Marnie wasn’t faring so well either.
The traffic was hell as she approached the city— there was a match on at the MCG and Marnie could cheerfully have turned round and headed for home, except she had the tickets.
She was angry with Harry for making such a big deal of things, but it felt like a big deal—she didn’t want to see Matthew.
She didn’t even want to see Harry.
Right now, Marnie wanted a night at home to curl up alone and try and sort out her feelings.
‘Where are you?’ Matthew rang and she told him she was running late and that rather than going to the hotel first she would meet him at the Arts Centre.
It was busy and there really wasn’t much of a chance to talk. Marnie bought a programme and they ordered a drink and one for the interval, and then Matthew tried to make her smile. ‘We could always skip the ballet and head straight to the hotel.’
And she took a breath and just said it. ‘I think I might skip the hotel.’
‘Marnie?’
‘I need to be back by seven.’ He just looked at her, nonplussed. ‘I told you, I’m looking after a friend’s children.’
‘Who’s the friend?’
‘Just someone from work.’
‘That was quick,’ Matthew said, and Marnie sucked on her lemon. It was far sweeter than the conversation. She knew he was referring to how Marnie didn’t exactly jump into friendships. ‘I assume it’s the doctor you were holed up in your office with.’
‘Matthew, we agreed that we don’t have to run every detail of our lives—’
‘No, you decided that, you’re the one who decides how much to give,’ Matthew said, and Marnie could feel the people beside them briefly turn and then halt their conversations so they could listen to hers.
Matthew looked at her. ‘The doctor wants a wife...Well, God help him, then,’ Matthew said, ‘and God help...’ He halted then but Marnie knew what he’d been about to say and she challenged him.
‘Meaning?’
‘I never pictured you as a stepmother.’
‘Oh, for the love of God.’ Marnie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m looking after his kids for a week.’
‘Would you move in for a week to help look after mine?’
It wasn’t really the time to point out that he didn’t have any—even if the question was hypothetical, Marnie knew then the answer.
There’d be no Mary Poppins stopping at Matthew’s door.
Even if she hadn’t recognised it at the time, she had moved in because it was Harry.
When she said nothing, Matthew drained his drink. ‘You’re the coldest person I know, Marnie. The good doctor just hasn’t worked it out yet.’
He left her standing there and Marnie wasn’t about to follow.
She sipped on her drink as the bell went and people went through. She could just go home, Marnie realised, and have the evening alone she’d so desperately craved.
Shouldn’t it hurt more? Marnie thought.
But it wasn’t Matthew leaving that was hurting her now.
She wanted superficial. She wanted, for want of a word, relationships where it didn’t feel as if you might die if the other person were to leave.
Yes, she wanted to go home, yet more than that she needed escape.
Marnie sat watching the ballet with an empty seat beside her, but not even the dancers held her mind for more than a moment. She wanted something she had never wanted before. It wasn’t just Harry and giving things a go that scared her so—it was pink tights and Charlotte and the serious eyes of Adam and his wobbly tooth that had made her stomach curl, and her stomach only curled for family. Marnie was petrified—if she did try to make things work with Harry, she had to love them.
What if it didn’t work?
She wouldn’t lose one, she’d lose three, and Marnie truly didn’t know if she could stand to lose like that again.
It was a wretched night, a long, lonely drive home, and she was too upset to go to Harry’s—she simply didn’t want him to see her as confused and raw as this.
She’d feel better in the morning, Marnie assured herself as she let herself into her own home and set her alarm.
But she didn’t.
‘Hi.’
Harry couldn’t even look at her as she let herself in at six a.m. ‘I was just up with Charlotte, she should sleep for a couple more hours.’ He was putting the medicine back in the cabinet and wearing only hipsters. He hadn’t expected her back just yet, but more worrying than that was the effort needed to keep his voice normal, to somehow try and pretend that he hadn’t said what he had last night.
Clearly, given the hour, it hadn’t mattered a jot. She must have spent the night with him.
‘I got a programme for Charlotte.’
‘She’ll love it.’ Harry glanced up. There were the smudges of last night’s make-up under her eyes and her hair was still curly, and his skin was alive and screaming for her, though his head denied that fact.
‘About last night...’ Marnie attempted. Usually she could talk, usually she found it easy to say what was on her mind, but in this she was utterly confused.
‘I don’t want to talk about last night,’ Harry said. He was doing everything he could not to think about it.
‘Matthew said—’
‘Oh, so you’re going to stand there quoting him now!’
She didn’t want to quote Matthew, she was trying to tell him how scared she was, to warn Harry that he might be making the most terrible mistake. Marnie truly didn’t know if she was capable of love. ‘He said...the doctor wants a wife, and if that’s the case—’
‘Believe me,’ Harry swiftly broke in, ‘if I was on the lookout for the perfect wife...’ He stopped himself. Last night’s anger hadn’t been dimmed by sleep—Harry had barely had any. A night spent watching the clock, a night knowing she was out and with him, despite the fact that he’d told her they could never come back from that!
Yes, Harry was having trouble keeping this pleasant.
