They wandered up the path towards the house, and Alison thought how lovely it looked in the gathering darkness with the kitchen light shining through the window and the outside lamp casting a warm and welcoming glow to guide them home.
Home. What am I thinking? Watersmeet isn’t my home!
‘Do you want to watch the next episode ofPoirot?’ she asked, still thrilled that she’d found someone who shared her love of cosy detective stories. They’d been treating themselves to an episode most evenings after tea and she looked forward to curling up on the sofa in his snug, with him beside her, all warm and cosy in the lamplight with the fire crackling in the grate and the thick curtains shutting them off from the world.
He didn’t reply, seeming deep in thought.
‘Mac?’
‘Sorry! What did you say?’
‘Penny for them.’
He grinned. ‘Not worth a penny. Just daydreaming. What were we talking about?’
‘Poirot,’ she said. ‘I was asking if you wanted to watch another episode before I go home?’
He hesitated and she felt a momentary disappointment. Had he decided their evenings were getting too boring and cosy? She’d wondered the same thing, recently, but couldn’t deny that she enjoyed just being here at Watersmeet with him. It was enough. She didn’t need nights out and excitement. She’d done all that years ago. But maybe it was all getting a bit samey for him, and she couldn’t blame him if it was.
‘We don’t have to,’ she said quickly. ‘If there’s something else you’d rather be doing? I mean, we could go over to the pub if you’d prefer?’
‘It’s not that. I lovePoirot. I love watching it withyou. I love our cosy evenings in the snug, don’t you?’
She smiled, relieved. ‘I really do. So, if it’s not that, what is it? Because there’s something on your mind, isn’t there?’
He drew her to a standstill just outside the kitchen door, and turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘I was just thinking,’ he said slowly, ‘and you can tell me to get lost and there’ll be no hard feelings, honestly there won’t, but I was just wondering…’
She eyed him curiously. ‘Just wondering what?’
He closed his eyes for a moment then said quickly, ‘If you’d maybe like not having to rush home after we’ve watched it? If you’d like, maybe, to stay the night?’
Alison’s stomach whooshed with nerves, and her pulse raced. She swallowed, feeling terrified and exhilarated and doubtful and excited all at once.
But looking at Mac, she could see he was experiencing the same sort of emotions, and that his pulse was probably racing, too, and that at this moment they truly were at a crossroads. Which road should they take? Was it too soon? Did they know each other well enough? Did it really matter?
She thought of Drew and felt a momentary sadness that he wasn’t here with her right now. But Drew had gone, and life had gone on without him. And she’d had to go on with it, just like the river, flowing endlessly to the sea. Life was all about moving forward. She’d done way too much looking back, longing for the past. Maybe it was time to look to the future.
‘I think,’ she said, squeezing his trembling hands, ‘I’d like that very much.’
28
So this was what Mac’s bedroom looked like. He’d very thoughtfully gone to freshen up in the main bathroom, leaving the en suite for her own use. He had a spare toothbrush she could use, and he’d even put out a pair of his pyjamas for her if she wanted to wear them.
She’d washed and brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and stared at her reflection in the mirrored bathroom cabinet, wondering what the heck she was doing. Then she’d slipped on the pyjama top, which was too big for her and fell to just above her knees. Ignoring the bottoms she’d scurried out of the bathroom and clambered into bed, then sat there with the duvet pulled up under her chin, looking round her and trying very hard not to feel sick with terror.
His room, she thought, was a bit odd. This bed, she remembered, was brand new, as was the headboard, and it was a king size one with a good quality mattress by the feel of it and looked rather sophisticated. But the rest of the bedroom – well, it looked a bit like a teenage boy’s room. The curtains were very retro, and the wallpaper… Ugh! Even the carpet looked old and a bit faded.
It occurred to her that, apart from the new bed, it probably hadn’t been touched since Mac had left for university in 1982, which explained a lot. She supposed she should be thankful there weren’t any posters on the walls. Staring at images of a young Debbie Harry andCharlie’s Angelswould have done nothing for her self-esteem.
Speaking of which… She anxiously rubbed her chin, relieved to discover that Hagrid, as she and Rosie now referred to the lone whisker, hadn’t started to grow back yet, after being plucked out a few days ago. Imagine the embarrassment of that!
And that gave rise to lots of other thoughts about hair that might be surplus to requirements. It was a different age now. Woman did certain things to themselves that she never would have thought of back in her courting days, and men might expect a particular look. And she hadn’t even shaved her legs for a couple of days!
She pulled out the pyjama top and peered down, inwardly groaning. She couldn’t deny that her stomach wasn’t flat like Farrah Fawcett’s had been. Hadanyone’sstomach been as flat as Farrah Fawcett’s? She wondered about Mac’s ex-wife, Lynne. Didshehave stretch marks and drooping boobs? Did she visit a beauty salon for regular bikini waxes? Was she a whizz with a Bic razor? Or maybe she was old school and let nature take its course?
Bloody hell, this whole thing was a minefield! She’d never had to worry about all this with Drew. They’d been together for so long that it had never crossed her mind that he might be judging her appearance when they were in bed together. But Mac was a whole new entity, and for all she knew he might keep score, marking her out of ten for various aspects of her body.
She could see it now:
