Kirsty normally quailed before her fury but now she looked back, straight into her eyes and replied with mock seriousness.
“Yes Claire.”
Infuriated at not being able to rattle Kirsty, she mimicked. “Yes Claire! Yes Claire! Yes Claire! How can I have a bloody fight with you if you agree with me all the time? Have you no shame?”
Kirsty replied with another grin. “No Claire.”
“I told you I didn’t want him in my house.”
“It’s not your house,” Kirsty replied reasonably. “It’s our house.”
It began to dawn on Claire that things were not going as they should and that she had somehow lost a battle she didn’t even know she’d been fighting.
“I don’t want you to see him again,” she blustered.
Kirsty looked back defiantly.
“I’m a woman now, I can decide for myself.”
Claire felt her eyes go wide. She was looking at a young woman, not a girl she could dominate any longer. Astonishment replaced anger and she felt a reluctant admiration. She respected people who stood up to her.
“Oh! what’s the bloody use,” she sighed “You must have been desperate to do it with that creep.”
Kirsty refused to rise to the bait. “You make it sound sordid Claire.” She hugged her arms round herself. “It was beautiful, and I love him.”
But Claire still nursed a bitter resentment towards Alan. “You’re my lit …” She stopped at a look from Kirsty “You’re my sister and I care about you.” Her voice rose, “but just make bloody sure he’s not in the house when I am. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him.”
“You won’t have to worry about that, I’m going to move in with him.”
Claire was shaken. “Leave?”
“Yes! We either live here for the next six weeks, or at his flat.” Kirsty sounded adamant.
“What’s so special about six weeks?”
“Alan’s going to Iraq after that for six months on a project.”
Claire, her mind in a whirl could only reply agitatedly. “You’re too young to get serious and he’s too old for you.”
“He’s only twenty-two and I’m going to marry him.”
“MARRY HIM!” Claire felt the blood drain from her face. She sat down again. “Over my dead body! I won’t have that pig for a brother-in-law.”
“You won’t have any choice in the matter.” Kirsty moved closer to her and smiled at her affectionately. “And while we’re on about filthy disgusting sluts. Why was there a sock, a shoe and a pair of men’s trousers in the linen cupboard this morning?” Claire felt her antagonism suddenly crumble. She grinned sheepishly and the next minute they were in each other’s arms giggling hysterically. They recovered, and Kirsty asked, “So how about you accept Alan?”
But Claire was adamant. “No way!” she vowed. “Don’t push your luck my girl.”
“I’ll move in with him then.” Kirsty declared. Claire was appalled at the prospect, but realised from Kirsty’s set determination that it was useless to argue at present.
Kirsty jumped up. “I’m going in to Dundee to shop, I’d better get a move on.”
“What are you shopping for?” Kirsty looked down and grimaced.
“A new pair of jeans.”
Claire sighed. “Remember the house insurance is due this month, don’t go overboard.”
“Don’t be such a meanie Claire,” Kirsty grinned. “I’ve had these for six months now, they’re ancient.”
Claire sighed. It was hard to make ends meet at the best of times, but with a young sister who insisted on wearing stylish clothes, she shook her head. She thought about Kirsty’s new-found confidence. She’d tried hard to be both a mother and big sister to her, and had done her best during her growing up, however she had to admit, it was something of a relief not to have to worry any longer about Kirsty’s sexual initiation. If only it hadn’t been with Alan, anyone rather than him. She felt hostility rising at the thought of him and yet, somewhere, deep inside her she felt a softness. She shook her head angrily and turned her thoughts to the previous night’s passion. She might have Frank to stay for a few nights and blow any neighbourhood gossip. She had a holiday due soon and the prospect of long warm afternoons, lazing and pottering about, plus perhaps Frank’s company at night, cheered her up.
After he left Frank, Alan’s thoughts turned to Kirsty and the fight, remembering the way she’d thrown herself onto the back of the youth holding him, the way she’d frightened the youths, spitting like a wildcat, the feeling of her body as she’d strained against him trying to get at them. It had done something to him to realise she would defend him like that at the risk of injury to herself.
