Текст книги "The House on Fever Street"

Автор книги: Celina Grace

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The taxi slowed, the indicator ticking steadily as the car began to turn. She realised that Jake was shifting beside her, stiffening to attention in the time-honoured manner of the taxi passenger nearing their house. She looked out of the window and saw in a fleeting glance the street sign at the end of the road. Fever Street. She felt a sudden jump of –what? Fear? Excitement? Jake let go of her hand and began to fumble in his pocket.

“Are we here?”

“We certainly are.”

The taxi pulled in by the pavement. Bella peered over Jake’s shoulder but could see nothing but an overgrown hedge, branches thrusting through railings covered in chipped black paint.

“Come on.”

His tone had changed. He sounded – could it be? – nervous. Almost irritable. Bella grasped anxiously at her bag. Unfolding herself onto the pavement, she looked up and saw, above the unkempt hedge, a looming, redbrick wall. A huge window hung flat and black against the bricks. There was not a gleam of light from anywhere.

“This is it.”

Jake’s voice was flat. Bella wondered if she dared reach for his hand. She didn’t.

“This is Fever Street?”

“This is Fever Street. Let’s – “ he stopped for a moment. She had the impression he was mentally bracing himself for what came next. “Let’s go inside.”

She hadn’t dared take his hand but he took hers. He led her through the gap in the shabby railings and the light from the street lamp was swallowed up by the thick hedge as they moved past it into darkness, stepping as cautiously as travellers in a dark and wild wood.

Chapter Two

 

They stood in the dark hallway. Jake still held her hand but loosely, as if he'd forgotten it was there. His fingers lay limply against hers.

"They're out."

He breathed it out on a rush of air. Bella tried to see his expression through the gloom. Did he sound relieved? Why would he?

"Sorry Bella, I don't know why we're standing here in the dark. Here, come through, come through..."

He'd let go of her hand but now he grabbed it up again and almost pulled her after him. She had a confused impression of a large hallway with a high, high ceiling, a flight of stairs running up the far wall to a landing, a floor tiled like a chessboard. Then she was bundled into another room and the click of a light switch left her blinking her eyes at the sudden brightness.

"Whoa, that's too bright isn't it?" said Jake and fumbled about in the corner. There was another click and a softer glow came from the table lamp in the corner. Bella looked about her. This was obviously the living room; a big, tumbled space, filled with sofas and book cases and dominated by a wide and dust-filled fireplace.

"Not much, but it's home."

Bella smiled, relieved at the absence of the dark and at Jake's return to geniality. "It's lovely. Big!"

"Let me get you a drink – what would you like?"

He left her in the room while he went to fetch her gin and tonic and she stood for a moment in the middle of the big rug that covered the floorboards. Then, feeling slightly marooned, she made her way one of the scuffed leather sofas that stood against the walls. The first thing that caught her eye was the pinboard encrusted with photographs on the opposite wall. It was a big board, three feet across, and absolutely plastered in snapshots. They lay in thick drifts of glossy photographic paper, two or three photos deep. Bella made a move to get up and have a closer look but stopped herself. It seemed too nosy, too forward – how awful if Jake came back and caught her snooping.

She let her gaze drift from the pinboard, taking in the other sofa, heaped with an old tartan blanket. The toes of a pair of satin stilettos peeked from beneath the seat. Those must be Veronica's, thought Bella and was suddenly fired with an acute curiosity about this female occupant of the house. Jake’s voice had slipped, when he’d mentioned her. Why?

There were other signs of her occupation: a slipping pile of glossy magazines underneath the corner table, a string of pearl beads hung from a candlestick on the mantelpiece. Bella clasped her hands in front of her. She realised that she'd been alone now for nearly fifteen minutes. Could Jake really be taking that long to make a drink? She was wondering if she dared go and look for him when, in a rush of relief, she heard his footprints in the hallway outside.

"Sorry about that, had a phone call I had to take," said Jake, as he handed her a glass slippery with condensation. Bella nodded, hiding her confusion.

Jake sat next to her on the sofa and there was a moment's awkward silence. The easy, sexy warmth that had flowed between them at the pub seemed to be in danger of dissolving. Bella shifted uneasily. She felt very nervous.

Jake was staring at the opposite wall, his own glass held loosely in his hand. Bella swallowed her mouthful of gin and took another anxious sip. She could think of nothing to say, nothing at all. She raged at herself inwardly but there it was – there was nothing that came to mind. Nothing. She was struck dumb.

