Chapter Eleven
November 2014, London, England
Molly wasn’t alone on her commute on Friday morning, but it wasn’t Chris beside her. It was her sister, clad in her leopard print coat and leather trousers, with a huge suitcase and her floral handbag.
When they arrived at Victoria, Saskia flew out of her seat and off the train, with Molly close behind her.
‘I’m meeting Caro outside the station and she’s going to take me back to the house. I’ll never find it otherwise,’ Saskia said as they walked across the concourse.
‘Very sensible,’ Molly said and nodded approvingly.
Saskia wasn’t known for her sense of direction, and she was unfamiliar with London.
‘There’s Caro.’ Saskia’s eyes lit up.
A woman in a tight navy-blue dress and a white cashmere coat was walking towards them and waving at Saskia.
‘Good morning, darling,’ Caro said to Saskia and then turned to Molly. ‘And this must be Molly. So nice to meet you.’
‘Same.’ Molly smiled at Caro.
She oozed glamour, with her strawberry blonde curls neatly falling over one eye, and a collection of gold chains around her neck. Her lips were coated in a deep cerise pink lipstick and her long lashes framed her emerald eyes.
‘You’re Mrs Darling, is that right?’
‘That’s right.’ Caro nodded. ‘I wanted Wendy, but it wasn’t meant to be.’ She shrugged and turned to Saskia. ‘You ready for this? The house is super cute, if a little snug. I’ve had my things dropped off there this morning.’
‘I can’t wait!’ Saskia squealed as they walked along the road together.
Molly stopped at the crossing. ‘I’m heading this way.’ She jerked her head towards the street on the left, then pulled Saskia in for a hug.
‘Look after yourself,’ Saskia whispered to Molly.
‘You too,’ Molly said, swallowing the lump in her throat, and hoping she didn’t burst into tears in front of a stranger.
Caro smiled. ‘Molly, you must come over to the house once we’re settled in.’
Molly nodded. ‘I’d love that.’
‘I’ll call you later,’ Saskia said.
The lights at the crossing turned green, and Molly hurried across the road, turning around as she heard her name being called.
Saskia was grinning at her. ‘Love you!’ she shouted.
Molly laughed. ‘Love you too!’
She walked towards her office, clutching her bag and her suitcase. Sitting down at her desk, she tucked her suitcase underneath it, and pulled her phone out of her bag. There was a message from Mark. She smiled as she opened it, wondering which restaurant or bar he’d booked them into tonight.
Mark: Hey babe, I know you were going to stay over this weekend, but I have to work late tonight and it’s Ed’s stag do on Saturday. I totally forgot. Maybe next weekend? X
She closed her eyes and let out a long exhale. He was cancelling on her at the last minute? The thought of spending the weekend with him had been what had tempered her sadness at Saskia leaving. Angrily, she typed a response.
Molly: Thanks for the short notice, and lack of apology. I’m so glad I dragged my suitcase halfway across the city this morning. I’m busy next weekend.
She shoved her phone into her bag.
***
Molly let herself into her dark, cold house after work, and switched on the hallway lights before locking the door behind her. The house was tidy and calm, and this unsettled her. As much as she found Saskia’s aura of chaos irritating, it was scarily quiet without her.
Her coat was wet, as she’d got caught in the rain on the way back to her car. She peeled it off and put it on the radiator to dry. Dragging herself upstairs, she had a hot shower, then dressed in a comfy shirt, her mum’s old woolly jumper, some black leggings, and fluffy socks.
She went into the kitchen and turned the radio on to cut through the silence and put a piece of leftover lasagne into the microwave to heat up. While it cooked, she made a salad, then took her dinner to the sofa, needing the noise of the TV for comfort.
After she’d eaten, she lit some candles, and got out her blanket, then picked up her phone. Mark had replied. She smiled to herself. Maybe he would learn not to take her for granted.
Mark: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll make it up to you. X
She hadn’t replied to him yet, as the prickle of anger was still lurking in her body. If making it up to her meant taking her to an overpriced restaurant and banging on about his job again, she wasn’t interested. Before she could reply, her phone started ringing, but it wasn’t Mark. It was Chris.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling you, but you didn’t reply to my message earlier and I wanted to check that you were alright. You weren’t yourself on the train tonight.’
