Perhaps this was the perfect way to do things – we’ve skipped the awkward fumbling and bra-unhooking and trying to find a way for two tall people to undress in a camper van with any shred of dignity. We didn’t have to hop around on one leg getting pants off, or worry about a slow reveal – we just went for it. The stuff of dreams.
‘I did like what I saw,’ I reply, running my fingers along the muscles of his shoulders, feeling a childish urge to shriek: ‘Mine, all mine!’
‘But the first time I saw you, I thought you might be Edward Cullen, so that didn’t really count. The second time, you were in here with Rick Grimes, and I was hiding in the bushes. It was the day I delivered Baby Groot, and I was all a-blush while I watched you.’
He finishes nuzzling my neck, and moves back to my lips for a few minutes, one hand on my back, keeping me close.
‘Was that the day the rains came? I was actually thinking about you at exactly that moment. The rain started to lash down, and at first I was going to get out – but then I thought, hmm, what would Willow do? She’d tell me to loosen up. She’d tell me to be brave, and live in the moment – so I just laughed and laughed and laughed.’
‘You did. I saw you. And while you thought I’d tell you to be brave, I was lurking in the shrubbery, being a coward.’
‘Doesn’t matter. You’re here now, aren’t you? All good things come to those who wait. Now, not that I’m not finding this every inch the erotic adventure, but I’m freezing my arse off.’
I give the arse in question a squeeze, and say: ‘It still feels all there to me …’
‘Whatever you just did, I couldn’t feel it. My arse extremities have gone numb. Let’s go back to the camper and … well, let’s go back to the camper, and see what happens.’
‘I know what’s going to happen,’ I say, swimming away from him to the bank and clambering out. I strut away from him towards our clothes, and know he’s staring at my extremity as well. I give it a little waggle, just to let him know.
‘What?’ he says, catching me up. I pause, and look at him, wet and glistening and gorgeous. He’s there, and he’s real. He’s not Edward Cullen – he’s even better.
‘I’m going to take you back there, and do terrible things to you.’
‘How terrible?’ he says, pulling on his Levis – he leaves his boxers off, I notice, which will definitely save time later.
‘Terribly terrible. They might even make Baby Groot blush.’
He grabs hold of me before I have a chance to put my top back on, and wraps me up in his arms, crushing my breasts up against his chest.
‘That,’ he says, smoothing damp hair away from my face, ‘sounds terribly wonderful.’
Chapter 27
Later, after terrible and wonderful things have happened, we are lying together in the bed of the camper van. We’re both deliciously tired, and have topped up our energy levels with the Mars Bars. For some reason the celery didn’t seem as attractive an option.
I’m in his arms, the duvet cover is tangled around our legs, and I’m feeling such a warm glow I could light up a cigarette. You know, if I smoked.
‘What are you thinking?’ I ask, poking him in the ribs. He’s staring up at the roof, eyes distant, with a look of intense concentration on his face. Other men, I’d guess, would be asleep and snoring by now – but as ever, his brain is whirring away.
‘Well, I was thinking …’ he says, grinning at me. ‘About those glow in the dark condoms.’
‘Okay. They were useful. But how much thought can you really give a glow in the dark condom?’
‘I was thinking,’ he says, laughing at himself, ‘that they would be extremely handy in the case of our much-discussed zombie apocalypse. You know, if the electricity was cut, and we hadn’t been able to raid a supermarket for batteries?’
‘You’re right,’ I reply, laughing with him. ‘All we’d need to do is keep you in a permanent state of arousal, and you could lead our rag tag gang of maverick survivors to safety.’
‘Ah, well, that’s what I was thinking about – me being in a permanent state of arousal isn’t practical, is it? Much as I adore you and have no doubts that you could make that happen, it would be tricky. It’d also give the zombies a really obvious target, and I don’t fancy that at all. I was thinking that we could put the glow in the dark condoms on sticks, and use them like lanterns. What do you think?’
I run my hands over the firm planes of his stomach, and kiss his chest. The combination of this body and that totally unique brain is completely irresistible.
