HANNAH
I’m alone in the flat. Rachel’s not home. Maybe it’s better this way. Honestly I have no idea what I would say to her about my spontaneous excursion. I rip a sheet off the top of a notepad, and scribble that I won’t be available in the next … I don’t know: one or two days? I add we will meet at latest at the finals of the Miss gala, and I attach two VIP tickets for her and JJ to my message. I throw some things into a sport bag in a hurry and pick up the toiletries from the bathroom with trembling fingers. I’m not naive enough to think that we’re going on a school field trip in Dover. We didn’t say it out loud – not even Jamie yet (!) – But we both know what it’s all about. After the way the air was burning between the two of us, I hardly imagine that we can spend two days – nights – together without getting significantly closer to each other physically. This knee-shaking train of thought brings me to the next dilemma: condoms. I don’t possess even one of these practical everyday objects. Let’s say that in the last four years I didn’t have a chance to use them, and before that I was on the pill. It’s quite the conundrum. Somehow I can’t imagine myself asking Jamie, in a neutral voice, to please stop at a condom vending machine on the way. Although he would probably be happy to do it, I would feel very cheap. Rachel surely has something like this in her room, but it’s out of the question for me to start searching in her things. So we’re left with improvisation. I hope for the best. I brush my teeth, fix up my hair a bit, and take a critical look at the girl in the mirror. Flushed face, big green eyes, and a pretty big measure of fear mixed with excitement. You want this, Hannah. You want Jamie, and you know he wants you too. It’s time give up the imbecile excuses and take your destiny into your own hands. Relax. Enjoy it. I exhale slowly and purposefully start for the door.
Jamie’s waiting in the car, and while I was getting ready, he took care of our accommodation with a few phone calls. We’ll need to stop for a bit at his flat too for him to get his stuff together. It occurs to me that this means he wasn’t sure I would say yes to the spontaneous get-away. It doesn’t look like he planned this beforehand, because otherwise he would have brought his luggage, and he wouldn’t have had to take care of the accommodation now.
I’ve never been in his flat, so now I’m looking up curiously at the 4-storey block of flats close to Regent’s Park. Jamie stops at the ramp leading down to the underground garage and pushes a remote, and the garage door opens. He parks the car next to a cross country Range Rover of considerable size, and gets out. He hurries around to my side, and in his already well-known gentlemanly way, helps me get out of the car.
We meet a hyper-elegant guy in a suit and tie at the lift holding the hand of a little boy who looks about 6 years old. The kid is wearing a backpack, and there’s a teddy bear peeking out from under his armpit. The whole scene really feels like a Sunday-dad-visited-by-his-son situation.
“Hi” – the suit guy pours out, and from this, as he penetrates me with his gaze, I get the feeling the greeting was not for Jamie.
“Hi” – I answer politely, and flash a smile at the kid.
Jamie greets him too, without making eye contact. The guy stops in front of us and scans me from head to toe as the lift starts off. His gaze lingers unscrupulously on my breasts, and a sardonic smile stands on his face too. It’s undeniable that this jerk digs me. If he examines each and every unknown woman as salaciously as he does me, well then it doesn’t surprise me that he became a Sunday dad. He’s that typical sort of neighbour whom I wouldn’t be willing to stay in the lift with without pepper spray. I slide my hand into Jamie’s, who’s looking at me from the side, and then gives the suit guy a blank gaze. I don’t know if he picked up on anything, but I still squeeze his hand. He looks back at me with his forehead wrinkled. We finally arrive at the fourth floor, and the suit guy courteously gestures for us to get out first. Apparently he also lives on this floor. I’m sure he let me go in front of him with an ulterior motive, but I don’t give a damn. We start off going right, and they go left. Jamie leads me to the dark brown entrance door, gets out his keys, and puts one into the keyhole. But before he turns it, he looks at me.
“You know him?” – He asks in a sinister voice, pointing in the direction of the guy.
“Me?” – bursts out from me in shock. – “How could I know him at all? You live here. He’s your neighbour.”
