TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (58 page)

in?”

“Yes, bit by bit. My old place came furnished so I’m buying bits each week,” he explains casually.

“Good for you Daniel. You work long hours, you deserve a nice place to rest your head.”

“Well, I’m getting there, slowly but surely Pat.” He edges away. “Anyway, I’m off to see the

girlfriend, so I’ll see you later. Bye for now.”

“Goodbye Daniel. Have a nice evening.”

“You too,” he calls out, knowing he’s made a good impression. He’s Joe Public and she’s fallen for

his charm, like they always do.

22

Feeling
more like myself, I ascend in the lift with the lightest of material floating around my

knees. I’ve opted for a neat, summer dress from Zara covered in pale pinks and lavender flowers, and

a matching cardigan. I feel pretty and much less business like.

As I move to open the door out onto the terrace, I hear music. It’s a new addition to my playlist,

another song from Tom Odell. I remain poised, patiently listening in to Ayden’s private phone call.

Through a crack in the door I watch him pace, taking short, laboured steps in no particular direction.

His voice is deep, detached; it has sharp edges and he has no qualms about injuring whoever is on the

other end with his words. The song builds to the chorus …
Another Love
and I think I can guess who

he’s talking to.

“ … What the fuck were you thinking … you came into my home with the sole purpose of putting

that fucking SD card where you knew Beth would find it? Don’t deny it …

What do you mean, what we had? I never gave you the impression I was serious …

So … And …

I don’t owe you anything. I fucked you and you screwed me. We both got what we wanted. It’s as

simple as that. I didn’t …

Don’t fucking go there Elise. What happened to you had nothing to do with me. I’ve paid my dues. I

don’t owe you anything …

Enough! I won’t be sending you the allowance after this month. You should have enough put by to

set you up… do us both a favour Elise. Move on. Don’t threaten me … Nothing you can put me through

will be as bad as what I’ve put myself through for over 20 years.

I have to go … and don’t come here again. The alarm and the locks have been changed and I’ll have

you arrested. Don’t test me.

Goodbye.”

In the aftermath of his verbal sparring match, Ayden stands motionless, rigid; the fighter in him

apparent in his clenched fists and upright stance. Even battle weary, his striking silhouette exudes the

kind of sex appeal that draws the eye and has my mind wrangling a cluster bomb of lascivious

thoughts.

I picture Elise on the other end of the line; shell-shocked, her lips trembling, her heart racing at the

prospect of never hearing from him again. For a split second I feel sympathy for her. Then, in the

blink of an eye, it’s gone.

Sensing my cue I step from the lift, noisily closing the door behind me, stopping only to take in the

view.

On seeing me, Ayden sprints over. “Hello, pretty lady.” He kisses my forehead and takes my hand.

“Come and sit down by the fire.”

I remain stationary. “Give me a minute. You’ve seen this before but I haven’t. I had no idea this

was up here.” The hairs on my arms raise and tickle as the cool night air ascends from the street

below.

Laid out in front of me is a kind of Swedish cabin, sunk into a lower level, two steps down. Along

the floor and framing an enormous sofa is wooden panelling. In the floorboards small white lights

blink back at me, leading like a runway to the centre where a flaming gas fire flickers and licks at the

chill night air. Across the top is a white canopy that reminds me of the enormous drapes at our

wedding chapel. It’s stunning.

Ayden appears from the side of the sofa with two long stemmed glasses, raising them aloft, inviting

me to join him. His pale jeans are creased from having me sat across him; his white T-shirt is rolled

over his pockets and he’s kicked off his shoes. This is a very relaxed man I see before me.

We nestle next to each other. The white leather sofa accommodates our combined weight and folds

in around us like ocean foam. “Ayden, it’s lovely. Do you often come up here?”

He rests his chin on my head. “No. Never!”

“But it’s so cosy and look at the view across the rooftops …”

“I wasn’t even sure how to work the fire,” he confesses, stretching out a hand to test the intensity of

the flames.

“I like it here.” I feel his left hand tightening on my shoulder protectively.

“Me too.”

When the silence becomes too much, I look up at him with the sole purpose of marvelling at his

masculine beauty. In the manmade glow he seems cloaked in shadows; his features are well defined

but his eyes aren’t dancing the way they usually do. The emerald hues are masked by half-light and

more secrets. I just know it. My heart sinks a little at the prospect of more revelations.

“Beth …” Here it comes. “I have something to show you that’s going to surprise you.”

I sit bolt upright and place my glass on the floor. “Will it be a good surprise or one of your shock

the hell out of me surprises?”

His mouth twitches. “A good surprise, I think.” Leaning backwards, he retrieves something off the

floor. Onto his lap he places a small carton. That carton. The one filled with photographs of him and

Jake and his Christmas watch. Out of it he lifts the black pouch with his marbles inside and places it

on the sofa.

Momentarily he stops and looks into my eyes, forcing me to meet his gaze with a curious stare.

Words appear to be stuck in his mouth like melted caramel.

What’s wrong?

“All … All I’ve ever wanted was for you to believe in me Beth.”

I place my hand on his. “I do Ayden. I always have, even when you were no more than a faded

memory.”

“I never stopped believing in you. In us.”

“I know.”

“I want to show you something …” From the top of the pile of photographs, he lifts a faded black

and white and hands it to me. No words.

As I look at it I feel his eyes on me; he’s gauging my reaction. Reflexively I feel my eyes widening

and my breath hitching at what I see. My eyes cloud over with tears and I wrap my teeth around a

quivering lip.

