A Leap of Faith

by Trisha Ashley

  I ignored that. ‘But I’ve thought about this scheme you and Mu have hatched up to scare Dave off, and really I’ve come to the conclusion it’ll only make him worse if he sees us together, and also put you at risk of his jealous temper. If I just keep rebuffing him, he’ll probably finish his work here in a week or two and go off back to London.’

  ‘And then again, he might go off in a complete huff if he sees us together in a very friendly way, and that will end it once and for all,’ Nye suggested. ‘Which is what you want, isn’t it? Or is it? You haven’t still got a soft spot for him, have you?’

  ‘No I haven’t!’ I said strongly.

  ‘Then if I’m willing to take the risk, why not? And if, as you say, we’re going to be friends, he’s going to see me around with you a lot, isn’t he?’

  There’s friends and friends. Maybe we could be pen pals for a year or two?

  ‘And I intend to be around as long as Dragonslayer is,’ he added. ‘How did you pick on me for your hero?’

  ‘Dragonslayer is not the hero! He’s just a peripheral character who’s got too big for his boots – and he isn’t you, either! He just – coincidentally – happens to look a bit like you.’

  ‘A bit as in “mirror image”?’

  ‘Coincidences happen,’ I defended myself hotly. ‘Actually, Lili showed me a really bad photograph of you months before I ever met you, and that must be where I got your description from, but the details that weren’t in the photo really are just coincidence.’

  He looked at me quizzically.

  ‘It’s true!’

  ‘Right. I can’t wait for the next book. When’s that due out?’

  ‘I’m still writing it,’ I said stiffly, putting the cash for exactly half the bill down on the table with a thump.

  ‘Time to beard the lion in his den? Or shall I just take you safely home and go and poke him with a sharp stick, to see what his bite’s like?’ he said.

  Just you wait, Dragonslayer!

  Chapter 28

  Testing Times

  It was latish when we pulled up outside the Rat and Casket, and bright lights and loud voices spilled out of the open door, though actually it sounded fuller than it was.

  There was no sign of our quarry, so after collecting a couple of drinks we went and sat in one of the alcove seats – the one Lili sometimes cornered Nye in.

  ‘He probably isn’t coming – or he’s been and gone. We could just have this drink and go home,’ I suggested.

  ‘Give him time: he’ll probably feel the magnetic pull of your presence.’

  I gave Nye a frosty look and he edged me into the corner and draped his arm around me affectionately.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I demanded.

  ‘Window dressing: I think we ought to look friendly.’

  ‘There’s friendly and friendly, and I’ve never been one for canoodling in public.’

  Or anywhere else much, come to that, which I probably told him when I was punch drunk.

  ‘Canoodling is a lovely word. If you can have kissing cousins, why not canoodling friends?’ He raised his glass and smiled down into my eyes. ‘Here’s to us.’

  ‘This is all the us there is going to be, so I suppose I can drink to that.’

  ‘That’s not the impression you gave me up at the cromlech,’ he said reproachfully.

  ‘I was drunk, as you know. A gentleman wouldn’t mention it again.’

  ‘Do you know any?’

  ‘No,’ I said shortly.

  ‘And I wasn’t drunk, just rash enough to let you drag me up there and have your way with me.’

  ‘I didn’t drag you up there, you insisted on coming!’

  ‘It’s all right, I wasn’t complaining: love is more than just who does what to whom.’

  ‘What?’ I stared at him, wide-eyed (and probably open-mouthed), and he leaned his head conspiratorially close until his lips grazed my ear.

  ‘He’s here!’ he whispered softly. It tickled.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The lion – and he’s seen us. Just carry on looking at me adoringly the way you were.’

  A blistering retort sprang to my lips, but before I could say anything Dave was upon us.

  ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’ he said with an undertone of menace and sat down opposite, uninvited.

  Nye smiled politely. ‘Not at all. Didn’t we meet at the Cotters? You’re Dave—’

  ‘Devlyn,’ he responded automatically, fixing burning dark eyes on me. ‘I’ve been looking for you, Sapphie.’