Jake said nothing himself. He simply put his glass down on the floor – Bella heard the dull clunk as it hit the floorboards – and turned to face her. His hands went up to her face and the next second, his mouth was firmly against hers. She was startled enough to gasp and as her mouth opened, she felt his tongue against hers.

“You’re lovely,” he murmured against her face and she felt a flutter of pleasure at the words. For herself, she was almost scared at her depth of feeling. She felt as if she knew him, knew him intimately, and yet beneath her hands was a virtual stranger; the unknown territory of his body was still to be explored. They were pressed together as closely as two fully dressed people could be but it still wasn’t enough. He drew back from her a little and then he was reaching for her hands and helping her up.

“Upstairs,” he whispered, his mouth to her ear, making her shiver. She held his hand and followed him meekly, out of the room and up the long, echoing staircase.

*

They lay spoon fashion, her spine curved against his chest, his legs curled around hers. She was almost asleep, lulled by the body warmth and their shared, rhythmic breathing. When Jake spoke, it startled her.

"I can't believe I've found you," he said softly. His arm tightened around her stomach. "I feel so lucky to have found you. It's incredible, to find someone who's – who's been through everything, who knows what I'm talking about. I can't believe it. Can you?"

Bella stuttered something non-committal. Jake squeezed her again gently.

"You're incredible, Bella. You seem to understand me. I feel like I could tell you – "

He stopped abruptly. Bella lay, holding her breath, waiting for him to finish the sentence. You feel like you can tell me what – what? Anything? He said nothing more and the silence bloomed between them. Bella could his breathing stuttering in and out against her backbone.

"Jake? Are you okay?"

She turned back to face him but before she could say another word, he took hold of her face and roughly kissed her.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, speaking against her eager, open mouth. “Don’t say anything else for the moment.”

She woke again in the night, disturbed by footsteps and voices outside the door. For a moment, Bella stared into the darkness, disorientated. Then she remembered where she was and reached out tentatively with her foot, touching Jake's warm leg beside her. The voices were right outside the door. She felt a momentary, absurd surge of panic that they would come in. There was the bass rumble of a deep male voice and the higher, breathier tone of a girl. But she couldn't hear what they were saying. As they continue to whisper outside the door, floorboards creaking beneath shifting feet, she began to feel irritated. Didn't they have a room of their own? It was obviously Jake's brother and his girlfriend. Bella looked across at Jake's sleeping figure, just visible through the orange-tinted darkness. He lay motionless, locked away from her in a thicket of dreams.

Finally, the voices faded from outside the door and she heard the scrape of footsteps along the corridor. Bella lay back down, pulling the duvet up over her breasts. She felt clogged with sleep; she could feel it waiting there for her, a dark cloud swirling with waiting dreams. But at the same time, underlying it, ran a current of uneasiness. She rolled on her side and lay awake for a long while in the orange-dyed London dark, feeling Jake twitch and breathe beside her.

Eventually exhaustion pulled her back down, dragging on her eyelids until she swam into unconsciousness. She dreamt of the tunnels, walking through the tunnels in bare feet, looking for her shoes. Then she realised that it wasn't her shoes she was missing – it was her feet. She was walking on bloody stumps through the endless tunnels like a subterranean Little Mermaid, searching endlessly for her own two feet.

It was Jake's strangled yell that woke her again. She thrashed up through layers of grey gauze, hearing him scream again, properly this time. Then she was completely awake, heart pounding. She clutched at his arm and felt it slide from beneath her fingers, slippery with cooling sweat.

“Jake, Jake, what's wrong? What's wrong?”

“Oh God...”

He fell back onto the pillows and his arm slid from her grasp.

“What's the matter? Are you okay? You really scared me –“

He didn’t speak for a moment and when he did, there was a gasp in his voice.

“Bad dreams again – oh God – bad dreams. I'm sorry – “

He sounded near to tears and she felt panic tug at her throat. I don't know this man, she thought. Why am I naked and in bed with him?

He turned his head towards her and she could see the flat shine of his eyes in the orange-tinted darkness.

“God, I'm sorry Bella, I didn't mean to scare you. Fuck – I'm sorry. Come here.”

She let him pull her down onto his chest and felt it wet against her face.

“You're soaking – you're absolutely drenched – “

”I know, I'm sorry. God, I have such – such bad dreams, they just scare the shit out of me. I'm really sorry.”

