“Yes.” It was all he trusted himself to say in the circumstances. “If you wait a sec, I’ll put the chair back, then I’ll talk you through where all your clothes are located.”
When Adam stood, Paul took the chair back into the bedroom and then stood in the doorway. Adam had picked up his cane and was walking toward him, his dark glasses once more in place. “Is there still a four-poster bed? I can’t imagine Caroline getting rid of it.”
“It’s still here,” Paul assured him.
Adam walked over to the bed, the cane swinging from left to right in front of him, until he reached it. He stretched out his hand and touched the covering. Paul caught his breath at the smile that transformed Adam’s face. “It can’t be.” He turned his head in Paul’s direction. “Describe this bedspread.”
Paul ignored the presumptive tone, lost in Adam’s expression. “It’s a satin quilt, a faded peach colour.”
Adam stroked the covering in a slow motion. “This was my grandmother’s. She made it.” He shook his head. “I never expected to find it here still.”
Paul was transfixed by the sight of a single tear edging its way from beneath Adam’s glasses to trickle down his cheek. In that instant Paul felt as if he was intruding on a very private moment.
“I’ve laid out your clothes on the bed,” he said quickly. “Since we don’t have a lot of time, I’ll let you get dressed. When you’re ready, call me if you want me on hand for when you come downstairs.”
Not waiting for an answer, Paul hurried out of the room and down the carpeted staircase.
How can he affect me so powerfully?Every time Paul thought he had a handle on Adam, the writer went and showed him another facet, something he hadn’t expected.
This job was beginning to get interesting.
Chapter Nine
The car engine died,and Adam breathed deeply. “I take it we’re here?”
They were the first words he’d spoken since Paul had helped him into the passenger seat of his car. The prospect of venturing out into the world he’d been hiding from for the last few months was overwhelming. His heartbeat had sped up, and breathing had become difficult. He’d taken great pains to hide his fears: it was bad enough Paul had seen him overcome with emotion earlier. And over a fucking bedspread, of all things.
He couldn’t help it. There it lay, a part of his childhood, its satiny surface bringing back so many memories. He recalled sitting on that cover with his grandfather, Adam cuddled up at his side with many thick pillows behind them, peering at a book filled with old photographs. He could still hear his grandfather’s voice as he pointed out relatives long since departed, places that existed no longer, and photos of the Cove that showed how little it had changed throughout the years. Adam remembered drifting off to sleep, safe and content, his grandfather’s arm securely around him.
“We’re right in front of the salon,” Paul told him. “We’re at the top end of Union Street.”
Adam was familiar with the steep street that led down to the seafront at Ryde. He knew from memory the journey would have lasted about twenty-five minutes, but it had seemed much longer. Ever since he’d returned to the island from London, Adam had shut himself in, not wishing to see a soul. Paul wanting to take him for a haircut had been a catalyst of sorts: even as his heart had quaked at the prospect, part of his brain was yelling at him to justdoit.
Well, we’re here now.
He waited until Paul was out of the car before he undid his seatbelt. His hands shook and he clenched them, drawing in several deep breaths. By the time Paul had opened his door, Adam was calmer. He handed over his cane, before Paul eased him out of the car and handed it back to him. Adam stretched, sniffing the air. He could smell the sea.
“Okay, about four steps and we’re at the salon.”
Adam followed the sound of Paul’s voice, tapping the pavement. A bell rang when Paul pushed open the door and a wealth of diverse aromas teased Adam’s senses. Paul’s hand was at his elbow, guiding him.
“About two steps to your right, there’s a couch.”
Adam nodded and felt his way with the cane. He sat down on the firm couch, his cane placed between his knees, and waited, leaning on its handle. Music played quietly, something soothing, accompanied by running water and a hairdryer, before it was switched off. Paul took a seat beside him.
“Hey, sweetie. Mark’s nearly finished with his lady. Unless your friend would like me to cut his hair? I’m finishing off my lady here.” The female voice had a South African twang to it, soft and musical.
“Finishing me off, Sonia?” A woman laughed. “Sounds macabre.” Sonia’s laughter mingled with hers, the sound bright and cheerful.
“Thanks, Sonia.” Paul leaned in closer to Adam. “Up to you,” he said in a low voice as the sound of the hairdryer resumed. “They’re both good hairdressers.”
“I’ll take your first recommendation,” Adam said in a low voice. “I’ll wait for Mark.”
“Okay.” The couch dipped as Paul sat back. “So, how’s business, Son?”
“Busy as usual, though we were concerned when a new salon opened up across the street.”
“Ooh, competition.” Paul chuckled. “Let battle commence.”