He nods a few times, and then takes a deep breath. Jamie is obviously not the type who would keep track of his neighbours, but somehow I have this feeling that it might change in the future. At least when it comes to the neighbour in the tie. Proving my intuition, he remarks in a veiled voice:
“I don’t know who that bloke is, but it could easily happen that I visit him with a baseball bat and wipe that grin off his face if he dares look at you like that again.”
For a moment, even my breath stops. Apparently it didn’t escape his notice. This kind of dominant alpha-male reaction took me off guard. The thing is that River wasn’t ever the jealous type. He didn’t punch the face of every guy who engaged in shameless staring. Far be it from me to want a fight, but his excessively jealous reaction still has an effect on me. His words show he already sees me as his, although I'm not even his girlfriend. I can’t even imagine how he would react if I were really his.
He leads me into the spacious, bright flat dominated by white, beige, and basically only pastel colours. It’s embarrassingly neat, especially if I think of my neglected desk.
“Wow! Is it always this neat at your place?” – Bursts out from me unintentionally.
He looks around as if he didn’t even notice, and then shrugs his shoulders.
“Usually yes. I really can’t stand untidiness. It confuses me. I can’t concentrate when there’s a mess around me” – he says almost bashful. Holy heaven! I should feel ashamed.
“Don’t misunderstand me! I like neatness too. Just not so much the tidying part.” – I pull my mouth to the side, and he flashes me a mischievous smile.
“The truth is, I have help. The cleaning lady comes twice per week and handles the majority of the cleaning and shopping.”
“Aha … then that’s cheating. I could make it like that too.” – I pout my lips in jest.
He stares at my mouth for a couple of seconds, then takes a swallow and shakes his head. He turns away and leaves. He yells back from the hallway:
“I’ll be ready soon. Make yourself at home, Honey! Look around the flat! Serve yourself!”
Look around? Oh my god! The flat looks so big I’m afraid I would get lost. I decide to limit the exploration route to the kitchen. The kitchen fixtures are hyper-elegant, smooth, and practical. It’s a mix of night black and metal. I can’t uncover a single unnecessary, out of place object in it. It’s really amazing. I hesitate about which one could be the fridge, but in the end I decide on the door with a transparent crystal handle. I open it, and … bingo! My jaw drops at the sight. I was expecting maximum a few cans of beer, orange juice, and maybe a few leftover pizza slices in a cardboard box. Instead, the fridge is teeming with food. Mineral water, vegetables, yoghurt, milk, cheese, sandwich meats, eggs. – “Wow!” – The appreciative sigh bursts out from me. Jamie has always paid attention to nutrition, it’s true, but food has never enjoyed such a significant place in my life. I’ve always regarded it as a necessity, but I haven’t ever actually enjoyed it. Maybe this is an unpleasant side effect of teenage anorexia, I don't know. I close the door of the carefully stocked fridge, and walk to the wall-to-wall glass door. I’m not even surprised when I see the rather spacious terrace with a wonderful view of the park and the building’s private roof garden. The garden is a very imposing sight with its decorative trees and fountain in the middle. Everything looks carefully cultivated and completely untouched. There’s an open barbecue part too, which could be really cosy during the summer. I turn back, and at the sight of a beige sofa which looks tantalisingly soft, a deep sigh bursts out from me. I throw myself onto it, and hug a softy-wofty pillow to myself. It doesn’t only seem comfortable. It is in fact fabulously comfortable. I could fall asleep right now. On the opposite wall, there’s a huge TV screen, on the right side of it a bookshelf stretching from the floor to the ceiling. I’m curious what kind of books Jamie reads, but I just can’t convince myself to stand up from the sofa’s lap. Then he appears with his travel bag in his hand. This man really is the peak of effectiveness. He didn’t just pack, but also changed in the last few minutes. He’s wearing blue jeans and pretty simple white t-shirt, but he’s still heartbreaking. He stands, motionless, and stares at me, astonished; I give him a meek smile and pull myself up to a sitting position.
“This flat is nice. It somehow … fits you. How long have you lived here?”
He scratches his head and drops his luggage on the floor. He starts off towards me as he answers.
