Chapter 28
So this was what Mac’s bedroom looked like. He’d very thoughtfully gone to freshen up in the main bathroom, leaving the en suite for her own use. He had a spare toothbrush she could use, and he’d even put out a pair of his pyjamas for her if she wanted to wear them.
She’d washed and brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and stared at her reflection in the mirrored bathroom cabinet, wondering what the heck she was doing.
Then she’d slipped on the pyjama top, which was too big for her and fell to just above her knees.
Ignoring the bottoms she’d scurried out of the bathroom and clambered into bed, then sat there with the duvet pulled up under her chin, looking round her and trying very hard not to feel sick with terror.
His room, she thought, was a bit odd. This bed, she remembered, was brand new, as was the headboard, and it was a king size one with a good quality mattress by the feel of it and looked rather sophisticated.
But the rest of the bedroom – well, it looked a bit like a teenage boy’s room.
The curtains were very retro, and the wallpaper…
Ugh! Even the carpet looked old and a bit faded.
Speaking of which… She anxiously rubbed her chin, relieved to discover that Hagrid, as she and Rosie now referred to the lone whisker, hadn’t started to grow back yet, after being plucked out a few days ago. Imagine the embarrassment of that!
And that gave rise to lots of other thoughts about hair that might be surplus to requirements.
It was a different age now. Woman did certain things to themselves that she never would have thought of back in her courting days, and men might expect a particular look.
And she hadn’t even shaved her legs for a couple of days!
She pulled out the pyjama top and peered down, inwardly groaning.
She couldn’t deny that her stomach wasn’t flat like Farrah Fawcett’s had been.
Had anyone’s stomach been as flat as Farrah Fawcett’s?
She wondered about Mac’s ex-wife, Lynne.
Did she have stretch marks and drooping boobs?
Did she visit a beauty salon for regular bikini waxes?
Was she a whizz with a Bic razor? Or maybe she was old school and let nature take its course?
Bloody hell, this whole thing was a minefield!
She’d never had to worry about all this with Drew.
They’d been together for so long that it had never crossed her mind that he might be judging her appearance when they were in bed together.
But Mac was a whole new entity, and for all she knew he might keep score, marking her out of ten for various aspects of her body.
She could see it now:
Legs – Bit short and slightly on the hairy side. Very Ernie Wise. 6/10
Stomach – Podgy and saggy. Stretch marks. 5/10
Hips – Good grief! They’re enormous! 3/10
Breasts – What breasts? 1/10
Personal Grooming – Hell’s bells! Beam me up, Scotty! 0/10
‘I don’t even know if I can still do this,’ she murmured to herself, her panic increasing. ‘I’m an old lady. What if there’s a no entry sign down there? You hear about such things, don’t you? It might be Mission Impossible. Hell, when did I last trim my nose hair?’
Hair! It was proving to be the bane of her life. She’d always had fine hair on her head and worried that she didn’t have enough of it. Now she was obsessed with the possibility that she had way too much of it – just not in the right places.
What was she playing at? She was far too old for this sort of shenanigans.
Past her best. She should be put out to grass, like old Jacob Armitage and Heatherstone.
And there was Mac, all sexy and vibrant and utterly gorgeous.
He’d wonder what the heck he’d got himself into.
Could she bear to see the look of horror in his eyes when he realised what he’d saddled himself with?
There was a faint tap on the door.
‘Yes?’ she squeaked, then shook her head. Yes? What did that mean? This was his room, not the head teacher’s office. ‘You can come in.’
But only if you really, really must.
Evidently, he really, really must. He popped his head round the door and said, ‘All right?’
Seeing her tucked up in bed, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.
He was wearing a clean T-shirt and boxer shorts.
He looked lovely, and she envied the fact that he didn’t have to worry about whether he’d shaved his legs – or anything else for that matter.
Men had it so easy, didn’t they? She’d bet he hadn’t given a thought to how he looked or what she’d think of him.
He climbed into bed beside her. They both sat there, frozen.
‘I wasn’t sure if this was your side of the bed or not,’ she said at last. ‘I always sleep on this side you see and…’
He swallowed. ‘I usually sleep on this side, so it’s perfect.’
‘Oh good. That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Really good.’
Silence.
‘I like your…’ She cast around for something she admired in the room. ‘Headboard.’
‘It’s new. I ordered it that day when I got the bed from Wansbeck’s. Remember?’
Ah yes. The shop where Drew had worked.
She saw the look of horror in his eyes when he realised what he’d said. Well, this was going well.
‘The bed’s very comfortable,’ she told him, bouncing gently up and down on the mattress.
