Playing by Heart

by Cleary James

  She turned to Grayson, silently pleading with him not to do this. But he just gave her a pitiless smile as he came to stand at the head of the bed, spreading her arms wide and holding them there. Bile rose in her throat as she watched Mark removing his clothes and she waited for her torment to begin all over again. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

  ‘No!’ She woke with a shout, clawing at the sheets like a drowning person trying to fight her way to the surface of the water. She jolted upright, her heart pounding. It was just a dream, she told herself over and over. But she couldn’t stop shaking as she looked around the room nervously, half expecting to find Mark lurking in the shadows. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. It wasn’t real. She flopped back against the headboard, relief flooding through her. Grayson had been in her thoughts today – and then for a split second she’d thought she’d seen Mark. Obviously the two things had somehow fused in her subconscious to produce that nightmare.

  She glanced at the window. It was still dark. But the digital numbers on her bedside clock said six-ten. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep now – and besides, she didn’t want to risk another nightmare like that one. She threw back the covers wearily and got out of bed. She might as well get up and get on with some work.

  Chapter Four

  Lisa made sure she was too preoccupied in the days that followed to allow her nightmares to prey on her mind. It helped that the cafe was busy all week and she had no time to dwell on dark thoughts when she was rushed off her feet with a constant stream of customers. After long, tiring days at The Kettle, she went home and immersed herself in frenzied painting sessions in the evening, working to the point of exhaustion and only going to bed when she felt sure of falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  By Friday, she was in need of an early night, and she reckoned she’d worn herself out sufficiently to risk one. She was looking forward to a quiet, relaxing evening as the last customers left, and she and Martha started to clear up.

  The Kettle was a quaint little tea shop on a square just off the high street, nestled between a bookshop and a florist. It was popular with tourists and locals alike, and famed for Martha’s home-baked cakes and pies. There was a scattering of tables outside on the pavement, sectioned off by planters, where even in winter dedicated smokers would sit huddled over steaming mugs of tea or coffee.

  ‘Are you coming to the pub tonight?’ Martha asked her. She was behind the counter, emptying the till while Lisa cleared and wiped the tables.

  ‘No, I’m planning a bath and an early night. Not very rock and roll, I know,’ she said with a wry smile, ‘but I’m wiped out.’

  ‘You do look tired,’ Martha said, eyeing her with concern.

  ‘I haven’t been sleeping very well lately,’ Lisa said.

  ‘Well, why don’t you go on. I’ll finish up here.’

  Lisa smiled at her gratefully. ‘I’ll just clear off the tables outside,’ she said, nodding towards the door.

  As she looked through the window, she saw him, and froze. He was sitting outside, his chair pushed back from the little wrought iron table, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Lisa’s stomach lurched as her nightmare came slamming to the front of her brain. Her first instinct was to duck and hide, but it was too late. He looked up and their eyes met through the glass of the window. He nodded to her, his lips curled in a tentative smile that suggested he was unsure of his welcome.

  His eyes were soft and kind, the way she remembered them. This was the real Grayson, not the cold, brutal sadist of her nightmare, and she knew she had nothing to fear from him, but she still had to take a deep breath and steel herself before she walked outside on legs that felt like jelly.

  ‘Hello, Lisa,’ he said, looking up at her with a gentle smile as she stood in front of his table.

  She’d forgotten just how breathtakingly beautiful he was. In her dream his features had been hardened by cruelty, his mouth twisted in scorn, his eyes cold and empty. Now it was as if he was lit from within and all his warmth and kindness shone through in his face. He was dressed casually in black jeans and a grey sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up to reveal the dark sprinkling of hair on his tanned arms.

  ‘Hello.’ Her voice came out as a croak, and she cleared her throat. ‘We’re just closing up,’ she said stupidly. He wasn’t here for coffee. She knew why he had come.

  ‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want anything. I came to see you.’ He looked up at her, his thick brows drawn together almost questioningly.

