Chapter 50 Bess
Chapter fifty
Bess
Itake a sip from my glass, but leave the binoculars where they are on the table. I don't feel the need to see how others might be living their lives today. Mine is good. I have no need for comparison.
I close my eyes and listen to the world around me instead. There is chatter from the street followed by a brash laugh that's muffled by a car going past. Birds chirrup, readying themselves for the evening chorus, and away over by the port a seagull cries.
All is right and good. Almost.
There's just one thing left to do. Possibly two.
What I hope is thing number one opens the door to the roof. The soles of his shoes slap against the concrete.
"Don't sit," I say without opening my eyes. "Your cologne taints the fabric and then Ed ends up smelling like you." I shudder.
"Shall I assume my position on the chimney pot, then?"
"Do whatever you please, as long as it's downwind."
Theo laughs, which is a gracious and therefore acceptable response given he should be kissing my feet.
I open my eyes.
His legs are stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. As casual as he's curated himself, he still looks as expensive as he smells.
"Did you get it all back?"
"Almost. I don't think we need to quibble over a few thousand pounds. I think I got off very lightly."
"Indeed you have." I place my glass on the table and lace my fingers over my stomach.
Theo remains quiet.
So I raise my eyebrows at him.
"I…owe you a tremendous amount of gratitude."
"Yes. And you owe it to all the artists who helped in the planning and execution of getting your money back."
"I honestly don't know how I can thank you on the scale required."
"How about stopping being a total arseface about the rent?"
Theo nods and looks briefly out over the rooftops before focusing on me again. "Yes. Of course. We can go back to the original agreement."
"And you will agree to a fixed-term rent for five years. Should you want to increase the rent after that time, I have the right to buy you out at market rate."
Theo doesn't say anything.
"Remember how you just said you didn't know how you could thank us on the scale required?"
"Fine. Five years it is."
"Good." I sip my drink and look up at the early autumn sky. "God, this whole thing's been awful."
"Truly awful," Theo agrees. His feet scuff against the roof. "I really am sorry for dragging you into my stupidity. You do know that?"
"We do. It's why we're giving you the kind of second chance at being a landlord that makes it look like we have other options."
Theo laughs shortly. "Shame about the sculpture. You would definitely have had options then."
"What sculpture? I've expunged the whole sorry thing from my memory with a flame thrower. And some industrial-strength bleach for good measure."
"That woman, the daughter of the man who wrote the first letter, she's not causing any bother?"
"No. She lives in Bristol and has no intention of ever coming back to Port Derrum.
She's even bought some stuff online from the gallery to try and support us.
She's a very nice lady and not interested in making a fuss.
" I tug the throw I've brought with me for the cooling air down over my bare shins.
"She's nothing at all like her father, lucky woman. "
We descend into silence. There isn't anything more to discuss and no reason for him to still be here, unless he's waiting for me to offer a drink. I have no intention of doing so. Not if I want to keep some for Ed.
"Well, I s'pose I better be off. Go and make some sensible decisions about money or something."
"Theo?"
"Yes?"
"Why are you now talking appropriately for someone of your cultural background?"
He sighs. "I've been forced to do a lot of growing up over the last couple of months. And...it's time to start trying to be comfortable in my own skin."
I sit up at that. I had no idea Theo had the capacity for self-reflection, nor that he was insecure. "You weren't before?"
"Not really. I know who I'm meant to be.
A public-school graduate with family money with which to leverage more money and success off.
I'm just not sure I've the aggression required to be doing that.
" He uncrosses his ankles, then crosses them the other way.
"I think the one genuine thing I've done is buy most of this building in support of the arts.
I really do like this town, Bess. I don't want its cultural heritage to die.
And I'm very sorry I did my best to hasten its demise anyway. "
As much as I'm tempted to get my violin out for the poor little rich boy, I think, maybe, I need to make an attempt at giving him a break instead and see if I can work my way up to a bit of understanding.
Not too much though. I point my finger at him. "This Theodore Pinkerton I think I can work with without being a stroppy cow. Though if you keep that number plate, I promise I'll rip the hood ornament off again."
"Already on the to do list, chica."
I eye him through narrowed lids.
He laughs. "There she is. Being on the receiving end of your brand of censure is like being licked by the sandpaper-tongue of a cat, or getting an electric shock off a charged surface. Unpleasantly pleasant. I don't want to do away with it entirely."
