Chapter 9
‘What would you like, Anna?’ asked Thomas when we arrived at the Castle, a black-and-white Tudor-style pub a couple of minutes’ walk from the castle proper.
‘Oh, I can get mine. Don’t worry,’ I said, feeling weird about him paying for my drink. I’d formally introduced myself on the walk over, thinking that I’d better since he didn’t actually know my name.
‘It’s not a problem,’ he said, trying to catch the barman’s eye. ‘I get paid prison wages.’
He seemed adamant, and I didn’t want to be rude. ‘OK, I’ll have a cider, thanks.’
The barman came over and greeted Thomas with a ‘Hey, mate’. So I gathered he did come here quite a bit. As he ordered for us, I looked around at the pub. It was rustic with an eclectic mix of wooden tables and chairs and not too busy since it was late afternoon. I’d never been here before despite living in Oxford for the past five years.
Thomas nodded towards one of the booth seats and carried the drinks as I slid in. Now what? Make small talk? I wasn’t good at that at the best of times. If I knew I was going out with a guy, I needed at least a week to prepare my body and my outfit. I couldn’t just be spontaneous. But I got the impression Thomas, now sipping from his Pilsner across from me, was taking this in his stride. He seemed like a casual kind of person. I took a large swallow of cider to help calm my nerves and attempted to look natural as if I went out with strange men all the time.
‘Ah, that’s better.’ Thomas leaned back and stretched out his legs, being careful not to knock my ankles. ‘Saturdays are always hectic, but I did sign up for weekend tours, so I shouldn’t complain.’
‘Are you a full-time tour guide?’ I asked politely.
‘No, part-time. I manage an e-bike shop during the week and on Sundays.’
‘Oh.’ I thought this over. ‘So do you work at the shop, or do you actually own it?’
Thomas’s mouth quirked. ‘I actually own it. Are you into biking? I could probably do you a deal since you’re friends with Eleanor.’
‘Oh, not really, but thanks.’ Eleanor didn’t mention anything to me about him owning a business. I peeked at Thomas through my lashes when I took another sip of cider. She also didn’t mention he had a cheeky grin, warm brown eyes, and sex appeal. But then again, why would she? I felt a bit silly for putting him in my phone as ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’.
‘So how did you get the gig at the castle?’ I asked.
‘I did a double degree in history and economics,’ he said as if that explained it. ‘Hey, shall we get some loaded fries to share? I’m starved. Unless you want a burger? They do vegan ones.’
‘Why do you think I wouldn’t want a meat one?’
‘I figured you might be into plant-based food,’ he said with a small smile. ‘You seem the conscientious type—someone who likes to do their bit for the planet and check out men before she goes on dates with them.’
I flushed. Dammit.
‘Fine. Yes, I would like a vegan burger, but only if we split the bill.’
‘Sure. I’ll order and get another round of drinks then.’
He sauntered off towards the bar, and I relaxed. So this was a proper date since he’d labelled it as such! Maybe that’s what I needed: to be caught off guard, herded to a pub, and fed a vegan burger. If this had been formally arranged by text, I would’ve been a nervous wreck worrying about every minor detail. But here I was, dressed like a homey with a zit on my chin, and Thomas didn’t seem to care less. But then again, he wasn’t Jeremy, so I had less skin in the game. Going out to dinner with him would be a monumental event, but dreams were free.
We’d eaten our burgers and were on the fourth round of drinks, my shout. The pub had filled up considerably, but it was getting on for eight. I was enjoying this date way more than I thought I would. Thomas had pushed up the sleeves of his prison shirt to reveal extremely muscular forearms, which were quite distracting. As well as telling me more about the e-bike shop, which he’d started with savings from a couple of years working as an investment banker, he’d been regaling me with funny stories about guiding at the castle.
Somehow, we got back onto the subject of Mary Blandy. Thomas mentioned she’d had smallpox and her face was badly scarred. So her father had offered a substantial dowry to entice eligible gentlemen to marry her. I was adamant that her dowry was instrumental in Captain William making a play for her and utterly convinced she had been wrongly hanged.
