Dreams of a Little Cornish Cottage

by Nancy Barone

  After we said our goodnights, we climbed into the lift where we avoided looking at each other. Was he panicking, like me? Was he wondering how to tell me that I’d crossed the line? That pretending to be my boyfriend was one thing, but to actually kiss him was another, and in front of everyone, to boot? Well, he would be bloody right.

  Connor pulled out the key card to room number thirteen – my lucky number, incidentally – opened the door and stood back for me to enter. I swallowed, and, without looking at him, stepped inside, waiting for him to read me the riot act, feeling just like I used to when I’d done something humongously wrong and was awaiting a good bollocking from my mother.

  The first thing he did when we got inside was remove his tie and his jacket. The ball was in my court, obviously. How to handle this?

  I cleared my throat. I wasn’t that gullible, nor brazen enough, to expect him to continue the charade in private. It would have been nice, though, to be in a real relationship, and to have someone to talk to, make love with and then cuddle up to and still find him there the next morning to share breakfast in bed. But that was fantasy.

  ‘Well, thanks so much for doing this, Connor. You may have well and truly secured my job.’

  He coughed. ‘Right – my pleasure. You can have the bathroom first,’ he said, still not looking me in the eye.

  I stopped and turned. ‘Oh. Okay. Thank you.’

  As I slid open the bathroom door, I couldn’t help but notice the irony of it all. We were alone, had a gorgeous luxury hotel bedroom with a huge bathtub positively screaming for soapy sex, and we couldn’t even look at each other. I brushed my teeth, noticing my eyes in the mirror. They were getting dangerously moist. I’m not going to cry, I told myself. I will die first.

  I rinsed and turned the bathtub tap on nice and high, until the water cascaded like Niagara Falls, the echo filling the room.

  I sat on the toilet lid, drew my knees up to my chin and dialled Maggie’s number.

  ‘Nat? What’s up? I thought you’d be swinging from the chandeliers by now.’

  ‘I’m stuck in the toilet,’ I whispered.

  ‘Uh-oh. It’s those damn canapés, isn’t it? Try drinking a lot of water.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. I’m hiding out in the loo – because of the kiss.’

  ‘What are you talking about? That was an Oscar-winning kiss!’

  ‘Exactly! It wasn’t real or planned and I don’t know how he’s taken it. He hasn’t spoken to me since except to say: You can have the bathroom first.’

  ‘Ouch. So what’s your plan?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea, Maggie. All this time, I was hoping that something was slowly but surely happening between us. Gosh, what did I think, that a bloke like him could actually be…?’ I wiped my eyes. I wasn’t as strong as I’d thought.

  ‘But, Nat – the chemistry between you is absolutely sizzling. Everyone can see that.’

  ‘Well, everyone except for him, apparently.’

  ‘Nonsense. What are you going to do then?’

  ‘I’m going to camp out in the loo until I’m grey and old.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Get out there and tell him that you fancy him.’

  ‘You must be out of your mind. I can’t do that. I’m old-school.’

  ‘But you kissed him.’

  ‘An isolated aberration. I’m never doing that again.’

  ‘Nonsense. Now you go out there and get things going.’

  ‘Are you not listening to me, Maggie? He’s not interested in the least.’

  ‘How are you ever going to be certain if you don’t go out there and find out?’

  I heaved a heavy, exhausted sigh. ‘Okay. I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘Not too much talking, though. Nat.’

  ‘Ha.’

  ‘Good luck!’

  ‘Yuh,’ I croaked.

  I took a quick bath, dried off briskly and, wrapped up in a fluffy robe, stood with my hand on the handle of the adjoining door, debating. I had two options here. If I pulled out my old pyjama bottoms I would be sending a clear message that it had been a farce for me, too.

  If, on the other hand, I’d decided to push the boat out and pull out the lacy number, things could go another way. Or… they could go completely awry. He could just stare at me and cough in embarrassment and there would be nowhere to hide. No other room to storm out to, no other bed to sleep in.

  Or I could simply stay here, and camp out all night in the bath.