‘I think you’re a genius. We’d definitely all survive if you were in charge.’
‘Good,’ he says, kissing my hair. ‘I feel like a proper alpha male now.’
We lie quietly, both happily lost in our thoughts and our fatigue. It’s dark outside, now, and the only light comes from a small lamp in the shape of Yoda’s head. It lets off an eerie green glow, just enough to show me that Baby Groot is in the windowsill, watching us. I half expect him to wave his little pipe cleaner arms and do a funky dance.
The rest of the camper … well, it looks like it’s been hit by Hurricane Willow. My bag is dumped on the floor, various items of my clothing are strewn around, and my two goody bags have been emptied onto the table. It all looks a lot less tidy than it usually does, and I have a brief moment of anxiety when I wonder if I’m his Auburn, and all this chaos will drive him nuts.
‘Is this okay?’ I ask, suddenly concerned. ‘Me being here, and messing up your space like this?’
He turns my head up to face him, and kisses my nose.
‘What do you mean? It’s more than okay. I needed a bit of mess in my life – you know that.’
‘Yeah, but … it’s annoying when someone comes along and does things differently, isn’t it? Changes everything up? Even if you’re happy to have them, it can be annoying.’
‘I don’t think you’re talking about me any more,’ he says, accurately. ‘And honestly, no – I like it. I like the fact that your knickers are hanging off the taps, and your bag is set up like a booby trap by the door, and your celery is weirdly staring at me from the counter, like it’s planning my death. I like it all. I’ve lived alone for so long.’
He sounds so wistful when he says this, and I wrap my legs around him so he’s completely engulfed in me. Even before his parents died, I get the impression that his was a solitary life. He might never have had brothers and sisters who drove him nuts, and he might always have had his own room, but he also missed out on all the good stuff – the chaos and the camaraderie and the shared lunacy of family life.
The stuff that the rest of us take for granted. Even my siblings tormenting me was better than being alone, at least they knew I existed. I was always at the heart of a big, loud, bonkers world – one that wasn’t perfect, but was always vibrant and alive.
‘This must be a big change for you,’ I say, quietly. ‘I understand why you haven’t exactly been at the heart of the social whirl. You’ve basically been alone your whole life.’
He cuddles me tighter, and I hear him sigh in the darkness.
‘It is a big change. But it’s a change for the better. I know you’ve been scared … worried about how we’d manage this, given everything else you’ve got going on. But, at the risk of blowing my newly found alpha male image, I’ve been scared too. I’ve never had this before. I’ve never felt this kind of connection before. I’ve been happy enough, in my own weird way – but meeting you? Being here, in this place? It’s like I’ve suddenly woken up in a whole new world.’
I fight the inappropriate urge to sing the Aladdin song, and reply: ‘Well. We’re both taking a risk, aren’t we? On life. On each other. On glow in the dark condoms.’
‘On killer celery.’
‘On catching pneumonia in ponds.’
‘On Baby Groot filming us and putting a sex tape on the internet.’
‘On everything …’
‘Yep,’ he says, tugging the duvet
up so it’s actually covering us. ‘On everything. I’m a regular daredevil these days, thanks to you. I’ve … well, I’ve had a wonderful day. An even better night. So – thank you, Willow.’
At that point my phone beeps, telling me a text has landed. I climb on top of him, so I can reach it on the floor, and stay there, straddling him, while I read it.
‘Everything okay?’ he asks, his hands on my hips.
‘Yeah,’ I answer, putting the phone back down. I stay on top of him though – because why not? ‘Just Auburn, telling me they’re both still alive, and sending me an assortment of 2,000 emojis. She’s like a teenager.’
I lean down, and kiss him, my hair swishing around both our faces. I hear an owl hooting outside, and I know what it’s telling me – it’s telling me to go for it. That life’s too short for playing games. That this man is worth going all out for. Or maybe it’s just seen an especially juicy field mouse for its tea, who knows? I’m not one to ignore the wisdom of owls though – they’re famous for it.
