by Sharon Owens
She had brushed and flossed her teeth, rinsed twice with mouthwash, plucked her eyebrows, applied scented moisturiser to her knees and elbows, checked her back and cleavage for pimples. She’d not worn ankle socks for two days because they always left an imprint on her skin. She’d painted her toenails and fingernails pale pink so it wouldn’t be too noticeable if they got chipped. She’d even remembered not to use hairspray in case it landed on her face and neck and ended up on Tom’s lips when he kissed her. She had a spare set of underwear and a toothbrush in her bag… She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything that might give her indigestion or hiccups. She’d put perfume everywhere, even on the soles of her feet.
‘Right, that must be everything now,’ she said, switching off the lights in the flat and going outside to her car.
Two minutes later, however, Ruby had to nip back up the stairs to pick up the tuna steaks, the bag of other ingredients and the bottle of wine from the fridge. She’d almost forgotten she was supposed to be cooking Tom his supper.
In the large and roomy kitchen of Tom’s cottage, Ruby was so happy and relaxed she was suddenly all butterfingers.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said as the grill pan clattered loudly on to the terracotta tiles. ‘Did I crack the floor just then? I’m so used to cooking in a confined space, you see. This kitchen is so huge compared to my little one.’
‘It’s fine,’ Tom said, retrieving the grill pan. ‘This is a humble country cottage, Ruby. Not the Fat Duck restaurant!’
‘Oh yes, I know, I know. Well, lucky for you it isn’t the Fat Duck. I can’t promise snail ice cream or dry ice billowing over the mashed potatoes,’ Ruby laughed.
‘I’ll open the wine,’ Tom offered.
‘Yes, the wine,’ Ruby said gratefully; Tom’s kitchen was very warm. ‘A nice cool glass of wine would be heaven, now you mention it.’
‘Are you okay?’ Tom asked.
‘Yes, I’m just a bit awkward out of my own kitchen,’ she smiled.
‘And it’s not because of the other thing?’
‘What other thing?’
‘You know, because you might stay over?’
‘No, honestly, I’m fine.’
‘You don’t have to stay over if you’re tired or anything.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I want to.’
‘We don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel like it. We can just talk and then go to sleep. That’s enough for me, just to be close to you.’
‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I feel the same way. Though I do have to say that I fancy you rotten as well.’
‘It gladdens my heart to hear you say that, Ruby,’ grinned Tom. ‘But I just don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted. We don’t have to do it every time,’ he said, setting down the bottle.
‘I know we don’t… But it’s always lovely,’ she said, raising an eyebrow at him suggestively.
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ he laughed.
He caught her in his arms, held her close to him and kissed her hard. As usual, Ruby’s knees turned instantly to jelly. She hoped the scent of her perfume would be stronger than the small pool of lust-inspired perspiration that was forming on her cleavage. Tom was caressing her breasts now, his hand having miraculously found the side-zip in her dress and gently pulled it down. Ruby melted into his embrace and her appetite for the meal faded away, replaced with another kind of appetite. Tom’s other hand was reaching for the hem of her dress now. Ruby closed her eyes again. They couldn’t possibly do it standing up, could they? She’d never done it that way before. What then? The table? She’d never made love on a kitchen table before either.
She felt her temperature go up as Tom’s hand traced the tops of her black stockings and then eased off her pretty, turquoise underwear. Suddenly she had a delicious ripple of pleasure that went zigzagging up and down her entire body, and Tom had barely touched her. A moment later, she began to unbuckle his belt. Exactly what she was going to do when she’d removed Tom’s jeans she hadn’t quite decided. Would she lead him into the bedroom or just playfully push him down to the floor? Anything was possible, she thought, she was feeling so turned on tonight…
Suddenly Ruby realized that the tuna steaks were beginning to char. She reached down to try pulling them out of the oven, and ended up burning Tom’s wrist with the smoking grill pan.
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ she cried. ‘What have I done? For heaven’s sake! Quick! Get your arm under a cold tap!’