‘Mary’s story could be added to the book. She had smallpox, and the dates are right,’ I mused, playing with the end of my ponytail. I’d ditched the cap and tied my hair back hastily and hadn’t even been to the bathroom to check if it was neat and tidy. This level of nonchalance was unheard-of for me. Though slightly fuzzy-headed after four ciders, I was still coherent—and definitely not drunk!
‘What book?’ Thomas’s foot nudged mine under the table, but I didn’t mind. He’d been doing that on and off for the last half hour.
‘I’m working on a smallpox project being undertaken by my boss, Professor Trelawny—Jeremy. He’s writing a book.’ My stomach fluttered a bit upon saying his name aloud. God, what was I like?
‘Wow, he’s quite famous in history circles.’ Thomas raised an eyebrow and looked impressed. ‘What’s it like working for him?’
Sublime hell, I thought. ‘Great,’ I replied a tad too enthusiastically. ‘He trusts me to take the initiative. We have weekly meetings, and he makes us fancy espresso. He’s turning me into a bit of a coffee connoisseur ...’
I could hear my voice taking on that wistful, dreamy tone, and I flushed. Thomas’s gaze was assessing, and I averted my eyes, feeling exposed. ‘I should probably get going. I think I’ve had one too many. But it’s been nice chatting.’ And I could report back to Eleanor that I had gone on a date with him.
‘Yeah, we should do it again,’ said Thomas unexpectedly.
‘Really?’ I had thought it would be one and done.
‘Sure. I had a good time. You’re interesting to talk to since you’re a history nut too.’
I giggled. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as a history nut, but I guess I am.’
‘I’ll walk you out.’
‘OK.’ I stood up and swayed slightly like I was on a full-rigged ship at sea.
‘Whoa, easy.’ Thomas grabbed my arm, and we staggered out of the pub. Maybe it had been five ciders. I’d lost count ...
Outside, I gulped in some mouthfuls of fresh night air, and my head felt slightly clearer.
‘Thanks. I’m not used to drinking that much,’ I said, disentangling my arm from Thomas’s. ‘Only the odd glass of wine at our Jane Austen evenings.’
‘Oh, I think Eleanor mentioned that. Sounds like fun.’
‘Yes!’ We walked down the street together, chatting about Jane Austen, of whom I discovered Thomas was a fan, until I realised I’d just been going along with him and we’d crossed over the river.
I stopped walking. ‘I’m going in completely the wrong direction!’ I poked his shoulder. ‘You’ve been distracting me with Pride and Prejudice.’
Thomas laughed. ‘Where are you supposed to go, my fair lady?’
‘Back yonder.’ I waved a hand in the general direction of my flat.
‘Come to mine for a coffee if you want. I’m literally five minutes from here. You can sober up and tell me all about your Mr Darcy fantasies.’
I wavered. I should go home and read some more of Mercy’s memoir. I was dying to find out what happened with her and Jasper. But the night was still young, and he did want to discuss Mr Darcy ...
Thomas lived in St Thomas’s Street. When I found that out, it tickled me so much that I giggled with glee and whacked his elbow. Unfortunately, this caused his key to go flying out of his hand and into the bushes of a neighbour’s front garden. He had to go crawling around in there on his hands and knees, which made me giggle harder.
‘Stop laughing. You’ll wake them up!’ he hissed.
‘It’s only eight thirty!’
‘They might have babies or something.’
‘Do they?’ I whispered.
‘How the hell do I know? I never talk to them.’ I pressed my lips together to stifle another giggle. There was the sound of rustling leaves, and Thomas backed out of the bush with the keys dangling from his mouth, growling like a dog.
I cackled like a crone.
We lurched down the street and into his flat with me stating that I couldn’t stay for long as I had important work to do.
Then somehow, after the kettle had boiled and cups of instant coffee were made, we ended up in his bedroom, sitting on his hastily made bed. The hot coffee (Sainsbury’s Gold Roast) definitely sobered me up, and I realised that (a) Thomas kept glancing at me in a certain way and (b) I didn’t mind it. That, in fact, I was glancing at him in a certain way too.
Depositing my empty cup on the bedside table, I suddenly felt shy.
‘Um, we could lie down for a bit. Only if you want to,’ he suggested.