‘Isn’t it? I tried it out in the shop. I’ve never bought a bed before. I was a bed-buying virgin.’
He gave her a feeble smile that didn’t mask the terror in his eyes.
Oh wow, he’s as scared as I am.
The realisation made her suddenly calmer. Braver.
‘I feel like an actual virgin right now,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never been so scared in my life.’
He gave her a worried look. ‘There’s no pressure, you know. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Please don’t feel like I’m expecting anything to happen. We can just have a cuddle and go to sleep if you like.’
‘Maybe,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘we should just see how we feel when we’ve got used to being in bed together. We could just talk for a while. See what happens.’
‘And if nothing happens that’s absolutely fine.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s good then,’ he said.
They both heaved sighs of relief and lay down, staring up at the ceiling.
‘It’s a shame I haven’t got a television in here,’ he said.
‘Yes. We could have watched another episode of Poirot.’ She gave him an innocent look, and he burst out laughing and slid his arm under her shoulders. She turned on to her side and snuggled into him, her head resting on his chest.
‘This is nice,’ she said happily.
‘I’m sorry,’ he told her. ‘I’m so out of practice with all this.’
‘Oh, me too! It’s been ten years since…’
Since Drew had got ill and any thoughts of romance had gone out of the window.
Life had become all about hospital appointments and doctors and medication and tests.
Hard to think about making love when you were in permanent panic mode.
And then he’d been too ill, and it was the last thing either of them had cared about.
It was just about survival. And when she’d reached out to touch him at night, it wasn’t to initiate sex, but to check he was still with her.
That he hadn’t left her while she’d been sleeping.
And one morning, when she hadn’t been looking, he had.
A tear rolled down her cheek and a sob escaped before she could stop it.
Mac pulled away and stared at her, horrified. ‘Alison? What is it?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s not you, honestly. It’s just…’
She couldn’t speak.
He stroked her hair. ‘Drew?’
Miserably she nodded. She’d blown it and she knew it. How could any man be turned on when the woman he was in bed with was sobbing over her dead husband?
‘It’s just, the last time I was in bed with a man, it was him. And he’d passed away in the night. And I didn’t even know.’
‘Oh my God.’ Mac pulled her closer and held her tightly. ‘I’m so sorry. This must be bringing back all sorts of memories for you. Look, if you want to go home, I’ll take you. It’s no problem. Or if you’d rather I slept in another room—’
‘No! No, honestly. I like you being here. I want you to be here. I want to be here.’ She put her arm around his waist as if to make certain he couldn’t leave. ‘It just brought it all back, like you said. I really am sorry. I know I’ve ruined it.’
‘You haven’t ruined anything. If you can’t talk to me about it, who can you talk to? I thought he must have died in a hospital or a hospice. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you.’
‘Horrible,’ she admitted. ‘But it was nearly nine and a half years ago, and Drew’s gone. He’s not suffering any more. I can’t stay there with him any longer, can I? It’s like you said. We move on. We have to.’
‘The last time I was in bed with a woman,’ Mac said slowly, ‘was with Lynne. That was over fifteen years ago now. You can imagine how out of practice I am. Well, you can see it for yourself. Here I am lying beside a beautiful, funny, intelligent woman, and all I’ve done is tell her I wish I had a television set in my room. ’
Despite herself, Alison started to giggle, and a few moments later he was laughing, too.
He kissed the top of her head. ‘We’re a right pair, aren’t we?’
‘We are. I was scared stiff, you know. I thought maybe you’d give me marks out of ten for physical appearance.’
‘Are you kidding? What do you think I am? But if I was going to do that, you’d get ten out of ten every time.’
She pulled a face. ‘You haven’t seen what’s under this pyjama top.’
‘Well, no,’ he said quietly. ‘I haven’t.’
Uh-oh! Now she’d done it.
‘I’m scared again now,’ she admitted.
‘No need. I’m not going to do anything. I think this is such a big deal for us, and it’s been such a long time. Let’s just cuddle up and talk until we drift off to sleep. There’ll be other nights. Lots of other nights.’
‘You’re so lovely,’ she told him.
‘I know,’ he said, squeezing her to him and kissing the top of her head again. ‘You’re a lucky woman.’
She kissed his chest and snuggled further into him, feeling relaxed and warm and safe.
This isn’t at all how it was meant to go, but it feels right, and I’m happy.
She realised, with surprise, that she genuinely was. This kind, sweet, gentle man made her happy. He made her feel secure and like nothing would ever hurt her again.
I think I love him! How has that happened?
Her eyelids drooped and she allowed them to close. Her last thought before she fell asleep was, I hope to God I don’t drool on him.