Her stomach lurched. Had he sent her a message? She’d been so preoccupied with Mark, she hadn’t noticed.
‘I’m sorry, I must have missed it,’ she said. ‘I’m bummed about Saskia leaving, but I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to think I was pathetic.’ She wasn’t going to tell him about Mark, she didn’t want to go over it again.
‘I don’t think you’re pathetic.’ He paused. ‘Do you want me to come over?’
‘No, don’t worry,’ she said firmly, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. Why did the thought of seeing him make her instantly feel better? ‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t sound fine,’ he replied.
‘Well maybe I’m not totally fine, but I will be,’ she said firmly. Why was she protesting so hard? Why couldn’t she just admit that she wanted to see him?
‘Text me your address. I’ve just left the gym so I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’ His response was immediate, his tone as firm as hers.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘See you soon.’
She hung up and sent him her address, then the flood of worst case scenarios started flooding into her head. What if he robs you? What if he assaults you? He’s a stranger. You barely know him. The last thought hit home the hardest. What if you can’t fight your feelings for him? She scrolled through her messages, and there was the message that Chris had been talking about.
Chris: Hey, I just wanted to check in on you. You were really quiet on the train.
He was being friendly. That was all it was. He knew her too well for her to hide her feelings from him. She sucked in a breath, andwent upstairs, pushed the door to her mum’s bedroom open and sat on her bed. Her hands shook as she picked up the photo on her bedside table.
‘Mum, am I so wrong to just want to see a friend tonight? He makes me feel safe. He comforts me. He knows me.’ She knew her mum would say the same thing she always said.
‘Follow your heart. It won’t steer you wrong.’
But her mum was more like Saskia than Molly, more emotional than rational.
‘I need him, Mum, and I don’t know why, and it feels so scary, but I can’t run away from it, or him.’
The doorbell rang, making her jump. She put down the photo.
‘Thanks for the talk, Mum. I love you.’
She hurtled down the stairs to open the door, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at Chris. He was wearing navy tracksuit trousers and a tight grey T-shirt which emphasised his toned body. His hair was damp, and she could smell the citrus aftershave she was so used to.
‘Thank you so much for coming over,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. Was I that weird on the train?’
‘No.’ He paused. ‘It wasn’t what you said, it was what you didn’t say.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘I forget how perceptive you are.’
Over the last few weeks that they had been travelling together, she’d picked up on his knack for spotting tiny details that other people would miss. He pointed out secret trysts, private meetings, hidden glances. Just like her dad. He’d told her he had learnt this skill from the Gaspard Millot thrillers that he was addicted to, and her breath had caught in her throat. She’d changed the subject immediately.
She could see a thin silver chain around his neck with a circular pendant and leant forward to look at it. ‘I’ve never seen that before. What is it? I can’t read the writing.’
‘It’s a St. Christopher,’ he replied. ‘Patron saint of travellers. I was named after him. My parents were travelling when they met.’
She grinned. ‘Patron saint of travellers? Well, you’ve been positively saintly to me.’
‘You’ve been pretty good to me as well. Are you going to let me in?’ he asked.
She was still gripping his pendant. She let go and stepped back. ‘Oh yes, sorry.’ She put her hand to her forehead. ‘I’m a terrible hostess. Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee or something cold? We have endless soda thanks to Saskia’s sugar addiction.’
He followed her into the kitchen. ‘Tea please.’
‘Regular or herbal? I have rooibos. That’s my favourite.’ She pulled a box out of the cupboard.
‘Never heard of it.’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll give it a go, though.’
‘It’s kind of smoky and spicy. It’s from South Africa, I drank loads of it when I was travelling.’ She took two mugs out of the cupboard and put the rooibos teabags in, followed by the freshly boiled water. Handing the mug to him, she waited while he sipped it cautiously.
‘I like it.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘Do you have it with milk, or not?’
‘I do, but you don’t have to.’ She added a small amount to her mug before handing it to him. ‘Try it with milk.’
He put his mug down on the counter and took hers. ‘It’s better with milk, I think.’
It felt strangely intimate sharing a drink with him in her kitchen, but she tried not to think about it.
‘That’s what I think.’ She added a slosh of milk to his mug and handed it back to him. ‘Let’s go into the living room, it’s warmer in there.’
She sat down next to him on the sofa and sipped her tea.
