‘You’re getting dressed early,’ she says, her gaze dropping to my pirate’s outfit. Or maybe just the ripped stockings and the bits of red and white stripy fabric tied around my wrists. I pull down the sleeves of my long cardigan and wrap it around me a little tighter while hoping she doesn’t notice the hat lying on the sideboard at the other side of the room.
And yes, I’m working this afternoon, but that’s not the reason I’m dressed as I am.
‘That belt isn’t part of the original outfit, is it?’ Her eyes drop to my midriff where inattention and a lack of buttons have allowed my long cardigan to gape. ‘Is that a corset? And are you wearing stockings?’
‘The old belt was just a bit of felt. It didn’t last very long before it fell to bits. And the stockings are something of an experiment. Granted, they don’t look very nice. But pirates aren’t supposed to be nice.’ And neither are saucy wenches.
I can’t believe I giggled when he called me that.
‘You should’ve said. We could have ordered you something else, rather than replacing it with something that will make all the dads sit up and beg.’
She looks confused. And so she should be because there’s no way I’ll be wearing this three hundred quid Agent Provocateur beauty where there’ll be sticky fingers. Unless they belong to Archer; he did buy it for me after all. Just the thought of him shopping for me, thinking about me, without even asking for my size sort of blows my mind. It also makes my stomach flip—yes, even under all this satin and boning.
I resist the urge to run my hands over my hips, the sensuousness of it calling to me. I can’t believe how much shape it’s given me. I’ve got hipsandtits! I also can’t believe Archer would buy me something so exquisite when I feel like it should be me buying him a gift. You can’t buy a manI’m sorry boxer shortsthough, can you? Because I am sorry. Sorry for so many things, like jumping to conclusions and making him feel terrible. For making him chase me down in the office on Monday. Because the woman from Amsterdam was only in the office for the day, and she kind of avoided him like the plague.
Sure, I know he’ll be spending time in Amsterdam over the coming months but I can’t think about that now. Besides, when the time comes, he won’t be mine to worry about.Sonot thinking about that now. Deny. Ignore. Even if I feel a little manic.
But I can’t believe he spent this much money on me, though I only know how much because I took a peek at the website the minute he slipped out the door. And then I saw an email which I shied away from opening. An email that’s making me feel sick with anxiety.
‘What the heck is that?’
I twist, glancing behind me thinking she’s spotted the Tricorn hat. Physically wincing as I see my laptop. But she’s not asking about either of those things.
‘That’s Elvis.’ Who has yet to stir from his position curled in the corner of the sofa, despite Miranda banging on the front door. He’s not much of a guard dog. More like a large cushion.
‘You got a dog? No,’ she adds in an accusing tone. ‘Now the boys are going start harping on and on about getting one again.’
‘And you should totally get them one,’ I say, because parental guilt on Miranda might not be a good look but it is fun. ‘Dogs are wonderful.’ Apart from all the bum sniffing and having to collect their poop. ‘A dog would teach them about unconditional love and the importance of responsibility.’
‘For about a week until the novelty wears off and I’m left clearing up after it. Where on earth did you get it, anyway? It’s a bit big for this place?’
‘No, he isn’t. And he isn’t anit. Elvis, it so happens, doesn’t belong to me. He’s the pet of a friend.’
‘A friend. What friend?’ I sort of shrug. ‘A friend in need is a pain in the arse, especially if they’ve left you looking after their dog. Anyway.’ She adds, seeming to shake off all thoughts of dogs. ‘You haven’t asked me if I want a cuppa yet.’
‘Because I don’t have time. I’ve got work to do, and clearly, I’m not yet dressed.’ I add one of Archer’s full body gameshow flourishes, though without the muscle popping he does so well.
‘It’s about work I want to speak to you about.’
‘What about it?’ I ask warily, well aware of the fact I’ve been slacking off lately. Daisy has picked up so many of my shifts but that’s because I feel like I’m running out of time to be with him. At the end of each day, I count one less from my total. And I know that sounds ridiculous because all we ever had was temporary from the start. But it doesn’t feel good when he leaves, and I know he’s coming back. When we part that final time, and everything shifts? I can’t imagine it.
So I won’t.
And I don’t make a fuss or second guess his thoughts or feelings and I no longer worry about his motives. But I do know Archer didn’t sign up for this, so I keep my thoughts to myself.
‘I say this with love,’ Mir begins, which doesn’t sound like a great start, ‘but Heather, you’re a mess. You can’t go to a six-year-olds birthday party dressed like that. Again, I say this with much love, but you look slatternly and more like you’re half undressed.’
‘I wasn’t going anywhere dressed like this!’ Except to the bedroom. ‘And I told you, the stockings were an experiment.’ Sort of. Because Archer had tried to shred them with his fingers. While I giggled. Bent over the back of the chair.
‘Look, I—’ Miranda leans forward in the chair, her expression quizzical as she slides her hand behind her back, pulling out a feather on a stick. A feather on a stick from Frambrough Castle. At least that’s all she found...
‘It’s a dog toy,’ I say, pulling it out of her hand.’
‘Doesn’t look like any dog toy I’ve ever seen.’
‘Do you have a pet dog? No. Well, there you go.’
‘What is going on with you?’
