by Sam Cullan
Chapter Eleven
Will was conscious of a pattering sound all around him, and nothing else. He had been awake for ten minutes. The patter became a tapping, and the bed began to gently sway. After three further minutes he'd managed to open his eyelids sufficiently that he could make out a familiar scene. It was bright - much brighter than he remembered his bedroom being. Muted sunshine squeezed through the open blinds, and he was aware of a unfamiliar presence. He squinted and recognized digits on a clock, and they were 0930. Suddenly he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his back and neck.
“Morning, sleepy head.” Alice was now drawing a heart on his back with a red felt-tip pen.
It had been many years since Will had received a morning greeting, and his semi-conscious brain failed to fully compute the information. Alice stabbed a few more dots into his back.
“Morning, grumpy!”
Will caught his name, still unsure of the thrower. “Err, morning …?”
“Forgotten my name already? Tart.”
Oh, I remember. “Morning, tart.”
Will rolled over. Alice was sitting up, netbook on her lap, waving a red pen around.
“Enjoy your lie-in?”
Will had vague recollections of an intoxicated friend passing-out. “Where's Alice?”
“Alice is alive and kicking.” She kicked him, as if to emphasize the point.
Will's eyes tried to focus on the area where he thought her head was, but were unable to positively identify the strangely effervescent entity. However, he thought her hair looked a little odd.
“Wet?”
“No, thanks for asking. Hard?”
“Hair. Wet. Is it raining?” Pattering and wet made rain, in Will's planet-sized brain.
“Yes, I decided to go for a jog in the rain, in my panties. The neighbours seem friendly.”
Will cringed. Now he'd never be able to face the neighbours again.
“You're joking, right?”
Alice glared, but realizing she was in bed with a morning numbskull, opted simply to draw dots on his cheeks.
“I had a shower. Now I'm working. I haven't been jogging, but it did rain. Now it's stopped.”
It made no sense to Will, but he hadn't the nerve to dispute her account.
“You need to shower, Mr Stinky.”
“Charming.”
Alice leant over and kissed the tip of his nose. “Thanks for last night.”
Will smiled modestly, proud of his ability to resist the molestation of a drunk girl.
“You were great.” Alice wrinked. “Such stamina. Let me rest for an hour and we can go again.”
Will decided it was time for a shower. He leaped out of bed and ran across the room.
“Hurry back, lover.”
Will stopped as a thought formed in his brain. “White rabbits!” He continued, descending the stairs with all the grace of a hippopotamus on stilts. Three from the end, he slipped on a piece of tissue paper and slid feet-first into the wall at the bottom. He looked up, and glared at the photo mocking him from above. Witch. He felt a stabbing pain in his neck.
“You alright, my luvvarrr?” Alice had evidently researched a local dialect, but it wasn’t one he immediately recognized.
Will was now boxed-in, between a corporeal, mocking witch with her evil red wand, and a grinning apparition with a black heart.
“What's with the bunnies?”
“Err, first of the month. Should have said it earlier.”
Alice pinched his spare tyre and punched his arm.
“It wasn't an insult. We say white rabbits for luck.” The irony did not escape him.
“And I say pinch, punch, first of the month.”
“I think the emphasis should be on say.”
“I'm different.”
Will agreed, whole-heartedly.
“Come on pops.” Alice made a valiant attempt to lift her bruised friend. “I'll make some of that faux-coffee stuff for you.”
Will stood and made a valiant attempt to suck in his belly, before scurrying off to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and climbed in, shuddering as the barely-lukewarm water stung his hot, sweaty flesh. Quickly the water reached body temperature and he bathed in the soft embrace of a thousand caressing droplets. Then he remembered to take his underpants off.
Grabbing a robe and wrapping a towel round his spotted neck, he returned to find a mug of coffee, but no Alice. He sat and rolled a cigarette. In two seconds his mind was dancing on swaying white clouds that resembled white bunny rabbits. Definitely worth the wait. He savoured the sweet poison, relaxing with his feet on the alcohol-imbued and food-strewn table. He rolled a second and drew in a lungful; not as good. Stubbing the part-smoked cigarette out, he necked the warm coffee and returned to the bedroom, finding Alice sitting upright on the bed with her legs crossed and three pillows behind her back. She patted her hand on the mattress without taking her eyes from the computer screen. Will dutifully advanced, and as he sat, she pulled one pillow from behind her so he also would have two.
“Anything interesting?” Will asked out of politeness, rather than inquisitiveness.
“Gidwell, Blackwater, amulets, serial killers, vampires. Now I have the proper name, I've found out quite a lot.”
“And?” Will hoped she'd found out enough to persuade her not to believe his book's fantastic theories.
