Laura Ch. 08

*

Becky lay in bed, thinking about Chris and how he looked as they talked and how his eyes reflected his emotions as she told him that he had not really loved her, but the person he thought she was. Ever since that night, that terrible night, she had tried to wipe out his memory, at first to protect him, but after she had read that Robert had been charged with her murder, to protect herself.

He looked so much like she had remembered, thick black hair still a little too long, curling gently around his neck, locks of it falling over his forehead, the bottom half of his face now covered in the short beard, hiding the cute dimples that she loved to watch appear when he smiled.

Remembering the feel and the warmth of his hard body as he had cradled her that time in Mrs Jackson's kitchen, and the soft gentle kiss that last afternoon on the top of the hill, she closed her eyes and felt the flutter start in her chest, a feeling she had long forgotten being reborn.

Laying there she realised that she was attracted to him, his innate sexuality had lit a small glow inside her, but it was clashing with her need to keep him at bay; to shield her feelings and to save herself from any future harm.

Turning on her side she reached across to turn off the light and settled down trying to sleep.

*

Chris sat there after the light in the window went out reflecting on his luck, smiling as he remembered the line from the film Casablanca, 'In all the Gin joints, in all the towns, she had to walk into mine.'

What twist of fate brought him to this café, in this little village more than 200 miles from their home town?

Getting up from the small wall he turned towards the road as it followed the coast and started to walk, realising he would need to tire himself out if he wanted to get any sleep tonight. After twenty minutes he had left the small village behind him and was standing by a small cove, with a small sandy beach. Clambering down over large rocks he stood in the quiet dark, lit only by the moon and stars and after stripping off all his clothes, walked naked out into the glistening ocean until the silky water had reached his waist, leaning forward he launched himself out away from the beach, arms and feet propelling him forward.

When he had tired enough he floated on his back, looking up at the starlit sky, the gentle sound of the lapping waves as they hit the sand, the quiet of the night, and the smell of the salty water feeding all his senses, calming and relaxing him, and for the first time since that night back in October he felt he was back to normal. Positive, content and upbeat.

*

Robert sat in his cell after the visit from his solicitor. After each visit he would go through the same cycle of hope, then anger, and finally fear. What if he could not prove his innocence? What if they found him guilty? He knew from his experience over the last eight months that he would not survive a long stretch. He had learnt quickly that there is a pecking order in prison, and you have to keep on your toes continually, being alert and playing the game so that you were never really relaxed. And this was only remand.

His cell mate Ray had taught him the ropes, but Robert could never quite adjust to the noise and the smell which was something no one could prepare you for.

Those first weeks he thought he would go mad, but once he settled down to the tediousness and the lack of privacy he made his place in the group of men, all who it seemed, if you believed them to a man, were totally innocent and had been set up.

*

Laura wandered down to the kitchen bleary eyed, only to find a very male voice singing along with the radio. Stopping hesitantly in the doorway she watched as Chris, standing with his back to her, beat eggs in a large glass bowl. Unsure whether to enter or not she stood until without turning round Chris said "Morning babe, hope you like scrambled egg for breakfast, take a seat and I'll bring it over," and carried on singing.

Moving into the café she sat down listening to him, the sound of his singing and pots and pans clattering. Suddenly he stopped and his head poked round the edge of the door as he enquired, "Forgot to ask, tea or coffee?"

"Tea, but you don't have to...."

"I know I don't have to, but seeing I'm already cooking for myself, I can rustle up a cup of tea and eggs for you." Then he disappeared, and the sound of him singing struck up again.

Becky sat there unsure what to do. She felt kind of antsy, waiting to be served, which she realised was a novel experience for her. In her past she had always been the one to do the cooking, the serving, the washing up - in the foster homes, with Robert and with her patients. They all expected her to do it and she had fallen in line, but here she was being cooked for by Chris, then suddenly she remembered that other time he made the tea, at Mrs Jackson's, and she felt her eyes water at the memory of the old woman.

She looked up as Chris entered through the kitchen door, two plates of scrambled eggs in his large hands, a tea towel incongruously tucked around his middle in the top of his jeans, he sauntered over to the table, and putting down the plates, bent over, and before she could move out of his way kissed the top of her head. "Scrambled eggs, tea coming up" and he casually walked back to the kitchen as if he did this every day.

When he had come back with two mugs and placed them down, he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"You know, the kiss, just don't!"

Looking at her sitting there, a look of confusion and embarrassment on her face, but still trying to be tough, he smiled and just said simply. "Babe, just eat the eggs before they get cold."

Becky sat there looking at him as he picked up the fork and started eating, then slowly picked up hers and took a small mouthful.

They ate in silence, Becky unsure what to say, aware of him as he sat and ate. Chris gave her the room to get used to him sitting and eating with her, letting her watch him, suspicion in her eyes, her body language guarded and closed.

"I like what you've done with your hair, it suits you."

Absently her hand started to rise to touch the long black pony tail hanging down behind her back.

"It brings out the green of your eyes. Very sexy."

"Will you stop it."

"Stop what."

"You know."

"No I don't know."

"You're flirting with me."

"No babe, when I flirt with you you'll know it; right now I'm making an observation. Last time I saw you your hair was light brown and you wore it loose hiding your face, now it's black and pulled back, and I think it suits you. Just giving you a compliment." then picking up the cup of coffee sat back in the chair and asked, "How long have you been here at the café?"

"It's none of your business, and stop calling me babe."

"Look, I still think of you as Laura, and I know you want me to call you Becky, but I'm having to make a big adjustment in my mind, so for now I'm going to call you babe. That way I won't make a mistake and get the wrong name. But if you want to make it real simple you can call me babe too." and he smiled, eyes twinkling at the set of stubbornness in her face "or just call me Chris, I've answered to that for the last 31 years."

She sat there staring at him, aware that he was teasing her, and angry that she was beginning to enjoy it. To change the subject she blurted out. "Why did you grow that beard?"

"Don't you like it?" he said running his hand over it. "I just can't be bothered to shave when I'm on the road. If you don't like it I'll shave it off."

"You can do what ever you like, I don't care."

"Baby, I care," he whispered "Don't you like it, do you want me to shave it off?" and leaning forward he looked straight into her eyes, "Your wish is my command. Tell me whether to keep it or lose it, the choice is yours."

Sitting there waiting calmly for her to speak, Chris inwardly smiled. He was giving her control, it was only a small thing, but he wanted to show her that she was the one in control between them.

In a flurry of movement she got up from the table and picking up the plates said gruffly. "Shave the damn thing off for all I care." Then walked out to the kitchen.

That was when a big grin broke out on Chris' face and then Maidie appeared at the bottom of the stairs.