Page 27 of A Cornish Love Story
I reached my hand out and let him pull me onto the bed. Then he crawled up it as if he was going to lie down.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘Come up here.’ He lay down, his head on the pillows. Frowning but intrigued,I copied him, and as my head hit the pillow the female voice said, ‘Nightlights, activated.’ The wall lamps on either side of the bed came on with a slow glide, and I shot up to sitting.
‘How did she know?’ I looked up at the ceiling. ‘Are there cameras in here?’
Ethan sat up beside me. ‘The lights are pressure activated. When you lie down in the right place, they turn on. If the main light is on, it turns off at the same time.’
‘Does it pull the cover up for you too? Tuck you in at night with a teddy bear and a lullaby?’
He shook his head, but his lips tipped up.
‘What if you’re not going to sleep?’ I asked. ‘What if … what if there’s pressure on the mattress for an entirely different reason? Do you have to say, “Sparks, we’re having sex now, don’t bother with the nightlights and please avert your eyes”?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand your request,’ the soothing female voice told me.
‘You might wantthe nightlights on if you were having sex,’ Ethan said. ‘You might want to see every inch of each other.’
I raised my eyebrows, my cheeks flushing despite the air con.
‘You can ask her to turn them off,’ Ethan said quickly. ‘Or change the settings in the app, obviously. You can set it up exactly how you want it.’
‘Bit of a mood killer,’ I said, then, because I couldn’t resist, and I wanted to make that suggestion of a smile bloom fully across his face, I tipped my head back andgasped out, ‘Oh, oh Ethan! Oh God! Sparks – please turn off the nightlights! Thank you,thank you,Sparks! Yes,yes. Finally!’
‘Georgie.’ Ethan’s laugh burst out of him, and it was brighter than any voice-activated light, or even the glowing sun outside.
‘Does your house have a sex mode, Ethan?’ I was on a roll. ‘Is there a hatch in the ceiling that drops rose petals when you say, “Sparks, we are getting it on right now”?’
‘No,’ he said, at the same time as the voice said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand your request.’
‘But there are the skylights.’ He gestured up, and I saw the faint lines in the ceiling, the place where, with a simple command, it would slide back and show off the sky, give us direct access to the heavens. It must have been a feat of engineering brilliance to have redone the roof in a way that incorporated these skylights throughout the top floor.
‘A blanket of stars,’ I murmured. There wouldn’t be any stars yet, but there would be the mesmerizing, ethereal blue of the sky just before dusk, and I couldn’t deal with that level of romance while I was here with him.
‘You know I named the house for you,’ Ethan said. We’d skirted around it, but this was the first time he’d admitted it to me.
I slid to the edge of the bed. ‘I can’t do this. Nope. No no no.’
‘Why not? What’s wrong?’
I stumbled off the bed and pulled my sandals back on. ‘It’s not real, is it?’ I gestured around me. ‘It’s a fantasy.’
‘Imadeit real.’ Ethan scooted across the duvet. ‘I did this.’
‘For someone who won’t appreciate it,’ I finished. ‘It’s going to be bought by people who don’t understand how magical it is, or that it’s featured in all Spen … S. E. Artemis’s books, or how many of our memories are bound up here. They’ll love the separate beer and wine fridges and the disco shower and the views of the stars and the sea, but they won’t know about its soul.’
Ethan stood up. ‘We will, though.’ He sounded defeated, as if my words had pushed the reality home. He’d worked so hard and made such a difference for someone else.
I moved closer and, tentatively, dangerously, wrapped my arms around his waist. My head fitted perfectly under his chin as it always had, a favourite jigsaw being pulled out of its box and slotted together again. His chest rose and fell on an exhale, and I let myself hold him for a couple of seconds, nostalgia and contentment rushing over me. Then I stepped away from him.
‘Bye, Ethan.’ I put my rucksack on and, when I reached the doorway, let myself glance back. He was looking at me, a puzzled expression on his face, as if he couldn’t figure me out. I hurried into the hall, heading for the stairs.
‘Bye, Sterenlenn,’ I murmured, as I trailed my handalong the chrome handrail with its thread of seaside blue.
‘Farewell, Georgie,’ the house said, making me jump. A prickle ran down my spine, because I hadn’t said ‘Sparks’, so how had it picked up my voice?
I reached the bottom of the stairs and peered into the kitchen. There were empty glasses and canapé plates strewn about, and one of the bouquets was starting to droop. I could see the living room beyond, and I wavered. Did I have time? But then I heard a bang from upstairs.
