint himself in bedroom artistry was a welcome diversion.
Nick prove
d himself a thorough teacher and mentor:
Patient. He’d go to extraordinary lengths to ensure she achieved maximum marks.
Thorough. He’d think nothing of revising the same exercises repeatedly just to make sure she met the grade. He took great delight in having her grasp initiative. Their dinner date for desire didn’t involve much eating. Her training in bathroom bubbles involved a thorough drying out of Sally’s bathroom. Ailsa never imagined such a dedicated teacher could be hers.
“Anything’s possible with the right level of application,” Nick reassured.
He taught by example. He praised her work to the heavens. “Oh God Ailsa! Oh. Top. Of. The. Class.” His merit marks filled her with the desire to climb to better heights.
He came armed with resources; learning tools from all the best stores from scent for places she’d never put scent to lingerie that revealed more than it covered. He’d arrive with a broad smile and a wicked glint that drove her crazy. The long satin gloves were an inspired addition to her repertoire. She’d never imagined the pole for boudoir burlesque shows would be such a personal joy. It didn’t take long for her to get the hang of Nick’s classroom protocol.
He also brought books. Then a highly educational DVD. They’d managed to keep their hands off each other for twenty five seconds before they’d switched off by remote and taken over the lead roles.
Then there were the Belgian chocolate flavoured massage butter bars. The crushed strawberry and champagne puree for edible pleasure. The chocolate shortcake ice cream just for the heck of it.
Nick proved inspired in his study aids.
Oh, and the French Maid outfit had been claimed as a joke but apparently role play was an effective learning tool. Her three week love-making education might have been a steep learning curve but one that she’d excelled at.
“Feeling ‘learned’ my young scholar?” he asked that night after another successful session.
“The funny thing about study,” said Ailsa, “Is the more you learn, the more you want to master.”
“Depends how you bond with the teacher?” Nick asked as they lay wrapped in each other’s limbs. “Do I pass muster?”
Ailsa didn’t reply. She just nodded with approval and then silently proved herself an exemplary strident student in all disciplines. Nick was convinced beyond words.
***
“Somebody looks happy,” said Sally Palmer and snapped Ailsa out of her sexy fuzz induced reverie. Oh the joys of having regular thrilling sex with a hot wild man.
“Me?” she smiled. Lately she’d been smiling a lot. She must make more of an effort to disguise it by practising frowns.
“Suits you,” said Sally. “I’m glad someone else is as happy. Right now I’m over the moon; can’t stop grinning.”
They were spending time together unwinding at Sally’s Spa. It had become a regular thing. Her favourite thing, apart from Nick’s sex instruction.
Ailsa and Sally had been spending quite a bit of time together since beginning work properly with Sally at ‘The Witches Nest’. The project was moving on apace.
Sally had a good business head. She wanted creative input on the project and she contributed well. Ailsa was working up a great event; things were on target and Ailsa was putting her itinerary and plans in place.
“So what’s making you so happy?” Ailsa asked.
“I feel alive again,” Sally told her, bubbles in the spa popping around her neck. Tendrils of her hair billowing in the water currents. “I feel desirable. And what’s better. I feel desire. Capital mind rocking D.”
“Oh the joys of Johnny!”
Sally laughed. “And I thought we were being so discreet. Don’t tell Nick. Johnny’s turned my world around. He’s turned my life around. He’s amazing but have we shocked you?” Sally asked.
“I couldn’t be more delighted for you both. I wondered what’s made him so happy around the office.” Ailsa laughed. “Yesterday I caught him humming and Johnny doesn’t do musical; he’s a cross between a broken mangle and a goose in fog. Consider that down to you.”
Sally pulled her shoulders almost to her ears. “He makes me feel so womanly. Right now I feel like I’m on a high, down to him.”
“I hate to burst your bubble but I think Nick knows. Don’t worry; he’s discreet. He just wants you to be happy. He’s turning a blind eye.”
She knew where Sally was coming from; that short of breath, upbeat feeling that told there was a love interest in the ether was addictive. Someone whose mere presence put your world in a spin. A man who could walk into the room and turn everything else to mute. Only his voice mattered, only watching him, having him close at hand was important. Eye contact and electricity.
Just like it was with Nick.
“Can I ask you a question?” asked Sally.
Ailsa smiled. “Of course. I’ve known Johnny for ages so I can give you a potted history…”
“Great, for some other time,” Sally smiled. “But I wanted to ask about my brother. Is it serious?”
That floored her. The Spa temperature seemed to falter.