I’m looking at three children stood in front of a Victorian House. In the middle is a tall boy with

black hair and eyes the colour of the Caribbean Sea. He has his arms around two small girls. To his

left is a blonde girl, looking fearlessly into the camera. To his right is a smaller girl with brown

wayward hair tied up at the front by a pink bow. She has her thumb in her mouth and she’s turning into

him, hiding, seeking his protection.

That little girl is me.

Fighting back tears I mutter, “I have this picture Ayden, at home in my dad’s chest under my bed.”

He’s taken by surprise. “You do?” He rubs his hand across his mouth, stemming an emotional tide

as it threatens to engulf him. “It’s us Beth.”

“It is.” Happy teardrops fall onto the flowers on my dress like morning dew; as the droplets unfurl,

so does his biggest secret of all. We have loved each other for most of our lives.

“Tell me about this picture.” I nuzzle into him, holding it between us; undeniable evidence, if any

were needed, that our fateful reunion was preordained.

“I took care of you for a week while your dad worked on the house.” I feel his lips on my hair and

hot breath leaving his mouth as he speaks in slow, unhampered syllables. This is a story he has waited

over two decades to tell.

“You were such a timid little thing. I think I loved you the instant you climbed down from your

dad’s van and you turned to look at me with your big blue eyes. For years, all I could see was your shy

smile.” He pauses, absorbed in that memory. “We were inseparable. We’d play hide and seek but I

think you wanted to be found. You were terrible at hiding and I would hear you giggling from 10 yards

away. I always found you.”

He triggers a memory. “I remember waiting to be found. I loved it there with you; you used to tell

me I was a princess. I’d stand on my dad’s ladder, waiting to be rescued. You always came.” I take a

minute to compose myself. “All these years, I’ve been waiting for you to come and rescue me. And

now you have.” I wrap my arms around him so tightly I fear I may crush him.

“I’m the one who needs rescuing Beth,” he declares, earnestly.

“Then we’ll rescue each other Ayden.”

His arms enfold me like a protective shell. “I want that more than you know Beth.” He folds into

me and I feel the weight of his neediness on my head; soft lips and the weight of the world behind

them.

With only the rumble of distant traffic and the hissing of the fire we remain motionless, a fusion of

lost souls, recently unearthed and reunited; neither of us willing to shatter this overwhelming sense of

togetherness.

“Ayden. In my photo my dad’s van is visible. But here it’s not.” I lift the photo into the light.

“There was no record of him having done work at Bright Hill. Turns out he did it for free when he

had no work on. There were no receipts. Nothing to go on. You moved away and every avenue I went

down led to a dead end.”

I’m quick to interject. “But you didn’t give up. You didn’t marry anyone else …”

“There was no-one else for me. Only you.” He lifts me from his chest, willing me to see the

sincerity on his eyes. “And that will never change. Baby no-one will ever come between us.”

“Not even Elise?”

“Especially not Elise.” He points to the photo. “She’s history.”

I sit back. “That’s Elise?”

“Yes, before … you know …”

“Fuck! Does she know who I am?”

He’s shaking his head vehemently. “No. She has no way of knowing and I think its best we keep it

that way. The less she knows about you the better.” He places the photo back into the carton and

returns it to the floor. “Let’s not talk about her anymore. I’d rather talk about my two favourite girls.”

I’m laughing softly. “You don’t know you have two. I might just be late with my period.”

He’s lifting a brow and shaking his head, looking so adorable. All I want to do is smother him in

kisses. “No way. I think, that night when I made love to you, I gave you a baby. In fact I’m convinced

I did.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

He laughs out loud. “This is true.”

“Alright. I’ll take a pregnancy test tomorrow and then we’ll know for sure. We’ll see if your

instincts are good.”

“We will. Then we can start making plans …”

Just the look of excitement on his face has me giggling.

“What’s tickling you Mrs. Stone?” he asks, flattening the material on my dress.

I’m finding it so hard to explain myself with a smile permanently fixed on my face. “You.”

“Happy to keep you entertained, dear wife.” He runs his thumb along my chin seductively. “If it’s

alright with you, I’ll make it my sole purpose in life to keep you thoroughly entertained.” The wink

says it all.

All I can do is smile and nod like a crazy woman.

As our constellation disappears beneath an inky blanket of urban sky, we begin to feel hemmed in

on all four sides. All we have is each other; it’s us against the world. Nothing else matters.

The flames from the fire dance to the rhythm of the autumn breeze. I feel the distance between us

closing. It was no more than inches. Now it’s millimetres and barely measurable; a hair’s breath,

stirred by the prospect of intimacy and sex so carnal in nature, my face heats and flushes at the

thought. Through telepathy, intuition or simple good timing, Ayden makes his move.

With no more than a sigh, he quicksteps into romance with the agility of a male ballet dancer.

“Cute dress, by the way,” he whispers, wrapping his tongue around my right ear lobe. “Are you very

attached to it?”

I wriggle away. “Yes, I am. Don’t you even think of ripping it off.”

He tickles my neck with a smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, yes, you would.” I giggle, half hoping he’s telling one of his white lies.

With a single finger he lifts my chin, gazing into my eyes with the intensity of a laser beam. “No. I

wouldn’t, not tonight. I’m going to make love to my wife the way I should have on our wedding night.

There will be no tearing of clothes. The only sound I want to hear is the sounds you make when you

orgasm.”

Oh my …

I swallow deeply. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” He rubs my nose with his. “That, and my name.”

“I can do that,” I state, taking great delight in the verbal foreplay.

A wide smile forms slowly. “Good girl.”

With a single finger he traces an invisible line from my chin across my collarbone, slipping it

beneath my dress in a sensual exploration of erogenous zones. He knows them all like the back of his

hand. He unclips my hair and ruffles it about my shoulders, using those skilled hands of his to

stimulate my body into wakefulness.