by Paula Hawkes
Chapter 8
20:15: Tarb4u : Sooo close now
20:15: Tarb4u : I can almost taste her
20:15: Tarb4u : Green light?
20:20: HornEnvy : Green light
After a remarkable Friday, and an unremarkable but perfectly pleasant weekend, the working week arrived with a depressing thud. China hadn’t thought about Mark since the Friday night session with Philip, and was pleased that her Kindle book was finally getting some much-needed attention.
Devak brought her coffee to the table and she glanced at her watch. 11:45.
“Thank you, Devak. How are you today?”
Devak stopped and looked at her, seriously assessing her mood. Then he smiled. It was sincere and kind, as always. She had missed that smile. “I am fine, lady. More importantly, how are you? I feel that last week you weren’t really here.”
She laughed lightly. Although this question and statement brought a very brief image of Mark to mind she was able to quickly dismiss it. “That’s true, Devak, I’m sorry. I was just a little stressed out over work,” she lied.
“Well, I hope that whatever was stressing you out is now resolved. I do not like to see my lovely lady without a smile on her face.”
“Ahh, Devak, you can always bring a smile to my face.”
He blushed and his smile grew even broader. “You are teasing me, lady, but I do not mind if it makes you smile.”
“I’m sorry, Devak, I don’t mean to tease. Sometimes a lady just can’t help herself.” She was aware that she was flirting with this harmless man.
Devak quickly dismissed her provocative play with a brief, almost camp flutter of his hand, but as he turned away he was beaming happily.
“Hello. Don’t I recognize you from somewhere.” The voice jolted her out of her reverie. Startled she turned and her heart stopped for a second as she looked up into eyes of emerald green. He raised his big hands and mimed snapping a picture. His arrogant grin revealed straight white teeth and his voice rumbled with antipodean machismo as he said, “Well, where do I know you from?”
Flustered, she guiltily glanced down at her open bag. She knew he couldn’t see the card that lay casually amongst the chaos within but she felt as if those eyes could see everything, through the leather of a bag, through her skin and into her betraying mind, scouring her thoughts.
“I don’t know. Maybe I look like someone else you know.” She tried not to make eye contact as she knew that if she did she would be rendered either a babbling fool or a virtual mute. Neither option would be very attractive.
He clapped his hands together loudly, making her jump and finally look up into his face. “I know,” he exclaimed. “You were on the train the other day, weren’t you? I couldn’t forget that.”
His blatant complement sent her into a spin of excitement and guilt. She was a married woman, and this handsome, very handsome she corrected, young Australian was openly telling her that she was unforgettable. Sub-consciously she pulled her silk scarf up around her chin. “I’m sure you say that to lots of strange women in cafes. Strange, married, women.” She tried to instil some indignant irritation into her voice but was struggling to find words without stuttering or talking nonsense. She wanted to be anywhere else right now. Even being back at work would have been preferable to this mortal embarrassment.
He laughed, a rich sound that vibrated through her core and sent thrilling shivers all through her body. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re not that strange.” He glanced down at her hand. “But I can see you are that married. I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you.” There was an undertow of Irish accent behind the thunder of Australia, which meant his voice almost sang the words. “I’ll leave you in peace. For now”
Those last two words scared her. What did he mean by ‘for now’? Was he planning on talking to her again? If he was she had better make a better account of herself next time. He must think she was an imbecile, a mouse of a woman, using a wedding band as a shield where words failed her.
As Mark walked off China realized that she knew his name but he did not know hers, and she wanted him to know her name. Why, she didn’t really know, but she felt that he should at least know the name of the woman he was sending into a tail-spin of emotions.
Devak came over to her table with a concerned look on his face. He looked with displeasure at Mark’s retreating form. “Are you ok, lady? That man wasn’t bothering you was he?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said.
“If he is a nuisance I will do something about it. I cannot have my dedicated and loyal customers bothered by riff-raff.” He looked quite upset and his chest was puffed out in a display of indignant protectiveness.
China couldn’t help laughing at the polite old-fashioned phrases Devak used. His eyes showed a sparkle of anger and his lips were pressed tightly together as if to hold back any further vocalisations of annoyance. “Seriously, Devak,” she said placing a hand on his tense arm. “He just thought he knew me. He doesn’t know me. Not at all.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure Devak or herself, but this tiny defiance made her feel a little more in control. She paid Devak what she owed and strolled confidently back to work, thinking about Mark all the way and admonishing herself. He could only be in his mid twenties, younger than her by some margin. She was punching well above her weight if she thought she could attract someone with such classically chiselled good looks. That sort of thing just did not happen to her. But she couldn’t help the warm feeling of pleasure that came with knowing that this strange, but beautiful, young man had in fact paid her some attention.
