Chapter Eleven
The change in speed pulled Scarlett groggily from sleep and she opened her eyes, immediately disorientated and perplexed at seeing Dylan at the steering wheel of her car. She pushed herself upright and squinted through the misted-up window, her mind slowly catching up.
‘I’m just nipping into the shop to get some food,’ Dylan said and pulled up outside a supermarket, climbed out of the car and pushed the door closed as Scarlett took in her surroundings finally remembering that she was escaping to an unknown destination with Dylan at the helm.
She was no wiser as to where she was though, apart from a familiar Spar logo looming large in front of her, so she waited patiently until Dylan returned.
He dumped two carrier bags in the boot before re-joining her inside the car. ‘Here we go,’ he said mysteriously, giving nothing away. ‘All good?’
‘Are we here, then?’ she asked, ignoring his question.
‘Two minutes.’ He gunned the engine to life again. ‘This is the high street. We’re on top of the hill, just about . . . here.’
He stopped the car outside a large white house, with shutters at the windows and a trellised garden. It overlooked a large village green on one side, and the sea on the other. People sprawled out on the communal grassy area, clutching drinks from the pub just yards away wearing shorts and t-shirts, braving the wind that always blew fresh in from the sea, even in the height of summer. Children ran around like whirlwinds and Dylan watched with an amused smile on his lips. ‘It is, unfortunately, situated in one of the most popular tourist haunts but we’ve learned to live with it.’
Scarlett peered up at the house and across to the wide bay, where the fading rays of sun twinkled on the waves as they slapped against the groynes and retreated smoothly. ‘It’s beautiful, Dylan. This is where you grew up?’
‘Yeah, this is my family home, but it’s not a secret, we just haven’t talked about my life very much. I can bore you with the details later if you like, once we’ve eaten.’
As he unloaded the bags and headed for the front door, Scarlett followed, taking it all in, almost stupefied at this new unlikely Dylan she had been confronted with.
‘Where are we, by the way?’
‘Southwold. Suffolk, born and bred.’
‘But that’s miles away from London, isn’t it?’
‘Relatively speaking, it’s quite close, if you compared it to, say . . . Inverness, or Cornwall. You did say you had four days off, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I’m surprised you remembered.’
‘I was counting the minutes.’
‘You are sweet.’
He pulled a face. ‘Hmm. Sweet is not something I aspire to be.’
‘Even so.’ Scarlett’s slow smile broadened. ‘This is fabulous; the best idea.’ Immediately she closed her mind to London, determined to enjoy this turn of events.
‘Consider this a mini holiday, then. And you’re doubly in luck, because my parents are away, and my brother, who normally shares the converted basement with me when I’m home, is on a gap year in some godforsaken country, living on rice and beans and saving the planet from drowning in carrier bags, or something like that. So, we’ll be on our own. Lucky you, eh?’ Dylan’s eyes twinkled.
‘Seems that way.’ But she felt suddenly nervous and found herself twisting her fingers around one another, her conviction that she could forget about her predicament quickly failing.
He laced his own fingers in between hers, forcing her to quit the nervous action. ‘Scarlett, you need to chill out, and when, or if, you want to talk about what’s going on, trust me, I won’t let you down.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled weakly, as he picked up her flight bag and passed her a carrier bag full of shopping. He slung his guitar across his shoulder, and they headed along the path towards the house.
As Dylan opened the door, the old leaded lights in the front porch flashed diamond jewels of red and blue across the hallway, giving the house an old world charm that Scarlett was soon to find out was authentic. She followed him into the house, taking everything in.
The place smelled of polish and wood, with an underlying odour of dog which was not unpleasant. Walking boots littered the polished parquet floor and Barbours and fleeces hung on wall pegs. Like a proper family home, Scarlett thought and felt a pang of longing for something she’d never had. She trailed Dylan through to the kitchen and dumped the carrier bag on a large, scrubbed-pine table, but before she could absorb the room, Dylan grabbed her hand and propelled her towards the stairs.
‘Let’s go upstairs. I want to show you the view, before the light fades.’
Scarlett, putting her hands on her hips said, ‘Yeah, I’ve heard that line before.’ But she was laughing as she teased him
‘I’m serious!’ He took her hand again, pulling her along.
Steep stairs, a landing, then another set of twisting stairs were navigated, until they came to a ladder with a door at the top.
‘Careful how you go here,’ Dylan warned. ‘I can’t tell you how many times me and my mates have fallen down this ladder, not realising quite how pissed we were, until we ended up in a heap at the bottom. We never even noticed the bruises until we’d sobered up.’ He guided Scarlett up behind him and pushed the door open theatrically. A rush of cool, ozone-soaked air greeted them and Scarlett breathed in deeply. She already felt healed and . . . she gasped at the view.