“Must be something in it.”
“In my fantastic theory?”
“In the well.”
Will sighed. The well had probably been filled in over 700 years ago, and anything left behind would be useless. He knew roughly where the well was, but it was little more than a boggy depression now.
“Even if we knew where the well was, we couldn't dig it out.”
“Maybe. No harm trying.”
Will envisioned all manner of harm – broken back, mud, exhaustion, sweat, a lynching-mob of furious locals, furious frogs, cholera, black death, prison, mocking - to name but a few.
“Well, it's too wet now.”
“You're wet.”
Will slapped her thigh. It felt good. He pretended his hand was ricocheting in order to make the most of it. Alice didn't flinch.
“Will, do you want me to go?”
“Go where?”
“Home.”
“No. No. No.” Will considered a fourth no.
“Then humour me.”
“No. I mean, yes. That no belonged with the other nos. Err, we'll do whatever you want.”
“Good boy.” Alice allowed her hand to ricochet off Will's firm thigh. “Nice legs.”
“Not as nice as yours.”
Alice smiled with her eyes. She took Will's hand and placed it against the soft pink flesh. “If it feels good, do it.”
Will agreed it felt good, but wasn't sure what it was, or why she was being so friendly. His hand froze; he was on the edge, unsure whether to jump off and break something, or climb up and be pushed from the top. He decided to await mountain rescue.
“Move and you're dead.” Alice grinned. Will was stuck on the edge and felt the noose tighten.
“Oooooo.” Alice was getting excited.
Will wondered if now was the time to climb.
“Ghosts. Reports of ghosts. We must go at night.”
Will was rocking.
Alice was approaching climax. “People have seen ghosts of victims, and the mad monk appears, in the actual well itself.”
“Drunk people see ghosts.”
Alice smirked. “Then we'll take wine. And Old Bob.”
Will didn't believe in ghosts, but that didn't stop him being scared of them. He figured a mad-monk, serial-killer ghost might be scarier than most, and if he really had to visit that creepy ruin at night, Old Bob would be a comforting companion. He decided to take Betty Stoggs along too. She was a Cornish folklore character and also a fine ale.
“We go tonight, rain or shine.”
Will frowned. “Shine?”
“You're so pedantic.”<
br />
Will agreed he was.
“We can rest today.”
“Now you're talking sense.” Will was an expert in the art of relaxation.
Alice shut the netbook and crawled under the duvet. Will lifted the cover over their heads, laying face-to-face. Heated breath quickly warmed their insulated world.
“What shall we do now?” Alice's eyes were locked onto Will's.
“Snuggling is good.”
“Good answer.” She tickled him and he giggled like a child.
“Are you ticklish, Will?”
“Are you?”
“No!”
Alice's squealing recoil alerted Will to the possibility of a deception, and he aimed his wriggling fingers at her sides. Alice jerked away and Will's hand landed firmly and squarely on top of her right breast. They both flinched.
“Oops, sorry.”
“Do that again and you're dead.”
It seemed a fair trade-off, but he feared she might miss his heart and just wound him. He didn't want to end up horribly mutilated but alive. Alice moved closer so that both sets of arms were disabled. They lay with knees and hands touching, arms bent in a prayer position. She grasped his hands and he wrapped them around hers.
“Let's play a game.”
“Didn't bring my pool cue.”
“Anything wooden?”
“Only my heart.”
Alice swrinked. “Truth or dare?”
“Unless the dare involves tickling your palms or making funny faces, I think it'll have to be truth.”
“Will,” Alice put on her serious face, “Putting aside the fact you're twice my age and we only just met, would you have tried to have your wicked-way with me last night, being as I was drunk an' all, if I wasn't famous?”
“Well, putting aside the fact I'm slightly under twice your age, fat, ugly, have bad teeth, am a total loser, and descended from a different species … no.”
“Why not? And … an hour a day in the gym and a good dentist would sort you out, not that you need it that badly.”
“You were drunk.”
“Isn't that how most people end up having sex?”
“Probably, but most people never grow up. Reproduction is for adolescents. There's more to life than endless bouts of drinking, shagging and fighting.”
Alice looked genuinely impressed, which pleased Will - if she hadn't understood that, she wasn't the person he thought she was, and not worthy of his adulation. Will pulled back the duvet, sensing he was about to overcook. They took in the fresh air.
“So you're celibate? Like a monk – a mad monk!”
“And I'm a vampire. And I must say you look very tasty.”
“Nah, I taste of lemons.”
“I like sucking lemons.”
“Dry, shrivelled, wrinkly old lemons covered in puss?”
“Maybe I'll give it a miss.”