‘Are you OK with me being here?’ he asked. ‘I know I was a bit…forceful on the phone, but you sounded like you needed me but you didn’t want to say that.’
‘I did need you,’ she smiled. ‘And I didn’t want to admit it. I don’t love being here on my own, but I don’t like asking for help.’
‘You let me help.’ He frowned. ‘Why?’
She put her mug down on the coffee table and turned to face him. ‘You make me feel safe.’
She didn’t want to elaborate. He made her feel safe, but he also made her feel other things too. He made her pulse race, her heart pound. He made her want to tear his clothes off. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Her phone rang and she grabbed it, glad of the distraction from Chris’s imperceptible expression. She mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ and walked into the hall to answer it.
‘Saskia! How are you doing? How did it go today?’
‘It’s pretty full on,’ Saskia replied. ‘It doesn’t feel real at the moment. The others are chaotic clutter bunnies like me, so we’re going to live in a pigsty with no bossy sisters telling us to clear up.’
Molly felt a pang of sadness. Was this it now? Was her sister going to leave her for good? ‘That’s great. I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m missing you already.’
‘Why don’t you ask Jess or Liz to come over?’ Saskia asked.
‘Maybe,’ Molly replied. ‘I’ve got yoga with Liz Sunday morning.’
‘What else have you got planned? You hate spending the weekend on your own.’
Molly took a deep breath. ‘I’m not on my own.’
‘I thought Mark was away?’
‘He is away.’ Molly could almost hear Saskia’s brain working. She paused, waiting for it.
‘Oh my god! You didn’t? You did? Is Chris there? Molly! You little beast.’ Saskia’s cackle blasted into Molly’s ear.
‘He was on his way home from the gym, and he dropped in to check on me.’ Molly hissed.
‘Are you naked?’ Saskia asked, giggling.
‘No, I am not.’ Molly retorted. ‘We’re just having a cup of tea on the sofa.’
‘You know what, I’m glad he’s there. I trust him with you. He’s good for you, Mole. You’ve been a totally different person these last few weeks. He’s put the smile back on your face. Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’
‘Wait, Saskia? Are you still there?’
Shaking her head, Molly stuffed her phone into her pocket, and walked back into the living room , sitting down next to Chris. ‘Sorry, that was just Saskia updating me. She’s having the time of her life.’
Chris laughed. ‘I bet she is. And I know it’ll be hard for a while, adjusting to not being with her.’
‘You’re right. At this time of year, we just hole up in here and watch TV, it’s lush.’
She would usually be wrapped in a blanket with Saskia and her mind wandered, imagining being wrapped in a blanket with Chris.
‘I don’t blame you,’ he said. ‘That’s what we do. But our place doesn’t have half as much character as this.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘We hung to as many of the original features as we could. Do you want to have a look around?’
She stood up, wanting to put some distance between them. The candlelight flickering in his eyes was making the butterflies in her stomach do somersaults.
‘Sure,’ he said and stood up, following her into the dining room.
‘The dresser is an antique,’ she said, gesturing to it, ‘and my mum collected all of these old plates, which we still use.’ She led him into the kitchen. ‘The kitchen’s too narrow for more than two people to be in here, but I hate cooking anyway, so it works out just fine. I use it to bake and Saskia cooks.’ She laughed. ‘I might have some treats for us once I’ve shown you the rest of the house. You have to see the pink bathroom.’
Leaving the kitchen, she walked up the stairs, with him right behind her.
‘Oh wow, it is very pink,’ he said as he stood in front of her in the bathroom.
‘I know. We found the brightest pink we could, it makes me smile every morning.’ She walked along the corridor to her own room, pushing the door open. ‘Here’s my room.’ She noticed him trying to hide a smile as he walked inside.
‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘What’s funny?’
‘When you offered to give me a tour, I thought that your room might look like this. Very neat, mostly antique furniture, loads of books…’ He gestured to the wardrobe door. ‘I bet everything in there is colour coordinated and ironed.’
She groaned. ‘Am I that predictable?’ Yet again, she was outed for being boring. Staid. He was right, but for some reason it stung.
‘Maybe, I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘You seem really organised. Everything you wear is always immaculate. So why wouldn’t your wardrobe be?’
‘Correct again, Poirot,’ she said, smiling.
