“No problem. It’s better than a trickle, there’s hardly anything flowing out of this tap.” We exchange smiles. “Look, I don’t usually approach people I don’t know, but I’m psychic.” She immediately stops what she’s doing and looks at me, narrowing her eyes. She reacts to the word psychic: clearly it means something to her.
“Really?” she mumbles and I can see a hint of fear in her eyes. She’s a believer.
“Someone in your life is upsetting you and it’s going to get worse if you don’t walk away. I’m talking physical abuse here. Not just a black eye, but broken bones. You need to put yourself first – you’ll make the right decision although it won’t be easy. Have courage.” I thrust my hand into my pocket and pull out the crystal. “I can’t tell you anymore, but the feeling is strong. Here, take this. Keep it with you. It will give you the strength to do what you have to do.”
I hold out the clear rock on my open palm and she immediately picks it up. “Thanks,” she mumbles and I almost run to the door. I’ve done what I can. Now it’s up to her.
Seb looks up and can see I’m preparing to leave.
“A woman on a mission,” he comments. Then he looks at me intently and I grab my things, hurrying to leave before the woman returns to her table. He follows me out a minute or two later, having taken care of the bill.
“What have you done now? Is it something to do with that woman you were watching? Ceri, you have to stop acting weird. One of these days it’s going to go very badly wrong.” Despite the severity of his words he throws his arms around me. “Poor girl,” he whispers into my hair.
Walking back to the office I know that I probably deserve the telling-off Seb gave me. What was I thinking, approaching a total stranger that way? What if she leaves her partner and I’m wrong? What if the vibe I felt was for her friend and not her? I close my eyes for a few seconds and groan inwardly. When I open them it’s like someone has lifted a veil and my thoughts are clear. The message was for her and if she chooses the right path then she will be safe. My instincts tell me she will.
Alex is much happier when I arrive back in the office.
“No rest for the wicked,” I muse. It’s obvious he’s worked through lunch as the remains of a sandwich and a packet of crisps lay next to his keyboard. “I’ve made a decision. I’m not taking the promotion. I’ll tell Mason first thing tomorrow. Are you out tonight?”
He looks up at me, surprised. “Why?”
“I wondered if you wanted to come around to my place for dinner.”
“How odd, most people celebrate taking a promotion, rather than turning one down.” His smile says yes and a warm feeling creeps over me.
“Eight o’clock then. Right, what’s next on the hit list?”
Chapter Six – Baring All
As Alex walks over the threshold, he hands me a beautifully hand-tied bunch of flowers. “Oh, thank you. It really wasn’t necessary, my cooking isn’t that good.”
He grins at me and it’s a good feeling.
“I can’t believe I haven’t invited you around before now.”
“Well, I’d wondered if you were ever going to get around to it!” he retorts. A part of me hopes he’s really thinking ‘it’s about time.’
Our pre-dinner chat is easy and we start on the wine. I’d never noticed before, but he has the sexiest wrists I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing an expensive pair of jeans and a white linen shirt, with the sleeves folded back to his elbow. He has this thin, brown leather tie and the knot is pulled loosely so that it hangs mid-chest level. The top two buttons of his shirt are open and his neck looks inviting. I feel shocked at my reaction and I suppose it’s because I’m used to seeing him in work clothes. His hair is immaculate, his skin is smooth. He’s a man who pays attention to detail. I notice that he never comments on what I wear and he doesn’t appear to have noticed the effort I’ve put in tonight on his behalf. But I haven’t asked him here to try to seduce him because I see him as a challenge, although a part of me thinks it’s such a waste of a perfect guy. I want him to know about the other side of me because our friendship is so strong. I trust him.
He picks at a bowl of olives as he sits on the stool by the butcher’s block, watching me prepare the pasta.
“So why did you ask me around? Is this a date?” he muses, and it throws me. There’s a hint of seriousness in his voice and I begin to feel a little embarrassed.
“We never talk much about out of work stuff. I thought it would be nice to share a few things.” My voice is even but the nerves are starting to kick in. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Why spoil the relationship we have?