I gulped. ‘OK.’
‘Sorry, the bed’s not made. I wasn’t expecting a guest. Hang on.’ He hastily plumped the pillows, yanked the cover smooth (with me sitting on it), switched off the main light, and turned on a nearby lava lamp—all in the space of ten seconds flat. I blinked at the transformation from ordinary room to amorous boudoir.
Then Thomas did something that shocked me. He removed his white prison uniform shirt and trousers, then his blue T-shirt and boxer briefs. Then seemingly unconcerned that he was stark naked, he hopped under the duvet.
I sat there feeling a bit stunned at having seen his bits, albeit a five-second flash. Apparently, ‘lie down’ in his book meant ‘horizontal nakedness’.
‘Are you getting in?’ he asked from the depths of the duvet.
‘Um.’
I had no intention of revealing my body—even if it had been recently shaved, moisturised, and plucked—to a guy I’d just met. The best thing to do, I decided, was to get under the covers fully clothed, minus my ratty trainers and the cap. It was either that or run away screaming.
‘OK, so now I feel a little underdressed,’ said Thomas, sounding amused as I wiggled my way in and lay on my back.
‘When you invited me over for coffee, I wasn’t expecting us to get naked,’ I replied, very aware of the heat radiating from his body only centimetres away. ‘Do you normally do this with women you’ve only known for a few hours?’
Thomas shrugged. ‘Depends if I like them or not.’
‘Oh.’ I took that to mean he liked me.
‘We don’t have to do anything. We can just hold hands if you want.’
‘I think I can manage that,’ I replied. My heart started beating faster as Thomas’s warm palm slid into mine.
‘I may have jumped the gun, sorry. I thought you would’ve cottoned on when I suggested lying down,’ he said.
‘I didn’t, but s’ok.’
Since he’d apologised and didn’t seem to expect anything other than hand holding, I calmed down.
‘There. Isn’t this lovely?’ he said deadpan, and the ridiculousness of the situation made me want to giggle again. ‘But I have enjoyed hanging out with you tonight,’ he added.
Something in Thomas’s voice made me turn my head on the pillow, and I saw he was looking at me in that way again, like he wanted to kiss me. Feeling nervous but also tempted, I swivelled my head back. I couldn’t kiss Thomas, could I? Not when I was so enamoured with Jeremy. It would be tantamount to leading him on. But I did like him. Maybe it was best to be honest.
I cleared my throat. ‘Since we’re forging a path of clear communication, there are two things you should know about me.’
There was a pause. ‘Er, OK. What are they?’ asked Thomas warily.
‘Ever since my long-term boyfriend cheated on me with my twin sister, I haven’t been with a man. I think I might have a sexual phobia.’
‘Riiight.’
‘And ...’ I paused to summon courage. ‘I’m wretchedly in love with someone.’
Thomas didn’t say anything for a minute, then propped himself up on his elbow and peered down at me. The covers fell away from his chest, and I tried not to ogle, but his pecs were well defined; there was also a suggestion of abs going on. I felt a little worried that he was going to kick me out of his flat after my admission. But what he said next suggested he wasn’t upset, just intrigued.
‘So how is that going to work?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, what if you find out this guy likes you too and wants to have sex? I assume it is a guy.’
I nodded. ‘It’s a guy. And I suppose the sex part would be an obstacle. But he doesn’t like me, so it’s a moot point.’
Thomas grunted. ‘Dunno why he wouldn’t want to go there. You’ve got me naked and raring to go. Maybe you should tell him how you feel. You never know.’
I was pleased Thomas had found me attractive enough to shed his clothes. But telling Jeremy? I shuddered under the duvet. ‘There’s no way I’m ever going to do that.’
‘Who’s the lucky fellow then? Someone at work?’
I pursed my lips, blushed hotly, and didn’t reply.
Thomas grunted. ‘Yeah, I thought so. Jeremy Trelawny. You were gushing about him in the pub.’
I cringed. Dammit. I really had to stop doing that dreamy voice thing!
‘So you’re lusting after him, and he’s oblivious.’