  And to think that I’d initially debated whether to have a fling with him. If he’d seemed inclined, maybe I’d have initiated one. But to be fair, Connor had never really actually, openly flirted with me. Except for maybe the odd spaniel-eyed look which, I now understood, I had grossly misinterpreted. Because, in all honesty, even if I were uninhibited and decided to try and encourage him, what were the actual chances he’d even be remotely interested in me? If he had been, wouldn’t he have continued to kiss me, perhaps in the lift, like you see in the movies?

  In any case, I was not interested in pity nights. I wanted the real thing, even if for now, due to a tremendous lack of courage, I had to settle for my parallel world, and in my mind I rewound the scene to earlier when we got into our room.

  I should have stretched my hand out to him. His eyes would have widened in surprise at first, but then he’d be so allured by my overwhelming sex appeal that, unable to resist me, he’d let me kiss him and caress him and undress him until he was ready and waiting for me. And of course he would have kissed me back, as if not a soul had been watching us. Just him and me, utterly and desperately powerless to restrain ourselves, like in some old romantic black and white movie.

  But what if I actually did go back into the bedroom now and initiate something and we did go all the way? What if things were awkward tomorrow morning, independently of how well I’d done? I had no sex-o-meter. I had no idea, outside of bloody Neil, what was acceptable or not, what was super-hot and what was kinky.

  I opened the door a crack, but he was nowhere to be seen, so I stepped further into the room. ‘Oh my God, he’s gone,’ I whimpered to myself.

  And then his head suddenly appeared from behind the other side of the bed.

  I jumped and gasped.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I dropped the room key. Didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ I answered, and then instantly fell apart. ‘Connor, I’m so so sorry about – that kiss – it was totally out of line and not what we’d planned and—’

  ‘Nat,’ he said, running a hand through his hair, which he’d let loose and wild. ‘It’s okay.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘It is?’

  He came to stand opposite me. ‘Of course. I understand completely. It’s important for your job.’

  Oh. ‘I – I don’t want you to think I’ve taken advantage of the situation…’

  ‘Nat, believe me. I’m okay with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go have a shower.’

  With my heart lying so low it could have slipped under the plush carpeting, I watched him go.

  I changed into my own pyjamas – a cotton, prudish thingy with a high neck, and got into bed, completely disconsolate.

  When he came out, he was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt. I stared at him, trying to gauge the temperature. He sat on the bed, facing me, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to add something, but had thought better of it.

  Please say something. Anything, I begged him silently. Just get me out of my misery. At this point I’d have even appreciated a joke about putting a barrier down the centre of the bed, but he simply leaned in, and for a minute I thought he was going to kiss me. But he only gave me a peck on the cheek. Which was a clear message: End of Farce. Don’t expect any of that to continue tomorrow morning when you wake up, because it’s not happening.

  As if he hadn’t been clear enough, he removed himself to the far, far side of the bed. I had a feeling he’d have plastered himself to the oppo
site wall if he could have.

  Not that I was expecting a night of reckless, untamed passion, or anything. But to think that tomorrow reality would be quite different, and that Cinderella’s chariot would once again become a pumpkin and that I’d no longer be in this room with him was definitely an anti-climax.

  I’d wanted to at least sit and comment further on the evening, but of course it was of no real interest to him. He’d done me a monumental favour and now wanted the evening to end, whereas I wanted it to go on forever and ever.

  Any other woman would have been able to take that kiss straight from the party to the bedroom by keeping that sexual tension live-wire hot. But me? I was the anti-allure. The one who could never think of a sexy thing to say, or be comfortable throwing herself at a man. I just couldn’t. I simply wasn’t a flirt.

  I had no idea how to parade myself in front of men, nor would I feel comfortable in doing so. Besides, even on the theoretical level, I was totally clueless. Even now, as he was lingering, not quite sure how to curtail the evening and murder my dreams without seeming to be rude, I took in his beautiful presence. Okay, I was actually admiring the way his wide shoulders tapered down to that lean waist, I admit it – all the while wondering what I had done wrong. How had he changed so quickly, out of the blue from crowd-wower back to my tenant? Was he that good an actor that he could switch the sex-o-meter on and off that quickly?