When he reached his room he almost retched as he opened the door and a smell of stale alcohol, and mustiness greeted him. He got started immediately. He stripped the bed, undressed and had a shower and shave. He put on a complete set of fresh clothes, dumping all the ones he’d been wearing into a large plastic bag, along with all the used towels and bed linen. He gave his room a thorough clean, collecting bottles, cans and other rubbish in a bin bag which he dumped in the outside skip. He cleaned the fridge which was in a disgusting state, the milk curdled. As he sat munching a piece of toast and drinking black coffee after his cleaning marathon, his thoughts returned to Kirsty. Yesterday evening he’d been in despair, now here he was preparing for her to move in with him! He glanced at his watch, the laundrette should be open now. He looked around, wrinkled his nose and left his window wide open when he left. When he returned, laden with the laundry and shopping, he remade his bed with clean linen and tidied the washing away. At the university, he found a note from Dr. Taylor, asking him to meet. He finished his thesis, then got started on the preparatory work for the trip to Iraq.
Waiting on the union steps, his heart gave a leap when he saw Kirsty’s slim girlish figure approaching. She was wearing jeans, which looked new, and the green jumper she’d worn at their first meeting. It seemed so long ago so he was surprised when he realised it was only three weeks. He bounded down the steps, flung his arms around her and kissed her.
This time she didn’t pull away, but savoured her body pressing and trembling against him, and the sweetness of her breath and mouth changing to a hot musk. She pulled away and hid her face against his chest to give her emotions time to cool. They held each other for a while.
“You look wonderful,” Alan said eventually, holding her at arm’s length.
“I think you have something to do with that,” she murmured. Over coffee, she told him about the conversation with Claire. “She’s so pig headed, she won’t have you in the house.”
“She’ll come around in time,” Alan consoled her.
“Can I move in with you this afternoon?” Kirsty appealed
Alan held her face in his hands and looked directly into her eyes. His voice was serious. “Only if you are sure, Kirsty.”
Her eyes seemed to look at something around him, then came back to look directly into his.
“I’m sure Alan.” He drew in a sudden long breath. She continued, “I’ll be starting work in three weeks, I’ll be able to pay my share.”
The talk of money made him feel uncomfortable. He argued. “I’ve still got some of my grant left, and I’ve worked every vacation for the last four years and saved. You’ll need to save for university. I’ll be working when I get back from Iraq, I’ve had some good job offers already.”
“I still want to pay my share,” Kirsty insisted.
He pulled her to his chest and buried his face in her hair. He rubbed the strands between his finger and thumb. Something about the play of colours woke a strange memory of another place, another time. He pushed her gently back and tipped her chin up. “Kirsty?” his voice was serious.
“Yes Alan?” Her eyes seemed too big for her face, his heart seemed suddenly too big for his chest.
“When I come back from Iraq,” he hesitated. Kirsty waited. “What I mean is …”
Alan took a deep breath. “You know what we talked about yesterday?”
“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
He went on in a rush. “Well I’ve found the other half of myself. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” He took another deep breath and his speech slowed to normal. “I want to ask you to marry me right now, but you’re so young and I feel I might be rushing you into something. But I’ll ask you when I come back from Iraq, and you can decide then, if you want me.” Kirsty opened her mouth, but he put his fingers over her lips. “Don’t say anything now. I just want you to know that I’m serious.”
She buried her face in his chest again and he stroked her hair while she cried. They caught their bus and walked hand in hand to Kirsty’s house where she packed a few necessary clothes and belongings. She left a short note for Claire, telling her she loved her and not to worry as she would be back for a visit soon. She gave Bonny a stroke
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” she whispered.
She stopped to look round the room that had been hers for as long as she could remember. She smiled at the teddy bear sitting on her pillow, and felt it was somehow symbolic, as if she was leaving her childhood behind.
She called. “Bye Fluff,” then left holding Alan’s hand.
