Man-eater

"Busy night?" I asked him as I dragged my disordered hair away from my face once more.

"Kind of," he said softly. "I missed you at our run this morning so I came to check if..."

"I thought you'd be busy doing other... people."

Catty, El, I thought.

I sighed.

His brows furrowed, then he blinked. "Oh? Oh. No. I... I don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Get intimate with women I've only just met."

"I hope your date was understanding; I wouldn't have been if I'd put effort in," I said tartly. "It takes a girl time and effort to feel pretty and sexy."

He blinked.

"Ella... are you okay?"

"No. No, I'm not. I'm hung over and sore and I'm short on sleep; it was a long night. Want some coffee?"

"Yes. That... that would be nice."

"Then come inside and stop letting the horrid fresh air into my nicely matured bog of eternal stench. And while you're at it you can tell me about her," I said.

I wanted to know everything about my new nemesis.

"She was nice enough."

I eyed him over my shoulder. "Nice enough. I'd be really hurt if a guy I liked described me like that, Liam. That's a wrist-slitting summation for some of us."

He closed the door behind himself and sighed.

"I'm sure she'll meet a lovely guy some day really soon," he said softly.

"She met a lovely guy last night."

He flushed. "I'm... that's kind of you, Ella."

"It's the truth; I don't need to be kind. What... what happened?"

"She's just... innocent."

"Ah. Too virginal for you?" I said, taking another unwarranted swipe.

"What? Oh. No. I meant... she's hopelessly sweet and... sheltered. She'd never do for me. Not at all."

I paused.

"Sheltered from..."

"Trauma like... ours." he said. "She's completely innocent. She works in a nursery. Her dad's an accountant and her mum's a teacher. I don't think anything bad has ever happened to her. How could I expose her to... to me... with a clear conscience?"

I leaned back against my counter top as I stared at him.

"You are far too gentle for your own good," I said softly, after I'd considered him for a while. "You are far too considerate. You need to... it's... it's okay to want things for yourself, Liam. It's okay to be selfish sometimes."

"I don't work that way."

He stalked forward and waited for my permission to take a seat at the counter.

"Just sit, for God's sake," I said, exasperated.

"Sorry. Old habit. She sounded more... grown up when she contacted me," he continued, sheepishly. "Five minutes in, though, and I started to feel like her chaperone was standing behind me. Then I realised that that was just who she was. I dialled myself right down to one and she was still flustered at some of the things I said."

"So where did you meet this high priestess of Vesta?"

"A dating site," he admitted after a brief, embarrassed pause.

I blinked.

"Um..."

"I know, I know. It sounds hopeless, doesn't it..."

"No. No. Absolutely not at all. They work. It's just... I had no idea you used them, is all. Anne met her hubby on one but she's really shy and was terrible at being out there so she needed the help being... open. I mean... I understand why you're using them, Liam, but... you're sweet and gorgeous, babe. I think you'd probably have good luck elsewhere too."

"I am most definitely not gorgeous," he said softly.

"Oh my God," I said, despairing. I hefted a teaspoon and menaced him with it. "Liam! What gender am I?"

"Um... I'm about ninety-nine percent sure that you're a girl. I mean, based on physical evidence..."

"Then let me tell you something. Listen to what this girl has to say. You, Liam, are without a doubt the hottest, kindest, most unashamedly amazing man I know. Any woman would be lucky to have you."

I turned abruptly away to stare at the kettle and wall.

I took a painful breath, tried to keep control.

I'd been far more brash with him than I'd planned, but he'd angered me so much with his self-deprecating nonsense...

And I scrubbed at the stupid fucking self-pitying tears that, very briefly, came.

"Shit," I whispered.

"Ella? Are you..."

"Hungover," I fibbed, loudly. "I drank enough for both of us. So now I'm feeling sorry for myself. Don't mind me."

"I should have stayed in with you," he muttered.

"No. You did the right thing. You put yourself out there. Good for you. Next time will be better. And easier. Now you know something more yourself and what you want."

I stared hard at the cracks in the paint and bit my lip as viciously as I could without drawing blood.

Because I knew what I wanted.

And what I knew I would never, ever have.

.:.

I began to nag him like a younger sister would - to bully him mercilessly, to nudge him towards joining a local running club, and to joining a local group of ramblers, and then to join a local military history society populated with other veterans amongst whom he felt instantly at home.

I saw less of him, but when I saw him his eyes were clearer and his smile deeper.

And I'd hug him when I could and listen with ashes in my heart as he'd tell me about his slowly-expanding social circles and the women he began to meet and, sometimes, go out with.

