The Runaway Year

by Shani Struthers

  Although pleased with her choice of outfit, she noticed a flutter of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Quickly doubts came creeping in. What if Joseph thought she was dressing up for his benefit? To impress him? He might get the wrong idea. Perhaps she should stick to her tried-and-trusted uniform. Anxiety threatened to engulf her. It took a few minutes and a couple of deep breaths to calm down again. And when she did, she couldn’t believe how worked up she’d become. She would wear what she liked; that was her prerogative. And he could think what he liked; that was his.

  Sinking into the tub, filled to the brim with Celestial Dreams bubble bath, another Harvest Moon buy, she managed to laugh at herself for regressing fourteen years in as many seconds. You’re a grown woman, she chided herself, not a teenager. Stop acting like one. After a while she dozed off, all things celestial on her mind. When she woke, her fingers and toes were as wrinkled as prunes and the facemask had set rigid, making her feel as though she were encased in stone.

  Wincing at how the cold the water had become, she let the bath drain and rinsed off under a hot shower. Damn, not enough time to smooth my hair into submission. She was cross she’d fallen asleep and run out of time. Now she’d have to let her wavy hair dry naturally. It was a much softer look, though, less urban. Perhaps it would suit what she was going to wear better. Sitting at her dressing table, she applied mascara, a hint of blusher, and her favorite shade of lipstick—Rimmel’s Amethyst Shimmer—which she’d worn since she was sixteen, then slipped into her dress, stepping back to check every angle of her appearance in the wardrobe mirror.

  Not bad, she thought, unable to stop herself wondering if that would be Joseph’s opinion too.

  Layla opened the door and then looked pointedly at her watch. “And what time do you call this?” she teased. It was 7:18 p.m. “You’re late!”

  “Sorry,” Joseph replied, following her through into the kitchen. “It’s an old habit of mine, left over from London. Being late was all the rage back there, you know.”

  Still pretending she was put out, she took the bottle he handed her, a nicely chilled sauvignon blanc, one of the finest that May’s, the village store, had to offer. Reminding herself not to drink too much (the last thing she wanted was to greet Penny tomorrow with a hangover), she poured herself a deliberately low measure, filled a second glass more generously, and handed it to him.

  “You look nice,” he commented before thanking her for the wine and making his way outside to the porch.

  Grateful he had turned away and so couldn’t see her blush, she fussed about in the kitchen for a while, preparing a dressing for the side salad, adding a few chopped herbs as an afterthought. Happy that all was well, she joined him, looking forward to another evening of lighthearted chat.

  “I thought we’d eat out here tonight, if that’s okay. It’s a lovely evening. We should make the most of it,” she said as she drew up a chair opposite him.

  “Definitely,” he replied, staring out toward Gull Rock.

  “Beautiful,” she sighed, realizing too late she was still looking at him as she spoke. Averting her eyes, she added, “The view, I mean.”

  “Oh, so not me?” he joked, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

  Recovering quickly, she grinned back. “You’re okay, I guess. Not my type, but I’m sure there’s plenty out there who’ll appreciate you.”

  “Thanks very much.” He appeared somewhat crestfallen. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

  “A bit of both, I think.” She winked and then headed back to the kitchen to bring dinner out.

  As they tucked into their food—Joseph suitably appreciative of her culinary efforts and topping up their glasses, she noticed, on an all-too-regular basis—the day began to draw to a close, leaving them bathed only in the light from the kitchen and a couple of candles working overtime on the table.

  Finishing his last mouthful, Joseph leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs. “So are you getting used to our country ways?”

  “Yeah,” she replied, the wine making her feel blurred around the edges. “It helped to know something about the place before I pitched up, though. Unlike a friend of mine who moved to Canada recently. She’d never been there before, not even on holiday. Such a brave thing to do. I keep meaning to contact her on Facebook, see how she’s getting on.”

  “Tara did the same,” confided Joseph, a slight shadow crossing his face. “She’d never been to Australia before she moved there. Seems to love it, though.”

  Hoping it still wasn’t a sensitive subject, she ventured, “Do you still hear from her?”

  “Tara?” he said. “Not really. Just a postcard every now and then. She was stunned I moved to Cornwall a few months after she left, though. Probably thought I did it to be closer to her, in spirit, if not in body.”

  “And did you?”

  “No,” he replied. “I didn’t. It was Jim I was after all along.”

  Because his delivery was so deadpan, it took a second or two for Layla to realize he was joking. When she did, she burst out laughing. That was the thing with Joseph: he made her laugh. More than Alex ever did, she realized with a start.

  “So, come on, then,” he said, leaning forward. “Tell me about you and your holidays here when you were younger. I want to hear all about it.”

  Feeling suddenly shy, she glanced at him to see if he really was interested in her childhood memories or whether he was simply being polite. He looked genuine enough, so she started to tell him, amazed that she hadn’t really done so before. All about her mother and the good times they’d had in Trecastle. About how she had met Hannah on the beach. She touched upon her father’s death, hoping he wouldn’t push her to elaborate. But he didn’t. He simply sat and listened, not interrupting, just nodding every now and again, soaking up her words.