Bella could hear his heart, thudding away through its cage of bones. She wondered if he could hear hers, beating in tandem. She breathed deeply, trying to slow the adrenaline shudders that were coursing through her.

“Do you always have dreams like that? I'm surprised you get any sleep at all.”

Jake chuckled weakly.

“You're telling me.”

Bella remembered the voices outside the door.

“What about your brother? Doesn't he hear you and get worried?”

There was a long silence. Then Jake said “No. He doesn't worry about me.”

Bella wavered, about to enquire further and then gave up. The adrenaline had gone, leaving her weak and shaky. She was too tired. Tomorrow, she thought, I'll just leave. He's sweet and funny and sexy but this sounds too much like hard work. She lay back but left her hand on his chest, patting him once, twice, before sleep claimed her again.

She woke ridiculously early. She opened her eyes cautiously, to the clear morning light flooding the room, feeling the thud and pulse of hangover in her head. Disorientated, she looked around confusedly before recollection swamped her and she turned her head to the side to see if Jake was still there.

He was; cocooned in duvet, snoring slightly, which made her grin despite her headache. His leg lolled against the mattress, uncovered by the duvet. Bella frowned. She was looking at his leg, his thigh, paler flesh furred with black hair. There were three healing cuts on the inner flesh of his leg, running almost parallel, as if he’d been scratched by an enormous cat. Bella pulled the covers up to her chin, rubbing at her aching head. For a moment, she thought about touching his leg, running her fingers over the cuts. Then she shook her head, a mistake as pain thudded through her temples. Shrugging inwardly, she dismissed the idea of looking closer and lay back down, rolling closer to Jake, feeling his warmth against her side. Despite the thudding headache, the rise of his ribcage against hers lulled her back to sleep.

When she woke again, he had gone. The covers on his side of the bed were thrown back and the pillow left dented from the weight of his head. Bella lay there for a moment, wondering what to do.

She heard the creak and thud of his footsteps on the landing outside and then his black, curly head poked around the edge of the door. The tinkle of juddering china preceded him.

"Morning.”

“Hello,” she said, feeling shy.

He put the laden tray down on the floor by the bed. Bella sat up, pulling the sheet across her breasts.

“Thought you might be hungry. Are you hungry?” said Jake.

“Yes –“

“Me too,” he said interrupting her. Slowly, he reached out and pulled at the bedclothes strapped across her chest. Blushing, Bella brought her hands up to cover herself, put them down again, not wanting to look silly, blushed harder and crossed her arms.

“No need for that,” said Jake. “Come here…”

The coffee and toast had gone cold by the time they turned their attention to it. Jake grimaced and put his lukewarm cup back on the tray.

“Disgusting. I’ll make some more.”

“It’s okay.”

Bella was lying back against the pillows, flushed and rosy. The ache in her inner thighs was just subsiding. She held the back of her hand against her hot face, smiling widely – she couldn’t help herself. Jake laughed.

“You’re amazing.”

She looked at him, surprised but pleased.

“What?”

“You. You’re totally amazing."

Bella found herself able to tease him.

“Sod off,” she said, smiling.

"Well, you are. I should know."

She lifted her head for a kiss and he obliged.

"So, what are we going to do today?"

"Today?"

"Yes, today. Why, do you have something else to do?"

Bella mouthed helplessly for a second.

"Jake – I've got to – well, I must go home at some point."

"Why?"

She burst out laughing. "Why? Because that's where I live, for a start."

He pulled her back down against him, hooking his leg around her own to keep her close.

"Don't go home. Stay here. Move in here."

Bella laughed harder. "Don't be crazy."

"Who's crazy?"

"You are. Me, move in here? You're nuts. You hardly know me."

Jake suddenly turned on his side, bringing his face close to hers. His eyes searched her face. Bella stopped laughing abruptly.

"I do know you, Bella," he said. "I feel like I know you. Look at what we've been through together. Don't tell me you don't feel it too, don't do it down. Don't pretend you feel nothing just – just for the sake of convention."

Bella was still. Her tongue felt suddenly too big for her mouth – it was difficult to get the words out.

"Jake – "

He released her suddenly, smiling.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm freaking you out, I know. Forgive me. Forget what I said. Just – let's spend the day together. Please? Don't go home yet."

"I don't want to go home," said Bella softly. He took a long, serious look at her and nodded.

