Chapter 22
FAYE
I’m running late and Alistair is on his way.
I’ve invited him over for dinner but I haven’t a clue what I’m going to make.
I’ve been so busy writing my memoir that time has completely run away from me.
Ever since chatting to Dina on the phone, the burden of my past has lifted, hefted out of my way.
I have been on a creative roll, eager and empowered to share my life story now I have a clearer idea of how it all began.
I look at myself in the mirror as I pull on a navy-blue wrap dress and buckle the straps of my gold heels. I’m still applying lipstick when the doorbell rings.
I open the front door to find Alistair standing there in a hoody and jeans, holding a large paper bag. “I brought dinner to us.” His smile is lopsided and sweet. “I probably should have called and warned you but—”
I grab hold of his hoody and pull him in for a kiss. “You’re a lifesaver.”
His free hand bundles up my hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me in for another kiss. When we break apart, he holds my hand and we walk into the house, almost forgetting to close the door behind us.
“I should turn up with food more often,” he says with a grin.
“Throughout the ages men have underestimated one simple fact about women. We like to be surprised.” I grab some crockery and cutlery while Alistair removes takeaway boxes from the bag. A spicy aroma fills the air between us.
He laughs. “I get it. Surprises keep things interesting, and all the better when the surprise involves curry.” He pushes a box over to me. “Butter chicken?”
My mouth waters. “It’ll taste even better now I don’t have to cook something.”
Alistair steps over and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. There’s something tender about it, but sexy at the same time. Then he whispers, “I brought weed too.”
I start to belly laugh at that. It’s just so unexpected.
It all feels so natural. The two of us here, plating up our meal, moving to the sofa to eat and chat and drink wine.
Alistair tells me about his family’s Christmas tradition of making a curry sauce to go with their turkey dinner.
He talks about them with affection and his eyes brighten.
As I mop up the last smudges of sauce, Alistair fetches a second bottle of wine.
We clear the plates away and head out to the patio where the warm evening drifts the scent of honeysuckle over to our chairs facing the coast.
He sinks into his seat. “Your home is so beautiful. To have all this,” he sweeps his arm across the landscape.
“I’m lucky,” I say. “I know.”
“So, do you want to smoke?” he asks.
“I have to warn you, I haven’t smoked since 1999. Aside from one night at a dinner party in London. Scott’s rich friends brought out a silver platter with cocaine and spliffs.”
“No way.” Alistair laughs. “That kind of thing really happens?”
I nod. “I never went back. Scott did though.” I stretch out my arms. I’ve probably drunk more than I should but I feel good, so why not add a little marijuana into the mix? “All right. Go on then.”
He lights the spliff, takes a drag and hands it to me. The smoke catches the back of my throat, bitter, but not unpleasant. I hold it in for a moment and breathe it into the night sky where it lingers before drifting away, fading towards the end of the garden.
The tension in my body finally unfurls. I stretch out my legs on the chair and pay attention to the cooling, salt-scented air around my body. Alistair brings our chairs together and opens his arm, offering me his shoulder. I nuzzle into his warmth.
This is perfect.
“This is going well, isn’t it?” Alistair says.
I turn to him. “I think so.”
“I mean… I feel like I’m doing pretty well here. Like I’m knocking this out of the park.” He laughs. “The dinner, the company.” He gives me a cocky smile.
I frown slightly. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. That came out weird.” He laughs. “It’s the weed making me blurt stupid shit out.” He shrugs. “I like these dates with you. Even chilling on the patio is fun.”
“It is. I… I like you and our time together.”
A silence stretches between us. I think Alistair is just a little over-enthusiastic about having a good time together. But at the back of my mind, I also wonder if this relationship is going in a direction that isn’t as casual as I thought it would be.
Then again, I haven’t dated for decades. Maybe this is what a casual relationship looks like.
I decide to change the subject. “I spoke to the adoption agency.”
“No way! Why didn’t you say sooner?”
“Well, because there’s nothing to say, really. Turns out I’m not a twin.”
He frowns and takes a drag of the joint.
“But what about that photo?” he asks after exhaling and passing it back to me. “Surely you’d remember roaming the moors half undressed?”
“Um, well. Yes, it is confusing.” This is it. I need to tell him. I need to be honest about why it’s likely I wouldn’t remember that. I take another drag for Dutch courage, and start coughing.
He laughs and hands me my glass of wine.
“Here, this’ll help.”
I take a big glug of wine and the choking sensation eases, but I’m immediately hit by a head rush.
My tummy flips as I close my eyes and try to regulate the feeling.
My head spins as though I’m trapped on a Waltzer, swivelled round and round without any way off.
My cheeks are hot and my mouth suddenly fills with saliva.
“I don’t feel good.” I lean forward in my chair and gasp for breath. The world is twisting around me, the outside lights dancing across my vision. I take a deep breath but can’t get any air.
“Faye, are you okay?” His silhouette emerges in my eyeline, splintered into three.
“Yes, I’ll… be fine.” I say as I stagger up from my seat and lurch forward.
“You’re not.” His hand is on my back, weighing me down. “Let me help you.”
I need to get inside, away from him. I don’t want him to see me like this.
“No, I just need to…”
“Come here.” His voice sounds distant.
I lean on him, helpless in his arms, my head spinning and my stomach lurching. Then, before I know it, I’m bent double, throwing up over my patio, Alistair’s shadow looming over my cowering body.