My heels are noisy on the parquet floor and I attempt to tiptoe to lessen the sound. I feel Ayden’s
grip tightening on my hand ever so slightly as we enter. There are ghosts in this room, it seems.
“Come in and take a look.”
Despite the stark exterior, inside the room is modern and clean in pale shades of blue. Around the
walls are desks with slim-line computer screens, parked up against junior office chairs and keyboards.
In the centre of the room, beneath a decorative ceiling light are ten children; little Marthas with their
aprons and curls and paint covered fingers. They appear to be from the age of five to ten and they are
engrossed in the process of creating a masterpiece.
“Look this way everyone,” Martha instructs softly. “We have a special guest today: Mr. Stone and
his lovely friend.” Some of the children poke their heads around wobbly easels, while others prefer to
remain hidden. “You’ve all seen Mr. Stone before, remember?” Some of the older children nod and
smile in such a jolly way, I can’t help but smile back. They’re delightful.
I look to Ayden for an explanation but, to my utter amazement, he’s so taken with the children that
he’s forgotten I’m here.
“Hello everyone. What are you painting today?” he asks, as naturally as breathing.
A small boy with fiery red hair raises his hand. “We’re painting ourselves.” He holds up his
painting proudly; it’s full of glorious orange and red strokes and big blue eyes.
Ayden turns to me. “Look Beth, he has your eyes.”
I laugh joyfully and nod. “It’s lovely. You’re very talented,” I tell the artist who is preparing to
apply the final touches.
“Now remember to ask the person next to you to describe you to them.” Martha gives me a warm
smile, and I watch it broaden as she focuses her attention on Ayden. “Are you here to see Winnie?”
“Yes, and to introduce her to Beth.”
“Well, don’t let us keep you. You know you’re always welcome here.” With her arms wide, she
kisses him on the cheek again. “Back to work. Van Gogh over there will be finished in a minute and
need entertaining …”
Ayden takes my arm. “Bye everyone. Listen to your teacher and be good.” We say our goodbyes to
Martha and Ayden closes the door, leaving us standing in a large hallway with a broad set of stairs
wide enough for two adults to walk up, side by side.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He holds out his arm, allowing
me to go first.
This is turning into an unexpected adventure; every new revelation is leaving me lightheaded with
wonder. Only now am I beginning to see what this open book day is all about. It’s about a small boy
with stunning green eyes called Saphir Pierre, who spent his childhood in this very place. Each new
page is an eye-opener and I dare not blink for fear I might miss something.
To redirect my thoughts, Ayden squeezes my hand and kisses it. “You’re very quiet.”
“I’m very surprised.”
“It’s my open book day. It wouldn’t be any good now, would it, if it didn’t have a couple of
surprises?” he states smartly.
“Oh, it has that,” I confess.
“Then prepare yourself for the next chapter. It’s a real page-turner.”
He raps on the door straight ahead, just off the first landing, and turns the brass knob. I look
downstairs at the hallway and how the colours from the stained glass have set the parquet floor on fire;
flames of iridescent light are reaching out like the fingers on Martha’s hand, touching the wooden
table and the rows of boots paired underneath it; so many little feet in such a compact little space.
Ayden makes an entrance and greets the women in the office with an unfamiliar smile. “Hello.
Sorry we’re a little late. Is Winnie around?”
Instantly a young receptionist of around twenty two, who is only now deciding to close her mouth,
offers her assistance. “Yes … of course Mr. Stone. I’ll get her for you. Would you like to wait in her
office? Can I get you anything to drink while you’re waiting?”
“Beth,” He turns to me. “Do you want a drink?”
I’m still a little stunned. “No, thank you. I’ll pass.”
“Same here. It’s only a flying visit.” He leads the way and I follow him into the office at the far end
of the room. As Ayden moves, so do the heads of the office staff. He must feel them undressing him
with their eyes? I do.
Once inside the room, I become aware of a heady fragrance: peonies and freesias, I think. Along the
back wall there’s a bookcase filled with photo albums and ring binders, books and boxes. I’d love
nothing more than to rummage through them.
“Take a seat Beth, she won’t be long.” He strolls over to the window and looks out. “I used to come
to this room a lot. It was where all the naughty boys came for their punishment. I had a season ticket.”
He sniggers at the memory. “Nice view though.”
I join him and observe the vast green landscape out towards the back of the house. To the right is
what looks like a vegetable garden and to the left is an enormous play area, for children of every age
and size. The children here are well taken care of and I suspect I know who might be funding that care.
Behind us the door swings open and to my utter astonishment, in steps a rotund black woman with a
red bow in her hair and a gypsy skirt in a kind of cerise colour: she’s hard to miss.
She opens up her arms to Ayden. “Saphir,” she calls out as he approaches her. Even though she is a
foot smaller, she pulls him to her with a heartfelt hug that has me raising my hand to cover my gaping
mouth.
