An Ordinary Girl

by Barabara Elsborg

  Ash’s next wounded soul was Mike who never seemed to have enough money to pay for his share of the bills, so Ash constantly bailed him out. She couldn’t understand why he was always broke.

  Ronan had moved up from wounded soul status now that he was speaking to his parents, though Ash couldn’t help but wonder what had happened ten years ago.

  None of my business.

  Nor was whatever was wrong with the photographer, though it was hard to shake off the yearning to make him smile. If she fancied him with his scowl, she’d be a puddle if he smiled. Ash grinned. She should just be her normal clunky self. She was bound to do something stupid sooner or later to make him chuckle.

  “Be careful,” Christine snapped in her ear as if she’d read her mind. “That tray of canapés and the broken glasses will come out of your wages. No more accidents. No sauce in laps, no tipped up champagne. Stay away from the bride. I don’t want red wine all over her dress.”

  Ash sucked in her cheeks and tightened her trembling fingers into clenched fists. Maybe if people had more faith in her she wouldn’t make mistakes. Their distrust made her even more nervous. It had always been the same. Ash felt as though people were just waiting for her to cock up, and because they expected it, she usually obliged.

  Single-minded concentration—or possibly a huge amount of luck—enabled Ash to serve four courses to her three tables of eight without incident. The delicious Noah moved around the banquet hall taking pictures, never smiling though all the women, guests and staff, plus a few men, smiled at him. He made Ash’s heart beat fast, but he was so far out of her league as to be on another planet. She wasn’t even good enough for James. The moment his name came into her head, Ash choked up. She had to forget him.

  She stood with her back to the wall of the dining hall, waiting to clear plates and sighed when her mind again slipped back to that morning. At least she’d not embarrassed herself by grabbing the flowers James had bought or kissing him. He was happy and that was all that mattered. If Ash could make people happy, she’d feel her life was worthwhile. The fact that she wasn’t heartbroken told her James hadn’t been the one. She was just disappointed in herself for not seeing it sooner. But those seven weeks hadn’t been wasted because James had found joy again.

  Right. Ash sighed. She couldn’t even convince herself with that crap.

  When it was time for the speeches, a videographer took over from the two photographers. Wine waiters lingered to top up glasses but the rest of the serving staff were allowed a break until the guests left the dining hall. As Ash headed for the room where they were to eat, she saw Noah and his assistant at the end of the corridor. The woman stood hunched, looking like an oversized comma. Noah’s mutters sounded angry. A moment later, the woman passed Ash, tears glistening on her cheeks.

  “Are you all right?” Ash asked.

  “He’s sent me home. I’m—useless.”

  The woman fled. Ash was tempted to go after Noah and tell him he shouldn’t call anyone useless because that sort of damage lasted, but the appearance of Christine forced her into the room they were apparently forbidden to leave under pain of disembowelment. Ash picked up a sandwich curling at the edges and a bottle of water and sat with Kay.

  “That wedding dress is gorgeous,” Kay said. “I’d love to model something like that. Do you think I’m too fat?”

  “No way,” said Ash. Kay asked the same question a couple of times a week.

  “The flowers must have cost a fortune,” Kay said, “and that cake. How the hell can you divide a tower of white chocolate curls into neat portions? I think Christine nearly passed out when she saw it.”

  “That’s one thing she won’t be asking me to do.” Ash smiled. “Good thing the bride and groom make the first cut.”

  Kay laughed. “It’s exactly the sort of wedding I want except I’d put my bridesmaids in much uglier dresses. Can you see Noah in a tux? Yum.”

  The wedding was exactly what Ash didn’t want, even if it had been possible. She had no father to give her away, no mother to fuss over her. Kay would undoubtedly refuse to wear any bridesmaid dress Ash picked out, though the thought of having Kay as a bridesmaid made her feel ill. Her dream was a beach battered by a wild sea, with her and the guy she loved making personal vows to each other, no one else around. No rings. He’d wear a white linen shirt and pants, she’d be in a white cotton dress, holding a bunch of daisies. They’d be barefoot, the foamy surf washing around their ankles.