  I could have screamed: If you’re not going to kiss me here, at least tell me I haven’t got a chance in hell, but don’t keep me hanging anymore! I needed this. I needed a fling like I needed to exhale.

  And then he suddenly rolled over to face me. ‘Nat? I, uhm, need to tell you something…’ he mumbled apologetically.

  Oh, no, please don’t tell me that you don’t fancy me. Please wait until tomorrow at least? I power-yawned and rubbed my eyes, partly to hide the moistness gathering behind my eyeballs.

  ‘Mmmh, can it wait until tomorrow? I’m absolutely knackered.’

  His mouth snapped shut. ‘Sure. Of course. It will keep. Goodnight, Nat,’ he whispered. ‘Sleep tight.’

  ‘Good, uhm, night, Connor,’ was all I managed. How would you have slept that night, thinking of what could have been but never would, because it had all been a farce? Exactly.

  *

  The next morning when I woke up Connor was in the shower. With my luck he’d come out fully dressed, if last night was anything to go by. Trying to stifle my disappointment, I reached for my mobile that bleeped, startling me, and I saw there were over three hundred WhatsApp messages, all from colleagues and friends, varying from Woohoo!!! to You Go Girl!!! to Who is your Apollo???

  And then, one single message from Maggie:

  I hope you managed to swing from those chandeliers in the end?

  Oh, the painful irony of it all! I grimaced as I continued to scroll down, when instead I should have been grinning. The stage was set. The word had spread and I was the new sensation with my old column back, thank God. And yet, I couldn’t be any more miserable. How could I act normally after what I’d done? Did I just pretend it had never happened, or act like I was aware it was only a one-night ruse?

  I had an entire five hours to think about it on the way home. During which Connor chatted about this and that amiably enough, and yet, I couldn’t help feel that we were blatantly ignoring the white elephant in the Jeep. Had I endangered our friendship?

  *

  When Neil came for Mum later that afternoon, he examined her more briefly than usual, as if he was in a hurry. He was cursory with her and not up to normal boring small talk about the weather or Coronation Street.

  ‘Right, Mum, everything’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow,’ he said as he snapped his bag shut and walked out into the hall where, just before the front door, he whirled around to face me.

  ‘I hear you were at the annual black-tie benefit in London last night.’

  I bristled. ‘And?’

  ‘And you didn’t think to invite me? Do you know how many contacts I make every year at those benefits? You should have told me. But instead you take bloody Casanova with you.’

  If he wanted me to take the bait, I would gravely disappoint him. ‘You and I are no longer together, Neil. When are you going to accept that?’

  His jaw worked. ‘Never. I am never going to accept that. You will always be my wife, Natalia. No matter what you say – or who you sleep with.’

  ‘Out,’ I said. ‘Get out now. And don’t come back. I’m getting my mother another GP.’

  He snorted. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Watch me,’ I said, reaching past him to open the front door, all the while holding his glare. In the bad old days I used to cower and heel like a dog. But not anymore.

  As he was debating whether to challenge me, Connor’s Jeep pulled up on the kerb, and Neil flashed the vehicle a murderous look.

  ‘This does not end here,’ he said under his breath.

  Connor swung his long legs out of the Jeep and ambled up the drive, humming to himself as usual.

  ‘Hiya, Doc,’ he greeted him with his usual cheerfulness, which Neil had never bothered to reciprocate. They both knew there wouldn’t be any wasted Christmas cards between them.

  ‘Connor,’ Neil greeted back through gritted teeth and took his leave, his back stiff with anger.

  ‘You okay?’ Connor asked, looking me up and down. ‘You look frazzled. Is your mum all right?’

  I shook my head clear and looked up at Connor. ‘Yes, she’s fine thank you.’

  He frowned. ‘It’s Neil giving you grief, isn’t he? I told you he wasn’t over you.’