A huge canopy, like a stripy yacht sail, hung above rattan seating laid out on the flat, and seemingly vast, rooftop. A blue and white hammock creaked in the breeze, and a large potted Swiss cheese plant waved in front of an incongruous American-style fridge in the corner.
It was a perfect piece of paradise, and that was before she’d even looked across the rooftops to the sea. The oblong squares of the beach huts sprouted far below,their bright summer coloursfading a little in the gloaming, and beyondthose, ant-sized people strolled up and downthe pier.
‘Dylan, whaton earth areyou doinglivingin a poky little holein London, when you have all this at your fingertips?’
‘I wanted to see if the London streets were paved with gold. Apparently, they’re just littered with deadly germs.’ He flashed her a smile and gestured to the rattan sofa. ‘Sit down, and I’ll get us some nibbles. Would you like some wine? I can almost guarantee there’ll be something chilled in the fridge. My mother is a great one for impromptu parties, and would never be caught short for the ladies who lunch.’
He opened the fridge door and peered inside, before pulling out some crisps, a jar of olives and a bottle of sparkling wine, and carrying them over to a small coffee table in front of the rattan sofa. Popping the cork with ease he grabbed two glasses, suspended between metal grooves by the barbeque in the corner and poured the wine until it was almost brimming over. He raised his own glass as he passed one to Scarlett. ‘May every new dream turn into reality, and may all of your dreams include me.’ As he spoke, a cloud ate into the last of the sun, obscuring its orange glow and coinciding with a gentle clap of rumbling thunder. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmm, I could have timed that better. Hope you’re not superstitious.’
She laughed. ‘No, I’m not. Now, stop threatening me with nightmares and come over here.’
‘Certainly.’ Dylan sat down beside her and put his arm around her, grinning. ‘That’s more like it.’
‘I only wanted you to block out the wind,’ she said, smiling.
‘That’s nice.’ He pulled a sad clown face as he removed his arm. ‘I’ll put the heater on, if you’re cold.’ His eyes were questioning, unsure, as if he was eager to please her.
‘That’d be great. I could sit here all night.’
As she snuggled into the squashy cushions, tucking her legs in tightly, she wondered how she and Dylan appeared to have become so comfortable with each other, without her even acknowledging it. She liked Dylan more than she’d expected to, and was truly grateful for his concern for her welfare. Bringing her to his family home was a wonderful and thoughtful move; she was already chilling out knowing that her immediate troubles were far away in London.
Realising Dylan was staring at her, she gave him her attention, taking in his anxious eyes and his uncertain smile. Her gaze fixed on his lips, and she relived the soft sensation of them touching hers, admitting to herself for the first time, that she would like a repeat performance.
Dylan reached out to a wayward tendril of her hair and wound it around his finger.
‘Scarlett?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on in your life — and in your head? I can tell you’re running away from something — or someone — and I want to help in any way I can. ’
She swallowed. ‘I’m not really sure I can tell you, without sounding like a sad sap. For now, can I just say a sincere thank you for all of this.’ She waved her hand to encompass the rooftop view and the house. ‘I just don’t really want to open Pandora’s box while we’re having such a lovely time.’
‘If bringing you here has helped, then that’s good enough for me.’ He gave her a measured look over the rim of his glass as he sipped his wine. ‘Answer me one question though, and I promise I won’t demand anything else from you.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Is there a significant other in your life? Is that what this is all about? Are you somehow tied up with another man?’
Scarlett pursed her lips as she pondered the question. ‘I guess the answer is no, although it’s complicated.’
Dylan ran his fingers through his already tousled hair and shook his head. ‘How did I know the answer wouldn’t be straightforward?’
She pleaded, silently, that he’d understand, as he inched closer to her.
‘So, if I did this.’ He leaned forward and kissed her, gently. ‘Would that be wrong?’ He touched her hand as he kissed her, his thumb smoothing across the inside of her wrist. A strangely tender gesture that made Scarlett tailspin into a cloud of confusion and longing.
‘No, that would be very right.’ Her voice came out thicker than she expected as heat from Dylan’s touch warmed her body.
He nodded, his eyes piercing hers for the truth. Seemingly satisfied, he heaved out a sigh. ‘Good.’
He watched her carefully for a moment, as if deciding on his next move, then he pulled her to her feet. ‘Come on, before I get carried away. Let’s go skim some stones on the sea, and I’ll show you the sights.’