“I thought you preferred it that way.” He shrugs off my comment a little too easily. “Unless, of course, you are finally going to share your dark secret with me.” I spin around in surprise at his words and our eyes meet.
“Only if you share yours,” I retort. He looks down at his drink and then pops another olive into his mouth.
“That depends,” his voice is quiet, gentle. I’ve touched a raw nerve.
“On what?”
“On how honest you are going to be with me.”
Suddenly I feel that this is intense and it’s not what I was expecting. I thought we’d laugh and chat like girlfriends. Maybe he’d admit to being gay and we could talk meaningfully about the dates he’s been on since joining the website. Then I could bare my soul about my angels. For some inexplicable reason I think Alex would understand.
As if it was planned, we reach for our wine glasses in unison and raise them towards each other, toasting the evening ahead.
***
After a bottle and a half of California’s finest rosé Grenache we’re both feeling rather mellow. Dinner, thankfully, is much lighter and we talk about our respective childhoods. It feels cathartic, like starting our friendship anew, leaving behind everything connected to work. I wonder how wise it is to take the lid off the box – to look inside each other’s lives with honesty. But in truth I’m in need of a friend I can trust who is around all the time and I feel Alex has a similar need. It strikes me he’s a chameleon: different things to different people. Is that a coincidence? When he’s with Mason he’s more macho, even his tone becomes more assertive and clipped. With me he’s… well, genderless is the way I would describe it. It’s only recently I’ve allowed myself to think of him in any way other than a colleague, simply because I didn’t think he was into women. I wonder if it’s been the same for him because I’ve kept my distance.
“Sorry?” I don’t catch his words; they are obscured by the clatter of plates while I clear the table. I turn around to look at him. I watch as he drops down onto the sofa and stretches out. I think it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.
“I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking and I’ve had far too much already,” he repeats.
“Me too! My head is kind of spinning at the moment. Chill and I’ll make two strong cups of coffee.” I half expect him to vault up from the sofa and offer to make it, but he’s content to relax and that makes me feel I’m being a good host. I smile to myself as I take the empty glasses out to the kitchen.
When I return Alex looks very comfortable, his body melting into the cushions. He takes a first sip of his coffee and grimaces. “You’re right.”
I slip off my shoes and sit down, swinging my legs up to chill out. “What’s that?”
“I do make the best coffee.” Positioned at either end of the long sofa and facing each other, we can’t exactly avoid eye contact
“I’m being honest. I thought that was what you wanted.” I’m beginning to see why he said he was a lightweight, alcohol lowers his inhibitions.
“Who’s going to go first?” Our eyes meet and he breaks into that stupid grin of his. “Oh, so that would be me then,” I remark, trying to sound a little put out. He laughs and settles back, wriggling to sink even further into the cushions.
“Where to start… Seb and I are very different. I know we’re non-id
entical twins and that’s obvious, but I have a gene that he hasn’t inherited, or so it would seem.” I look up at him, but he’s looking away and appears to be listening intently. I take that as a sign he wants me to say my piece.
“He’s the adrenalin junkie, the party animal and anything technical sparks his interest. I inherited the artistic gene and a sort of sensitivity.” I pause, we exchange a quick glance and then he looks away. The silence is a little awkward if I’m honest and I wonder how far I should go. “I have these episodes of déjà vu, a sensation of premonition and I keep a journal of every single incident I experience.”
It’s my turn to stretch out and study him. A few minutes pass in total silence and this time it feels heavy. You could hear a pin drop.
“I see. How long has this been going on?” His voice suddenly sounds very sober and I’m relieved that he’s taking me seriously.
“A long time, maybe forever. An incident is one of my earliest childhood memories.”
“I’m no expert, but I have a mild interest in all things psychic. I’ve read a few books, I see you’ve read some of the same ones.” He points to my groaning bookshelves. “Apparently we are all born with the ability to sense things but we bow to the general opinion that it’s rather flaky.”