“Are you getting taller or am I getting smaller?” she asks. “Let me look at you.” She turns to me.
“Isn’t he handsome?”
I find my voice. “Yes, he is.” I watch him squirm.
“Winnie, this is Beth. Beth, this is Winnie.” He outstretches his arm to me and I reach out my own
instinctively.
“Yes, yes, of course it is.” Beating Ayden to it she takes my hand and pulls me to her, and hugs me
so tightly the air leaves my lungs with a gasp. I stare at Ayden over her shoulder and notice how much
he is relishing this moment. This woman means the world to him.
Winnie releases me, only to hold me at arms’ length so she can give me the once over. “Oh, how
wonderful to meet you Beth. Is that short for Elizabeth?”
“Yes, but no-one calls me that.”
“Well, I’m going to. Elizabeth’s such a lovely name.” She takes hold of Ayden’s hand and places
mine into it. “Just look at you two. What a perfect match.”
She leans into me, pretending to whisper but knowing perfectly well Ayden can hear. “I hope you’re
keeping him in his place. He can be such a naughty boy, you know.”
Ayden raises a brow, gives me one of his scorching looks and I have to look away. I simply smile.
“I do try. But he can be very charming.”
“Oh, can’t he just? Ever since he was a boy, he could charm the hind legs off a donkey and then
come back for the tail.” She looks across to him with so much affection it’s heart-warming.
“You never let me get away with a thing Winnie. My charm was wasted on you.” Ayden feigns
exasperation and moves over to the window to reminisce alone.
“Oh, that’s not true. I let you
think it was but you always had a special place in my heart.”
Ayden is touched by her words and turns to face us, positioning himself on the edge of the desk.
He’s happy to watch us together. I wonder if I’m the only lover she has met? Continuing to make a
fuss she takes me by the hand and sits me down on the small sofa with her.
“Now, tell me about yourself Elizabeth. What do you do?”
“I’m an English teacher …”
She is quick to interrupt. “… Did you hear that Saphir? She’s a teacher. She won’t take any of your
Tom Foolery.” She makes us both laugh with her antiquated turn of phrase. “You must have so much
in common. Has Saphir told you how he used to steal books from the library? He didn’t realise you
could borrow them. He’d sneak them out and sneak them back again hoping no-one would notice.”
Ayden comes to his own defence. “I knew you could take them out, I just didn’t want the other boys
to know I was doing it.” He shrugs his shoulders and readies himself for her next disclosure.
“I believe that’s why he got into so much trouble, so he could spend time in the library reading.
Isn’t that so?” She looks to him for an admission.
“You got me there.”
Her attention shifts to me. “And you Elizabeth, are you planning to continue teaching once you are
married or do you want to start a family quickly?”
How does she know we’re engaged?
“Whoa! Hold your horses Winnie. Beth’s not even tried on a wedding dress yet.”
I explain softly. “I’m not sure. That’s something we’ll need to sit down and talk about.”
“Of course it is. But such a beautiful couple should have a family of their own.” She slaps her hands
on her chubby thigh. “Listen to me, telling you two what to do. Anyway Saphir what brings you to
Bright Hill? Checking up on us are you?”
Ayden explains. “No. We were in the area. I introduced Beth to Sylvia and Patrick.”
She turns to me. “Just listen to him using their names. He always was a stubborn little boy.” She
tuts disapprovingly, forcing Ayden to look away, boy again, chastised. “Do you know there was a time
when he was so determined to prove another boy wrong that he nearly drowned.”
“Drowned?”
“Yes, remember?” She turns to Ayden who can do no more than roll his eyes; he’s heard this story
before. “A simple swimming lesson and he said he could hold his breath the longest and – what did he
do – remained underwater for so long that he had to be resuscitated.” She glares and waggles her
finger at him. “I said that he’d either be a brawler or a business man. I’m so glad he made the right
choice.”
“So am I.” I look over to Ayden lovingly, sensing an imminent departure.
He rattles his car keys. “Anyway, I think we’ve heard enough about Saphir for one day. You must
have better things to do than sit here ruminating over my transgressions?”
Winnie purses her lips. “Listen to him and his clever words. All those books must have gone to his
head.” She claps her hands together in gleeful recognition of his advancement. “He’s done so well.”
She inclines her face to mine. “He hates being talked about, likes to think that his life began the day he
left here. He doesn’t realise that we are all products of our past.”
He calls out from across the room. “I can hear you …”
She grasps my hands firmly, preparing to share a confidence or solicit one from me. I look into her
warm, chocolate coloured eyes and read her thoughts. “Yes.” I answer. “I do, with all my heart.”
I feel her hand against my cheek. “Good. That’s all I need to know.” She stands and organises her
full skirt. “I can’t be sitting around here all day chatting with you young lovers.” Once again, she
opens her arms to Ayden and he comes to her willingly. “Come here.” They hug each other and, like
me, she is overcome with emotion; it’s building and bubbling under the surface, we’re fighting to hold
it back.