It was a beautiful day and Bella was glad when Jake suggested they go out. They walked through the Sunday-quiet streets, hand in hand, stretching their faces to the sunlight. There were lots of people about but moving slowly, doing Sunday things; washing cars, gardening, propping little children on their wobbly three-wheeled bicycles. Jake and Bella crossed the road and began to walk past a long unbroken line of black iron railings. Beyond lay a tangle of dark undergrowth and crumbling headstones. Jake pointed towards it.

“That’s Highgate Cemetery.”

“Mmm, I know. I think I went there once with my Dad. Isn’t someone famous buried there? George Orwell? No – Karl Marx.”

Jake looked at her sideways, grinning slightly.

“I don’t know about that but – “

“But what –“

His grin grew wider.

"That's where the vampires live."

Bella pushed him gently. "Don't be silly."

"It's true. Didn't you see that program? It was on, oh, years ago...some professor going on about the Highgate vampires. Perhaps if we walked down here at night, we’d see them emerging from their tombs… all in white… stretching out their arms through the railings."

Bella laughed uneasily.

"I don't believe in vampires."

Jake was suddenly sober. "Nor do I, really. It’s stupid.”

“Well – “

“I mean, Christ knows there are enough real monsters in the world as it is."

The bright day seemed to dim a little. They walked further on in silence, past the black and green tangle of the cemetery and crossed the road again.

"There's a cafe up here," said Jake. He sounded determinedly cheerful. "How do you feel about a great big fry-up?"

Bella grinned. "I feel good about it."

As they sat down at an outside table, she found herself suddenly warm, remembering how good he’d made her feel last night. She had a sudden, violent flashback; Jake’s hipbones digging into her inner thighs, his urgent panting in the darkness above her, her arms locked about his straining ribcage.

"You were amazing last night," he said, shocking her. It was as if he'd read her mind. He moved his chair closer to hers so he could put a warm hand on her thigh. Bella felt dizzy.

"Come here."

They kissed for several minutes, only stopping when the waitress pointedly crashed their plates down in front of them. Bella knew she was making a public spectacle of herself. How many times had she seen couples locked together at the mouth, oblivious to the world, and she’d cringed, embarrassed for them? But somehow, today, she just didn't care.

They separated eventually and she ate her food slowly, savouring each mouthful, loving the feel of Jake's palm moving slowly up and down her leg underneath the table. The coffee was joltingly strong – she could feel her eyes widening as she swallowed it. This was so unlike how she expected to feel – she’d expected to feel vulnerable, emotionally bruised, ready to be heart-broken. Instead she felt enormously exhilarated. She felt ready for anything. I trust him, she thought, and castigated herself for running ahead of herself. You don’t even know him.

She swallowed the last salty mouthful of bacon and pressed a paper napkin against her lips. She felt comfortably satiated, as long as she could pass the next hour horizontally. At that thought, she looked across at Jake and felt another spurt of longing for him, despite her full stomach. Impulsively, she reached out for his hand and he looked up in surprise but took it willingly, curling his fingers warmly around hers.

“Good?”

“Ooh, yes. I’m now fully and completely stuffed.”

“Bet you could do with a lie-down now, yeah?”

Bella started laughing. “How did you guess?”

Jake grinned and raised his eyebrows.

“Male intuition. Come on, I’m taking you home to sleep off your hangover. I want you to curl up next to me on the sofa and snooze for as long as you want to.”

Bella smiled. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Don’t you deserve it?”

Jake squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

“If you say so.”

They called for the bill and waited for it in comfortable silence, patting their bloated stomachs and smiling at each other. Bella could feel a cord of closeness and longing stretching out between them, snaking invisibly between their plaited fingers and entwined legs. They were only sitting a foot apart from one another but that was too far; pressed hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder was too far. They were at a distance that could only be surmounted by being melded together, breathing the same air.

They almost ran back from the café, despite their full bellies; pounding down the street hand in hand, falling through the door of the house on Fever Street; stumbling up the many stairs before the bedroom door slammed behind them and they tumbled onto the bed and onto each other, grappling like mountaineers, panting like two people running a race, gasping with relief and thankfulness. Like a pair of parched travellers finding the oasis; falling out of the arid desert and into a blue and shimmering water hole.

