Chapter 7
Seven
When I return to the table fully in control of my emotions, the dishes have been cleared away. Sam’s sitting with his arms crossed, staring at the TV screen with the same mask he’s worn when I’ve seen him on guard duty.
I rejoin him at the table. His head snaps in my direction. “All good?”
I flash him a thumbs-up.
“Do you, er, want to talk about it?”
“Not tonight. Up until the waterworks started to flow, I was having a great time. I don’t want to kill the mood. The story’s depressing.”
Something flashes on his face, but he remains silent.
I try and lighten the mood by changing the subject. “You know, I bet you’ve seen some really weird things that have happened to you at Horse Guards.”
“Ha. You’re not kidding.” His face relaxes, and I see the youthful, handsome man I’ve gotten to know over the last hour returning.
“If you had to pick your top funniest and strangest moments, what would they be?”
“Only one?”
“OK, how about top three?”
“Hmm . . . should I start with funny or strange?”
“Either one.”
“Let’s start with strange.” He drums his fingers against the table. “The top item on my list would be the things people have done to try and get me to laugh or speak to them. There’s been tourists who have danced, sung, insulted me, but the weirdest of all would be the marriage proposals.”
“Proposals? Have you had more than one?”
“Uh-huh. It’s usually from mature women, but I’ve had a couple offers from teenagers too.”
“Out of sheer curiosity, do you have any that stand out to you?”
“Yes.” He snorts. “Last summer, there was a woman who showed up to the yard in a big, billowing ball gown with an officiant, and a couple of her friends to act as witnesses.”
“Oh no.” I start to laugh. “How far did she get before she was asked to leave?”
“She made a scene, proclaiming to everybody around her that she’d fallen madly in love with me and that she was ready to take our relationship to the next level.” He shakes his head. “When she proposed to me, she knelt down with a ring, and her phone was blaring the ‘Wedding March.’”
By now, my stomach is starting to cramp from laughing. “How did you manage to keep a poker face?”
“Through sheer willpower. It wasn’t easy. Thankfully, the MOD police and my corporal took pity on me and told her I was there as a working soldier, not a sideshow prop.”
“Did your friends get it on video?”
“No, thank goodness. But I was the butt of their jokes for weeks. Every time I opened my locker to stow my kit, I’d have some love notes or flower petals fall out.” He crosses one leg over the other. “At least the petals made my kit smell decent.”
“I’ve always heard that women are attracted to guys in uniform. I guess this goes to show it’s true. Have you had anybody besides me leave you notes?”
“A few, but until I met you, I never did anything with them.”
My heart flutters at hearing him say that. “What made me stand out?”
“You were trying to be nice and help me out. Anybody else would’ve let my spur get picked up by an MOD officer or one of my NCOs.
You put in a bloody lot of effort to make sure it was returned to its rightful owner.
It says a lot about the type of person you are.
” His lips twitch. “Someone I would be happy to get to know better.”
If my ears aren’t already bright red, they’re burning now. “The feeling is mutual. You protected my phone and my purse. You could’ve let the cops handle it, but you didn’t.”
“I can’t stand to see anyone taken advantage of. I’m just sorry you had your wallet stolen.” His face falls.
“It’s fine. Everything is replaceable. I have it all sorted out.”
I don’t add anything about the sketches. I don’t want to make him feel worse than he does now.
“I did have another question for you though. What are you actually allowed to say or shout at people? Because you’re not supposed to talk to them, right?”
“No. We’re not. Technically speaking, we’re only allowed to tell people to keep away from areas they aren’t supposed to go, or shout if they pose a danger to us or the horses.”
I cock my head to the side. “Like . . .?”
“I can say, ‘Stand clear of the arches,’ ‘Do not touch the King’s Life Guard,’ ‘Make way,’ or ‘Get off the reins’ if I were in the horse box.”
“Mind blown. There are so many rules for you to follow.”
“That’s the army for you. Our job is to keep order and do what we’re told by the higher ups.”
Hearing what Sam has to say reminds me so much of ballet company life. As a dancer in the corps de ballet, we were expected to do what we were told and not deviate from our scheduled classes, rehearsals, and shows.
Even when it comes to a performance, the corps is the heart of the company.
You’re not supposed to be a dancer who stands out.