‘It’s weird, isnt it? Noticing all of this stuff about people, assessing their characters.’ He looked away from her.
‘No, it’s not weird. I like the way your brain works. I wish I noticed these details about people.’ She gave him a playful nudge and paused outside the next door. ‘This is Saskia’s room.’
‘I bet that room’s not tidy,’ he said.
‘You’re wrong. We blitzed it hungover on Sunday.’
He made a face. ‘That sounds terrible.’
She nodded ‘It was terrible. I was nearly sick twice. We rewarded ourselves with burgers in our onesies.’ She let out what she thought was a laugh, but instead one of her cackles shot out.
He burst out laughing. ‘What was that?’
‘My awful cackle,’ she said, cringing. ‘Saskia and I both have them; they always sneak out when I least expect it to embarrass me.’
‘It’s hilarious,’ he said. ‘Can I make you do it again?’
‘I hope not.’ She paused at the next bedroom door. ‘I can’t show you this room. This is my mum’s bedroom. We haven’t changed it at all since she died. It’s exactly how she left it.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Grief is unique to the person experiencing it.’
‘Wow,’ she replied. ‘That’s deep.’
She was standing too close to him now, close enough that she could lean forwards and rest her head on his chest. She stepped back slightly.
‘Saskia and I both go and sit in there sometimes, just to feel her.’
She saw a tear plop onto the wooden floorboards and wiped her eyes, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
‘Oh, for God’s sake. I’m so sorry. Come on, let’s go downstairs.’
‘What were you watching?’ he asked as they sat back down on the sofa.
‘Ocean’s Eleven, for the hundredth time,’ she replied. ‘I love heist films. Either heist films, or big musical productions from the 50s and 60s. Grace Kelly’s my favourite actress and I love her in High Society.’
‘I’ve never seen it,’ he said.
‘It’s a classic. She’s a glamorous socialite called Tracey Lord. She’s dramatic and fiery, and she’s torn between Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, and John Lund.’ She pulled the DVD case out of the cabinet and handed it to him. ‘What’s your favourite film?’
‘Star Wars.’ A smile spread across his face. ‘I’m a huge Star Wars fan.’
‘Your bag.’ She smiled. ‘You have a Star Wars bag.’
‘That’s right,’ he said, nodding. ‘See, you pick up on the small details too.’
‘Sometimes.’ She shrugged and picked up the TV remote. ‘Do you want to watch the rest of this?’
‘We could…’ He paused and waggled the DVD at her, ‘but you’ve sold me on High Society. Let’s watch that.’
‘Sure’ she said, touched that he wanted to watch her favourite film. ‘We need snacks. How does rocky road sound? I’ll go and make some more tea as well.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ he replied. ‘Can I help?’
‘No, I’ll be right back.’ She went into the kitchen and sang to herself as she made the tea and plated the rocky road slices, putting them onto a tray and taking them back into the living room.
His eyes lit up as she walked in and put the tray down on the coffee table. ‘Thanks, Molly.’ He took the plate that she handed him and took a bite of the chocolatey square on it.
She picked up her mug of tea and took a sip from it, almost choking as she heard the moan of pleasure come from his mouth.
‘These are great,’ he said, taking another bite. ‘I love the little marshmallows.’
She picked up her own plate and took a bite, allowing each of the textures and tastes to flood her mouth.
‘Hmmm, they’re not bad. They need another texture, maybe some chopped hazelnuts.’
‘That would work.’ He nodded appreciatively. ‘If you need any taste testers, I’m always happy to help.’
‘I’ll keep you in mind.’ She picked up the TV remote and pressed play. ‘Especially now that my chief taster is in London, living her best life.’ She nodded to the TV as the opening credits finished. ‘Here we go, I can’t wait to see what you think.’
A few hours later, Molly woke up with a jump. The TV screen was black and next to her Chris was sprawled out. She giggled at his long body hanging off her tiny sofa and debated whether to wake him. Instead, she wrapped him in a blanket. She blew out the candles, then cleared up the mugs and plates.
When she returned to the living room, Chris was still asleep, so she sat a glass of water on the coffee table for him and went upstairs to her bedroom. As she washed off her make-up and changed into her pyjamas, she felt comforted by the thought that she wasn’t alone in the house. Even though they’d only just known each other for a very short time, she felt closer to Chris than she did most of the people in her life.