  She nodded. ‘I know.’ There was only one reason he would have come looking for her. She decided to confront it head-on and get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible for both of them. She knew she was in the wrong – she had effectively stolen from him. That part of her nightmare was real, even if the rest wasn’t. She had taken his money and left without giving him all the time he’d paid for, and he was perfectly entitled to come after her for it. But he wasn’t the heartless monster who had terrorised and humiliated her in her dreams. He was a rational, decent man. She could reason with him, and she felt confident that he would be understanding.

  ‘I’m sorry about the way I left,’ she said, pulling out a chair quickly and sitting beside him. ‘I haven’t forgotten about the money, and I do intend—’

  ‘Money?’ Grayson frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I didn’t plan to run off like that, so suddenly,’ she said in a rush. ‘I honestly intended to ... to give you all the time you’d paid for.’ She blushed, looking down, her fingers fidgeting nervously in her lap. ‘But then something happened and it was my only chance to—’ She broke off. She didn’t want to bring Mark into this; she didn’t even want to mention his name. She resented having to think about him at all. ‘Well, I had to leave. You’d paid me a thousand pounds to be with you that night, but there was no time—’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Grayson interrupted, looking almost as uncomfortable as she felt to be discussing this. ‘Please don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I’ve been saving up,’ she rushed on. ‘I do intend to pay you back. But it will take a while.’

  Grayson frowned at her in bemusement as if he couldn’t comprehend what she was saying.

  Lisa took a deep breath, steeling herself to say what she had to. ‘But if you don’t want to wait, or if you’d rather have what you paid for,’ she said, her words tumbling over each other in her haste to get them out, ‘I’m prepared to honour our agreement.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I’ll go to a hotel with you if that’s what you want.’

  Grayson’s eyes widened in shock. ‘You think I’ve come here to ... collect?’ he asked, aghast.

  She shrugged. ‘You’d be entitled.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t.’

  He looked wounded, and Lisa felt bad. Though she’d behaved like a whore with him, he’d never treated her like one.

  ‘Honestly,’ he continued, ‘I’ve never given the money a thought. Forget about it.’

  ‘I’d rather not. I will pay you back – whatever way you prefer.’

  ‘I wish you’d consider it a gift,’ he said, leaning towards her earnestly. ‘I’m ashamed to say it, but it’s not a lot of money to me.’

  ‘That’s not the point. If you’re not getting what you paid for, then I want to return the money.’

  ‘Why?’ He frowned.

  ‘Because I don’t want to owe you anything. I don’t want to be under an obligation to you.’

  Grayson sighed. ‘I would never hold that over you,’ he said, his expression pained. ‘I didn’t come here to harass you, Lisa.’ He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

  ‘Nevertheless,’ she said implacably. ‘If you don’t want to—to sleep with me—’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said firmly. ‘Not for money.’

  Lisa’s breath caught as their eyes met and held. She watched his long fingers as they toyed restlessly with packets of sugar in a bowl on the table
, and experienced a sudden, intense pang of longing to feel them on her skin, to have them pushing inside her. She was almost sorry he didn’t want to take her to a hotel and have sex with her. He’d always been able to make her feel so good. His turning up here was a complication she hadn’t anticipated, but now that he had, she would be more than happy to go to bed with him one last time to fulfil her end of their bargain. It would be no hardship to work off her debt that way, and she could hold onto the hard-earned cash she’d been putting aside to repay him.

  But deep down she didn’t want it to be a mercenary transaction between them any more than he did. Grayson was a good person, and he’d always been kind and decent to her. She knew he felt diminished by their arrangement. He found it degrading on her part and exploitative on his, and he felt guilty enough already for taking her up on it. He’d only agreed to it reluctantly because she’d refused to let him give her the money any other way.

  ‘Okay,’ he sighed, leaning back in his chair. ‘If you’re dead set on paying me back one way or another, maybe there is something you could do for me.’ His mouth twitched a little in amusement and he seemed to relax.