  ‘Have you? I thought you’d be busy with your photos.’

  ‘I only booked into this dive because it was near you, so we can spend some time together – and then you vanish. I sent you a bouquet to tell you how I feel. Didn’t you get it?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve had a busy couple of days – I’ve got a novel to write, you know. Anyway, I don’t want to see any more of you than I have, and I don’t actually care how you feel.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve found out about that girl at the party, but she didn’t mean anything. She was just there when I couldn’t find you.’

  Complimentary.

  ‘Sappho and I were a bit bored by the party, so we went for a walk together and discovered we had such a lot in common, didn’t we, darling?’ Nye chipped in helpfully.

  ‘Uh? Er . . . yes, we did, didn’t we?’ I squeezed his hand and beamed adoringly at him and he blinked.

  Dave abruptly sprang to his feet, upsetting the table and sending the contents of the glasses into my lap. I wished I’d gone for a short drink.

  ‘Don’t think you can play those little games on me, Sappho, and get away with it!’ he snarled, like a West Side Story version of Heathcliff. ‘What’s he got that I haven’t?’

  ‘Sanity?’ I suggested, then saw something so unbalanced in his eyes that I did an out-of-character Shrinking Violet into the shelter of Nye’s arm, which made matters worse.

  ‘As for you, Golden Boy,’ Dave continued, ‘Sappho’s mine, always has been, always will be: and if you think you can change that you’re wrong. Now get out! I’ll see her home!’

  He reached downward with the intention, I think, of grabbing the front of Nye’s shirt and pulling him out, only it didn’t quite work that way: Nye rose like a coiled spring and struck him neatly just under the chin.

  Dave’s mouth closed with a snap like a castanet and he sat down with more haste than speed on the floor, looking dazed.

  ‘My hero!’ I said to Nye, who seemed rather pleased with himself. ‘Quick, let’s go before he starts again.’

  ‘I’m not running away—’ he protested, resisting as I dragged him through the circle of mildly interested faces. ‘We ought to settle this once and for all.’

  ‘To the death? I’m not having a fight over me in a pub as if I was a raffle prize. We’re not living in a soap. Come on, you’ve stirred things up enough for one night.’

  He halted outside the pub in the cold night air and said accusingly, ‘I’ve stirred things up? What did you ever do to get the man in such a state in the first place?’

  ‘Fell in love with him – then fell out of love with him again – but, my God, it was years ago!’ I said bitterly. ‘You don’t think I’ve been secretly encouraging him ever since, do you? That I like this sort of scene?’

  ‘No, I don’t, so stop glaring – and get in the van if you’re determined to leave it like this.’

  He started the engine just as Dave staggered outside, one hand to his jaw. Sighting us, he lurched over and tried to catch hold of the passenger door as we pulled out.

  ‘I know all about you, you bloody pansy potter with a dyke for a girlfriend!’ he yelled very rudely (and not entirely accurately). ‘Sappho—’

  ‘If I’m a pansy you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?’ Nye said coolly through the half-open window, moving away just as Dave tried to open the door.

  We left him gesticulating and mouthing after us: not a pretty s
ight, had I cared, but I was choking back inopportune giggles.

  Since my house was so near I thought Dave might follow us at a run – or a lurching stumble – but there was no sound of pursuit when we got out of the van. All was still.

  ‘What are you laughing about?’ Nye stopped and stared down at me, and his look of outrage set me off again.

  ‘The . . . the pansy potter bit,’ I gasped. ‘The irresistible allure of alliteration – first me and then—’

  A pair of strong arms yanked me practically off the ground into a crushing embrace, which might have started out temper-driven, but soon softened into something more demoralizing . . .

  That Dalek voice was bleating again: ‘Resistance is useless!’ It was no use, there isn’t a jot of romance in me.

  ‘Resistance is useless,’ I agreed when I came up for air.

  ‘What?’ Nye sounded shaken out of his cool.

  ‘You don’t have to demonstrate to me you’re not a pansy potter – I already know.’

  ‘Well, I admit to being a potter.’