“I moved in a year and a half ago. I liked the area: Regent’s Park, where I usually go running, is close, and the building has a gym. It’s practical” – he says in an impartial voice, but meanwhile doesn’t take his eyes off of me or the small pillow I’m still hugging.
“Uh huh. I get it. Practical.” – I mumble, because his pervasive gaze particularly embarrasses me. Rather, I place the pillow next to me and look around once more. – “I like the pastel, but a bit of green wouldn’t hurt. Some flowers maybe.”
“Green?”
“Plants, I mean. Philodendron, or ficus.” – I say, with my voice dying out more and more. Super, Hannah! Very wise! Any other orders for how he should furnish his own apartment?
Deep inside, I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. But a roguish little smile appears at the corner of Jamie’s mouth, and he reaches for me with his right hand. I hold his hand, and he pulls me to standing. My eyes are directly in line with his chin. I can clearly feel the smell of his aftershave and the fabric softener on his t-shirt. We’re standing dangerously close to each other as I slowly lift my gaze up to him. I wait for what will happen with shaking knees, but he rather steps back and, looking into my eyes, says in a deep, tempting voice:
“Green works. I’m growing to like this colour more and more.”
We just stare at each other quietly for a while, and I’m wondering whether he was referring to the colour of my eyes, or he’s really only thinking about the plants. Up until now, it hasn’t been characteristic of Jamie to use metaphors, but he’s been so full of surprises lately that I can’t totally rule out the possibility. In the end, he breaks the silence in a grumbling voice:
“Let’s go. We have a two hour trip in front of us to Dover, but if we leave right now, we can get there before sunset.”
Still holding my hand, he starts off resolutely toward the entrance door, and I follow quietly. But just as we step out the door, he stops in his tracks and rubs the nape of his neck.
“I mean, that was my plan. But if you have some special wish… If you want to go somewhere else...”
I shake my head, smiling. He’s adorable. He’s obviously fighting against his inner control freak and trying to allow me the opportunity to decide. But the thing is that I am currently quite enjoying that he’s deciding instead of me, and I can entrust myself completely to him. I don’t care where he takes me; I instinctively feel it will be good.
“I don’t have other ideas, Jamie. Just go where you planned.
“Ok” – he answers, and his face fills with a relieved, boyish smile.
#
I call Gran from the car, and give her the short rundown of the situation. When it comes out that I’m leaving the city with Jamie, she’s palpably relieved, but she makes me swear up and down to call her tomorrow in any case. It takes almost an hour to worm our way out of the city, but I’m not bored at all. The tension between us completely evaporated. Jamie’s hand is almost constantly resting on mine. Our fingers are interlaced, which causes an unremitting exciting tingle to flow over my whole body. He doesn’t let me go, even when he needs to change gears, so I’m practically driving the car with him. We start to talk about the trip and where we have been in our lives. Of course, my honeymoon with River comes up, which chills the mood. I remember well how he reacted when it turned out his brother left me in the virgin forest and set off on the expedition alone. Thinking back on it now, I can recall many situations in which I would surely react in a different way now. I think I would stand up for myself more, and for my own interests, but I don’t want to pour oil on the fire. I don’t want to dig too deeply into this topic, when there's nothing to change about it anymore. I try to cut the honeymoon topic short with the fact that even if I have been lucky enough to get to know wonderful places, that kind of travel is still too adventurous and daring for me. When he asks what my dream destination would be, I confess it would make me perfectly happy if I could discover the rich coasts of Ireland, and walk on the Scottish Highlands. I’ve heard so many nice and lovely things about the western coast of Scotland, so I’ve always longed to visit that wonderful part of the world. When Jamie confesses he’s been near Glasgow and Edinburgh several times, a fever flows over me. I start to interrogate him on the details, and he tries, laughing, to satisfy my curiosity. When we finally drive onto the A2, Jamie steps on the gas, like it’s really urgent for him, and meanwhile he keeps talking, totally ignoring the rush. No matter what the speed limit is, he’s going over it for sure. Cars are one of his manias, and I know he drives very routinely, but my hand still winces under his, and I grab the edge of my seat with my other one. I wouldn’t even have thought this behemoth cross country vehicle could achieve such high speeds. Jamie already enlightened me we weren’t going in the Mustang, since the cross country vehicle is more trustworthy for a long trip. He obviously notices that I’m shitting my pants, because he blinks to the side more and more often. I don’t say a word, just stare at the windshield rigidly, swallowing hard.