‘It’s nothing,’ he told her, still breathless with desire. ‘You hardly touched me with it. Relax!’
‘Please? You’ll have a little scar, Tom.’
‘I’m covered in little scars, Ruby. I work with wire and tools all day long. Honestly, you’re hilarious!’
‘I’m a liability!’ she said.
‘No, you’re not,’ he laughed. ‘You’re wonderful.’
Then Tom took the pan from Ruby and set it on the draining board. He scooped Ruby up into his arms and carried her straight to the bedroom.
‘We’ll just let the tuna rest there for a minute or twenty,’ he said firmly.
Oh wow, Ruby thought to herself. Sometimes having steamy sex and trying to cook interesting meals on a daily basis was just too much for a girl.
37. The Kiss
‘That was a lovely dinner,’ Tom sighed contentedly, putting down his knife and fork and smiling at Ruby. He’d eaten everything on the table, even the six bread rolls that Ruby had laid out in a wicker serving-dish. ‘I’ll eat anything, you know, so I don’t expect this sort of treatment every day or even every week. But, really, it was delicious.’
‘It was only a tuna steak,’ Ruby said modestly.
‘It was a chargrilled tuna steak with stuffed onions, baked mushrooms, red wine gravy, new potatoes, a green salad, garden peas and crusty bread rolls,’ Tom corrected her. The cooking had taken over two hours. The sex had taken about ten minutes.
‘Well, yes,’ Ruby said. ‘Chargrilled, huh? How’s the wrist?’
‘It’s fine. Do you want to leave the dishes till tomorrow, and we’ll go into the sitting room for another drink?’
‘No, I like it here,’ Ruby told him.
‘Because of the range?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right. Thanks again for dinner, Ruby. It was delicious. The entire evening has been delicious.’
‘That’s okay, you’re worth it! Sometimes I feel like cooking. When I have the time, you know?’
‘Yes, sometimes it’s nice to stay home,’ Tom agreed.
‘Yes it is.’
They smiled at one another.
‘So how’s everybody?’ Tom asked, clearing away a few plates so he had room to make coffee.
‘Oh Lord! Let me see… Mum’s still working in the bakery in Manhattan. Still loving all the fuss she’s creating back here, no doubt. Dad’s told her he’s considering a divorce now, but I think he’s only trying to scare her into coming home. But then sometimes I think he actually means it because he sounds happier than I’ve ever known him. I think he might have met a wee lady on this cookery course.’
‘Wow. Really?’
‘Yeah, there’s one lady he keeps mentioning. And Jasmine is so besotted with Mark Crawford she’s doodling his name on the margins of my order book. Mark’s got a full-time placement in the Royal Victoria Hospital and they’re both obsessed with looking at houses.’
‘Good luck to them on that front.’
‘Indeed. They want something near to a good school, if you don’t mind. Theodora Kelly sent us a postcard to the shop. She’s having a great time ballroom dancing in Essex with her sister Amelia. They’re out on the tiles three nights a week. And Theodora’s getting on great with all Amelia’s friends. The two of them are sharing Amelia’s house, but it’s working out well and now they’ve got so much money to spend that they’re going on a three-week cruise.’
‘Great stuff.’
‘Yes, they’re terrific company for one anot
her, Theodora said. They’re getting on just as if they were young girls again. Then Mary Stone wrote to us to tell us that she’s all fixed up with a job in Yorkshire looking after horses and ponies in a rescue sanctuary. She was that customer I told you about. Do you remember?’
‘Yes, the one who bought the first bag?’
‘Yes. And her kids love it there and her husband’s agreed to stay away from her in return for a suspended sentence. Their lawyers are still hammering out a financial settlement. He’s trying to pretend he has no savings, the swine, but Mary doesn’t really care. She’s just happy to be rid of him.’
‘Okay. Hope she gets some money though.’
