Page 41 of The Midnight Bakery
But then a light came on, and the door opened, and he stood before her, tall and solid andsafe…She didn’t care – she pushed herself through the gap, flattened herself against him and slammed the door behind her.
For the first few seconds all she could do was breathe. There were words coming out of her mouth, but she had no idea what they were. There were words coming out of William’s mouth too,but all she could hear was white noise, foaming white water, crashing inside her head.
Gradually, the tumult slowed. Her hearing returned, her breathing softened, and she swallowed, William’s shirt glued to her cheek.
He pulled away, his arms gently holding hers. ‘It’s okay, Frankie, hey, it’s okay.’ He stared into her eyes. ‘Whatever’s wrong, we’ll sort it. You’resafe…’
She nodded, feeling her tears begin in earnest as the shock of her situation caught up with her, the realisation of what she’d just done flooding her with embarrassment. She turned her face away, only for William to slide a hand through her hair and gently turn her head back.
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ And then, after another searching look, ‘Come on, I think you need to sit down.’
Her legs were still trembling violently and, as she followed William up the stairs, she almost laughed at the absurdity of her movements – hanging onto the banister as if she’d forgotten how to walk.
She emerged through a door at the top of the stairs, knee and wrist throbbing, into a sitting room a similar size to her own. The furniture was basic, just as hers was, but whereas her flat was bright and full of colour, his was more muted, furnished in soft tones of blues and green, colours of the earth, the sky. There were plants everywhere. She hadn’t ever considered what William’s flat would look like until now, but she must have had a stereotypical image in her mind because the reality didn’t match with it at all. Looking around in surprise, she wondered whether she preferred it to her own. She had deliberately chosen bright colours, thinking them to be cheerful and uplifting, but now she wondered whether perhaps she’d been trying too hard. William’s room was calming and serene, and with heavy curtains closed against the night outside, a cocoon.
He steered her towards an armchair in one corner, beside a small table holding a lamp and a stack of books – his chair, and obviously favoured over a sofa which sat opposite. She could still see where the cushions held the imprint of his weight. She was about to protest when he interrupted her thoughts.
‘No arguments – sit,’ he said. ‘And I’ll get you something to drink. Something warm, or something strong?’
‘Warm,’ she said, nodding. ‘Thank you.’
Taking advantage of his exit, she inspected her wrist and knee for damage. No skin was broken but although the dim light didn’t reveal any bruising, she was sure it was there. She tentatively flexed her wrist, gasping at the white-hot flare of pain which shot through it and up her arm. What on earth would she do now? Bread making was not an activity you could undertake single-handed. She shook her head angrily. Stupid, stupid, stupid…
She spent the next few minutes until William reappeared trying not to cry.
From the other room, she could hear sounds of a kettle coming to boil and she sat a little more upright, sniffing and blinking hard. Anything to stifle her emotions and bring back a sense of normality. She took a deep breath.
‘I owe you an explanation,’ she said, as soon as William returned.
He was carrying two mugs which he put down on a coffee table in front of the sofa.
‘Possibly…’ He smiled a little. ‘I’ll admit I’m burning with curiosity, but you don’t owe me anything, Frankie.’
‘After what just happened? I don’t normally go around throwing myself into the arms of virtual strangers.’ Just saying the words made her blush.
‘I guessed that. And one day we’ll probably laugh about this, but right now…I’m not sure which one of us is themore embarrassed. You, for throwing yourself at me, or me, for catching you and hanging on.’
‘Did you?’
‘Oh yes…’ The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Although I’m not sure you noticed so I probably shouldn’t have said anything.’ He shook his head in amusement and sat down on the sofa. ‘In all seriousness though, whatever the reason for it, I’m glad you found your way here.’
‘I didn’t know where else to go. I was running and then I saw your door, the green door you’d told me about when we first met and, suddenly, it was all I could think of.’
He pushed a mug towards her. ‘No need to think about that now. Here, it’s hot chocolate, and probably sickeningly sweet, but under the circumstances…’
She accepted it gratefully, wincing a little as she lifted the mug to her nose and inhaled the fragrant warmth. Taking a cautious sip, she smiled. ‘Sickeningly sweet, but very, very nice.’
‘Good. Catch your breath, there’s no rush.’
And suddenly there wasn’t. All this moment needed was to sit and be still. No expectations, no judgements, nothing but the slow passage of time. She pushed herself deeper into the chair and, finally, felt her body relax.
She had almost finished her drink before she realised she was in serious danger of falling asleep. Her head was the weight of a bowling ball, her neck far too slender to support it. It was so, so tempting to give in, but Frankie knew if she did so she would probably let out the most horrendous snort and she didn’t think she’d survive any more embarrassment. She inhaled sharply, attempting to rouse herself.
‘Sorry…’ she murmured. ‘I’m not exactly being scintillating company.’
But William merely smiled, his eyes catching the light from the lamp as he did so.
‘I ought to get back to work,’ she said, and then checked herself. ‘God, you probably need to get to work, don’t you? I’m so sorry.’