  “And now I’m here again,” she finished. “For twelve months this time, instead of the usual two weeks—an extended holiday, like Hannah said.”

  “Maybe you won’t go back at all?” he said, and unless she was very much mistaken, there was a hopeful note in his voice.

  Blushing yet again, she started to stack plates on the table.

  “Here, I’ll do that.” Joseph rose quickly, taking the cutlery from her hands.

  He made his way into the kitchen, whilst she settled back down again, pouring them both another glass of wine. Just as she was about to take a sip, an almighty “Whoa” erupted from within. Startled, she sprang from her seat, nearly sending the glass flying as she rushed inside.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  He looked stricken, as white as a sheet.

  She hurried over to him and gently pried the plates from his hands, placing them on the worktop instead. Firmly she repeated the question. It was a few seconds, however, before he answered.

  “Over there,” he managed at last, pointing.

  She followed his finger with her eyes but couldn’t see anything.

  “What?” she urged. “What are you looking at?”

  “There,” he said again through gritted teeth.

  And then she saw it: a spider. Impressively large, she had to admit, but a spider nonetheless. Sitting perfectly still on the kitchen counter, minding its own business.

  She was relieved that this was all that seemed to be the problem, but also slightly bemused. “Is that it? Is that what’s frightening you?”

  “I am not frightened,” he replied emphatically. “I just don’t particularly like spiders. Can you get rid of it?”

  Struggling to keep her amusement at bay, she grabbed a tumbler from the kitchen cupboard and a piece of card lying beside her laptop on the table. The offending creature sensed her approach and made a dash for it, its rapid movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from behind her. Although it was quick, she was quicker, slamming the glass dome over it and sliding the card underneath.

  “Ugh. Get it out of here,” Joseph gasped, still rooted to the spot.

&n
bsp; Chewing her lip to keep from laughing, Layla released it into the wild. As she made her way back to the kitchen, Joseph begged her to shut the door. And that did it. She couldn’t hold back anymore. An image of the spider, indignant it had been unceremoniously evicted, doing an about turn and stomping back in to claim its rightful place caused her to practically double with convulsions.

  “I fail to see what’s funny.” Clearly, he was not impressed by her reaction.

  “I can’t believe you’re so frightened…” she began and then dissolved again into peals of laughter.

  “I’ve told you I am not frightened of spiders,” he continued haughtily. “I just don’t like them. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re terrified,” she managed in between giggles. “Absolutely terrified. Go on, admit it.”

  “I am not terrified,” he persisted but then started smiling too.

  After a few moments, Layla managed to speak again. “Sorry,” she said, feigning contrition. “I shouldn’t make fun. It’s just that a big, strapping man like you and a tiny thing like that—”

  “It was not tiny,” he interrupted. “It was huge. Massive, in fact. God, they grow them big down here,” he ended in almost pitiful despair.

  “So you really can’t bear them?” she asked, still unable to believe it.

  “I think we’ve established that,” he replied with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “It’s another reason I didn’t move to Australia. They’ve got those bloody Huntsmans out there, as big as dinner plates, apparently.”

  Sidling up to him, Layla purred, “Well, I, for one, am glad you stayed. And if any of those nasty spiders frighten you again, call me. I’ll save you.”

  Although he rolled his eyes at her, he was definitely sharing in her amusement. “So,” he said, his voice husky all of a sudden, “I’ve got my very own spider catcher living just next door to me. That’s good to know.”

  She was about to start laughing again, but instead she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, something in her unable to resist. Up close, he smelled so damn good. It wasn’t aftershave, rather his natural scent. And the heat from his body seemed like a tangible thing, reaching out to envelope her. Although he was clearly startled at what she had done, he kissed her next—then again and again, harder each time.

  Breaking away, her voice husky too, she whispered, “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Leading him by the hand, she couldn’t help but wonder who this wanton creature was that had possessed her—certainly she had never met her before. Once in the bedroom, they continued to kiss, those strong, capable hands of his removing her dress with deft skill and throwing it halfway across the room. Quickly she helped him remove his shirt, and before they knew it, they were on the bed, his hands running all over her body, her tongue seeking his.

  Although the sex was urgent, she was surprised some part of her was able to commit every touch, every stroke to memory as though really they were moving in slow motion. When he temporarily broke away to smile at her, the only thing in the world she wanted was to feel him against her again, his lean body fit and hard against her softer one.

  She pulled him to her, and this time he climbed on top, gently guiding her legs apart with his. As he entered her, she cried out. Hearing her gasp, he stopped to look at her again. At that exact moment, she was sure he could see into her very soul and she into his—an experience so powerful, so raw, it was frightening. Not wanting to think, only to feel, she cupped her hand behind his head and pulled his mouth toward her. As he moved back and forth, slowly at first but then more vigorously, Layla tried to hold on, desperate to make the moment last as long as possible. But she couldn’t; her climax came fast and furious, followed swiftly by his.