‘Yes, poor woman. And, speaking of the law, the police came to see me again yesterday, but they said the trial is still some way off. And because there was only one witness it might not be possible to get a custodial sentence for the lorry driver. And I said that was okay because I still wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. I don’t want to think about the lorry driver up in the dock, I suppose. Or myself either. I’m past caring if he goes to prison or not. It won’t change what happened. And it’s ruined his life too. As long as he’s banned from driving or something. As long as he’s learnt his lesson now and doesn’t hurt anybody else on the roads. Oh, let’s change the subject!’
‘Okay,’ Tom agreed.
‘What else? Well, I told you the school reunion went well already? Teresa Morris was given a special mention during the speeches. She’s so brave to be bringing up those five kids all by herself. They gave her a big bouquet of yellow roses and a giant box of chocolates though she joked that a set of earplugs would have been a lot handier. She’s a great girl.’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘And then there’s Rebecca McCann, she’s the one who was Jasmine’s arch-nemesis at school? Well, she’s currently dating some guy who was in a boy band in the 1990s. I can’t remember his name, but he wears a back-to-front baseball cap to this day. And he’s just out of rehab for addiction to soft drugs and prescription painkillers and she met him in a spa somewhere in Leeds. They were both having a massage at the same time apparently. It was in the local paper. I reckon he was on the lookout for a rich woman and now he’s found one. And so they’re living together in a big house in Birmingham with electronic gates, and her mum and dad are also living with them, which is a bit weird. But at least it shows she hasn’t deserted them, I suppose. But the stress of all the press intrusion has been bad for Rebecca’s mother’s nerves and she’s become agoraphobic almost overnight. Jasmine got all the gossip from her mum, who knows a woman who knows Rebecca’s Aunt Mabel.’
‘Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you keep track of it all,’ Tom laughed.
‘Women are very good at multi-tasking. And we’re also very good at being very bloody nosy. Will we have another glass of wine?’ Ruby asked then, sipping the last of her coffee.
‘Sure,’ Tom said, pouring what was left in the bottle into two fresh glasses. It wasn’t really enough to make up a decent glassful. ‘I have a nice red wine here somewhere, but maybe we shouldn’t get too smashed?’ he said.
‘One more small glass each would be okay, I think?’
‘Sure.’ Tom nodded and got up to fetch it. When he was reaching up to a high shelf, Ruby saw his shirt pull out from his jeans to reveal his washboard stomach. Smooth white skin and a neat swirl of soft brown hair spreading up from the top of his jeans. She could still hardly believe they were lovers.
‘Lovers,’ she whispered absent-mindedly. ‘I’m somebody’s lover…’
‘What did you say?’ Tom asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘I thought you said something.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Okay.’
He poured the wine and sat down again. The room was very warm. Ruby felt as if she might faint with sheer contentment. She couldn’t get the picture of Tom’s super-taut stomach out of her mind. It was getting dark outside and they couldn’t sit in the kitchen all night. She longed to be curled up in bed with him, that beautiful hard stomach of his pressed against her body…
‘Lovely wine,’ she said, the glass trembling slightly in her hand.
‘Yes, it’s not bad.’
‘Kiss me again,’ she said.
Leaning across the table, Tom kissed Ruby softly on the cheek and then on the lips. He didn’t say anything and neither did she. The kiss seemed to go on for ages. Ruby felt as if she was floating away on a summer cloud. Her racing pulse slowed right down.
‘Shall we go to bed now, Ruby? I mean just to sleep? Just let me hold you and we can go to sleep together,’ Tom said in a husky voice.
‘Yes,’ she said in a whispery wobble. ‘Yes, I’d love that.’
It wasn’t the first time they would be spending the entire night together. But somehow it felt magical, as if they were a confirmed couple now. As if they both knew their relationship was going to last for a very long time.
They kissed again and somehow the bottle of red wine got knocked over and spilt all across Tom’s best jeans.