I recovered slightly with time as he'd always come back to me and our friendship and our routine.

I started to think that I was... just maybe... special.

But then...

Then he struck up a relationship with a lovely Borders girl named Kerry.

And I knew at once that she was special too.

I watched the two of them - the proverbial green-eyed monster in the undergrowth - but I never intruded on their time without an explicit invitation from her and I absolutely never, ever got in her way.

I was decorum itself.

I never even gave her cause to doubt him; I knew first-hand how evil that would be.

And she, bless her, was as kind and warm to me as the rising sun.

I couldn't hate her, no matter how much I tried.

I couldn't hate her stupid, rich, delicious Lowlands accent, or her stupid, gorgeous smile, or her stupid mane of wonderful auburn hair or the stupid, loathsome, gentle, kind and adoring way she'd hold his hand and smile up at him.

He seemed happy at last. He'd smile down at her, and laugh at her jokes, and spare very few glances for me.

And those brief few that did come my way had to be enough for me.

I was a friend-zoned wreck.

I was a rabid starving death-row tigress screaming and clawing at the walls of her cage behind a photorealistic facade of a bright and shining girl.

I had nothing.

I had nobody who was mine.

And so, in the armpit of one lonely solo Saturday night in the anus of the year that was February, I finally succumbed to the desperate longing to hear Anne's voice just once more for Auld Lang Syne.

The phone rang three times, and I swallowed nervously as someone answered...

"Hello, Anne's phone," said a voice from my past.

I nearly threw the handset aside in rage as I recognised Rory's hateful intonation.

Instead I took a breath, centred myself.

"Bonsoir. Can I please speak to Madame Taylor," I said, hamming up a terrible French accent just to fuck with him once more - firstly because there was no high-water-mark when it came to my vindictiveness towards him and, secondly, because I could.

"One moment, I'll see if I can find her. Anne, there's a Frog bint on the phone for you!"

"Fuck you, Rory, don't be so fucking racist you sexist shit!" I heard Anne shout.

I heard crackles and thuds and angry bickering as the phone was handed over, and suddenly my light-side-twin's voice was there.

"Excusez-moi, madame, je suis Anne Taylor," she said in her lovely, smoky alto.

And the warm, comforting lilt of her voice broke me as it always did.

"Hi, Pookie," I softly sobbed.

"Oh... oh my God. Ella? One sec... just... Danny! I've got to take this, can you get off your arse and look after the pudding!" I heard her shout.

"Don't you dare hang up on me," she breathed to me, "I'm just getting somewhere where we can... talk. Open, you cunting door... just... some stairs... and... door... there. Ella? Are you still there? Ella?"

"Hey," I managed, swallowing hopelessly at the huge, jagged lump in my throat. "I'm still here. Oh. Oh God, I've missed your voice so much."

"I should have phoned. There are so many times I should have phoned. I'm such a shit. Christ. Ella... how are you?"

"Bad, Pookie," I wailed. "I'm... I'm really bad."

"Oh. Oh no. Tell me. Tell me all of it."

I gasped a breath, queued up the confession.

"I... I've fallen for someone. It's... it's a catastrophe."

"Ella! Why's that bad! God, babe, it's been so long, you've been all alone... Ella... oh God, Ella, why are you so sad? Why are you crying like that?"

"Because. Because he's perfect and lovely and gorgeous and so, so gentle. And... and I can't punish him with... with me. And... and now he's met someone and he's happy and..."

"Ella... oh, honey..."

"I'm sorry," I wailed, hating how pathetic I was. "I'm sorry to inflict myself on you like this... but I've got nobody who listens any more. And you were the only one who ever really loved me for me..."

"I still do," she whispered. "I always will. You should phone me whenever, Bella bum. I am never too busy to speak to you. Even when that sack of shit of a bastard brother of mine is here. Especially then, in fact."

I took a sobbing breath, scrubbed at my eyes.

"Is... is Rory okay?"

"Fuck him. I don't care. I am never going to forgive him; he's here under ultimate duress as a favour to mum while she visits. He ruined everything. Everything! He treated you like dirt. He can rot. I wouldn't piss on him to put out the flames if he were burning to death in front of me and the Pope himself begged me on hands and knees to save him. So to be frank, Bella bum, I don't know, I won't ask and I don't actually give a fuck."

"God I miss you so much."

"So tell me everything."

"No."

"Bella bum; you phoned to tell me. You were desperate enough to phone me. We both know how much that costs you. We both know you want to tell me. So just tell me already, you fucking drama queen. Why haven't you just told this boy how you feel? You wouldn't be like this if you didn't. You wouldn't sound like... this. Ella... do you..."

