Chapter Sixty-One
Dylan regarded me in amusement.
‘I think most couples light a post-coital cigarette,’ he said.
Oh. Was Dylan a secret smoker? Or did he prefer, on the quiet, to vape?
‘I don’t smoke,’ I said. ‘Do you?’
He laughed.
‘No, definitely not. In my teens I tried it. I stopped when the girl I fancied told me I smelt like an ashtray.’ He gave me a loving look. ‘But if you’re up for some après-sex chocolate, then so am I. What have you got?’
I cogitated. At the start of the week, there had been some fruit and nut in the fridge. However, I’d crammed the whole lot in my mouth after the Golden Oldies had frustrated me. Mainlining on sugar had been comfort food after Mum and Dad had both refused to have a bath – for the third week running.
But wait. I was sure I’d seen something sweet and sugary lurking at the back of the fridge. As yet untouched.
‘I think there may be something green and black,’ I said tentatively.
‘Sounds great,’ said Dylan happily. ‘I love their chocolate. Shall we have a cuppa with it?’
Oooh, a man after my own heart.
‘Definitely. You stay right here. I’ll get it.’
‘I have no intention of moving,’ Dylan assured. ‘You’ve worn me out.’
‘Ah ha!’ I gave him a saucy look. ‘I guess that means you’re shagged?’
‘Funny,’ said Dylan, rolling his eyes.
I grinned.
‘Won’t be a mo.’
I grabbed my robe from the back of the door. Wrapping it around me, I bounced down the stairs, humming as I went. Once the kettle was on, I let the dogs out for a final wee before lights out. I then busied myself putting cups on a tray. I added a plate of biscuits – suddenly I was ravenous again – and located a small box of chocolates.
Tea made, and tray loaded, I let the dogs back in, then returned to the bedroom. Charlie was all set to barge in and steal the biscuits.
‘No,’ I said to him sternly. Lifting my foot, I gently shooed him out. ‘Stay with Bess.’
I shut the door, then padded over to Dylan. He was now sitting up in bed. Carefully, I placed the tray on the bedcovers – mindful not to slop the teas – then perched alongside.
‘Lovely,’ said Dylan. He rubbed his hands together. ‘First, I’m seduced by the most beautiful woman in Little Waterlow. Second, she plies me with cookies and a builder’s brew. And what’s this?’ He reached for the box of chocolates. ‘Oh.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Not Green and Black’s.’
I frowned.
‘No, but the box is green and black.’ I picked it up. Waggled the After Eights at him.
‘You can have those,’ he said with a shudder. ‘I’m not a fan of the fondant goo. However’ – he reached for a chocolate Hobnob – ‘these are my favourite. I might scoff the lot because, suddenly, I’m starving.’
‘I know,’ I agreed, cramming an After Eight in my mouth. ‘I feel the same, despite enjoying a three-course meal earlier. Weird.’
‘It’s the sex,’ said Dylan matter-of-factly. ‘Our bodies are seeking to replenish their energy stores.’
‘Oh!’ I nodded, as the dawn came up. ‘So that’s why Lyn is always so trim when she has a new man in her life. Sexercise.’
Dylan raised his eyebrows.
‘Who’s Lyn?’
‘My bestie. I love her to bits. However, she’s a bit of a maneater and a terrible flirt.’
‘In which case I hope you’ll protect me if I ever meet her.’
I giggled.
‘I’ll do my best,’ I teased.
I drained my tea, then hopped back under the covers with Dylan. He put his cup on the bedside table, then put an arm around my shoulders. I snuggled into him, loving this moment. Loving him. Loving all of it.
‘Can I ask you something?’ he said tentatively.
‘Fire away,’ I said happily.
‘Have you recently moved the furniture around in this room?’
I blinked.
‘Er, yes.Why?’
Dylan pointed at the opposite side of the bedroom.
‘Your carpet. It has huge indentations. I’m guessing that your double bed spent years over there.’
‘You’re very observant, Mr Alexander,’ I said lightly. ‘And also, absolutely correct. I have moved the bed. I mean, I did it ages ago.’ My tone was suddenly defensive. ‘I simply fancied a change.’
Dylan squeezed my shoulder.
‘You don’t have to explain, sweetheart,’ he said gently.
Ah. He’d sussed. He knew that I’d moved everything about in order to feel comfortable about him coming into this room.
‘It was time,’ I said, attempting nonchalance. ‘In fact, your earlier conversation – about going ahead with the rental of Catkin Cottage – got me thinking too. On Monday, I’m putting this house on the market.’
‘What?’ said Dylan in surprise. ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’
I shrugged.
‘As sure as I’ll ever be. This place is full of memories. Me and Greg. The kids. Wet paintings from schooldays. Fridge magnets. Then, later, the teen years. Rows about wanting boyfriends staying over. Girlfriends too,’ I added.
I could still remember an adolescent Tim declaring that if I didn’t permit Poppy – a fellow Sixth Former – to stay over, they’d only go and do it elsewhere.
‘Elsewhere is fine by me,’ I’d snarled, adamant that no doe-eyed siren would be eating cornflakes with us the following morning.
It had been Greg who’d made me see reason.
‘Better to have them all safely here,’ he’d said. ‘Under our wing. We don’t want them getting charged by the police for having sex in a field.’
And then, later, the kids going off into the big wide world. Greg and me living in our empty nest. When he’d suddenly died, it wasn’t just my husband’s voice I’d heard. I’d listened to many echoes in my head. Tim. Ruby. Ella. The girls arguing.
‘I told you not to borrow my new top without asking.’ This from a shrill Ruby. ‘And look at it now. Covered in your wanky makeup.’
‘RUBY!’ I’d roared. ‘Don’t use that word.’
‘I said MANKY,’ she’d bellowed back.
Sometimes I’d had to pause, in the hallway, convinced I’d heard Tim. Upstairs. Playing music. Oh yes, the mind had delivered some fantastic tricks.
I now looked up at Dylan.
‘All your talk about writing new chapters…’ I trailed off. Paused. Chose my next words carefully. ‘It resonated with me. However, I won’t move far. I want to be near my children. Especially if any grandkids come along.’
‘I won’t be going far either,’ said Dylan. ‘The care home – my work – is in West Malling. And next year there will be Terry’s baby. A grandchild. I’ll probably draw a ring on a map – a twenty-mile radius – and eventually look for a property somewhere within that circle.’
I nodded thoughtfully.
‘That sounds very sensible.’
For a moment we were both quiet, each with our own thoughts.
‘Maggie…’ said Dylan cautiously.
‘Yes?’
His body shifted. A regrouping gesture.
‘Writing those new chapters…’
‘What about them?’
He hesitated for a second. Then his words came out in a rush.
‘How do you feel about writing those new chapters with me, at Catkin Cottage?’