  I snorted. ‘Oh, he was over me the minute he fell into bed with someone else,’ I said before I could stop myself. I bit my lip. ‘Sorry, too much information.’

  He came to stand opposite me and grinned. ‘Never. Is there any news from the grapevine about last night?’

  ‘Ah, yes. The word is out. And you have major consensus.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘It’s not about me. You were the star of the evening.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. I have a Skype conference call with Octavia on Monday.’

  At that, he made a mock face of terror and crossed his fingers. And that was it. Not a word about the after-ball, during which we’d opted to go straight to bed. Because for Connor, it was clearer than ever: this was all one big lie for my benefit.

  A moment later the girls came in from the garden and he clapped his hands together, his eyes bright with mischief. ‘Who wants to help me build a tree house?’

  The girls gasped, holding their cheeks. ‘A tree house? Oh, Auntie Nat – can we? Please?’

  Connor’s eyes swung to mine, and the twinkle in them made me want to gush like a thirteen-year-old. Despite myself, I grinned. ‘Of course you can, darlings.’

  And in the next second they were all over him in a swarm of hugs and kisses so affectionate that even Mum awoke from her dozing. ‘Eh? What’s happening?’

  ‘Connor and the girls are going to build a tree house, Mum. Isn’t that fun?’

  ‘A tree house? How lovely, Connor! Are you going to get your kit off and swing from the branches, too?’

  ‘Mother!’ I pleaded.

  He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Only if you join me, love.’

  ‘You’re on,’ she agreed enthusiastically.

  The zoo had nothing on this place.

  ‘When do we start?’ Amy wanted to know, doing the happy dance. I had never seen Amy do the happy dance. Not even on the last day of school last year. I know because I had been the one to fetch them.

  ‘Now,’ Connor said as Zoe slid off his lap. ‘Are you ready, sweetheart?’

  She looked up at him with such love that it frightened me. They were seriously getting attached. What happened when he had to leave? Was Yolanda right about letting the twins get too close to someone who, at the end of the day, was not part of the family, and who would be gone very soon?

 
The girls would miss him terribly. And I would miss him terribly. It was almost worth not selling the house.

  I glanced at the girls at the bottom of the garden, already fussing about how high the tree house should be built.

  ‘Higher!’ Amy shouted as Zoe climbed the ladder.

  ‘Zoe! Please get down right now!’ Connor and I both called in unison.

  But the girls only laughed.

  I wrung my wrists, torn between protecting them and letting them grow confident of their abilities.

  So the two of us stood guard under the tree, ready to catch them should they have fallen. I looked over at Connor who was biting his lip and eyeing me. ‘Thank God I’m not a father, I’d have had a thousand heart attacks by now.’

  I chuckled. ‘You’d be a great dad, Connor.’

  He shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, who knows.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, the twins will be devastated when you leave.’

  He leaned forward. ‘So will I. How will you feel, Nat?’

  Only yesterday we had a deluxe hotel room all to ourselves which turned out to be completely useless, and now he started flirting with me? I lowered my gaze from that playful twinkle in his eyes. ‘I’d miss you, too. You must know that.’

  He chuckled. ‘Must I?’

  I wiped the sweat off the back of my neck. When had it got so hot? All I wanted to do was scream: Stop flirting with me if you’re not prepared to take the consequences.

  ‘Nat – let me reassure you – until you need the room back, or sell up, I’m not going anywhere.’

  I tried not to sag in relief too visibly, but I felt my face stretch in an ear-to-ear smile.

  ‘You promise?’ I said before I could stop myself.

  ‘I more than promise, Nat. I swear on my life that I won’t go unless you tell me to.’ He grinned. ‘And even then I’d try to convince you to keep me.’

  Which was good enough for me. ‘Okay, then,’ I said, pushing my fringe behind my ear and pretend-shooing him away. It seemed that all was forgiven and that we were back where we’d started, i.e. square one. Which wasn’t all that bad, considering that I could have lost him completely due to my recklessness. ‘Go and build your tree house, now.’