Page 20 of Box of Frogs
‘You’ve got to admit that it fits.’ I shrugged.
The corner of his mouth crooked up as if he were amused. ‘Come on, Maddy. Stop this idiocy and just say my name. You used to scream it to the heavens when I made you come. You used to whisper it in that husky, aroused voice of yours when I kissed you on that special spot on your neck.’
My jaw slowly dropped. ‘You and me? We … did the dirty? Made the beast with two backs? Loaded the clown into the cannon?’ I scanned him up and down. Well, go me. Although it was hardly surprising that I’d dumped him in the end, given what an arsebadger he was.
He curved his head down. ‘Up until,’ he murmured huskily, while I held my breath, my fingers longing to reach up and gently rub against the stubble at his jawline, ‘you betrayed me.’
I exhaled loudly and stared at him. When he pulled back again his eyes were cold and distant.
‘I…’ I swallowed. ‘What did I do?’
A muscle ticked in his cheek and he gazed at me, apparently unwilling to say. I stared him out. He was the one with all the answers – not me.
‘Fine,’ he said eventually, after the drawn-out silence apparently became too much. ‘You say you’ve got amnesia and you don’t remember who you are? Well, then I’ll show you.’ He turned away once more and began walking across the pedestrianised square. When I didn’t follow him immediately, he looked back at me. ‘Come on then.’
‘Are you going to hurt me?’ I asked, raising my voice.
‘As if I could,’ he muttered. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Last chance, Madrona. Come or don’t come. It’s your choice.’
Like I reallyhada choice. I watched him stride away for a moment or two and then raced to catch up with him. ‘Before we go,’ I said, ‘just tell me one thing. What is your real name?’
He blew air out through his pursed lips in exasperation. ‘Morganus,’ he said. ‘But call me Morgan.’
***
Morgan marched along the street at breakneck speed. I was sure he was waiting for me to complain so I made a point of keeping up with him. At least the question of both his name – and the identity of the mysterious Morganus – had been solved.
I had a horrible uneasy sensation deep in the pit of my stomach that suggested I might not like the answers to my other queries. Maybe I wasn’t the wonderful superhero I thought I was. Maybe I was nothing more than a cuckolding dust dealer. I couldn’t quit now, though; I had to know the truth. Besides, who was to say that Morgan’s truth was the same as my truth? I didn’t feel like the bad person he clearly believed I was. Sure, I had a mean streak but I wasn’t the damn Sugar Plum Fairy. I couldn’t be nice all the time.
I was so caught up in the turmoil of my own thoughts that I didn’t notice when he stopped. Almost inevitably, because I was a step or two behind him despite my best efforts to keep pace, I collided with his body. He let out a muttered expletive and all but leapt away from me.
‘Is it contagious?’ I asked, genuinely curious.
His eyes narrowed at me. ‘Is what contagious?’
‘You know.’ I held up my finger. ‘This rowan poison business.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Then why did you jump away from me like that?’ I enquired. ‘In fact, when you grabbed hold of me in the library you were determined to let go as soon as you possibly could.’ I sniffed at my clothes. I smelled reasonably clean.
All he did was answer my question with another question. ‘As far as I can tell,’ he said, ‘the only thing you seem to have forgotten is how to filter your thoughts. Do you say every single thing that crosses your mind?’
I considered. No, not everything – but perhaps more than was comfortable. ‘Would it be better if I didn’t say what I was thinking? If I hid my thoughts and my agenda and pretended to be something I’m not?’
Morgan’s lip curled. ‘I honestly cannot believe that you of all people are asking me that.’ He shook his head in disbelief.
I shrugged. Whatever. The man was clearly determined to avoid giving me a straight answer to anything, despite his reluctant promise to the contrary. ‘Never mind,’ I sighed. ‘Why have we stopped here?’ I looked around.
Morgan watched me carefully. ‘You really don’t know?’
I glowered. ‘I’ve got…’
‘Amnesia. Yes. So you keep saying.’ He ran a hand through his jet-black hair. ‘Just wait a minute and all will be revealed.’
I frowned and looked around. We were in a small, nondescript street not too far from the city centre. There was a Polish supermarket on the other side of the road and a tasty-looking kebab shop right behind us. Up in front by the corner stood a pretty church, complete with steeple and rusting weather vane. There were a few people dotted here and there but they all looked as if they were going their own separate ways to their own separate destinations. None of them paid either Morgan or me the slightest bit of attention.
I began to hum tunelessly, keeping myself occupied. Morgan stiffened and shot me a quick look. I didn’t bother to glance in his direction; instead I tapped my foot in time to my tune and leaned casually against the wall. He tutted and checked his watch. He gave a brief nod of satisfaction and, a few seconds later, the door to the church opened and people began to pile out.
