Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thursday 13th December, Kendric House
He spends the night in my bed which is sweeter than any Bakewell tart I ever made. We don’t sleep much, though. Mostly we hold each other and talk.
In the early hours, his beautiful rich hair around us both, he whispers. “Two turtle Doves.”
I stare at him.
“Second day of Christmas.”
So you’re counting up instead of down.”
“Well, we won’t be here after that day, so if we want to count with the song, it had better be now.”
I wish he hadn’t reminded me. I close my eyes, but he kisses the side of my neck, softly, tickling me with his beard. “Time has run away from us, hasn’t it?”
“You are giving up a lot of it to work on Kendric House. It’s not even your job.”
“It’s your home, and they have helped and welcomed the Squad, it’s the least I can do.”
“It’s not my home. I’ll have to leave in the New Year.”
He kisses me. “But not before our Christmas dinner.”
“You still think we should? With the house closed to the public?”
“I think we can get away with it. By then it’ll be too late for Cynthia and Co. to do anything much.”
“But you’re leaving in January.” I have to blink away tears.
“Leonie, my love.” He kisses my eyelids. “Don’t cry. We’ve had a gift, this time we’ve had together, it was un-looked for gift. We will always cherish it. And who knows what life has in store for us. I may come back in a few months and come to visit you here and you can make me one of your lovely sandwiches.”
“I won’t be here. You forget I’m going back to London.”
“Are you?” He says this is if he knows I won’t.
“What? You think I’ll get a job with the National Theatre of Llancaradoc? I don’t think they even have village dance hall here.”
He is silent so long, I have to look at him. His beautiful grey-green eyes have never looked so warm. “Why do you want to go back to London?”
“Because I need to find a new place to live and—”
“You have a place to live here.”
“Raphael Lewis. I also need to work. I have a part in Sleeping Beauty waiting for me.”
“Do you really want it? Does acting make you happy?”
“Of course.” I answer immediately.
He says nothing, just watches me and waits.
“I’m an actress.”
He says nothing
“I spent three years at the Guildhall training and the last ten years acting.”
He waits.
“It’s my career.”
“Don’t let the last ten years dictate the rest of your life. If I did that I’d be sitting at some party right now, stoned out of my head. It’s okay to change direction.”
“I’m not doing to jump from one career to the next.”
“Leonie,” he touches the tip of his nose to mine in an Eskimo kiss. “It’s a simple question. Are you happy?”
Now it’s my turn to pause. To be silent.
“What would I do if I didn’t act?”
He lifts his eyebrows in that expressive way of his. Only you can answer this, but think how exciting it might be to find out.”
I turn away and give him my back. “That’s you ruining your chance of a shag. You’re not getting lucky tonight.”
He wraps an arm around me and kisses the back of my neck. “I’ve already got lucky. Meeting you has been the best thing that happened to me in a long, long time.”
When I refuse to turn he says, “come on. Forgive me? I won’t talk about jobs anymore. Promise.”
I forgive him of course and he keeps his promise for the rest of the night.
In the morning, he comes back to the idea of hosting Christmas dinner. “It’s the last thing we’re able to do for them, so let’s do it! Make it a Christmas to remember. Invite everyone here, the Squad and the Kendric partners.”
“It’s twelve days till Christmas,” I say pulling on a forest green jumper. The roll neck is a bit tight and gets stuck around my head.
Raff come over and help pulling it down the right way and then combs my hair with his fingers. “See? Even your jumper is Christmasy.”
“Twelve days is too short to learn to cook a Christmas dinner. It’s a palaver in a week.
“No, it’s a partridge in a pear tree,” he says with a wicked grin
A little later, when he’s out of the shower, he says, “I know it’s not much time. Let’s make the best of it.”
He tips his head forward to rub it with a towel. God! How these little ordinary actions seem to special on him.
“Have you been thinking about this while shampooing your hair?”
“What better way to plan this together? It’ll give us a chance to spend every possible minute together.”
“Yes.” I agree, not realising what a bad idea this really is.
Of course it’s a bad idea, terrible. Because the more time we spend together the harder it’s going to be to say goodbye. But like addicts, we spend the next few days in each other’s pockets.