“Are you afraid?” – He asks, suddenly, without any introduction.
“I’m scared shitless.” – I answer, half joking, and he examines me for a while with furrowed eyebrows. I don’t like at all that he’s always looking at me instead of the road, so I pull my hand out from under his, and turn his chin in the direction of the windshield.
“Please, better watch the road!”
He seems a bit disappointed, and to be honest I’m not satisfied with the situation either. I’m starting to miss the physical connection already. He speaks in an overcast tone:
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Honey. I’m a safe driver, and anyway I wouldn’t risk anything when you are with me.”
The car starts to slow somewhat, and I see that the speed indicator jumps back to 85 miles. I heave a sigh of relief, not just because we are not speeding so much anymore, but because it’s a terribly good feeling that he pays attention to me.
“Thank you” – I say, and my fingers start to inch back towards his hand. I long for his touch so crazily that it’s almost scandalous. – “But I would be happier if you don’t risk anything, even if I’m not with you.” – I add, quietly.
He stares at me with his lips parted, but there’s no sound coming from his throat. He looks back at the road, and I see as a small, sweet, satisfied smile lights up his face. My hand reaches his, touching him carefully. Not looking over, he grabs my hand with a definite movement and interlaces his fingers with mine. I feel more and more relaxed, lean back on the seat, and watch the landscape zipping by. I have the sense that as we get further away from London, our problems are zipping by more and more too. I feel safe and loved next to Jamie. There is such a masculine power radiating from him which – I feel – evokes and brings out the long dormant feminine woman in me. Enjoying the feeling of happiness, I close my eyes – and even if I planned to do so only for a couple of minutes, when I next open them, the car is stopping and we are in the parking lot.
I look through the window, dazed, and read, surprised: Lighthouse Inn. Holy heaven! How awkward is this! I can’t believe that I was able to fall asleep next to him in the car. I must be really burnt out.
“How long was I sleeping?” – I ask, dazed, as I worm my way out of the car.
“About 45 minutes” – he answers precisely, and he’s obviously poking fun at my embarrassment.
I stretch out and look around a bit more. The snow white Victorian stone building with the lighthouse motif immediately wins me over. It looks like a small homey guesthouse, and the environment is obviously waiting to be discovered. The air is chilly and the wind is blowing. I shiver. Jamie reacts immediately. He takes my jacket out from the back seat of the car. He steps to me and drapes it over my shoulder. He pulls me to himself, together with the jacket. I embrace his waist and we stand tightly snuggled for a while. Heat flows from his chest to me. I feel as his heart beats and I warm up immediately. His lips caress my forehead; he gently kisses into my hair, and murmurs in a deep voice:
“I’m going to check in. It won’t take long.”
“Alright. I’ll look around a bit until then.” – I answer, looking up at him.
He becomes a bit insecure as he considers whether he likes my suggestion or not.
“Ok, but don’t go too far!”
“Yes sir.” – I answer playfully, to which he just shakes his head and starts off for the building.
I pull the coat around me, and start off next to the house against the direction of the wind. There are only a few cars parked in front of the guest house, from which I conclude they can’t have too many rooms. I pass by a glass wall and peek in. There’s an old school bar with tables with checkered table cloths. Enchanting. I go further. I walk, making a circle around the building, and my breath suddenly catches at the sight. The amazing view of the North Sea is revealed in front of my eyes. I had no idea we were so close to the coast. I would most of all like to run all the way to the cliffs to discover the surroundings, but what I promised to Jamie comes to mind. I don’t want to make him nervous by disappearing in front of his eyes at the first possible occasion. I take a few deep breaths of the fresh air floating from the sea, and decide that today we have to walk at least until the lighthouse. I start back, but I see Jamie’s already on his way towards me. I gesture round with open arms, and run towards him with childish enthusiasm.