  One thing Ash was very good at was dreaming. She’d retreated to her imagination when she was a young child because it was the only place where she could be safe and happy. Sometimes it still was.

  * * * * *

  She cleared her tables quickly, collected her purse, and since Kay was still busy, she snuck away to watch the first dance. The top level of the terrace that ran across the back of the house was deserted except for a camera attached to a tripod. Noah nowhere to be seen. The guests had moved to the area below. Ash peered over the balustrade onto a breath-stealing scene.

  The trees were full of glittering lights, flares lined the twisting garden paths and the fountain changed color as it spouted. White paper globes, looking like shimmering moons, hung suspended from lines crossing between the trees, the area washed in warmth from a ring of freestanding electric heaters that looked like robot sentries. English summer evenings were rarely reliably warm. A band played in the far corner and a singer’s clear voice rang out in the night air. The guests stood in a circle as the married couple danced in the space in the middle. Noah moved around snapping the pair twirling in each other’s arms.

  They must have practiced, Ash thought. The groom dipped the bride back and his lips moved as if he was counting the steps. Ash liked to dance but didn’t get the chance to do it very often. She’d even been for salsa lessons in the hope of finding that special someone, but too many women had the same idea along with the wrong sort of guys.

  Luckily the weather was so good. It had been a warm day but was now chilling off. Without those heaters it— A firework exploded overhead with a deafening bang, and Ash jumped. There were loud gasps from the guests as enormous red and white flowers blossomed one after the other in the night sky, shimmering in balls of crackling light before they dissolved. Out of the corner of her eye, Ash saw a man crouching by the fountain, arms over his head, and then he raced toward the trees, stumbling as he went. Noah?

  More explosions lit up the sky, silver arrows shooting in all directions, each one shattering the night with a series of staccato detonations. Ash tried to persuade herself he’d moved to a better position to take photos, but how could he do that from inside the wood? Plus he needed a tripod for this sort of shot. Maybe he’d felt sick and rushed away before he threw up. Oh Christ, that prawn I made him eat? Ash kept glancing at the camera in front of her. Fireworks weren’t easy to capture, but she should at least try. If she waited too long, it would be too late. Ash altered the settings, tilted the lens to the sky and began to shoot.

  She told herself she’d stop as soon as she spotted Noah, but he didn’t come back. The fireworks went on and on, and Ash worried more and more. She looked toward the trees, and even as she told herself not to, she deserted the camera and made her way down the steps.

  The fireworks were still exploding when Ash found him curled up at the foot of an oak, his camera lying by his head. Oh God, what the hell’s the matter with him? His face was pressed into his arm, his shoulders rising and falling as he took rapid breaths. She hesitated, trying to figure out the best thing to do. His choked inhalations and the way he shuddered told her he was in acute pain or distress. One prawn couldn’t do that, could it?

  “Fuck. Off,” he gasped.

  Ash was incapable of walking away, incapable of doing anything but walking the rest of the way toward him. “Are you okay?”hovered on her lips, but wasn’t that the most stupid question in the world? The very fact that she needed to ask meant she knew the answer. She knelt beside him and touche
d his shoulder. He jerked so violently that her hand fell away. He didn’t say anything but curled up tighter.

  “Er…sorry. I’m Ash,” she whispered, “the idiot who tipped up the tray and maybe poisoned you. Are you hurt? Need me to get help?”

  It wasn’t the prawn. This was some sort of internal battle. He was upset.

  “Fuck.”

  Ash waited for the “off” to follow, but it didn’t. Go or stay? Guys didn’t usually do public displays of emotion. Not unless something terrible had happened, like their wife dying. Maybe Noah had seen an ex-girlfriend dancing at the wedding. Maybe some horrible memory had been triggered and snapped him into this state. Maybe he was scared of fireworks. Ash couldn’t leave him. She put her arms around him.

