Page 57 of You Only Live Once
‘Oh, just get in, woman,’ Jack hustled, with laughter in his voice.
‘For that, you can make the drinks.’
‘Good. At last, she lets me do something.’
‘I let you do stuff all the time,’ I said, clambering onto the sofa. Jack gave me a look as I snuggled into a position that was just horizontal enough to be able to drink my drink without choking, once it arrived. Gently, he laid the quilt back over me. ‘Comfy?’
‘Yes… umm, thanks,’ I stammered, caught up for a moment at the tenderness of the gesture, and the softness of his voice. In the darkness of the kitchen, neither of us having yet switched on the light, the simple act seemed to take on a level of intimacy that I hadn’t expected – and hadn’t experienced – in a long time. I gave myself a mental shake, dissolving the thought. Jack was just being kind and doing the same for me as I had done for Clive a short time before, and I was sure no similar thought had even brushed past his mind, let alone gone through it.
‘You OK?’ he asked. ‘From what I can see in the lightning flashes, you’re frowning so hard it looks like your eyebrows might actually drop off.’
‘Still got all the smooth lines, haven’t you?’
‘I’m sure they’re still buried in here somewhere, not that I’ve used them in a long time. Besides, there’s no way I’d use a line on you. It’d be utterly pointless.’
‘Well, yes, of course. Absolutely.’
He gave the quilt one last tuck, before straightening. ‘You know me too well and would see straight through it.’ He turned and walked away to make the drinks before I could come up with a pithy – or any – reply. Perhaps there was no reply to be made. Except that I wasn’t sure I did know Jack these days. Felix had always been pretty astute, and he must have sensed there was more to Jack than met the eye long ago. And now Jack had discovered who he was, become content and grown. My life, on the other hand, had shrunk and I’d thought I was happy in my little bubble. Iwashappy in my little bubble, until Jack Coulsdon-Hart had walked through my door and back into my life.
18
‘You’re still frowning.’ Jack glanced over from where he was now highlighted by the light above the hob built into the kitchen island.
‘Ugh!’ I flung myself down and pulled the quilt over my head. ‘I remember the days I could frown in peace in my own home,’ I said from under the covers.
The only answer was a ripple of deep, warm laughter that filled the kitchen and wrapped itself around me before being drowned out by the storm.
We sat on the sofa, content in each other’s company, sipping our drinks. I’d made to move when he came over, but Jack had shaken his head, then put the drinks down on the side table before lifting my feet and sitting down again, resting them on his lap. Turning, he then reached and handed me a cup of steaming hot chocolate, made with full-fat milk and mini marshmallows, neither of which he’d have found in my cupboards ordinarily.
‘When did you sneak these goodies in?’ I said, before closing my eyes in bliss at the deliciousness. Outside, the storm raged but with both of us near, Clive seemed far more contented. I knew he wasn’t asleep, as his ears were twitching, but the rhythmic stroking of his side by Jack’s foot kept him settled as we huddled together, cosy and safe.
‘It’s always good to have emergency supplies.’
‘I wasn’t aware full-fat milk and mini marshmallows were considered vital for emergencies. I assume the British Armed Forces are aware of this.’
‘Absolutely. Where do you think I got the tip from?’
I smiled. Jack had left the light on over the hob and in the low light that reached this side of the diner, I saw him return it. And then it all went dark.
The faint light from the security lights outside that had taken the edge off total darkness earlier now disappeared too as the storm took out a power line somewhere.
‘You all right?’ Through the quilt, Jack gave my toes a gentle squeeze.
‘Yes, thanks. I’m a bit old to be afraid of the dark.’
‘Fears often aren’t rational and are certainly no respecter of age.’
‘Are you all right?’ I asked, suddenly aware that Jack was right. Fears had no respect for gender expectations either.
‘Yeah, fine.’
‘You’re right, though. And thank you for asking. I suppose living alone for so long, you generally just end up having to deal with things, whether you like them or not. I’m not a big lover of spiders, but when there’s no one else to call upon, you have to find a way, don’t you?’
‘Clive loves spiders.’
‘He does?’
‘Yep. Good at catching them, too.’