“Look here!” – I spread my arms wide. – “Did you know about this?”
He laughs at me and folds me in his arms.
“I’ve been here once before. Passing through” – he notes, and it immediately jumps though my mind whom he could have gone here with. With friends? Or maybe together with a girlfriend? I would rather bite my tongue than ask him; instead, I try to shoo the unpleasant thoughts away. Anyhow… now he’s here with me. His arm embraces my back.
“Do you like it?” – He asks, whispering into my ears.
“I love it. It’s just wonderful, Jamie.” I turn towards the coast, leaning my back on his chest, and point to the lighthouse. – “I want to walk there.”
“It’s farther than it looks from here” – he banters, and interlaces his arms around my waist.
“Are you afraid of a bit of walking?” – I look up at him as if challenging him, and in response he leans his head back, letting out an honest laugh.
Oh my god, how adorable he is when he laughs uninhibitedly. The wind messes up his hair, and I give him an oblique gaze and instinctively pull myself closer to him. I rarely see him laugh in such a boyish and oblivious way, and I have to admit the sight is irresistible.
“I’m not afraid of walking, hon.” – Ahh, I’m done for when he calls me this. – “But it’s pretty late already. In half an hour it’ll get dark, and we should have dinner somewhere.”
“Great. Then let’s start immediately and we can pop in somewhere to eat along the way. There’s surely some kind of restaurant nearby.”
“You’re very impatient” – he looks into my eyes and tilts his head playfully.
“Even more than that” – I answer, but then suddenly a blush flows over my face because of the ambiguity of my words.
“Ok” – he surrenders. “But first let’s take our stuff up into our room.”
“Alright.” – I say, and slither out from his arms.
Almost 10 minutes later we are on our way to the lighthouse. The sun is just disappearing under the horizon when we start to descend on the mild slope towards our goal. We slowly pass down a bumpy path and after a half hour – when we still haven’t reached the tower – I have to admit that I really did underestimate the distance. It’s becoming more and more chilly, I’m cold, and also hungry. My physical state is still not 100%. I haven’t gotten over the previous sickness. I haven’t given my body time to regenerate, and now I can obviously feel the unpleasant repercussions from it. I already regret I insisted so much on the evening hike, but I don’t want to complain. Jamie can obviously feel my torture, because he stops and turns me towards him. He holds my hands in his palm and starts to warm them up. He scans my face worriedly.
“You are totally freezing, Honey. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to go further.”
“I’m cold.” – I admit. – “And I’m hungry too. What’s up with you?” – I ask, biting my lower lip.
“I’m hungry as a wolf. I could eat a horse” – he says, with suffering in his voice, and a relieved sigh bursts out from me.
Wow! Was that really a poetic simile that left his mouth?
“Thank god!” – I sigh, overacting a bit.
“I saw a few lit up houses up there on the way. What if we postpone the lighthouse visit for later, and instead go to eat something?”
“Great idea!” – I nod, enthusiastically. – “Please, never ever listen to me again if it’s about organising a hike.”
He looks at me, furrowing his eyebrows, wondering if I really mean it seriously. Then he shrugs his shoulders, grabs my hand, and we start off in the opposite direction.
It takes less than a quarter of an hour, and we are already warming up in a small cosy inn. I’m hugging a cup of hot cinnamon tea, and I thank destiny for Jamie’s directional sense being much better than mine. There’s no menu. The owner says, chuckling, that they have one type of dish every day. Well, at least this takes the difficulty of choice off our shoulders. Jamie looks at me, a bit worried, but I’m blooming like a peony. In my current state, I would even eat one of the iron nails from the table. As it turns out, the situation is not so dire. There’s roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, green peas, and carrots on the side. After that, an apple crumb cake. I think it sounds great, and I immediately nod an enthusiastic yes. Jamie joins me with a bit less devotion. He also orders two glasses of red wine with the food. He says it will warm me up. As if I’m not already burning u