Scarlett took a moment to process the change in direction, before quickly brightening at his suggestion. ‘Perfect! I haven’t got a coat though, and it’s getting a bit breezy out here.’
‘I’ll get something of Mum’s. You’ll look cute in one of her fleeces. There’s a pink one downstairs, and there are only about a million dog hairs stuck to it. You’re not allergic, are you?’
‘Not to dogs, but I might be allergic to a large pink fleece,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.
‘It’s okay. I’ll be able to see past the outer layers into the inner you.’ He looked at her askance. ‘And I promise not to tell my mum what you said about her clothes.’
‘Hey, don’t! You know what I mean.’ She slapped him playfully, and he caught her hand and held it tight. Another look passed between them, sending her heart into a freefall and setting her skin tingling. As a small breath escaped her, she knew for certain that she was falling for Dylan. She didn’t know precisely when it had happened, but there was no denying that her body had betrayed her resolve, whether she liked it, or not.
Recovering quickly, she tried not to give herself away, but Dylan’s eyes were evaluating her again. He nodded to himself, as if satisfied by what he saw, and squeezed her hand as if they’d made a promise to each other.
They wound their way back down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Scarlett pulled Dylan’s mother’s fleece over her head, spluttering as she suffocated under the voluminous material. Her gaze caught on a framed photo against the wall as she emerged: of Dylan, wearing a mortar board and gown, his smile wide. She stared at it in disbelief. ‘This is you? You have a degree?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you never said. I didn’t have a clue.’
‘Does it make a difference?’ He gave her a stern look. ‘It shouldn’t, you know.’
‘No, but—’ She felt silly that she’d imagined him to be just another friendly, singing bum who deserved a chance to be lucky. In fact, she felt cheated, almost as if she’d been duped.
Her mind mulled over the image Dylan had presented of himself, aware that it was nothing like the man who stood in front of her. Not too many hours ago, she felt they’d finally connected, believing in the Dylan who had diligently and persistently pursued her. She tried to re-label him in his new capacity as someone educated from a decidedly middle-class background, but Dylan the street busker was too firmly set in her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder what else there was to discover about him.
Or maybe she was about to find out, she thought, as she peeked through an open door into a vast room housing a white, baby grand piano, piled high with sheet music. Next to it, three guitars took up stands — one bass guitar in glossy black, and two acoustics, similar to the one Dylan dragged around with him like a tatty shadow. A dark silhouette took up the bay window, as if an overly-large man had tried to hide there, and she identified it as the outline of a double bass standing tall in a recess.
She tugged on Dylan’s arm, preventing him from moving, as she stepped inside. ‘I don’t believe this. Why am I getting the feeling that you’re not just a street singer, but are actually a bona-fide musician?’
He raised his arms in surrender. ‘Maybe I might know just a little bit more about music than you imagined, but I’ve never lied about my talents.’ He attempted a cheeky grin, but it died on his lips when Scarlett didn’t return it. He sighed. ‘Okay, my dad is actually in a symphony orchestra, when he’s not messing around with antique clocks. And my brother, Robert, is really talented — he wants to be a conductor eventually, if all goes well.’
‘And not on a bus, I assume,’ she said dryly. ‘And your mother?’
‘Oh, she’s just a music teacher. My parents met at the church choir. Both have lovely voices, incidentally.’
‘You don’t say.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And when were you thinking of mentioning all of this?’
‘I’m sorry if this is important to you. I’m sure I would have told you eventually, but to be fair we haven’t known each other for long and neither of us were expecting this impromptu trip.’ He gave her puppy dog’s eyes and put his hands on his heart. ‘Surely, it’s the person inside who counts?’
She smiled but was still miffed. ‘I don’t know. It’s as if you made out you were some down-and-out who just happened to be good at music.’
‘Not really. No one in the world has a talent that just falls at their feet. You have to work at it, even if you’re given the basics genetically. And it doesn’t make me a different person. I’m still the same cute, loveable guy you always knew. Maybe just a bit more talented.’
‘And modest,’ Scarlett added.
‘Yes, modesty could go in there with the rest of my attributes, I guess.’ He smiled innocently. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are to have me.’
Scarlett sighed, thinking that maybe it was time for them to talk properly and establish what part of him she did ‘have’, or he thought she had. He appeared to be taking their relationship status for granted, just from a few chaste kisses, and although she was leaning towards his way of thinking, there was still a long way to go before it could be considered a done deal.
Before she had a chance to reply, he pulled her towards the front door. ‘Come on, let’s go to the beach, before it gets completely dark.’