That afternoon very little work got done. She daydreamed her way through the hours until the commute home. Mark featured heavily in these fancies, although she finished each episode by putting him firmly in place with a witty riposte to which there was no possible comeback, he would slink off, a broken man, and she would head home to her waiting husband, informing him in some detail of how she had put a flagrant womanizer in his place. Someone who would not forget China Dark in a hurry.
Chapter 9
China decided that she would not be chased away from her daily routine. This was her favourite café and she did not see why she should avoid it just because this arrogant, young stranger had taken to daily strolls past her, just at the time when she was taking her regular coffee. Her routine would not change, and he ought to know that. Every day during the rest of that week Mark walked past her table. Some days he would nod and smile, others he might even thunder out a confident ‘Hi’ that almost made her jump and spill her coffee. She would politely nod back, but wouldn’t grace him with any verbal response. His impertinence just would not do. He knew that she was married and she thought she had left him in no doubt of her disinterest in him. She was only nodding back to be civil.
This display held out for almost the whole of the first week, until China felt Mark was sure of where they both stood, and then on that Friday she said “Hello” back to him in a perfectly polite, almost cold voice that belied the turmoil of emotions within. His smile was instant and he again mimed taking a picture.
“Why do you do that?” she asked, unable to stifle her curiosity.
“Whenever there is a special moment in my life I like to capture it. If I haven’t got my trusty Nikon with me, then my mind captures it for ever and stores it away.” His voice growled with a depth and sensuality that made her feel quite weak inside, each word coming out as if part of an ancient Irish protest song.
She tilted her head sideways. “Fair enough. Each to their own.” She cringed inside. She was still totally unable to think of something witty or clever to say. Responding in clichés was not the impression she wanted to make.
Before she could say anything he had sat down in a chair at her table. Devak rushed out. “Are you ok, lady? Is this man bothering you?” He stared unwaveringly at Mark, his long, slender frame almost quivering with indignation and rage, like an angry Dachshund.
“Thank you waite
r, I’d like a Cappuccino.” The cockiness in his voice was annoyingly amusing.
Devak’s stare did not falter as he asked China again, “Is this man bothering you?”
Mark smiled a totally non-threatening smile at Devak, and then glanced at her. “Well. Am I?”
“It’s no biggie. If you want a coffee, it’s a free country.”
Devak bristled and then turned to stamp back into the café.
“You don’t suppose he’ll spit in it do you?” Mark asked her.
“Devak is one of the nicest people you could ever know.” This felt like answer enough.
“Well I don’t think he likes me very much.”
“Maybe you’re not a very easy person to like.”
“Ouch. That was harsh.” But he was laughing quietly. “No. Of course, you are right. I’m being an arrogant prick.” He held out his hand to her. “I’m Mark.”
“I know,” she said before she could stop herself.
Mark clapped his hands loudly together, drawing startled glances from people around them. “Aha. So you did read the card then!”
“Yes, I did,” she had to admit, although she was mortified at her careless slip. “Just before I showed it to my husband and threw it away.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. So now you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
This was her opportunity to level the playing field. “I’m China Dark. Mrs China Dark.” She emphasized the ‘Mrs’ into a near hiss.
“Yes, I think we’ve established that you are married. And, wow. Just wow! I love that name.” He was seriously enthusiastic, which made her blush with pleasure.
“My father chose it for me.”
“Well he sure can pick a name, your father.”
“He’s dead,” she spat out. She wanted to bring him down from his arrogant perch although she felt a nasty twang of guilt about using her father for this purpose. However, she thought her father would have approved in this particular case.
Mark’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, shocked. For the first time he seemed lost for words. He stumbled out an apology and then went silent. China suddenly felt sorry for him. When the Cappuccino arrived Mark picked it up, expertly tested the aroma and then sipped it carefully. His sad eyes did not meet China’s.
“That was a cheap shot,” China finally said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Why would you?”
“Well you certainly shut me up for a bit.”
They both laughed and China said, “Shall we start again. I’m China Dark, and you are Mark …?” She left the blank for him to fill as she held out her hand. He took it in his massive hand, as gently and firmly as if he were holding a delicate bird with a broken wing. He didn’t shake her hand he just held it. That first flesh-to-flesh contact, the heat exchange, the slightly rough texture of his palm, paralysed her mind and sent ice and fire running up her arm. His proximity brought with it the smells of citrus and the faint zing of wood smoke, a good masculine aftershave she decided.
“I’m so pleased to finally meet you. And I apologise for the rather unorthodox way I went about engineering a meeting with you. But I did have to meet you.”
This time the flattery seemed less offensive and more sincere. She could forgive him that, even if she had no idea why this stunning man would be interested in her.
“Well, now you have, and I’m sure that it’s not quite what you expected.”