“You were always my favourite Saphir and you’ll always be my beautiful boy,” she declares for the
world to hear.
Ayden looks down at her with so much love that merely witnessing it makes my chest hurt. “I know
Winnie. And you were always mine. Thank you.” He kisses her forehead softly, reverently.
She takes a handkerchief from her sleeve and wipes her nose. “Oh listen to him, using his charm
again.” She looks up to him glossy eyed and caresses his cheek. “At last! You’ve found her Saphir,”
she states.
“I have.”
I know they’re talking about me and I couldn’t care less. I’m happy to be on the outside looking in
on this tender moment.
“I’m so proud of you. You have a good heart, always did and always will. You do so much for us
for so little in return.”
Ayden’s mouth forms into a flat smile. “You can’t put a price on a life Winnie, and you gave me
that.” He takes a step backwards. “Besides, it’s all tax deductible.” His roguish grin melts her heart.
She throws her hands up in the air. “Oh, Elizabeth! What are we going to do with him?”
I stand and move over to them both. “I’ll think of something.” I cannot conceal my pleasure.
Simply witnessing this affectionate display has made my day.
With a swish of her skirt she’s gone, hot footing it across the office and out onto the landing, not
needing to turn back. Her work here is done.
When I turn to Ayden he’s still caught up in his memories. It seems a shame to shatter them. I go
back to my place on the sofa and sit waiting patiently for him to return to the present. I don’t have to
wait long.
“Shall we go?”
We make our way out of the building towards the gate, hand in hand. “Do you pay for the upkeep of
this place?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Yes?” He reaches for the exit button and the gate clicks open.
“That’s a lot of money.”
He clicks it shut, leaving his past behind him; locked away from prying eyes. “Like I said it’s tax
…”
“… Deductible,” I interject. “Yes, I heard. And what about the computers, and the paints, and the
playground out back? Is that tax deductible too?”
“I’m not sure about the playground,” he says smugly. “You’d have to have a word with my accounts
department about that. Should I get them on the phone now for you? I’m sure they could clear up any
queries you have about Capital Allowances and Corporation Tax, donation to charities and that sort of
thing.” He actually has his phone out and is pretending to scroll through his numbers.
“No. Don’t bother. I don’t have the stamina to face another chapter.” I give him a wry smile and
reach for the door handle.
“Thank God. Neither can I.” He starts up the engine and reverses out of the cul-de-sac, punching my
address into the Sat Nav before picking up speed:
75 miles - one hour fifty minutes.
A couple of miles into the journey, Ayden speaks first. “Do you want to ask me anything?”
I rest my hand onto his on the gear stick. “No. I’m just thinking about things.”
“And …?”
“And …” I turn side-on. “Thank you Ayden.”
He reaches over, pulls me to him and kisses my hair, leaving his hand on the back of my neck,
&n
bsp; under my hair line. It feels good to be touched affectionately. “You’re welcome,” he whispers. He
retrieves his hand and hits warp factor eight. In less than six seconds we’re soaring through traffic and
low flying on the M25 homeward bound.
Leaving the other cars for dead, he presses a number into his iPhone slotted into the dash and clears
his throat preparing to speak.
“Mr. Stone,” Lester answers on the third ring.
“Lester. Beth and I are on our way back to her apartment, and I need you to pick up something for
us to eat when we get back.”
“Of course.”
“Ring ahead and ask Georgio to prepare the usual for two. Just tell him it’s for me and he’ll have it
waiting for you.”
“And wine?”
“Order a bottle of Montellori Chianti 2002. You can’t go wrong with that.”
“I’ll get right on it Mr. Stone. What time will you be arriving?”
“In one hour forty, give or take a couple of minutes.”
“I’ll make sure everything’s ready… and Mr. Stone…”
“Yes, Lester?”
“Everything else you requested has been arranged at Miss Parker’s apartment.”
“Good. Hold on there until we arrive.” He clicks off the button and settles himself into the seat
“Who’s Giorgio?” I ask curiously.
“He’s the owner of Piccola Italia in the city. I order my food from there if I can’t get into the
restaurant. I hope you’re hungry because the food is second to none.”
“I could eat something.”
“Good. You won’t be disappointed.”
I move on to a more pressing question. “And what are the other things you requested for my
apartment?”
He squeezes my knee softly. “Nothing much … you’ll see.”
I’m sure I will …
I scroll through my iPod and select an appropriate tune. Ellie Golding sings Lights and I watch
darkness fall; the headlights of the cars on the opposite side of the motorway are merging onto streaks
of white lightening and our dashboard is illuminated, creating a soft glow throughout our private cock
pit. I slide my hand up over his bicep and across his shoulder, until it comes to rest in his hair. The
dark curls fold over my fingers and the heat from his skin warms my hand. I can’t stop looking at his
sculptured profile.
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 24