‘Harry, please...’ Marnie walked towards him. She had never wanted the feeling of somebody else’s arms around her more. She had never wanted to halt a row more, and words were failing her this morning, so she attempted a more basic form of communication—one that had always worked till now. ‘I don’t want to argue.’
He could smell the remnants of last night’s perfume as her hand moved to his chest. His mind put it more bluntly than he chose to voice, but as her mouth moved towards his, as much as he wanted that kiss, he really didn’t know where she’d been.
‘It’s a bit much, Marnie.’ He pushed her off. ‘You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m over meaningless sex.’
She went to kiss him but he moved his cheek and then he put his blunt thoughts into words
‘I don’t know where you’ve been.’
It was no surprise that she slapped him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARNIE STRIPPED OFF and pulled on her pyjamas and lay there bristling with anger, wishing Harry would just go to work, but she could hear him downstairs on the phone and then the anger faded as realisation hit.
She hadn’t told him.
In all her attempts to tell him how she was feeling, she hadn’t told him the one thing that he’d needed to know.
She hadn’t been with Matthew.
Marnie was half expecting it when she heard the creaking stairs and then heard him walking towards her room and a soft knock before he came in.
She wished he would just leave it, yet she was glad that he didn’t.
‘I’m sorry.’
He handed her a mug of tea.
And he’d left the bag in!
‘You should be at work.’
‘I rang Helen an
d said I’d be in late.’
‘Why?’
‘To apologise. I was jealous,’ Harry admitted. ‘It was jealousy speaking. Just pure and simple jealousy.’
‘We’d had the tickets since before—’
‘I know.’
‘Nothing happened. Last night.’
‘Marnie, you don’t have to explain yourself to me—the thing is, you don’t owe me anything. It’s me who owes you. And the department,’ Harry added. ‘The lines got blurred. Well, they did for me and I loathe what I just said.’
‘Matthew and I had words as soon as we got there,’ Marnie said. ‘I didn’t even want to go but I had the tickets. He didn’t even stay for the ballet...’ Marnie gave him a small smile. ‘Where’s Juan when you need him?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Instead of rowing, I could have been having a shoulder massage,’ Marnie said. ‘He’d be far more understanding.’
‘I’m not Juan,’ Harry said, and he smiled at her.
‘I’m glad.’
‘Though I reckon even Juan’s understanding might have been pushed to the limits last night.’ He looked at Marnie all rumpled in bed and that was the trouble, he liked what he saw. As naturally as breathing, Marnie moved her legs as she took a drink of her tea and Harry sat down.
‘I’m confused, Harry.’ She was nothing but honest as she put her mug down. ‘You’re the last thing I want but also the only thing I want.’
‘And I feel the same about you.’ He gave a half-smile and she swallowed.
‘I have to love your kids?’
‘Marnie...’ he looked at her ‘...no one is asking you to suddenly love anyone.’ He didn’t know how best to explain it. ‘You’re just so closed off...’ He put his hand up to her cheek and his thumb smudged a bit of last night’s eyeliner away. ‘You’ve got me rearranging you now.’ He was so gentle as he told her the bit that was hurting. ‘You’re wonderful with them, absolutely lovely...’ Then he said it, because he could—they both managed to speak their truths. ‘You’re just as lovely as you’d be with any patient.’ He watched the wetness of a single tear fall and slither beneath the pad of his thumb. ‘I just wish you’d open up a bit.’
‘I don’t know how.’
‘I know.’
‘The deal was I just looked after them,’ Marnie said. ‘You were the one who didn’t want them getting confused.’
‘Yep,’ Harry agreed, ‘but that deal ends on Monday.’ He watched her swallow. ‘If you’re ever here after that, you won’t be sleeping in this room. You’re not a fling, Marnie, that I’m going to hide from them.’
‘I’ll be your girlfriend?’ Marnie tried to tease, waited for him to say, as she once had to him, that he was a bit old for that, but Harry wasn’t joking now.
‘Yes,’ Harry said, and she saw his eyes drift briefly to his ring and he addressed it. ‘We’ve both got things that we need to sort.’
And just when Harry thought she was considering the possibility of them being together, he felt her pull back, simply retract, and he had to reach her.
‘We’ve slept together once, Harry.’
‘Twice.’
‘Well, technically twice...’ Marnie started, but his mouth was on hers and he mumbled the word into hers.
‘Twice.’
He kissed first her mouth and then her face. Marnie felt the scratch of his chin on her cheek and it was sublime. He moved to her neck and lifted her hair and nuzzled at the sensitive skin as he lifted her top.
‘The children...’ Marnie said, as he pulled her top over her head.
‘They’re asleep,’ Harry said, ‘and they’d never come in.’
‘You’ve made sure of that!’ Marnie said, trying to keep things light, but Harry refused to be drawn. He didn’t want to joke; instead, interspersed with soft, deep kisses to her stomach, he was peeling her pyjamas down her hips and then sorting out the little clothing he wore. Then he joined her, face to face, both naked.
Not for the first time.
It just felt like it as he kissed her.