Chapter 34
Alan followed Kirsty through the door of his room, sniffing surreptitiously behind her back, breathing a sigh of relief when he found his room smelling fresher. While she unpacked, he transferred the contents of three of the drawers in his built-in wardrobe to others to make space for her effects.
As she prowled around the room, examining and touching, he watched the way she moved, the way she turned her head, and the feminine way she posed, when she knew he was watching. He grinned at her.
She sat beside him on the bed and he nuzzled her neck.
“I’ve got to see Doctor Taylor at the university. Do you want to stay here for a while or do you want to come with me?”
“I’ll tidy up the room a bit if that’s all right?” she looked at him.
He hugged her. “It’s your room as well now, anything you do will be okay with me.” After a few long kisses, he left reluctantly, promising not to be too long.
She followed him to the door and watched until he turned the corner, then came back to sit on the bed, smiling and feeling a deep contentment. She looked around. The room was small, with a toilet and shower, and a tiny cooking alcove. The walls were drab magnolia. The only brightness was his duvet cover, which was patterned in vivid red and blue squares, and a poster on the wall of a Red Indian brave amid a herd of stampeding buffalo, holding a burning torch high in the twilight, creating a small island of safety in which his wife sat, seemingly unconcerned, while she nursed her baby. She spent some time looking at it and thinking.
There were no frills, just the bare necessities for living, with nothing, except the poster, to show the personality of the occupant. She smiled as she remembered how she’d invited herself here to dry off. She’d been irritated at the time at Alan’s reaction, but she loved him for it now. She breathed deeply, feeling she was at the start of a great adventure. She looked around again, then jumped up muttering.
“Better get to work, this place is like a pigsty.”
At the university, Alan found that Dr. Taylor had arranged for a friend a Dr. Sadiq, who taught Arabic studies, to give them tuition in spoken Arabic. They were to meet in Dr. Taylor’s office. Alan accepted a large sheaf of notes and a cassette tape. They arranged a time for the first meeting.
When he returned he found Kirsty with her sleeves rolled up, giving his room a thorough clean, with the communal vacuum cleaner she’d somehow managed to find. He’d imagined he’d cleaned it well enough himself and pictured her reaction if she’d seen it earlier. She would have walked right out again.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“I’m just about finished,” she replied, flashing him a smile.
He sat on the end of the bed watching her. She switched the vacuum cleaner off, wound the cable up and humped it out of the room then reappeared a few moments later, stroking her face from her brow to her neck.
“I’m going to have a shower, I’m filthy,” she complained. She undressed, glancing at him occasionally, then leaving her clothes in a heap on the floor, stepped into the shower compartment.
He eyed her retreating back, her waist swelling out to her hips, her slim legs, the delightful wiggle of her bottom. He felt his face flush, but suppressed his lascivious thoughts and started reading Dr. Sadiq’s notes.
He heard the shower switch off and looked up to see Kirsty laying a towel on the floor then stepping onto it to dry herself with a large fluffy bath towel. She looked directly into his eyes as if searching. He gave her a big grin. She smiled back then finished drying herself. She came to sit beside him on the bed and began to dry her hair vigorously with the towel. As she rose to get her hairbrush and comb, he watched the play of her muscles as she moved.
“Can I help?” he asked.
She looked him directly in the eyes again then smiled. “If you want.”
She handed over the brush and the comb. He liked the feel of her hair in his fingers, getting only an occasional yelp when he pulled too hard at tangles. His eyes kept straying to the curve of her neck and he had to resist the almost overwhelming urge to kiss the creamy skin. He finished, and she rose to inspect herself in the mirror.
“Let’s go out for dinner to celebrate the start of our life together,” he suggested.
Her face lit up. “I’ve never been out for a real dinner before.”
“That will make it special then,” he promised. He kept forgetting how young she was. He touched her cheek.
She looked up at him. “I love you Alan,” she murmured, her voice low and husky.
She saw him bend his head. Her lips parted, and her eyes closed. He stood a little away as he kissed her. His lips were soft, the way she remembered from the first kiss. It felt right. They separated. She flashed him a smile, then turned to look through her wardrobe to choose a dress.