I closed my eyes, feeling the usual wave of despair wash over me. ‘Pretty much. When I don’t see him, I’m in anguish. But then he rings and wants a meeting, so I’m in seventh heaven. The build-up is nerve-wracking: Seeing him is like a dream. Then it’s over, and I want to fling myself off the faculty roof because I have to wait for him to ring and set up the next meeting. It’s a hellish emotional roller coaster.’
‘Sounds like a Shakespearean tragedy to me. But I can see why you wouldn’t want to say anything.’
‘Definitely.’ I nodded, glad that Thomas understood where I was coming from.
‘Yeah. Because if he found out how you felt and there was a chance he felt the same way, then you’d have the sex phobia issue.’
Oh. OK, he didn’t quite understand where I was coming from. However, his different take on the situation got me thinking. There had been no doubt in my mind that my love for Jeremy was unrequited. But what if I was wrong? What if Jeremy was into me and as afraid as I was to show how he felt because we worked together? I hadn’t considered that. He did insist on making me espresso and buying me salad. Had I been missing the signals he was sending? Hope rose in me like a miraculously blooming dead flower.
‘If he did feel the same way, I’m sure I’d be able to deal with ... getting intimate. We’d take it slow,’ I told Thomas confidently. However, Jeremy was very sexually experienced. What if he found me woefully inadequate in bed and was put off from the get-go?
As if reading my mind, Thomas gave a doubtful ‘hmmm’ like he wasn’t at all sure I would be able to deal with it.
‘Well, if you need help—with the sex part, not the love part—I’m willing to offer my services,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Just saying, I’m pretty good at sex. So I could help you get back on the horse.’
I laughed in disbelief, though my madge did give quite a traitorous twang at the thought of having sex with Thomas. As Shakespeare wrote, ‘Frailty, thy name is woman.’ But then again, I was in bed with a naked good-looking guy!
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ I said primly. ‘But thanks anyway.’
‘No problem.’
Thomas shifted onto his back and laced his hands behind his head. We lay there in companionable silence, staring at the ceiling, his lava lamp casting a reddish-purple glow while its globs of colour morphed.
‘So why do you think you’re so good at sex anyway?’ I asked eventually out of curiosity. ‘Is that because someone told you, or you have a high opinion of yourself?’
‘You can usually tell if someone is having a good time.’
‘But what if they’re faking it?’
‘Nah, I’ve got the moves.’
‘Like what?’
Thomas jutted his hips backwards and forward and did a circular thrusting motion underneath the cover. ‘Something like that. Gets them going.’
I snorted. ‘How romantic.’
‘We could try it if you like.’
I swallowed. ‘Maybe not.’
‘We don’t have to have penetrative sex anyway. There are always other things we can do if you need some practise.’
‘Like?’
‘Kissing, earlobe sucking, nipple tweaking, genital stimulation ...’ Thomas counted them off on his fingers.
‘OK, OK, I get the idea,’ I said hastily.
‘I’ve got a toy you might like actually.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘How do you know if you’ve never tried it?’
‘I just know I wouldn’t,’ I stated.
Maybe it was my narrow-minded attitude or he really wanted me to try his toy, but Thomas flipped open the bedside drawer and brought out a large pink penis-shaped vibrator.
‘Oh my god! That’s huge!’
He grinned. ‘It’s comparable.’
‘Why on earth do you have that thing in your drawer?’
‘A girl I was seeing left it behind. I found it in the bathroom cupboard a few weeks after we’d broken up. It didn’t end well, so I felt justified in keeping it.’
‘Maybe your moves weren’t satisfying her.’
‘No, but her yoga instructor’s were.’
I winced. ‘Oh, sorry.’
Thomas flipped the switch on the thing, and it started juddering. He stuck it under the bedcover and touched my leg with it, and I let out a yelp at the weird sensation.
‘Relax, it won’t hurt you. Look, I’ll run it up and down your thigh so you get used to it.’
‘Is it clean?’
‘Of course. Now close your eyes and pretend it’s Jeremy’s.’
I let out a sigh, thinking of the lovely clay penis I’d flattened last night. ‘Well, OK. But keep it on my thigh,’ I cautioned.
Really, this impromptu date was getting stranger by the minute.