‘Maybe that does,’ he said.
‘Ellie?’
Surfacing from the dark pit of sleep, Ellie took a moment to work out where she was. Her head hurt, her gritty eyes refused to open, just as they had morning after morning for months when every night she’d cried herself to sleep. When every morning she’d dragged herself out of bed, plastered a smile on her face and stood in front of her class, going through the motions of another day.
‘You asked me to wake you. To fetch Daisy.’
Ben!
She sat up, suddenly wide awake, remembering, groped for her alarm clock, blinking at it, trying to focus, work out which was the big hand, which the little one.
‘You’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Sue? Did you call Sue?’ She dragged her fingers through hair that was sticking up in a tangled bush, saw the state of her hands, covered with pastel colour. Swung her legs over the side of the bed, then realised that she was wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of pants. Decided not to worry about it.
Ben had seen her legs before, when she was tidy. He’d managed to contain himself then, so it was unlikely he’d lose it when she looked a total mess.
‘Slow down,’ he said. ‘I’ve spoken to Sue. She said you were to take the rest of the week to recover.’
‘Recover? What on earth did you tell her?’
‘You can ask her yourself. She’d coming to see you this evening.’
‘Oh.’ She’d been avoiding Sue. She could read her too well, would know she was hiding something. ‘Now I’m really worried.’
‘Don’t be. I’ve brought you a cup of tea and some toast-’
‘I don’t have time for that,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go. You should have called me sooner. It’ll take me twenty minutes to walk-’
‘But only five minutes in the car.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t need…’ She swallowed. ‘If you’d just called me.’
‘I did. You’ve got half an hour. Take your time.’
He didn’t give her a chance to argue, but without him the room suddenly felt horribly empty. She picked up a piece of thick, buttery toast, bit into it as she walked into the bathroom, instantly lost her appetite as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
The hair was bad, but she’d expected that. Her fingers, nails, were ingrained with colour. Not good to go to bed that way, but the sheets would wash. It was the streaks and smudges of pastel, red and green and black, across her forehead, on her cheeks, down her neck, that made her flinch. She dropped the toast into the bin, spread out her hands. Her fingers hurt, her hands ached. She remembered the wild night, how the images had poured from her. Ben prising the pastels from her fingers, helping her downstairs. After that everything was a blank.
She looked down at her legs. Just as well she hadn’t thrown a wobbly over bare legs, since he must have helped her out of her jeans before he tucked her up in bed.
She tried not to think about that and, wasting no time, stripped off the rest of her clothes and dived under the shower. It took her less than five minutes to wash her hair, scrub herself clean of the war paint.
She towelled her hair dry, dressed swiftly, and in ten minutes was downstairs, with nothing on her face but a film of moisturiser, wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a neat skirt that had been part of her schoolmarm wardrobe, her damp hair screwed back in a French plait.
Ben got to his feet as she walked through the kitchen, beat her to the door.
‘Don’t disturb yourself. I’m not an invalid.’ He was blocking the door. ‘Really, Ben, I’m quite capable of walking to the nursery school.’
‘I never suggested you weren’t, but I thought we might all go straight to the garden centre, have lunch there. We could take Daisy to visit the pets and then buy some plants.’ He held up the plan she’d drawn. ‘Since you’ve done all the hard work.’ Then, ‘Of course, if you think the little girl would be happier at home-’
Ellie swallowed. She’d hoped that if she just waltzed through the kitchen with a wave he’d see that she was back to normal, let her go. Be glad to forget the fact that he’d kissed her. Wipe last night from his mind.
If only she could. Put the clock back. All she could do was put things right. But not now. This needed more than ten minutes.
‘Yes?’ he said, prompting her for an answer.
She shook her head. ‘I’d planned to make sandwiches, take her for a walk along the river, feed the ducks, buy her an ice cream.’
‘There’s no time to make sandwiches. And the ducks won’t starve.’ She looked at him. Fatal…‘The garden centre has ice cream,’ he added temptingly.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. I noticed the freezer last time we were there.’
‘I meant about spending the afternoon…’ She waited for him to take the chance to back down. When he didn’t she gave an awkward little shrug. ‘I know how busy you are.’
Busy? Ben considered the word in the context of the work he was doing. ‘The text I’m working on has been waiting for me for over five thousand years. I don’t imagine one more afternoon will make much difference in the great scheme of things,’ he said.
‘If you put it like that.’
‘I do.’ And, as if the matter were settled, he stood back to let her by before opening the car door for her, waiting until she was installed in the front seat of Adele’s ancient Morris, with her seat belt safely fastened, before he added, ‘Of course I will want something in return.’
She froze. ‘Oh?’
‘Relax, Ellie, your virtue is safe. If it was your body I was after, trust me, I’d want your wholehearted co- operation.’ Then, grinning, ‘The way your cheeks get involved when you blush.’
He didn’t wait for her hot denial, but closed the door and slid in beside her, deciding that if he was going to do much of this he was going to have to buy another car.
‘You drew a picture of the house,’he said, as he fitted the key into the ignition. This time his words had the totally opposite effect. ‘You’ve seen it?’ she said, the colour draining from her face.
Damn! She thought he’d invaded her privacy, and she was right, he had…
‘I know I shouldn’t have looked through your pictures,’ he said quickly, in an attempt to forestall the anticipated eruption. ‘I just meant to pick them up, but they were so striking. They have a real leap-off-the-paper quality.’ She didn’t respond. Maybe, like him, she wasn’t able to get that last terrible image out of her mind. ‘I’ve always thought the house looked at its best with the wisteria in full bloom,’ he said, hoping to distract her.
‘Wisteria? Oh, right.’ She seemed to sag a little. ‘Last night. I drew it last night.’
What had she thought he meant? Had she drawn it before?
‘It’s no more than a scribble, Ben. You can’t possibly want it.’
‘I’m sure Picasso said that when he drew sketches on paper napkins.’
‘I’m quite sure he didn’t. He knew his worth. But in any case, I’m no Picasso.’
‘So I can have the picture?’
‘That’s all you wanted?’
That wasn’t what he’d meant, but she seemed so jumpy he didn’t tease. ‘That’s all.’ For now.
She shrugged. ‘Take it. It’s yours.’
‘Thank you.’
Normally she would have looked at him, smiled. Instead she looked at her wristwatch, despite the fact that there was a clock on the dashboard right in front of her, and said, ‘It’s time we were leaving, Ben.’
CHAPTER NINE
ELLIE expected Daisy to be shy with Ben, but he was the one who lifted her up so that she could choose her lunch. It was his hand she clung to as they looked at the rabbits. He was the one who carried her as they toured
