CHAPTER EIGHTEEN LEXIE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lexie
It feels so normal being back at Josh’s for the weekend. Almost as if I never left, almost as normal as if I was at home with Scarlet. Although with Scarlet this past week she was at work all day and I was on the sofa, giving my CV the kicking-into-shape it really needed for the design job that Chris sent me.
I had a call lined up this coming Monday for a temporary job with an agency and, just as I boarded the train to head to Josh’s for the weekend, the agent cancelled. I cannot explain how down this is all making me feel. As if sensing that I need perking up, after we’ve had dinner and then after we’ve had sex, Josh asks if I’d like to hang out with him a bit longer again, instead of racing back on the train on Sunday.
‘If you get even a hint of a job I’ll have you back on that train as fast as you want,’ he says.
‘Really?’ I ask, turning into his warm body.
‘I can drive very fast,’ Josh says, stroking my hair.
‘No, I mean … you want me to stay a bit longer?’
His gaze connects with mine. ‘Why not. I’ve got to work, but if you don’t mind the solitude during the day, we can have dinner together each evening. Take each day as it comes and see what it brings. If you get bored, or a job offer, or miss your own bed … hop back on the train.’
Take each day as it comes and see what it brings . It had better bring a job offer. Although being here with Josh is wonderful. I could stay a bit longer. A few days perhaps. We won’t be overdoing things with each other, because he’ll be gone all day. It would be like having a dinner date every evening. This could be fun. And I can indulge my Lady of the Manor fantasies, wafting around his supersized country house in floaty dresses, playing with the Aga and walking into the village. It’ll be like a little holiday. I could really do with a little holiday.
On Monday Josh pops in from the farm from time to time to see me, thoughtfully checking on me, and while he’s out on the farm I work on my portfolio. I’ve redesigned it a thousand times, I’ve edited images, I’ve written down my thought processes and inspirations and now I don’t know what else to do. I need to go on a course. I thought this might take me all week. It’s taken me less than a day.
Josh tells me to pull my wellies on. We go down to the farm and I get to pet the cows and their young. I’m so in love with these mini cows.
‘How’s your portfolio going?’ Josh asks as I stroke a six-month-old calf, which seems to be loving the attention.
I’m so in awe, I blink a few times before answering him, telling him what I’ve done.
He sounds impressed. ‘Show me after dinner?’
I nod. ‘Shall I cook for us tonight?’
‘I thought you couldn’t cook?’ he says.
‘Hey,’ I cry, and the calf bolts at my sound level. ‘Sorry,’ I tell Josh.
He’s kneeling on the floor. ‘She’ll be back in a moment, don’t worry.’
‘I can cook when I have to,’ I tell him in a quieter voice. ‘I’ll rustle something up for you while you have a bath, or whatever you want to do when you get in from work.’
‘Shower, dinner, pyjamas, usually.’
‘Every night?’
‘Mostly,’ he confirms.
‘Oh. Well, you do that and I’ll pretend to be a farmer’s wife for a bit.’
‘A farmer’s wife?’ he asks with a knowing smile. ‘Sounds good, ’ he says. ‘I think I’m running out of food, though. Might be cheese on toast at this rate.’
‘When do you shop, if you work all the time?’
‘Usually on Sundays, but I’ve been enjoying myself with you too much to ruin it by suggesting a trip to the supermarket.’
‘Tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go for you tomorrow while you’re at work, if you like?’ I suggest.
‘Really?’
‘Only if it’s walkable, though. I can’t drive.’
‘You can’t drive?’ he questions, shock passing over his face.
‘I live in London. I’ve never needed to drive.’
‘Right,’ he replies, thinking about this. ‘Have you always lived in London?’
‘No. I’m from Hertford, but I went to university in London and then stayed there. I never took driving lessons; they were too expensive for a poor student like me.’
‘I guess everything’s different in the country. I learned to drive as soon as possible. Dad let me drive him around the farm in his four-by-four and I learned to reverse-park in between farm machinery.’
The calf doesn’t return, so Josh pulls some apple slices out of a little bag from his pocket and tells me to coax the cows over with them. ‘Healthy snack,’ he says, and the slices disappear out of my hands and into their soft mouths, one by one.
‘So if you can’t drive,’ he says, ‘I guess that only leaves the farm shop up the road. It’s just before you get to the village. We need some top-up supplies. My mum’s old bike is in one of the outhouses. It’s got a big basket on the front. I’ll give it a check-over and you could take that? Have a cycle around the countryside for a bit, if you want, first? Go sightseeing?’
‘OK,’ I smile. ‘Leave the shopping to me,’ I instruct. And then I remember that I’m broke. ‘How much do you think it might …’ I start.
But Josh remembers too. ‘I’ll give you my credit card. You can tap it.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, feeling embarrassed.
Later, in bed, Josh slumbers peacefully – the sleep of a hard-working farmer who’s been up since 5.30 a.m. I’m restless, unable to drift off. I think it’s because I’ve not had enough exercise today. I’m not a gym bunny, but I usually leave the flat every day and speed-walk (because I’m late and get my 10,000 steps in super-fast) to whichever job I’m at. And at weekends, when funds allow, I’ll meet friends for lunch or pop down the road for coffee and a croissant. Today I’ve been down to the cow shed and back. And that’s it.
I can’t wait to get out tomorrow, ride Josh’s mum’s bike and shop for food. Somehow this mundane-sounding activity feels exciting. I’ve never been to a farm shop before. As I’m mentally planning my I’m-going-to-a-farm-shop-on-a-bike outfit I wonder how many days’ worth of food I should buy, and how much I can bring back on a bike. I curl into Josh as he sleeps, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. He sighs and turns into me, which feels so comforting. But for reasons I can’t fathom, I still can’t fall asleep.