‘Tom Mulligan,’ I say, sitting upright and placing my hands on his chest. ‘Inventor of the flange bracket. Owner of Briarwood, and the world’s best collection of movie-related T-shirts … I love you.’
I see his eyes widen, and have a momentary jolt in my tummy, like I’ve driven over an especially bouncy dip in the road. I’m going to shoot that owl if this goes bad.
He reaches up, and holds my hair back, and pulls me down for a deep, sensual kiss. When he’s finished, he says: ‘Willow Longville, owner of bright pink hair and the most generous heart I’ve ever encountered – I love you too.’
I collapse down onto him, and he rolls me to his side, and wraps me up in his arms, head resting on his chest. The owl hoots, telling me well done, and I close my eyes, smiling against his skin.
I feel suddenly exhausted, in the nicest way possible. My breath slows, and my limbs turn to liquid, and I know I’m going to have the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Because I have never, in all of my life, felt quite so safe – or quite so happy.
Chapter 28
I’m in such a deep sleep when the phone wakes me up that I haven’t even been dreaming. I’ve been utterly comatose, snuggled up with Tom under the duvet, lost in our mutual calm.
I have my phone set to sound like one of those old phones – the ones with dials instead of buttons – and for a moment it feels like I’m in a scene from a black and white movie; that I’m Sherlock Holmes about to be called in to consult on a case at Scotland Yard.
Tom murmurs and moves beside me, and slowly my conscious rises to the surface. Damn that fiendish Moriarty and his dastardly ways.
I clamber over Tom, and grab my phone from the table. I’m still groggy, and wiping sleep from my eyes, and see that it is just after 5 a.m. – just after 5 a.m., and Auburn is calling me.
I suddenly sober up, the traces of sex and sleep fleeing my body to be replaced by an unpleasant surge of adrenaline – the kind you get when you trip up, even if you manage to stay upright.
‘It’s me! I’m here!’ I say, as soon as my fumbling fingers manage to answer the call. ‘What’s wrong?’
I don’t think I’m being presumptuous asking this – there’s no way Auburn would call me this early just to ask where the granola is. At least I don’t think she would.
‘She’s not here!’ Auburn says, the panic in her voice immediately communicating itself to my brain. I take a deep breath, and try to stay calm – both of us freaking out isn’t going to help anybody. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, and now shivering. I hear Tom moving around behind me, and nod at him gratefully as he covers my shoulders with the duvet.
‘Okay. Do you mean she’s not in the house?’
‘What else would I bloody mean? I got up for a wee, and checked in on her, and she’s not there. Her bed is empty!’
‘Calm down, Auburn,’ I say, even if I don’t feel it myself. Tom has realised something is afoot, and is quietly getting dressed, pulling on his jeans and flicking the Yoda lamp on.
‘Is the bed still warm?’ I ask.
‘What? How would I know? What does that matter?’
I feel like reaching down the phone line and throttling her, but luckily technology isn’t that advanced yet. I remind myself that she’s a novice at all this, and that’s not her fault.
‘Go and check. Just touch the sheets. If they’re still warm, it means she’s not been gone long, and won’t have made it far.’
I hear her make a ‘humph’ sound as the logic hits her, and the sound of her walking through the house. A few moments later, she says: ‘No. Stone cold. Oh God. What does that mean? What should I do?’
‘First of all, stop going nuts. That won’t help Mum, or you. This has happened before, and there are a few places she usually aims for. The café, the Community Centre in the village, and possibly this place – Briarwood. I’m here already, so I’ll start at this end. I’ll call Cal and Zoe, they’re in the village and can look there. You set off for the café – she takes the footpaths over the field and then the coastal track. If we don’t find her straightaway, I’ll get the others on the hunt. Don’t worry. We’ll find her. It’ll be okay.’
I hear her sucking in air, trying to calm herself down, and the sound of her pulling on her boots. I also hear the sound of rain, hammering away on the roof of the camper van – looks like April is living up to its reputation, and bringing us more showers, just when we least need them. A million thoughts flit across my mind: is she wearing shoes; did she take a coat; is she lying in a ditch; will we find her by the side of a stream all grey and sickly like E.T.…
I take control of all those thoughts, and instead I say: ‘Keep your phone with you, and on. I’ll call you soon. Be careful.’