  I fended him off when his arms tightened again, even though my knees were trying to fold. ‘It’s all right, I don’t need a repeat demonstration.’

  ‘Sappho . . .’ his voice softened and his grip relaxed, ‘I didn’t mean to go all caveman. Did I hurt you?’

  ‘Only the three crushed ribs, and they’ll soon mend,’ I replied, breathing cautiously. My knees were now Poorly but Stable so I removed myself to a safer distance.

  ‘Well, thanks for an interesting evening,’ I said politely.

  ‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he rejoined gravely. ‘Or then again, maybe not?’

  ‘I don’t think Dave felt much pleasure tonight. In fact we might have made things worse.’

  ‘He does seem a little beyond reason about you,’ he agreed, ‘but having started we can’t stop now.’

  He might be right.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Casual stuff – you coming down to the workshop tomorrow, like you said you would. I’ll meet you in the café there for lunch, and we can hold hands, gaze into each other’s eyes . . .’

  ‘It would put me off my food – and anyway, there’s a flaw in the plan: Dave wouldn’t be there to see it.’

  ‘Word will get about,’ he said vaguely.

  ‘Yes, and if it reaches Lili she’ll probably lynch me. And what about my work?’

  ‘Don’t you usually do most of it early in the day?’

  ‘Yes, but it depends.’ I sighed and gave in. ‘Oh, all right, I’ll come, but only because I want to see round the craft centre.’

  ‘Right. Sure you wouldn’t like to try that kiss again before I go? I have a theory about time standing still I’d like to test.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you don’t want me to stay the night and guard you, in case Dave comes round?’

  ‘He won’t – the cat, don’t forget.’

  ‘Right, might as well go home then.’

  As I unlocked the door I looked back and found him still watching me, though I couldn’t see his expression in the shadows. I hoped Dave wasn’t lying in wait for him somewhere, in Mad Assassin Mode.

  ‘Be careful on your way home,’ I warned him.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘No, on second thoughts, do worry about me. At least it means you’ll be thinking of me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said severely, and fell over the cat.

  My gestures often turn out to be large, but seldom grand.

  Chapter 29

  Gingered

  Next morning I thought about maiming Dragonslayer just a little bit, à la Mr Rochester, but somehow could not bring myself to do it, which is not like me.

  Still, I reflected, if any maiming were to be done Nala would probably do it herself.

  The neat little café was quite busy, but Nye had bagged a table overlooking a small garden.

  A party of young female tourists were attempting to take over both of them, but drifted off regretfully when Nye exclaimed: ‘Darling!’ as soon as he saw me, leaped to his feet and enthusiastically kissed my parted lips – parted in surprise, I hasten to add.

  I didn’t think we were going for this level of public affection.

  I sank down on the nearest chair and draped my hair over one shoulder, so it didn’t get trampled on. It was in one long plait tied at the end with a length of beaded rawhide that I’d picked up somewhere or other, and my feet were bare: I wasn’t going to change my ways just because I was having lunch with an alien being.

  The waitress was dressed in a sort of pseudo-Welsh costume like Llyn’s. It didn’t bode well for the quality of the craftwork, and I only hoped I would be able to find something nice to say about Nye’s pottery.

  What if it were all runny glaze and red dragons?

  I was just about to demand large amounts of coffee, as usual, when I realized that I didn’t want it in the least, or tea: the thought revolted. ‘Have you got ginger beer?’ I enquired.

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Real ginger beer, with actual ginger in it?’

  ‘It’s in cans,’ she said, as if that clinched the matter. Still, when it came, together with the fresh ham salad rolls, it was the real fiery stuff.

  Salad is usually something I eat because it gets between me and my sandwich filling, but that lunchtime I really enjoyed it. My tastes must be changing . . .

  ‘Lili phoned me earlier,’ Nye said.

  I felt a pang of – something, I’m not sure what, but said casually, ‘Oh, did she? From the hospital?’

  ‘Yes, but she was getting ready to go home because they’re letting her out later.’