He pushes away from the chimney and heads for the door. "Ciao, Bess."
"Goodbye, Theo."
There's an exchange of greetings when he pulls open the door and then a fresh set of footsteps approaches.
"Hello, my lover," I say before he's in sight.
"Hello, my beautiful one." Ed's voice is low and I shiver.
He laughs. "You have no idea how heady it is to get that kind of reaction from you just by doing something totally ordinary like greeting you."
I push the small table out of the way so Ed can drag his sun lounger next to mine. "You know very well it's the way you greet me rather than the greeting itself."
Ed reclines next to me and reaches for my hand. "I do. And I will never stop trying to make you vibrate with pleasure at the sound of my voice."
I look into his lashed-fringed eyes. "Do you think sun loungers are robust enough for aggressive love making?"
"I think it's a possibility. I also think I'm not ready for that kind of public spectacle. If you can see people down there with your binoculars, they can see you up here."
"Killjoy."
"Yep." Ed reaches over, removes my glass from my hand and takes a sip before handing it back. "I promise to make it up to you later. If the idea of doing it in public really does it for you, we can put cardboard cutouts of Mr and Mrs Kavanagh at the foot of the bed."
"Is that a promise?"
"Anything for you, my darling." Ed leans over to kiss me.
"How do you feel about cheesy pasta bake?"
"I'm not normally into kinky stuff, but okay."
I laugh.
Ed grins. "Cheesy pasta bake for dinner would be lovely. Thank you."
I snuggle in close to his ear and whisper, "Speaking of kink, have you ever done it in the library before? After hours?"
"Yes. The security team are really into library porn, and the cameras afford views from all the best angles."
"Oh." I slump back in my chair.
"I don't think there's a camera in the back office if the thought of doing it in a prison cell gets you excited."
I cluck my tongue. "I guess I have to settle for the Kavanagh cut outs, then."
"Just what I was hoping to hear."
Leaning over the side of the lounger to get Ed a drink, I say, "Have you given any more thought to selling your stories in the gallery?"
Ed pauses. "I haven't got the first idea of how to publish them in order for you to sell them."
"Lucky you're a librarian with the know-how to find out."
He gives a single volley of laughter. "Alright, force the truth out of me with your superior mental manoeuvring, why don't you?" He draws a deep breath and says nothing.
I pour him a drink and hand it to him. "Well?"
"I'm still getting accustomed to the size of my big boy panties."
Raising my glass to my lips, I give a suggestive flick of my eyebrows. "I happen to know precisely how well you fill your big boy panties, and you do not need to try very hard." I take a sip.
"As lovely as it is for my ego to hear that, you know very well I'm referring to the metaphorical ones."
I wait until Ed has taken two successive mouthfuls from his cup. "I tell you what. You do the research, and I'll help you with all the practical stuff."
He grimaces. "But it means terrifying things like other people reading my work."
"Yes. People who are happy to pay for the privilege. They might do other terrifying things like enjoy it."
"But what if it's not any good?"
"Ed. Do you really think someone who can hook millions of people and move another person to love through the skill of their word craft writes badly?"
He looks at me for several seconds.
I hold his gaze for however long it takes for him to work through what he needs to.
Eventually, he gives a small, closed-lip smile. "I love you. Thank you. Also, impostor syndrome's a bitch."
"The burden of all true artists, my love."
We turn our attention to the darkening sky. The first star winks at us above the wooded hills behind the town.
A murmuration of starlings swirls by, separating and regrouping.
"Oh." Ed pats his trouser pocket. "I checked your letterbox on my way over. There was something for you." He pulls out a letter and hands it to me.
"Ooh. I wonder who this could be from," I say, knowing very well it can only be from one person, especially as Ed's handwriting is on the front of the envelope.
I pull out the sheet of paper within and open it to read Ed's latest love letter.
I've received one every other day so far, which I know cannot possibly be sustainable, but for as long as he is inspired to write them, I will happily accept them.
I lace my fingers through his as I read.
Once I've finished, Ed smiles at me. It is at once shy and knowing. "So. Doth thou romance cup runneth over?"
It absolutely does. My romance cup is gloriously, disgustingly full.
"Oh yes." I lean towards him and kiss him softly. "Romance is very much alive and well."