  He tensed, and for a moment she thought he’d pull away, but he turned his face into her chest and clutched her so tight he hurt her ribs. Ash stroked his back, pressed her face into his hair and held him. The irony was it made her feel better.

  “Did you know aardvarks, armadillos and anteaters are all solitary animals?” she muttered. “Aardvarks have really soft teeth with no roots. A nine-banded armadillo is the only mammal that gives birth to four identical young. Anteaters don’t have jaws and they can only open their mouths about an inch. Though their tongues are two feet long and can flick in and out around a hundred and fifty times a minute.”

  She envied the female anteater but wouldn’t share that. Ash had spent hours with nothing but the first volume of a set of natural history encyclopedias for company. It was surprising how much she could remember from so long ago. Little by little, his shudders grew less violent and his breathing eased. As she registered the fireworks had stopped, he wrenched away from her, knocking her onto her butt.

  “I told you to fuck off,” he snapped, his eyes wild.

  Ash swallowed hard and moved toward him.

  “Okay, if you’re so damn bent on helping, then fuck me,” he said, and yanked her into his arms.

  Ash tensed. Fingers that had gripped tight now caressed and he rubbed his cheek against her breast. She mentally groaned.

  “No,” Ash whispered.

  His fingers paused on their way up her leg. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not a substitute for whatever’s wrong with you.”

  He let her go, glared as he held up his hands and then shuffled away from her to lean back against a tree. He stared at her sulkily, and Ash sighed, pushed herself to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. It would have been easy to say yes, but it wasn’t the right thing for him. She wasn’t right for him. Not tonight.

  She left him in the woods and went back to the terrace. He shouldhave been taking pictures of the guests dancing, and Ash knew she’d get no thanks for interfering, but she switched on the flash and took more shots. When the bride threw her bouquet, Ash snapped pictures of that too, and the scuffle to catch it.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Kay said behind her. “What are you doing?”

  Ash stood up. “Nothing.”

  “Were you using Noah’s camera? Where is he?”

  “Well…”

  “Did he give it to you? Why would he do that?” Kay frowned and then grabbed her arm. “Oh God, you didn’t steal it, did you?”

  “No, Kay. I don’t steal.” Accused of being a thief for the second time in a few hours? It wasn’t her night.

  Kay stared at her. “Hmm. Well, anyway, could you get a lift to the station with Mary. I’m going to a party.”

  “Yep, no problem.” Ash made sure she sounded sincere.

  “I was going to ask Noah if he wanted to come. Sure you haven’t seen him?” Kay narrowed her eyes.

  “Not for a while.”

  “Damn.” Kay’s shoulders dropped. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good time.”

  Ash smiled against the disappointment of not being invited too.

  Chapter Four

  Noah grabbed the camera and tripod off the terrace and stumbled back to his car. He burned with humiliation. How the hell had he let that happen? Any of it. He’d known there’d be fireworks. He’d seen it on Dina’s fucking list. Not only had he failed to photograph them, he’d freaked out in the most embarrassing way and hadn’t found a place to hide where no one would spot him. If his father or, even worse, Ilya, had seen him… Christ.

  Not that he’d actually been thinking straight as he ran. Then the waitress—Ash—who’d found him, had babbled about anteaters and how they didn’t have teeth, and Noah had wondered what the hell she was doing until he realized she’d understood he needed distracting. And he turned from thinking about—that—and instead his brain tried to take in what she was saying. Edentate meant no teeth. He wished that was true of his memories, but their fangs were fucking sharp and they wouldn’t let go.

  He didn’t understand why he’d let her hold him, why he’d held her. He’d told her to fuck off the moment she touched him. Then he’d clung to her like a baby. To make matters worse, as he began to come out of it and realized where he had his face pressed, his fucking cock swelled. Then he’d done something stupid and started to make a move on her, and she’d said no. Noah couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned him down. It didn’t happen. Never. Ever. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  After he piled his equipment in his car, he couldn’t drive. His hands shook and his heart pounded fast enough to make his head spin. Though killing himself had some appeal, he couldn’t risk having an accident and injuring someone else. He had enough in his life to deal with without adding more problems. Noah reclined his seat and lay back. That fucking waitress had said no and he still wanted her. Was that because she’d said no? Probably. He never took the easy way in anything.