“Is this all right?” she asked him. “It’s the only dress I have with me.”
“It’s perfect,” she was assured.
She was aware of him watching while she dressed, but she didn’t mind. She watched him put on his tie and jacket, brush his hair then turning, and smiling he looked her up and down.
“You’re beautiful,” she was assured.
They wandered down to the town centre, holding hands and window shopping, then to a French restaurant near the university where the waiter seated them with some ceremony. They studied the menu over drinks, then ordered. Alan watched Kirsty glancing around the room, he supposed she was taking note of what the women diners were wearing. The waiter appeared with their first course and placed it in front of them with a flourish and a few words of French, then departed, wishing them “Bon Appetit.”
‘Probably born and bred in Dundee,’ Alan thought, but Kirsty seemed suitably impressed. They chatted happily during the three courses.
“Enjoy it?” he asked her as they left.
“It was marvellous,” she breathed, her eyes sparkling.
They held each other close as they strolled down to the river. They walked halfway across the Tay Road Bridge and watched the reflection of the sunset on the waters of the estuary with a warm, breeze blowing through their hair. She glanced sideways at him. His hands were on the rail of the bridge, his head raised, his eyes fixed on the coast of St. Andrews in the distance, watching an oil rig being towed by a trio of tugs. The breeze ruffled his hair. There was something inside him she thought, something she envied, something of a poet, a dreamer, something she wanted to share, but sensed as a woman she might not understand. She wanted to ask him where his thoughts went, but didn’t know how.
‘I love you.’ The thought seemed to come not only from herself, but from something watching insi
de her.
He gave a start as if he’d heard, then turned, his eyes focusing on her. She felt his smile engulf her, pulling her into his awareness with a frightening intensity.
“Shall we go back now Alan?” she asked. He seemed to sense her mood and circled her waist with his arm and drew her close. She felt she wanted to stop breathing. She wanted them to make love and never stop.
They walked back to his room with their arms around each other, getting a smile from the warden when they passed his office. They sat for a while talking over coffee, then made joyous love, and slept, held tightly in each other’s arms.
When Claire arrived home, she sensed the emptiness as soon as she entered and knew that Kirsty had left. She found Kirsty’s note and her lips tightened into a straight line, realising that they were now a couple and if she rejected Alan, she would lose Kirsty. She would be back though when Alan left for Iraq, and maybe the separation would do its work, she consoled herself. The romance might fizzle out, a lot could happen in six months. She phoned Frank who sounded eager to come for dinner, so she started preparing a meal, and dug out a bottle of wine. She remembered the outrageous black lingerie Kirsty had bought her for Christmas, and decided to dress up.
“That should liven things up,” she told herself with a smile.
As she waited for him to arrive, she wondered how she’d ever gone off him. When he’d fallen on top of her and knocked the breath out of her she’d found it intensely arousing. Maybe it was his weight on top of her? or the feeling of helplessness? Maybe she needed a man to dominate her? She thought of Alan and gave a snort of contempt.
When Frank arrived, she welcomed him happily. It turned out to be a successful evening. They talked, kissed had dinner, kissed again until by mutual consent they moved to the bedroom, where she discovered her lingerie had the desired effect.
Alan awoke with a strand of Kirsty’s hair tickling his nose. She was clinging to him even in her dreams. His hand was under the pillow, supporting her head. It felt cramped, but he didn’t move it. He stroked the errant strand of hair back into place, then lay studying her face. The early morning sun was shining through the window behind her, turning her red gold hair into a halo around her head and setting alight the downy golden fuzz on her cheeks. He watched a slow pulse beating at her throat and eyed the long golden eyelashes resting on her freckles. He drank in the uninhibited sensuousness of her mouth, wondering how so much beauty could be concentrated in one person. She gave a start as he touched her lips with his finger. Her eyes fluttered open and he watched her dawning awareness of him, then her glad welcoming smile.
Love Patterns Page 24