  ‘What?’ Lisa asked suspiciously, her heart starting to race.

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’ Grayson’s beautiful mouth widened in a smile. ‘All I want is a game of chess.’

  ‘A game of chess?’ Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. ‘For a thousand pounds?’

  ‘I like chess,’ he said with a shrug. ‘And I don’t often find people who can challenge me like you do.’

  ‘Still ... that’s an awful lot of money for a game of chess.’

  Grayson drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Okay – throw in dinner as well. How about that?’

  ‘And then we’re quits?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, smiling. ‘Deal.’

  Grayson held out his hand and they shook.

  Lisa stood. ‘Well, I have to finish closing up,’ she said, glancing back at the cafe.

  ‘So what about dinner? Are you free tonight?’

  ‘Um ... sure.’ She thought quickly. She couldn’t afford to take him out – certainly not to the kind of fancy restaurant he was used to. ‘It would have to be a home-cooked meal,’ she said.

  ‘Even better,’ Grayson said. ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘Okay. Well, wait here and you can walk home with me, if you like? I live very near.’

  ‘Great.’ Grayson nodded, smiling.

  ‘I’ll just be a few minutes.’

  Lisa felt dazed as she went back inside, took off her apron and said goodbye to Martha. She was nervous, but also excited at this unexpected turn of events. For better or worse, her weekend wasn’t going to be as quiet and dull as she’d thought.

  Chapter Five

  It was a short walk from the cafe to Lisa’s apartment above a bakery on the high street. She felt suddenly shy and awkward with Grayson, unsure what his being here meant and how to behave with him in this new context. Why had he come all this way to see her if he didn’t want his money?

  ‘Have you been working at the cafe long?’ he asked.

  ‘Pretty much the whole time I’ve been here, so about six months. Martha, the owner, is great. She really helped me find my feet when I first moved here.’

  ‘It must have been a big adjustment for you. What made you decide to come to this place?’

  ‘I wanted somewhere quiet and secluded, far away from London. I was ready for a change, I guess.’ She didn’t add that she’d wanted a place where she could hide – somewhere no one would think of looking for her.

  ‘Well, you certainly got that.’

  ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

  Grayson shot her a wary look. ‘It was the painting you sent me,’ he said, watching her carefully. ‘My father said he’d seen one very like it for sale in the market here. He couldn’t figure out at the time why it looked so familiar. Then he saw that painting again when he was at my house recently, and it clicked.’

  So the grey-haired man who had asked about her painting was Grayson’s father! How strange. She remembered him mentioning that his parents had retired to Cornwall. ‘Do your parents live here?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No, they live near Polperro. They were just visiting for the day.’

  ‘Well, this is where I live,’ Lisa said as they reached the green door beside the bakery. The shop was closed now, its windows shuttered, but the sweet smells of sugar and vanilla still hung in the air.

  Lisa was very aware of Grayson behind her as she opened the door and led him through the long, narrow hall and up the creaky stairs, suddenly conscious of the threadbare carpet and peeling paint.

  ‘This is me,’ she said, opening a door off the landing. She waved him inside and dropped her keys on the table by the door.

  Her little flat seemed to shrink as soon as Grayson stepped inside. He could take it all in at a glance, she thought as he looked around. This was her refuge, and her heart still gave a little excited skip when she came home in the evening, relishing the feeling of freedom and security when she closed the door behind her. Here she was free to be herself and do as she chose, with no one else to please or placate, nobody making demands or trying to control her. It was her home, and it couldn't have been more precious to her if it had been the most luxurious mansion money could buy.

  But as Grayson stood in the centre of the room looking around, she saw it through his eyes and realised how small and shabby it must appear to him. She kept the flat scrupulously clean and tidy, and she had added little homely touches with colourful accessories and cheerful cushions – cheap things she had bought at the market to brighten the place up. But it didn’t mask the fact that the furniture was old and dilapidated, and the carpet worn and faded.