I laugh at his choice of word.
“Flaky? I’d say unacceptable, unbelievable maybe – either way, things really do happen around me and it’s not something over which I appear to have any control. And that’s the problem. I simply want to be normal.”
Now it’s Alex’s turn to laugh at me.
“Define normal.” I sense a slightly bitter edge to his voice. Maybe Alex too feels different, only the reasons aren’t the same.
“Well, not seeing angels would be a good start,” my voice wavers slightly. I monitor the reaction on his face.
“Ah, I see. I didn’t realise it was that heavy. I knew there was something and, if I’m honest, I suspected you had a perceptive nature.”
I look at him rather shocked. “Does it show? I try very hard not to bring my personal life to work. Has anyone guessed?”
“Don’t worry,” he waves a hand. “It’s more something I feel when I’m around you. That you’re holding things back and that’s why I’ve never pushed for more information. Besides, I love working with you.” He moves his foot to touch mine. “You’re the sister I never had,” he jokes.
I kick his foot away, pretending to be insulted. Was I hoping for more?
“Okay, your turn. What’s your little secret?”
Alex puts his empty coffee cup on the floor and sits forward, stretching.
“You think I’m not interested in women,” he turns his head sideways to look at me before he continues. “I’m not. I’m only interested in one woman, and for some really obscure reason it’s not meant to be.”
He looks sad, no – more than that – beaten. It had never occurred to me that he was nursing a broken heart.
“I’m so sorry Alex. I never thought for one moment… and the dating agency?”
“It’s lonely at times,” he says, and it’s almost a whisper. “Rather sad for a guy in his early thirties. However, I’ve realised that I’m not prepared to settle. Maybe some men are born to be single. I enjoy my own company, so I can’t exactly complain.”
I move around to sit up next to him. If you put a few books in between us we’d be a great set of bookends. Still, like statues, each consumed by our own thoughts. Sharing a sense of sadness for the things that life has given us to deal with.
“I think I need another drink,” I say, heading off to grab what’s left of the wine and two fresh glasses. It’s going to be a long night.
***
I squint as the light filters in through the window. Closing one eye to avoid the brightness, I wonder why I forgot to close the curtains last night. My arm flops over the side of the bed and I stretch, my head beginning to clear a little. Oh, I’m never going to drink too much ever again. I haven’t said that since I was a teen and had a drunken session with a couple of girlfriends. Hearing a groan, I roll over and my stomach does a queasy flip. Alex is next to me, thankfully facing the other way. I wriggle slightly and realise I’m naked.
I guess it was a night best forgotten, but a part of me would love to recall all of the details. It might just have been the best night of my life so far…
Chapter Seven – Letting Go
Mason doesn’t take my rejection well. When I break the news to him, I realise there was definitely a little more to it than simply turning down a promotion and accompanying him to a few events. Fortunately I have a week’s leave planned leading up to the wedding. I only have to get through today, however that also makes it rather awkward with regard to Alex and last night. By the time he stirred this morning, I was long gone I should imagine. I’d jumped into my jogging bottoms and t-shirt virtually the moment I opened my eyes and headed out for my usual run. When I arrived back home, the bed was stripped and the linen had been placed in the washing basket. He’d tidied up the kitchen and left a note.
A great evening, lovely company. Appreciated, Alex
I know that we have to address the elephant in the room before I leave work this afternoon. I couldn’t bear spending the next week wondering if it meant anything. At lunchtime I suggest we go out to grab a takeaway sandwich, figuring it’s easier to talk when we don’t have to look each other in the face.
“I know this is awkward, but we can’t ignore last night as if it never happened.”
“Agreed, but I’ve been struggling as I’m not sure what to say. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. There’s one thing I do need to ask you,” he turns to me, but I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the pavement ahead.
“Was it comfort sex? Please don’t say it was pity sex.”