It’s all about fitting in, unless you’re a soloist or principal.
You need to be one of the many. A faceless and nameless background character.
A cog in the machine that supports the rest of the company.
“You’re quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
Sam glances at his watch and inhales sharply. “Gah, it’s already eleven! I didn’t mean to keep you out so late.”
I blink slowly. Where has the time gone?
“It’s fine. I just hope you’re not too exhausted.”
He flashes me one of those grins I’m beginning to recognize as his signature. “I can manage. My body is used to keeping odd hours. As long as I can catch some shut-eye, I’ll be raring to go when we meet for coffee in the morning. Should we still have a go for eight, or push it back a little later?”
“Eight’s great.”
We stand. I collect my purse and shopping bag from the Apple Store, and make sure I’m not leaving anything else behind.
“I’ll send a text off to the guys letting them know to bring the car over to us.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can get a cab.”
He shoots me a stern look. “No need, a trooper always follows through on his promises.” He winks. “Besides, I’d like to spend a few more minutes with you.”
“OK,” I manage.
As I lie in bed later that night, I still have a wide, brimming smile on my face. Tonight has to have been one of the most magical dates I’ve ever been on. Yes, I’ll admit it. It was indeed a date.
Sam is thoughtful and considerate, but there is also something about him that is mysterious. He reminds me so much of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. He wears a mask when he’s out in public doing his duty, but underneath it all is a man with a heart of gold.
How has it only been twenty-four hours since I went from an all-time low moment to riding high?
I relive our date in the pub, recalling all the different expressions he made.
When he’s thinking, he tends to rub a hand over his strong jaw.
When he’s flustered, his ears turn a light shade of pink.
When he’s worried, the folds of his eyes crinkle.
One of the benefits of being a former ballerina is that I’m a quick study when it comes to noticing a person’s body language and their mannerisms. No movement is too small or subtle.
If you know what you’re looking for, reading a person is as simple as reading a book.
Except when Sam dons his mask. He’s mastered the art of stoicism when he needs to be in soldier mode.
I try and catch a few hours of sleep, but give up around three.
My mind is too full of excitement for what the morning will bring.
I need a distraction. I decide to sketch.
Locating my fuzzy pink bathrobe, I bundle myself in, plop myself down in my vintage moon chair by the window, and let my creativity flow.
I start with a circle, then add a few lines to it. Slowly, I build up a few layers and add some color. When I finish, I laugh to myself. I’ve managed to draw the Mona Lisa version of Sam, complete with eyes and lips hiding a secret behind him. They’re smizing.
Since I’m on the Sam track, I continue to run with it and take a stab at what he might look like in his summer uniform.
By six in the morning, I’ve drawn three portraits of Sam, a horse, and a mini collection of three outfits that are inspired by the colors of his uniform.
They’re red, navy blue, and white, with silhouettes that are an updated take on 1950s apparel.
In fact, I’m so pleased with my designs, I’m ready to start bringing them to life and begin drawing out the pattern for the dress. It’s been months since this feeling has come over me. That spark I’ve been missing has returned. Maybe Sam wouldn’t mind a trip to the fabric shop after dinner tonight.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Minerva.”
I drop the tracing paper. “Sam!”
“Er, I was just wondering, are you on your way to Barbican?”
I gasp as I take note of the time my Totoro clock displays. “I’m running out the door now! I’m so, so, so, so sorry. I lost track of time.”
“It’s fine. The conservatory is actually closed. It doesn’t open until half nine.”
My eyes flutter. “I didn’t think to check their hours.”
“What if I headed over to your neighborhood and we grabbed coffee locally? That would give you some time to get ready.”
“Would you mind? I, um, don’t think a fuzzy robe is the best outfit to go out in.”
“I’ll hop on the Tube now.”
“Do you need me to text you the address?”
“I remember where it is from last night.”
I give him the code for the entry door, and we disconnect the call.
I sprint to the bathroom to start getting ready.
It won’t take Sam long to reach me. Ten or fifteen minutes tops.
That leaves me just enough time to wash my face, and throw on a light layer of makeup and real clothes.
Normally, I don’t even wear makeup to work, but this morning, I feel like it.
I want to impress him without trying, if that makes any sense.