“You must want sex sometimes.” Alice had a bone and was not about to let it go.
“Yes of course. Believe it or not, I can control my libido. It's called being a grown-up.”
Alice mused. She thought she was mature, but Will was positively antique. “You must have will power, Will, not to have tried it on last night. I was vulnerable.”
“What makes you think I wanted to try it on with you?”
Alice, for the first time, tasted defeat. “Oh, OK. Sorry. I guess I'm not Anna Faris, or Sarah Michelle Gellar,” she looked around, “or ... Christina Aguilera??”
“She's covering some flaky paint … I'm not sure you get it.”
“We get flaky paint.”
Will laughed involuntarily. Few people had the gift, basically because he was always the wit. It was one of his few redeeming features and probably the only reason he got invited to dinner parties these days.
“If you really want my opinion ...” Will began.
“I do.”
“First, physical age doesn't matter to me, as long as the girl is younger.”
“Sexist!”
“Women mature quicker. It's a biological fact.”
“Sexist pig. Go on.”
“I think a man and a woman can be close, physically and emotionally, without the man feeling he needs to stick his dick in her.”
“Crude, but fair point.”
“If courtship were a degree course, then sex should come after the ceremony, not on freshers' day.”
“You wanna wait four years to dick me?”
Will laughed again. She was his ideal woman, barring the age, size, looks and fame stuff.
“There are three-year courses.”
“I don't have your will, Will.”
“I'm not sure what your point is, but – hypothetically – let's say I wanted to make love to you. I couldn't be sure if I was making love to the person, or the persona. You're famous, and my infatuation might be based on a lie. It wouldn't be fair on either of us. Not that you'd want me, but, as I said – hypothetically.”
Alice listened intently. It was the first time she'd heard Will talk so sincerely and openly, and she believed him. He really was an odd guy, but compelling company.
“You're infatuated with me?! Aww, sweet.”
Will looked and felt uncomfortable. “Err, that was a slip of the tongue.”
“Freudian?”
“Don't judge me. I'm not just a fan.”
“I know that silly - I'm flattered. And I think you're very special. I don't jump into bed with all my fans y’know.”
“You didn't exactly jump into my bed. How many fans have you slept with?”
“Ten.”
“Fair enough.”
“None like you.”
“I guessed that.”
“I mean … you're a man.” Alice wrinked, and blushed, and squirmed for added effect.
Will was intrigued, if baffled.
“OK, fess up.”
Alice, for once, looked genuinely uncomfortable. “Not ten. Not fans - not really. And not men.”
“Ah, so you're not attracted to men. That explains why you like me.” It made sense to Will.
“Penetration, to put it crudely,” Alice was stuttering, blushing and squirming more, “is symbolic of power. It doesn't make me feel loved. Not that I've tried it.”
“My point exactly. And in your position, I'd say any man penetrating you would be doing it for the high, for kicks, for power - but not for love.”
“Cynical, but possibly true.”
“I know men. I am one. They think with their dicks. Period.”
“So what does that make you?”
“The exception that proves the rule.” Will was on a roll.
“I can't figure out if you're full of shit.”
“You will.”
“What, figure out you're full of shit?” Alice's eyes sparkled, even if her voice was flat.
“We're all full of shit. We all lie, hustle, con and trick other people. It's human nature, we need to feel we've beaten somebody. We used to do it with spears, swords and guns. Now we wage war with our dicks and our minds … and money.”
“I see.” Alice sort of didn't not understand.
“I'd rather we went back to spears, but there you are. It was simpler then.”
Alice mused, but her mind was full of incomplete thoughts.
“I'm not sure what I've learned from this discussion.”
“Nothing. I told you how I am - you can take my word for it, or you can work it out for yourself. Look, it's just me. Most people are very happy indulging their base, animal instincts, greed and selfishness, and blissful ignorance.” He added with a wink, “Most people don't have planet-sized brains.”
Alice thought his probably was that size, and she felt a little intimidated. She was used to being the brainy one.
“I should probably sleep on it.”
“Now?”
“Why not. We've got a hot date tonight, with a mad monk.”
Alice started to roll, stopped and stared into Will's eyes. It was like look
ing into the eyes of a helpless - possibly wounded – baby animal. She stroked his stubbly, baby badger face.
“You growing a beard?”
“Should I?”
“I'll sleep on it.”
Alice edged closer and held Will's chin. She kissed him gently. Will decided that she had the sweetest, softest lips he'd ever tasted. Alice pulled back and studied Will's dazed expression. The wounded animal had been revived, but was under the influence of a powerful narcotic. She rolled over and lay with her back to Will.
“Cuddle.”
Will obeyed.