“It’s exactly what I hoped. I’m good at reading people. You have to be in my line of work.”
“Well yes, I can see why a barman would need to be good at that.” Damn, she thought at this second slip. Her big mouth again betraying her.
“How did you know?”
She didn’t answer and, to her relief, after a couple of seconds he let her off the hook. “Well, no, I actually meant my other profession. I’m a photographer. Like it says on my card.” Again, he lifted his hands, framed an imaginary camera and made the audible sound of a shutter with his tongue as he mimed taking a picture.
“A photographer. That is interesting, I’ll give you that. And what do you photograph? Or am I going to regret asking?”
“I photograph everything. But what I make my money from are portraits. Revealing souls. Opening closed books. Letting the world in.” As he spoke of photography he got a far away look in his eyes and his voice filled with passion for his subject. She was left in no doubt whatsoever that he was heartfelt in his love for taking pictures of people.
“Anyway,” she said, startling him out of his reverie. “I’m afraid I do have to get back to work. But it was actually ok meeting you, I suppose.” She was now teasing him and he recognized that. He smiled at her, sending her into another whirlwind of competing emotions. He was almost impossibly handsome when he smiled.
“It was very nice meeting you too,” he said. “And I hope you won’t mind me joining you for coffee again soon.”
“That depends upon how you behave.”
He looked as if he was about to say something else, but then stopped himself, almost imperceptibly shook his head, and just said, “Until the next time then.”
She was proud of the fact that as she walked away she neither glanced back nor tripped over her high heels. Not a bad day all round, she thought. And the encounter wasn’t quite as terrifying as she feared it would be. She felt sure that she could control this situation. As long as he didn’t keep smiling at her. That would make it far more difficult. Then she thought of Philip and wondered whether or not she should, or even could, feel guilty about this innocent chat. Philip was so keen for her to have an affair, so why should she feel bad about just talking to another man? She had no intention of taking it any further, despite what both Mark and Philip might obviously want, so there was no harm in an occasional chat and some minor league flirting with an attractive young man.
Chapter 10
The weekend passed without incident and on the following Monday Mark strolled confidently up to her just before lunch and sat down. The conversation was a little easier this time, and as the week rolled on and the daily encounters continued, their discussions became more flowing and wide ranging. China began to feel comfortable that the relationship was less worrying, a form of friendship rather than anything more serious. Whilst she could not forget those first moments when she had been mesmerized by his jewel like eyes, she was falling into the easy habit of looking forward to seeing her new friend each day for coffee. Devak rarely spoke to her now, and she could see his disapproving looks as she sat chatting lightly with Mark. She knew that Devak was a religious man and suspected that his religion did not tolerate open male-female friendships between a married woman and any man other than her husband.
She learnt little of Mark during these liaisons as he mostly wanted to hear about her life, her worries and fears. What did she like to watch, read, and eat? She found herself confiding a little more each day to this charming man. He was easy to talk to. By the middle of that first week Mark knew about her uneasy relationship with her mother, and her remaining sadness at the early loss of her father. After that first encounter they never spoke about China’s marriage, and that seemed a sensible strategy to her. It was dangerous territory that could either end the blossoming friendship or take it to a level that she was not willing to countenance. She didn’t want a lover, despite Philip’s urgings, she just liked having a charming new friend, delicately spiced with some harmless flirting.
In fact, rediscovering her flirting muscles was a revelation to China. Mark’s ready response to her teasing and light-hearted banter made her feel so incredibly good about herself. It could have been any man, she tried to convince herself. She just enjoyed the confidence boost that came with another man wanting to be in her company, hear about her life and laugh at her feeble jokes.
By Thursday the conversation was so easy that they were picking up the end of Wednesday’s chatter as if there hadn’t even been a twen
ty-four hour interlude.
“Did your mother call last night?”
“Yes of course. After all it was Wednesday so it was nag China time. Right on schedule.”
He laughed kindly. “She means well I’m sure. She just wants you to be happy.”
“No. She wants me to be her! Last night she was even telling me what I should wear.”
“She can’t tell you anything in that department. You know exactly what to wear.”
She flushed, but smiled at the easy flattery that came to his lips. It may have been predictable, and maybe, just maybe, she had set it up for him, but it made her happy all the same. “Thank you, but I’m nothing special.”
“Rubbish. You always look great.”
“Maybe if I could lose a few pounds.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. You’re perfect.”
It was a long time since anyone other than Philip had called her perfect. In fact, had anyone else ever called her perfect? Certainly not her mother. Then she remembered who else had. Her father.
“Are you ok?” Mark asked. China realized that her eyes had glazed with tears at the thought of her father.
“Yes, I’m just fine. I was just thinking of my father.”
“How long?”
