Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
T inkerbell visits me in the evening, and when I wake up he’s sitting on the pillow next to my head, staring at me.
Whiskers twitching, he stretches once he sees I’m awake, and jumps off the bed– presumably to disappear into whatever secret portal he uses to enter and exit my very well-secured home.
‘Bye!’ I shout as he slinks out of the door. ‘Lock up on your way out!’
He doesn’t reply. How rude. I follow suit and do some stretching.
I’m nowhere near as elegant, I’m sure, as I clamber off the side of my mattress and reach my arms up to the ceiling.
I have slept amazingly well, much better than usual, and actually feel refreshed this morning.
Maybe, I think with a small smile as I go into a forward fold, it was the dreams.
Aidan dropped me off at home after our one drink, and despite all his flirting, he was a perfect gentleman.
There was no angling for an invite in for a nightcap, no attempt at a goodnight kiss.
I was both relieved and disappointed, and reminded myself again about the age gap.
I suspect Aidan is one of those guys who automatically flirts with women, and has a gift for making them feel special.
He doesn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure.
While that made perfect sense while I was conscious, my sleeping mind had other ideas.
Aidan visited me in my dreams, and he was not in any way, shape or form gentlemanly.
I do a few side twists, aware that I’m even blushing while I’m alone.
The memory of my night-time fantasies is enough to make me feel hot under the pyjama collar.
I think it might have been him talking about his grandma’s romance books, with the dastardly dukes and the lusty lords…
Somehow they all got tangled up in my mind, and Aidan kept appearing dressed in full Bridgerton-style gear, galloping around on horses and rescuing me from ruffians. The rest was very much X-rated.
I have a moment where I feel borderline ashamed, because I could actually be his mother. He’s not a child, not by any means, but still… it feels slightly forbidden. He might be a gorgeous guy with an old soul, but he’s still too young for me.
I did enjoy my evening with him, though, and found him to be interesting company– certainly better company than the person I’d spent the last few days with, i.e.
myself. He told me more about his family, or at least the part of it he likes, and he is a well-travelled and cultured guy beneath the slightly wild appearance.
‘I’ll be happy if I never wear a suit again,’ he told me.
‘In fact I’d probably walk around naked all the time if the weather allowed.
I was dressed up in tuxedos and paraded around at parties from the age of two, and it sucked. ’
I ignored the nakedness reference, but was fascinated by the childhood and family life he described.
Mine was so very, very ordinary: my dad was a school caretaker throughout my childhood, as well as a borderline alcoholic and a bully; my mum worked nights behind the tills in a twenty-four-hour petrol station.
We lived in a small three-bedroomed semi in Billericay, and a weekend in Margate was considered an adventure.
Every two years we’d go to Benidorm, where my abiding memory is of sunburn, scuttling around to find shade and refusing to wear a bikini because I was too shy.
My mum and dad would start their day with a full English and then he would drink himself into oblivion.
There’s nothing wrong with any of that– Sally always had a whale of a time making friends and snogging boys– but for me it was torture.
I’ve travelled a lot as an adult, at times during the year when the sun was less likely to see me end up with third degree burns, and have seen many amazing and beautiful places, but the way Aidan talks, he is very much a citizen of the world rather than an occasional tourist. All of which makes it astonishing that he lives here, in this tiny patch of sleepy countryside.
It’s like finding an exotic butterfly in a world of moths, or a peacock in a flock of pigeons.
Despite his background, he is down-to-earth, easy-going, and surprisingly open.
It was only when he mentioned his father that he clammed up.
Something bad has gone on there, without a doubt.
I try not to let my imagination fill in the gaps, which is difficult for me. A bit of an occupational hazard really.
I spend a couple of hours working, checking over the edits I’ve recently done, and when I’m satisfied, I send them back over to my editor.
She will take a while going through them, and until then, I’m kind of at a loose end.
I already have a few ideas for my next book, but I don’t want to throw myself into it just yet.
Maybe I deserve a few days off. I could sort the house out properly, do some more exploring, even pursue that ever-elusive goal– to just relax.
Before I can decide, there’s a knock on the door, and I open it cautiously.
I really should get a spyhole installed.
No chance of peeking through the curtains without the intruder spotting me.
Outside, I find my near-neighbour, Edie May.
The one who is almost a hundred and lives with a ghost fiancé, apparently.
She really is very small, and her tiny face looks up at me like a pale, smiling raisin.
‘I come bearing exciting news!’ she announces, as I invite her inside. Even I don’t feel threatened by Edie, although that could of course be a terrible mistake. She would, after all, be the perfect assassin. Nobody would ever suspect her.
Once safely in the living room, she looks around as though studying for signs of change, and nods approvingly.
‘Nice to see somebody living here properly. It was a rental for a long time, and once Katie and her nippers moved out, nobody stayed for more than a few nights. It was one of those… what do you call ’em? Bear D I’m sure he’s done the same with me, and I’ve no doubt that Laura and the others will have done too. It’s natural to be curious.
The Calloways, it turns out, have been one of the most influential families in the States for generations.
Old money east coast, and currently headed up by Aidan’s father, Benedict.
Maybe I was prejudiced by what I’d heard about him, but I couldn’t help thinking he did look like an arrogant asshole, just as Aidan described him.
A handsome silver fox type to be sure, maybe in his sixties, but with dead eyes and a smirk.
I came across a few pictures of Aidan at events and parties, and a story about his parents getting ‘amicably’ divorced.
At that point I forced myself to stop. It was all getting way too personal and gossipy, and was probably all nonsense anyway.
Edie nods and gives me a little smile. ‘Calloway. Well, I suppose I’ll walk out to his place, or maybe go on my bike. I’m sure my hip will be okay…’
I’m alarmed at the thought of her doing either of those things, but I have the sneaky suspicion I’m being played anyway. Edie is clearly well loved by this whole community, and nobody would hesitate to offer her a lift, including me.
‘I’m heading out to Max and Gabriel’s place later,’ I say, playing along. ‘Would you like me to drop it off for you?’
‘Would you mind?’ she says immediately, digging in her bag and magically coming up with a matching invitation to mine. ‘I had it with me just in case I encountered some kind soul… Anyway, I must be off. I’m going as a Bride of Dracula, and I have a dress fitting!’
I have no idea if that is true or not. It’s impossible to tell with Edie.
I see her off, smiling as I watch her walk steadily away on her sensible shoes.
Everyone she meets on the street stops to chat, and I’d guess it might take her a solid hour to walk from one end to the other.
It’s not a bad way of life really, certainly very different from London, where even when you’re young you can go weeks without talking to anybody.