  ‘Not on her own, surely? Or did she want you to pick her up?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘she already had a lift arranged – with Dave Devlyn.’

  I stared at him. ‘How did she manage that? You know, I think there may be a whole subplot here that I’m missing.’

  ‘She’s offered to put him up while he’s staying down here.’

  ‘I bet she has! I wonder . . .’ I chewed the last bit of roll thoughtfully. ‘Was she trying to make you jealous, do you think? Is that why she phoned you up?’

  Something seemed to be amusing him. ‘No, that wasn’t what she had in mind. She wants me to keep you occupied, so she has a clear run at Dave. She said the sudden blow to the head had clarified things.’

  ‘I thought it was supposed to have had the opposite effect? And what does she mean, occupy me?’

  ‘Search me,’ he said innocently.

  Well, it was a tempting possibility, but I managed to resist.

  He lowered his voice to a deep, intimate level, gazed pensively into my eyes and said, ‘Couldn’t I tempt you . . . to a piece of chocolate cake?’

  ‘If you ham it up like this no one will be taken in for a minute, even someone as jealous as Dave,’ I said severely. ‘And no, I don’t want cake.’

  But when it came, I did absent-mindedly demolish half the substantial slice, because I was pondering Lili’s doings, though Nye ate the rest.

  If Lili decided to pursue him, it would be one way of getting Dave off my back, but would it work? Perhaps someone should hit Dave on the head, too?

  ‘We can come back later and have more cake,’ Nye suggested. ‘I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure you’d turn up. I didn’t like leaving you alone last night either, now I’ve seen Dave’s reaction for myself. I thought you and Mu were exaggerating a bit, but he’s definitely obsessed with you. So am I,’ he added, picking up my hand and stroking the back with his thumb, which was interestingly pleasurable.

  I let it lie: it didn’t seem worth making a fuss about.

  ‘Actually, he may have been skulking about last night, because I woke up and thought I saw someone in the courtyard . . . but I was half asleep and when I looked again there was no one there. And the cat didn’t make a noise, so I assume nobody tried to get in.’


  Nye looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry – that was me! I came back around midnight and sort of scouted round, but the pub and the village were all quiet so after a while I went home.’

  ‘That was thoughtful of you, Nye, but really there wasn’t any danger. Dave might have hung around, but he wouldn’t try to get in with the cat there.’

  ‘I felt like a walk anyway.’

  ‘Three miles in the dark?’

  ‘Why not? You do the same, don’t you? Though I hope you won’t while Dave is running loose – unless I’m with you.’

  He got up. ‘Come on, Rapunzel, I’ll show you around.’

  I gestured at the shop as we passed. ‘Don’t you have anything in there?’

  ‘Not usually, no. It’s not impulse-buy stuff,’ he said mysteriously, leading the way at a brisk stride across the courtyard and into the dark tunnels between the workshops.

  ‘Do you want the complete guided tour?’

  ‘No, I want to see yours first, then I’ll walk round the rest on my own.’

  Most of the workshops seemed to have closed for lunch anyway, so there were few people about other than in the shop and café.

  He opened his door and switched on the light, and I walked past him into the studio. The walls were lined with shelves, and there was a huge pinboard covered in all kinds of things. But what dominated the room, and stopped me dead in my tracks, staring, was the ceramic sculpture sitting on the worktable.

  Then, stunned, I walked all around it, studying it from every angle. It looked finished to me, though I’m no expert – the smooth, polished sides flowed and rippled under a mass of muted line drawings over washes of colour that curved out, and round, and up, and in . . .

  I suppose if you had to, you could describe it as a pot, like you could call Michelangelo’s David a model of a man. ‘Do you like it?’ Nye’s voice sounded strangely unsure.

  I managed to drag my eyes away from it for long enough to notice other, smaller pieces on some of the shelves. ‘Like it? How can you ask me if I like it? It’s wonderful! And I thought you were making tea sets and punch bowls!’

  ‘There’d be nothing wrong with that, you artistic snob – the people I share my kiln with make brilliant table pottery. It’s just that this is what I do.’