Chapter Three

 

You’ll do anything, when you’re in love. Anything. There’s no line that cannot be crossed. An hour’s separation is an eternity. To be apart is to be cursed; it’s a literal pain, a physical ailment. It drags on you until you gasp with the unfairness and the cruelty of it. If you love someone, you cannot keep them waiting, you cannot put them off – you do not saunter casually to your meeting, you do not leave early or arrive late. Every moment is to be savoured, every second in the beloved presence wrung dry. As if you’ve been poisoned and their company is the only known antidote.

It had been two days. Two days since Bella had kissed Jake goodbye at Waterloo, had clung to him underneath the giant black clock that hung from the ceiling of the station. She felt his absence as a physical ache, strong enough to double her over when she was alone.

She said nothing. She tried to act normally to save her mother any more anguish but sometimes, when they were sat watching some inane game show on television, or listening to the chime of their cutlery on the dinner plates, it was all she could do not to let the ever-threatening tears well up and spill over.

She checked her mobile religiously, willing it to show the little 'message received' icon. When the telephone trilled in the hallway, she froze rigid at the sound. She felt sick most of the time, pushing her food about on her plate, forcing the smallest of small forkfuls into her mouth. She slept badly and dreamt about the tunnels. Their dark lengths lay in wait for her every night.

She could feel her mother watching her and waited for the questions, which didn't take long to arrive.

"What's wrong, Bella?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. You've had a face like a wet weekend for the past week. Is it – are you still having trouble sleeping? There's always counselling – "

"It's nothing, Mum, I'm fine."

She hated herself when she snapped like that but she couldn't always control it.

"You're not fine. You're hardly eating a thing, look at you – you're wasting away."

"I'm fine."

The next day she'd given up. He was never going to call her. Bella slumped in front of the television, listlessly changing channels. She flicked to a children’s cartoon, all flashing colours and weirdly shaped animals. She watched a few minutes of a documentary on Roman Britain and then pressed the button of the remote again, with a sigh of irritation.

The next channel was a news program. On screen was a reporter, clutching a microphone and talking urgently. In the background, there were blue lights and streamers of police tape. Bella sat up, her hands clenched into fists. She heard the words ‘second bombing attempt’ and cried out without realising.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her mother came racing in from the kitchen. Bella gestured at the television screen, unable to speak. They both watched and listened as the reporter told them what had happened.

After ten minutes, Mrs Hardwick looked at her daughter’s white face and took the remote out of her hand, pressing the off button.

“Are you okay?”

Bella considered for a moment.

“No,” she said and then bolted for the downstairs bathroom as vomit rose inexorably in her throat.

She was rinsing her mouth when she heard her mother calling her. Shakily, she opened the door.

“Mum, really, I’m okay now –“

Her mother was smiling anxiously.

“I know darling, I know. There’s someone on the phone for you.”

Bella hadn’t even heard it ring. She picked up the receiver, hardly aware of what she was doing.

“Hello?”

“It’s Jake.”

Her empty stomach lurched.

“Jake, oh my God -”

“I saw the news and I thought of you, it’s the first thing that went through my mind. I can’t believe it’s happened again, I can’t believe it. What’s happening to this country?”

Her voice came out as a croak.

“I just – I just saw what happened now, I can’t believe it either. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at Fever Street, I’m okay. What about you? I saw the news, Christ – I was so scared again. I just had to ring – ”

He paused for a moment.

“I want to see you.”

She couldn’t speak for a second. “Well, I – “

He interrupted. “I should have called you before, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t forgotten you. Things have been – been a little hectic here. I’m sorry, Bella. When can I see you?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Tomorrow. Let’s meet tomorrow. I’ll drive down to see you. I want to get out of London for a bit.”

“That’s understandable.”

“You bet your fucking life it is. Give me your address, sweetheart, and I’ll come down to see you tomorrow.”

She told her mother, as they sat down to breakfast the next morning, that a friend was coming down to see her that afternoon.

“It’s the friend I went to see last week in London.”

“That’s nice.”

“You know, when I stayed at Dad’s.”

She winced inwardly at the lie. Her mother went on calmly buttering toast.

“I know, darling. Well, it’ll be nice for you to see – what’s his name again?”

“Jake.”

“Jake, yes. Well, I might miss him unfortunately. I have to stay behind tonight to sort out the accounts.” Bella’s mother managed a boutique clothes shop in the nearest town. “It’s a shame, I was looking forward to meeting him. I must say, there can’t be many people like you two.”

Bella frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” said Mrs Hardwick. “How many people do you know who were brought together by a bomb?”

Bella managed a smile.