Tom has not only listened in and put two and two together, he’s already on the phone to Cal, telling him what’s happened and asking for their help. I hear Cal’s sleepy but reassuring Aussie drawl over the line, as he tells Tom they’ll get right on it. I wonder whether to call Cherie and Frank now, but decide to give it a bit longer. We might find her straightaway, and I don’t want to cause a huge drama for no reason.
I can feel the guilt starting to seep through my mind as I get dressed, hopping around trying to get my leggings on, fumbling with the laces of my boots. I sit down on the edge of the bed, frustrated at my sudden bout of clumsiness. Tom kneels down in front of me, and ties the laces for me.
‘It’s okay,’ he says quietly, holding onto my knees and looking up at me. ‘We’ll find her.’
I nod, abruptly, unable to speak. Unable to speak because right now, I’m almost paralysed by it – the guilt. What if I hadn’t had a sleepover? What if I’d stayed where I belong, with my mum?
She hadn’t seemed upset, but maybe I just chose not to see it, because I was so desperate for my night with Tom. And now my mother is lost, out there in the rain, just so I could have a shag. I cringe a little even as I think it – it’s an unfairly crude way to describe what happened between me and Tom last night – but the fact remains. I left, and she went walkabout.
I stand up, and grab my phone. Tom gives me a waterproof to wear, and we share one small, sad smile, as though marking the end of the happy times, at least for now. I escaped reality for one night – now it’s caught up with me, and is punching me in the face.
I’m feeling awful, and he knows I’m feeling awful, and he knows why – which must also make him feel awful. This has gone from blissful to bollocks in the space of one phone call, and I want to reach out to him – but I can’t. I need to concentrate now, to be practical and calm and clever. I need to find my mum, and sort out all the other crap later.
He opens the door to the camper, and it looks spooky outside. It’s that weird false dawn, a little while before true sunrise, when the light seems to filter through in a strange pale silver that stripes the sky. The rain is torrential, flattening the broad-leaved branches of the trees, splattering off the table in huge fat droplets, po
oling in the dips and valleys of the grass.
I step down, and the ground squelches beneath my feet. It’s cold, but not by any means freezing, which is something of a blessing. If she is out there, stranded, she’ll be chilled but hopefully not hypothermic. I turn around, and say to Tom: ‘Can you bring a bag with you? A blanket, some water? Just in case.’
He nods, and turns around to get them. I shelter under the canopy, and text the same to Auburn and Cal. She may well be absolutely fine – sitting in a bus stop thinking she’s about to get the express to Lyme Regis, or waiting outside the Community Centre ready to start her yoga class, or sitting on the bench that overlooks the bay, waiting for dawn so she can do her sun salutations. I have to believe that, or I’ll go mad.
Tom emerges, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head, carrying a torch. He takes my phone from my hand, and silently wraps it in a small plastic bag, the kind you keep sandwiches in. Ever the inventor. I give him a quick smile, and we set off, plunging through the darkness and the rain.
It’s heavy going, the pathways slick with mud, gnarled tree roots slippy and covered in moss, leaping up to snaggle our feet. I feel like I’m in some weird episode of Bear Grylls, hacking my way through the Amazonian rainforest. Eventually, we emerge out into the clearing at the front of the house.
Briarwood looks menacing in the half-light, shrouded in shadow, rain drops bouncing off the plastic sheeting at the side of the building. The fountain is filling with water, and the newly laid gravel is sodden beneath our boots.
We split up and do a quick circuit of the house – it was left unlocked, and part of me wonders if she’s made it in there. There’s no response to our calls, so we leave again, back out into the wilderness.
‘If she was coming here, where is she likely to be? What route would she take?’ Tom asks, as we regroup by the front door, hiding beneath the porch.
Sunshine at the Comfort Food Café Page 22