Guess he’s answered the awkward question whirling around in my head then, although I’m beginning to get a few flashbacks of some rather passionate clinches. It’s all a bit vague still, but one thing I know for sure – it wouldn’t have been either of those. I’m really attracted to Alex and even without total recollection, the bits I can remember were hot. We both let our barriers down and it’s a long time since a man has held me like that. My heart performs a totally unexpected backflip and my cheeks begin to burn.
***
As often happens, the nervousness and sense of expectancy hovering around me while I dress for the wedding feels weighted by something else. It’s a nagging worry that is growing by the minute, to the extent that I slink away unobserved and head up to the second floor of the hotel. The guys’ rooms are two-one-five through to two-two-nine, but I have no idea which one is Seb’s. I hang around until I see a face walking towards me that I recognise.
“Hi Ceri, are you looking for Seb?”
“Yes, I wasn’t sure which room was his,” I’m trying my best to remain calm and Tom doesn’t seem to notice anything strange. He points to two-one-seven and I tap gently on the door, then more urgently when there’s no reply.
“Seb, it’s me,” I whisper and he opens the door.
“Ceri, great timing. Can you sort this bow tie for me?” My brother looks amazing. A kilt suits him and I can’t stop myself throwing my arms around him. Tears start leaking out of my eyes all over the place and he lifts me away from him to look at me.
“Hey, I’m getting married not getting the death sentence.” He frowns when I don’t laugh.
“Seb, I have a bad feeling. It’s strong,” I almost whimper.
Seb rolls his eyes and groans. “Not now Ceri, not today. Please, for my sake and Anna’s. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say tomorrow at the family lunch, but for today let’s keep it light.”
I’ve upset him and the fact that he’s offering to listen to me at all, shows how much I’m unsettling him. There’s more than concern for simply upsetting Anna though, I can see a fleeting moment of hesitation. Does he feel just the tiniest little vibe too?
I’m left wondering, when Tom sud
denly appears and the others begin to filter into the room. I hurriedly wipe my eyes, giving them all a watery smile.
“Best go touch up my make-up!” I say lightly. I know they all think I’m emotional because it’s Seb’s big day.
When I arrive back at the girls’ main dressing room it’s chaotic. No one seems to take any notice as I sit down and begin scrubbing off my make-up with a moisturising pad to begin all over again. It isn’t until Anna’s mum comes into the room looking rather fraught that I realise Anna went to the bathroom at the same time I went to find Seb. Looking around I can’t see her and a chill hits my stomach. Several of the girls are still having their hair done and there’s a sense of mild panic because the clock is ticking. That’s not what I’m picking up. The feeling I have is overwhelming, as if it’s the pre-cursor to a disaster. I overhear Anna’s mum asking if someone can go down to reception.
“What’s wrong?” I ask Anna’s best friend, Eva.
“Wedding nerves, it will be fine. Anna’s feeling sick and a bit faint. I’m sure all she needs is a valium to calm her down.” Eva sounds confident, but something constricts my heart like a band has just been placed around it. I scan the room, looking for a spirit – anything out of the norm. But all I can see are bobbing heads, curling tongs being pulled high into the air while two hairdressers work quickly to add finishing touches. Then everything is in slow motion. I raise my hand in front of my face and even that seems to take forever to move the few inches from my lap. I’m on my feet and running back up to the second floor before I have time to think about what I’m doing. I hear myself screaming Seb’s name and when his door opens he runs towards me.
***
“No, no, no…” the tissues in my hand are soggy and the person sitting next to me grabs another handful, thrusting them at me. I have no idea who she is, but she’s crying too. How can anyone accept what has happened today? Where is Seb?
One of the hotel staff enters the room carrying a tray of glasses of water, orange juice and tea. She does the rounds in silence, her face immobile. All around are little groups of people, huddled together. Some are still crying, others look ashen. Most of the family members are nowhere to be seen. How can this have happened? How can someone so radiant and happy suddenly let go of life as if it were a tenuous thread? Anna was healthy, this was the day about which she had dreamed all of her life. A part of me knows that I can’t be with Seb at the moment and that he can’t be with me, but I need to find out who’s with him.
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