Slowly, deeply, he lingered, on her mouth, her neck, her breasts, as his hand crept lower, and she moaned as his fingers stroked her. She wanted him inside her, yet she was holding him as he stroked her, forgetting to kiss, forgetting everything except the bliss of his fingers and the feel of him in her hands.
‘Please,’ Marnie said, guiding him to her entrance and then remembering. ‘We need—’
‘Not yet.’
He stroked first with his fingers and then teased her with what she wanted. Harry’s hand closed around hers, both stroking him till Marnie could only marvel at his control because she was coming, just from watching him and feeling the wet velvet strokes, but even as she came he was pressing her onto her back.
‘Harry.’ Marnie wanted her breath back, wanted to collect her thoughts, which seemed to be dancing in the air around the bed. She felt a flail of panic as she realised she was being made love to—and Marnie didn’t do that. She wanted to halt him, to stop him, to remind him how casual they were, except right here, right now, they were not. Her legs parted to him and her eyes opened to him and he waited.
He waited till she could wait no more.
‘I’m on the Pill.’
It was the second time in her life she’d got carried away, but this time it wasn’t a mistake.
She heard the delicious moan of relief and want as Harry moved in but his eyes didn’t close.
It wasn’t the absence of a condom that rendered this unprotected sex—her heart was bare and stripped and the tears she had held back last night were there in her eyes, and there was anger too for somehow he exposed her.
‘Crazy about you, Marnie.’ He looked at her as he said it, and she pressed her lips tighter and swallowed back the words she wanted to say, for she was crazy about Harry.
It was sex, Marnie told herself—so why were her eyes closing and why was her mouth demanding his? Why was she now pinned beneath him, wrapped around him? She wanted to pierce the silent morning with a scream, but on the periphery she knew they were trying to be quiet. She could hear them building, could feel Harry’s back sliding beneath her fingers, and then the moment of perfect acceleration as he drove her to the edge and joined her falling.
Marnie lay there afterwards, breathing in his scent, feeling his chin in her shoulder, and she should be jumping up as she had once, gripped with panic and guilt, but beauty laced with fear silenced her for a couple of moments.
‘You’re not being fair on Helen.’
‘I know.’ He rolled off her and smiled.
‘Love me and leave me,’ Marnie joked, but it was a very dangerous joke and, perhaps wisely, Harry didn’t answer.
She’d be out the dodgy windows if he did.
Instead, he gave her a small kiss and climbed out of bed and, of course, there were the practicalities to discuss.
‘I’ll be back by eight on Monday.’
‘Are they going to day care?’
‘Not sure,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll give Evelyn a call over the weekend and let you know.’
‘You’ll call the twins?’
‘Of course,’ Harry said. ‘They call me all the time when I’m on take.’
She’d never worked a weekend with him.
It was a little awkward as he went to go.
‘Harry?’
He turned.
‘Did you remember to be a fairy last night?’
‘Amazingly—yes,’ Harry said. ‘A very grumpy fairy.’
He wasn’t grumpy now.
Marnie lay in the bath after Harry had gone to work and thought about his words earlier about the way she was with the twins.
He hadn’t offended her—Harry had spoken the truth.
&nbs
p; Yes, this last week she had looked after the twins and had a nice time with them, looked after their itches and given them their medicine. Harry was right, she gave as much of herself to them as she would to a patient.
It was all she ever gave to anyone.
How, though?
How do you open up when you don’t know how?
Marnie got out of the bath and, wrapped in her dressing gown, she headed to the bedroom to dress and put on her make-up.
Her uniform, Marnie realised.
Every morning she presented herself as neatly as she would for work.
This morning, though, the very meticulous Marnie pulled back on the pyjamas Harry had so firmly discarded, combed her hair and, instead of blasting it with the hairdryer, tied it back damp.
The children were still asleep so Marnie made herself a large mug of tea and some toast and, instead of unloading the dishwasher, went and sat down and tried to relax, though it wasn’t long till she heard footsteps.
‘Oh!’ Charlotte blinked in surprise at the sight of Marnie in pyjamas, drinking tea and looking through her ballet programme.
‘I got this for you,’ Marnie said.
‘For me?’
‘Come and have a look,’ Marnie said, and Charlotte climbed onto the sofa beside her and Marnie showed her the programme and they oohed and ahhed at the costumes until Adam appeared. He showed Marnie the money the fairy had left him and then turned on the TV to watch some cartoons.
‘I’d give anything to have been a ballerina,’ Marnie said, getting back to the programme, looking at the gorgeous costumes she had barely taken in last night.
‘You could change jobs,’ Charlotte suggested.
Marnie laughed at Charlotte’s simplicity. ‘I think I’ve left it a bit late.’
‘Were you good at ballet?’ Charlotte asked.
‘I’ve never done it,’ Marnie said. ‘I did Irish dancing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Irish dancing,’ Marnie said, as Charlotte sat there nonplussed, and then Marnie did something she never did, or hadn’t in what felt like for ever. ‘I’ll show you.’
The sound of Charlotte laughing and Adam joining in too made Marnie dance faster.
The Accidental Romeo Page 13