“True.” She thought of the panic and chaos of yesterday, of the crowds of commuters plodding steadily through the streets of London, as if on a methodical, smartly dressed pilgrimage. “There might be a few more now, though.”

He was late. At a quarter to two, Bella went out into the garden, ostensibly to hang out some washing. Really, she was straining her ears for the sound of a car. She bent to the clothes basket and pulled out t-shirts and socks, moving like an automaton, jamming the pegs onto the line. Jake had said two o’clock, but her constant, anxious glances at her watch showed her a minute hand edging towards three pm. She pushed a peg down onto a bed sheet, unseeing. If he doesn’t come, she thought to herself, but she couldn’t complete the sentence in her head. If he doesn’t come…

There was the sound of a car, unmistakeable, the crunch of tires on the gravelled driveway. Bella turned, heart leaping, and saw a small, navy blue Fiat drawing to a stop. Jake’s lean figure unfolded itself from the driver’s seat and waved to her.

She made herself walk slowly. He made no attempt to come to meet her but stood leaning against the side of his car, his hands in his pockets. He wore jeans and an untucked white shirt. Sunglasses hid his eyes and being unable to read his expression made her feel shy. She struggled for the right look herself and thought she managed it, a pleased but not too pleased smile.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s fine. It’s hard to find.”

She came to a stop in front of him, unsure as to whether she should touch him. He hadn’t taken his hands out of his pockets.

“So…” he said slowly, smiling. Bella raised her eyebrows at his tone.

“So?”

“So – don’t I get a kiss hello?”

She nearly gasped with relief and stepped forward. They stood there entwined on the driveway, gravel crunching under their slowly shifting feet.

“Well, are you going to invite me in?” said Jake, when he’d finally released her. He eased his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. His eyelashes curved in a black fan, echoed in the dark semi-circles beneath his eyes.

“You look tired,” said Bella. Jake gave her a rueful grin.

“I’m fucking exhausted. Bad dreams again. But hey, tell me you know what I’m talking about. Right?”

Bella looked down. As if the bright sunlight had suddenly been smudged, she felt, just for a moment, as if she were buried, flattened under a huge, dark weight.

She shrugged and tried to smile.

“I’m a bit tired, yes –“

Jake took pulled her towards him and kissed her, cutting off her sentence. All at once, she wanted to be far away from here, to be somewhere, anywhere, as long as she was with him. She leant back a little, to look at his face.

“Mum’s out at the moment,” she said. Jake raised his eyebrows and she laughed, suddenly realising how her comment could be construed. “I meant – “

“Don’t worry.” Jake pulled her back to him, murmuring in her ear. “I didn’t just come down here to make love to you.”

“Why not?” said Bella, in mock-indignation, and they both laughed. “Seriously though, I’d love to go somewhere and talk with you and I’d rather not do that here, not just yet.”

“Okay.” Jake took her hand. “Grab your stuff and let’s go for a drive.”

He drove her to a country pub that stood at a lonely crossroads, surrounding by swaying wheat fields just beginning to shade from pale green to gold. They sat at one of the sun-bleached wooden tables in the garden, trying to hold hands and wave away wasps. The sun lay warm on the back of Bella’s neck as she looked at Jake, watching his face as he told about hearing the news, just as she had at home, flicking through the television channels before being confronted with a repeat vision of their shared nightmare.

“I just froze. I mean, I felt physically sick.”

Bella hesitated. Honesty or delicacy? Honesty won out.

“I was sick.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really – bleaargh. You know.”

Jake’s eyebrows went up.

“It’s funny how that happens, isn’t it? Your stomach just goes ‘hey, I’ve had enough – “

He stopped talking suddenly. Bella thought she knew why. The memories were just too much. Compassion welled up inside her and she took hold of his hand, rubbing her fingers against his in an effort to ease the frown off his face. There was an almost healed scratch on the inside of his arm and she touched it gently with her fingers, wondering what had caused it.

Jake sighed.

“Sorry, Bella. I forgot what I was saying.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She continued to chafe her fingers against his. The movement of his flesh against hers was beginning to wake in her a slow, building excitement. There was a moment’s pause.

She saw Jake take a big breath.

“I did actually come down here to ask you something.”

Bella nodded encouragingly.

“Mmm?”

“How do you feel –“

He stumbled and started again, closing his hand tightly on hers.

“How do you feel like – do you feel like coming back up to London? With me?”