  ‘This is lovely,’ he said, crossing to the large casement window where late evening sunshine streamed in. ‘You get great light.’

  Lisa smiled, touched that he had zeroed in on the most positive aspect of the room. She had forgotten how kind he was. She should have known he would never try to make her feel small or shame her for being poor.

  ‘Well, have a seat.’ She waved him to the two-seater couch beside the window, warmed by a patch of sunlight. ‘I’ll just get changed and then I’ll start on dinner. It won’t be anything fancy, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Nothing fancy – my favourite!’ He grinned.

  ‘You’re in luck, then,’ Lisa laughed. ‘Is spaghetti with meatballs okay?’

  ‘It’s great.’

  She went to her bedroom, and quickly changed out of the sneakers and jeans she wore for work and into a pair of loose wide-legged linen trousers, a soft cotton T-shirt and flip-flops. Then she went to the kitchen and started to prepare dinner. Luckily she had planned to make a batch of pasta sauce to last her two days, if not three, so she had enough ingredients for her impromptu guest. She sometimes cooked in bulk for the freezer in order to free up her time for painting.

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’ Grayson asked, appearing in the doorway as she added onions to the pan. They sizzled as they hit the hot oil, the delicious aroma rising into the air in a cloud of steam.

  ‘You could prepare the salad?’ She nodded to the ingredients she had laid out on the worktop.

  ‘Sure.’ He moved into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, and she handed him a knife and chopping board.

  ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ she asked, picking up a bottle of red she had left open on the counter to breathe. She liked to have a glass in the evening as she prepared dinner. It helped her relax and switch into leisure mode.

  ‘Yes please.’

  She poured two glasses and handed him one. ‘Cheers,’ she said, raising her glass to his.

  ‘Cheers!’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ she gasped as Grayson took a sip, suddenly remembering that he was quite a connoisseur, used to drinking the finest wine. ‘It’s probably not very good.’ She recalled Mark telling her that the wine G
rayson had served when they went to dinner at his house would have cost upwards of five hundred pounds a bottle. This hadn’t even cost ten. ‘It was on special offer at the supermarket.’ She blushed, feeling like an idiot.

  ‘It’s very nice.’ He smiled at her, and Lisa relaxed.

  ‘Nice!’ she mocked, remembering how Mark had scoffed at her use of that word to describe Grayson’s expensive wine. ‘Is that all you can say? I’ll have you know this is the finest the bargain bin had to offer.’

  Grayson laughed and took another sip of wine, seeming perfectly happy with it. He put down his glass and started chopping vegetables for salad.

  Lisa relaxed as they worked companionably together. She was surprised to realise that he didn’t make her nervous, and she didn’t resent his intrusion into her home. In fact, she felt very comfortable with him, and it was nice to have some company for a change. Grayson should have seemed so out of place, drinking cheap wine in her poky flat while they cooked together. Everything about him exuded wealth and privilege, from his manicured hands to the designer watch that gleamed at his wrist. That alone probably cost about five times her monthly rent. But somehow it felt oddly natural having him here in her kitchen. He seemed so relaxed that it put her at ease in turn, and she quickly forgot that he was more used to vintage wine and Michelin starred restaurants than supermarket plonk and spaghetti around a rickety table.

  ‘So, no hot date tonight?’ he asked as he chopped peppers. ‘Did I just get lucky that you were free on a Friday night?’ The question seemed loaded. His tone was light, but it felt forced and there was a stillness in him as he waited for her answer as if he was bracing himself for her reply. But he kept his head down so she couldn’t see his expression.

  ‘No. I was just planning a quiet night in.’

  ‘Well, I hope I’m not intruding.’ He looked up at her then.

  ‘No, not at all. It’s really nice to see you, Grayson.’

  He smiled, relaxing.

  ‘And I’m looking forward to a game of chess too. So far I haven’t found anyone here who’s really into it.’