38. The Lovers
Ruby walked slowly into Tom’s bedroom and sat down gently on the side of the bed. The sheets were still crumpled from earlier. She smelt a faint aroma of lavender fabric conditioner and felt pleased that he’d gone to such an effort to impress her. The pillowcases were freshly ironed and all of Tom’s old gardening clothes had been cleared away. She thought she remembered seeing piles of ancient sweaters and worn leather boots sitting around the room the day before when she’d glanced into it on her way down the corridor to the bathroom. But now all was tidy and clean.
After a short while Tom came out of the shower, fully dressed again but with damp hair. He smelt of aftershave; Ruby guessed it was Chanel. She wondered if he’d bought it specially or if someone had given it to him for Christmas or something. Maybe it was Mrs Kenny.
‘Hopefully I don’t smell like a winery any more,’ Tom said.
‘Trust me,’ Ruby replied, ‘to burn you with the pan and then plaster you in red wine.’
‘Ah, it was worth it,’ he smiled.
‘I’ll have a quick shower myself,’ she said quietly. ‘If that’s okay? I’d like to freshen up.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘There’s towels and so on, on the shelf.’
‘Thanks, Tom. I won’t be long,’ Ruby said, briefly touching his hand.
‘I’ll be right here,’ he replied.
‘Okay,’ Ruby said.
A few minutes later Ruby returned to the bedroom to find Tom sitting casually on the bed. The lights had been turned off and only a sliver of moonlight stole in across the carpet. He turned to look at her as she stood there in her bare feet and wet hair, with no make-up on and wearing only a bath towel. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. He crossed the room in an instant with his long legs and stood beside her.
‘Well, here I am,’ she said playfully, shrugging her shoulders. ‘It seemed such a bother to get dressed again.’
‘I’m not complaining. You look gorgeous.’
She held his hand.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ she said. ‘I’m exhausted.’
Tom peeled off his clothes and they got in, lying close together. They gazed at one another for a moment. Then Tom swept Ruby into his arms, kissing her gently.
‘I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t met you,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know how much longer I’d have been able to wear myself out with work. Will we always be able to talk like this, and be friends?’
‘I hope so,’ Ruby said, kissing him tenderly.
‘I don’t mean to put any pressure on you though.’
‘I know.’
The moon went in behind a cloud and the room was pitch dark.
‘Ruby, I just want you to know that if things don’t work out between us, I’m still grateful you gave me this chance to feel normal… and happy again, and…’
But he didn’t get to finish his
sentence because Ruby was kissing him. Tom had his arms wrapped round her and it was good to feel warm and safe and cherished.
‘It’ll be okay,’ she told him. ‘We’ll be okay.’
Then they kissed each other goodnight softly and went to sleep.
39. Breakfast at Tom’s
Next morning, the sun was shining brightly. Ruby woke up feeling wonderfully calm and refreshed. When she turned her head to look at Tom, she saw that he was just waking up too. He looked very handsome first thing in the morning. The sleepy crinkles round his eyes gave him a softer, more vulnerable edge that was very appealing.
‘Good morning,’ she smiled.
‘Good morning,’ he said, and kissed her gently.
He reached across beneath the sheets and held Ruby’s hand.
‘Tom?’
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Thanks.’
‘What for?’
‘For everything. For asking me out in the first place and for being so sensitive about my circumstances and everything.’
‘I’d have waited for you, you know? If you needed more time to think about going out with me. I’d have waited for you, no matter how long it took.’
‘Really, Tom?’
‘Of course. I mean, you can’t get a mature garden overnight.’
‘You can if you’re rich enough,’ she laughed.
‘Not really. I don’t think it ever looks quite the same when they just deliver the lot on the back of a lorry,’ Tom said. ‘All concrete tubs and designer colour schemes. It never looks right to me. A real garden takes fifty years to get right. And it shouldn’t look brand new. It should look timeless.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she said, touching his face tenderly.
‘And I just wanted you to know that I’m serious about you, Ruby. Really serious, and not just passing the time with you, okay? You mean everything to me.’