  Collapsing against her, it was some time before they were able to control their breathing. At last, he rolled off to lie by her side, one hand strewn casually across her stomach.

  After a few relaxed moments, Layla turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, his face a perfect picture of contentedness. Staring at him, she suddenly sobered—what the hell had just happened? It was as though she’d been caught up in some kind of a whirlwind, unable to resist the forces of nature. But it was wrong, completely and utterly wrong. Joseph was her friend, not her lover. Theirs was a lovely, uncomplicated relationship, one of the few she’d ever had with a man, and one she wanted to keep.

  What she had just experienced, that fervor, she had read about in books and seen in films but didn’t think happened in real life. Not to her, anyway. Where had those feelings come from? They had hit like a bolt from the blue and disappeared just as quickly. Where the hell to? She had never had an experience so intense before, not even with Alex. Why not?

  As Joseph opened his eyes to look at her, a languid smile playing about the edges of his mouth, she couldn’t help but groan.

  “What is it?” he asked, slightly taken aback.

  “This,” she replied, clutching at the duvet, embarrassed now by her nakedness. “This is the matter. It’s a mistake.”

  Also sitting up, but not bothering to cover himself, he replied, “Not for me, it wasn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that…this isn’t why I came to Trecastle. To get involved with someone else. I wanted a break from all that.” And then hesitating slightly, she added, “Besides, I still love Alex.”

  If she had punched him in the face, he couldn’t have looked more shocked. But why, she couldn’t fathom. He knew the reason she had come here. She had told him, the bare bones of it, anyway. What did he expect? One shag and she’d change allegiance?

  Without another word, he rose from the bed to find his clothes.

  Alarm bells went off in her head, and she quickly grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry, Joseph,” she repeated. “Really I am.”

  “It’s fine,” he replied, brushing her off gently, but brushing her off nonetheless.

  As he started to dress, she got out of bed too, grabbing her dressing gown from the back of the door and wrapping it tight around herself.

  He buttoned up his jeans and left the room to go downstairs. Smoothing down her hair, she followed him.

  “Joseph,” she implored as he strode toward the front door. “Please don’t let what’s happened affect our friendship. I love what we’ve got.”

  His hand on the door handle, she once again grabbed his arm. “Please.”

  He turned round to face her at last. “You still want to be friends?” he asked.

  “Of course, I do,” she replied, shrinking slightly from the hardness in his eyes. She had never seen that steely glint in them before.

  “Okay,” he said, nodding his head in acquiescence before turning to go.

  As she watched him make his way next door, she shouted, “Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow, with Penny, for a drink in the pub?”

  “Uh-huh,” was his distant reply.

  She waited until he had disappeared from sight and then went back inside, closed the door, and slumped against it. Reaching her hand up to smooth her hair once again, she couldn’t believe how her lovely lighthearted evening had turned out. Certainly not the way she’d envisaged.

  Congratulations, Layla, she thought, angry beyond belief with herself. You really know how to mess things up. Then she headed to the lounge to spend the rest of the night awake on the sofa.

  Chapter Nine

  “LAYLA, IT’S ME!” yelled Penny as she thumped on the oak door.

  Thank heavens, thought Layla, practically tearing the door off its hinges and hurling herself into Penny’s arms.

  “Wow!” said Penny, clearly taken aback. “You really have missed me, haven’t you?”

  Not wanting to linger on the doorstep, Layla quickly pulled her inside. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said before hugging her once again.

  “Steady on.” Penny was laughing now. “It’s only been a few weeks since we’ve seen each other, you know, not decades!”

  Layla started laughing too, r
ealizing how extreme she was being. But she was just so relieved to see Penny, the first time she’d felt anything other than confusion and upset since last night. Do NOT think about last night, she reminded herself for the millionth time. In truth though, she could think of nothing else, which was why seeing Penny was even more fantastic than anticipated. If anyone could take her mind off the whole Joseph debacle, Penny could. Not that she would tell her what had happened; that was best kept under wraps. Penny would tell her to make the most of having such a hunky neighbor, that a fling with him would do her bruised heart the world of good. She’d be wrong, though, and Layla could prove it. Her bruised heart, instead of feeling lighter, felt heavier than ever. She would keep it quiet from Hannah, too. That way the whole thing might blow over quicker.

  The first thing Penny wanted after her long drive was a hot soak in the bath and a decent cup of tea. After that, she declared, they could catch up properly at their leisure. This suited Layla fine. She still needed time to collect herself. She hurried to Penny’s car—a brand new Qashqai in that purple-black color they had both admired in the showroom prior to Penny buying it—and started lugging bags inside as Penny sauntered upstairs to check out the sleeping arrangements. After her third trip, Layla had to exercise all her powers of self-restraint not to comment sarcastically on her friend’s complete and utter inability to travel light. Everything but the kitchen sink was in the boot of that car, she was sure of it.

  Having hauled in the last bag, Layla went in search of Penny. As she neared the landing, she heard Penny call out, “This isn’t as bad as I thought. In fact, it’s not bad at all.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Layla called back, a little put out that she thought it might have been bad in the first place.