“I know you’re seeing each other,” said Sally. “He thinks he invented ‘secretive’ but I’m cleverer than he thinks. Is it more than just bedroom fun?”
Ailsa shrugged. “It’s short term. Nick will be going home. Don’t worry he’s well aware of his commitments.”
Sally watched her with a serious expression, “Nick doesn’t need more complications but he deserves to meet someone long term soon. I’ve been telling him that. But I hoped you might be someone who can accept him for himself as well as the baggage he brings. London’s only an hour away, not a week on a slow boat.”
Ailsa felt the bubbles popping against her thighs, “Nick’s life is in London, mine is here. He’s a hot, handsome guy. He’ll get snapped up. It’s just fun.”
“Maybe you don’t realise that he’s usually so picky. You should ask our Mother. So picky he rarely sees anyone. Nick deserves more than brief flings.”
Ailsa felt the spa bubbles massage her body; pummelling but failing to remove the stony feeling she’d just developed in her heart. A feeling that hinted at a necessary end of the road from kidding herself about Nick’s able tuition, for his own good.
Ailsa changed topic, “In the meantime back to you and Johnny; when did you realise you fancied him like a wild Tasmanian She Devil?”
Sally’s nose wrinkled. “The thrill I got when he laughed at my jokes. He has the sexiest laugh. In bed it melts me …”
Ailsa feigned light-hearted, “Gimme the skinny. Even if it makes my hair curl.”
***
Ailsa had spent a long lunchtime with the execs from Sofa City before rushing back to work for ‘The Witches Nest’ project research. She’d already met with Sally twice and had fully brainstormed Sally’s business angle to the project. There was an itinerary to bring to fruition; acts to book, players to find, a marketing programme and more tick list jobs to achieve than she had time to consider.
The Sofa City lunch went well and her contract renewed; they loved her new sexy image. She didn’t divulge her secret but firm personal plan to give up her model role; that could wait.
Campaign Director Rhona told her, “Maybe it’s time for a new approach on the campaign? How about we find you a man match; up the heat? You’ve been solo on the sofa long enough.”
The ‘future planning’ meeting caused thoughts to crowd her mind all the way back. As soon as she’d got back to the office she made a phone call.
“Nick I need to see you.”
His voice was caramel rich, “See, I knew I was a woman magnet. You want me for my body again? Sure I could oblige.”
Ailsa wasn’t in the mood for flirtation-fun. “It’s reassurance I want; that you have no designs of ever falling in love with me. I need you to tell me it’s only sex. And that’s all that’s in it.”
The pause stretched out between them like a two mile bridge over a jagged canyon.
�
��I’m coming over,” he answered darkly. “Then you are going to tell me about your family, as hard as that may be. If you want me to sanction your demands you’ve got to come clean with me.” His voice was hard as Lapland ice.
Ailsa felt chills sprint from the bottom of her spine up to the tips of her hair.
“Lisa told me properly about Kirsty and your Mum. These are things I need to hear from you,” he told her. “I want to know why your past has made you intent on spoiling a good thing. And I want to know it all.”
***
Ailsa’s past would not be her Number One topic in a quiz show, a competition or even a five minute class talk.
She’d weathered enough sorry times for a hanky-soaker yet she often felt she’d barely shed enough tears. Not for lack of it affecting her but sometimes the best way to cope was assume a stoic shield and march on.
She’d barely known her father before he died; she’d been just two.
Ronnie Murray had a stroke at thirty two; no warning, no cause, just fatal. But it had meant she’d only known him through what her mother or Kirsty told her and old photographs. She’d poured over albums, looking for clues, connection. She’d watched one old cine film that was fuzzy to near destruction point.
Her quiz show topic would have had to have been losing the people who count most. How life takes the special ones no matter how hard you fear it.
So if she tried to keep detached and her heart intact, was that so bad or crazy? If it made her sound cool, careful and pragmatic in her approach. And if that made her avoid dating and long term notions, did it make her callous or fey?
Loss sucked. Loving someone with your whole heart meant risking your sanity. The gaping cavern inside her often scared her rigid; it was the worst pain and it came back to torment you.
First about how at eighteen she’d begun to resent Kirsty – nothing major, no fights or feuds. But somehow, it was hard not to be jaded by such a bright dazzling star. So yes, Ailsa had guilt about the misdirected feeling’s she’d had about her sexy, beautiful and magnetising sister.
As for her Mum, the overdose slammed inner fears loud and clear, “You’re not enough. I don’t want what’s left without my husband and my daughter.”