  His cell phone rang. He ignored it, but it didn’t stop, and Noah struggled to get it from his pocket, fought to hold it, battled to steady his finger over the green button and then to make some sort of coherent sound so his housemate didn’t think he’d been beaten up and stuffed in the boot of his car.

  “Have you finished yet?” Dalton asked. “Any chance of a lift back? My father was going to drive me to the station, but I thought I might as well see if you were still there.”

  “Mmm,” was the best Noah could manage.

  “Are you okay?”

  No. I’m not fucking okay. I’ll never be okay. Never. Never. Never.

  “Noah, I’m going to find you. Sit tight.”

  The phone went dead, and Noah wondered if Dalton had some inner sense that something was wrong. A stroke of luck that Dalton had gone to see his parents who lived near Floriton Hall, otherwise Noah would have had to sit here until he’d pulled himself together.

  Sometimes that didn’t happen for days.

  * * * * *

  Noah had no idea whether five minutes or an hour passed before he registered the car door opening. He didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could more. His limbs were leaden, his head buzzing. What if this was his father or his brother? He’d pretend to be drunk, he couldn’t—

  “Noah, wake up.”

  He turned to see Dalton’s concerned eyes staring at him.

  “You okay?”

  Noah nodded.

  Dalton reached out and then drew back his hand before he touched him. “Get on the other side. I’ll drive.”

  By the time Noah forced his body to obey his brain and he’d staggered around the front of the car to the passenger side, Dalton had put the driver’s seat upright and turned on the engine.

  “How’d it go?” Dalton asked.

  Noah clicked his seat belt into place. “I fucked up.”

  “In what way?”

  “Forgot there were fireworks. They…took me by surprise. I didn’t take any more photos after that.”

  Dalton turned onto the main road and headed toward the motorway.

  “I didn’t want to do this,” Noah said. “I wasn’t ready.” Christ, am I whining?

  “You need to get your life back on track.” Dalton glanced
at him. “Shit happens—shit happened, but you have to move on.”

  Blah, blah, blah. “I need a drink.”

  “You’ve not had one?”

  Noah glared. “No need to sound so surprised. I did remember I’m driving. Was driving.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s usually the first thing you turn to when…”

  When I freak out.

  “There was a woman,” Noah blurted. “I ran and she followed me. She…held me.”

  The car swerved and Noah grabbed the dashboard.

  “Bloody rabbit,” Dalton said.

  Or shock that Noah had let someone hold him when he’d been having one of his fucktard moments?

  “What was she like?” Dalton asked.

  Noah closed his eyes. “Tall, slim, eyes like a cat, spiky, dark hair cut really short.” He exhaled. “Funny. She walked into me, dropped a tray of food and then tried to get me to eat it. Christ, I almost laughed.” He swallowed hard. “Instead I took a fucking picture.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Ash.” Bit like his crappy life, a pile of ashes. “Did you know aardvarks can eat fifty thousand termites in one sitting? Or that a spiny anteater has a four-headed penis?”

  Dalton laughed.

  “She talked about aardvarks, anteaters and armadillos, and I got a fucking hard-on.”

  Another laugh. “Going to see her again?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You’re obviously interested.”

  “No, I’m not.” Though he could see why Dalton thought that. What would be the point? She’d said no, and in the long run, he’d fuck things up like he always did. “Drive past Dina’s place in Caterham. I’ll post the memory sticks through her letter box.”

  Noah opened the glove box to look for something to write on and saw the envelope he’d stuffed in there a week ago. His jaw ticked as he yanked out the letter, screwed it up and pushed it back into the glove box. He struggled to write on the envelope, and he blamed it on the moving car but knew it was more than that. So much for thinking he was getting better.