"Yes," I admitted. "Yes, I love him. Desperately so. He's everything, Pookie. Everything."

"What's his name."

"Liam."

"And why on Earth do you think you don't deserve him?"

"Because I'm a broken and fucked up little hyper sexual... deviant... and he's..."

"And he's... what..." she probed.

I took a breath.

"And he's... still dealing with his ghosts. From the Army. From Afghanistan."

"Oh. Oh fuck me. Ella..."

"And... and he's had to piece me back together twice so far and... and I can't bear it, Anne, I just can't. I can't stand to think of him and... and this sweet, wonderful, lovely girl he's met because... because it isn't me and it will never be me and he will never be mine and... and it's not fair. It's not fair."

"No. No, life's never been fair to you. Fucking Rory! God, I'm furious all over again. I'm going to go downstairs and stab him in the nostrils with my paring knife. Have you told him? This Liam guy, I mean..."

"I couldn't possibly. I don't want to ruin things for him. He's worth more than that. He has a chance at... at happiness. Kerry is... she's lovely. She really is. I can't hate her, no matter how much I wish I could..."

"Oh, Ella," she breathed, and I squeezed my eyes closed at mingled love and sadness I heard so clearly in her voice.

"I'm sorry. I... I just needed to hear your voice again. I'm so sorry for bothering you, Anne..."

"No. You stop that silliness right now. Hearing from you is the best thing that's happened yet this month. No, this year. I'm so glad to be able to talk to you. I've missed you so much. I'm going to... oh. Christ, it's Danny. One sec."

She shouted something, then paused, then shouted something else long and run-on that contained no fewer than seven different expletives and a staggering amount of blasphemy.

"For fuck sakes," she swore as she picked up her phone again. "Ella, there's a crisis downstairs, Dan's buggered up the pudding. It took him less than five minutes. Fuck me. The man is an absolute weapon in the kitchen. I need to go. Don't you dare sell yourself short. I'll phone you later this week, okay? For reals. I promise on my life. Be strong. I love you forever, sugar tits," she said, using the pet name she'd once invented for me that had always enraged me so very, very much.

"Okay," I managed, smiling somehow despite everything.

"I mean it, Ella. Tell him how you feel."

"I love you, Pookie," I managed.

"I love you more. I'll talk to you later. I'm free on Thursday and we can have a proper chat. I'll talk to you then. Bye," she breathed.

She broke the connection.

I rolled over on my sofa and buried my face in the fabric.

Tell him how I felt?

If only it were that simple.

I slowly curled up, and pulled my knees up to my chest and held myself, too lost and sad to even be able to cry.

.:.

The next morning was icy and grey and blustery. I was wrecked; I'd hardly slept. I couldn't jog so I made do with walking, eyes stinging in the arctic gusts as leaves and litter tangled and skittered around me.

The river was wave-wrinkled; lines of spume spread downstream from jetties, boats and the structural odds and ends that littered the upper part of the Reach. I'd hoped that the cold and the wind would blow the blackness out of my head, but now I was three miles from home and had accomplished nothing except achieve the onset of hypothermia.

And like the idiot I was I'd left my phone and bank cards behind and so now I was now faced with a long and freezing trek homewards.

I turned, put the wind to my back, and slogged on.

I'd just passed Glover's island, teeth chattering and extremities growing numb, when a male figure appeared from behind a line of trees.

My nerves began to twitch and I was just about to break away from the river and detour through the nearby estate...

And then I realised that it was him.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

I shrunk in on myself, wishing I could fade so I wouldn't intrude on his morning.

But it was too late; he'd seen me. He upped his pace, closed quickly, smile changing to frown to visible agitation as he got close enough to see how ill-dressed I was for the day.

He broke into a jog to close the remaining distance; I took a slow breath try to calm myself.

"Ella?" he shouted. "Ella! Jesus Christ, woman, you're blue from the cold!"

He grabbed my hands.

"Fuck me," he swore quietly. "Ella!"

"Stupid. Didn't think it was this cold. It's okay. Not far to go..."

He struggled his way out of his down jacket and swung the enfolding warmth over me.

Then he pulled me into a bear hug (I squeaked) and held me to him; his body was like a blast furnace against the thin layers of shirt and autumn top I'd so thoughtlessly pulled on.

I gave up any pretence of modesty and melted against him, gasping gratefully.

"You bloody fool," he gently remonstrated. "It's six degrees out here, Ella. It's jacket and boots weather. What the thundering fuck were you thinking?"

"I needed... to walk..."

"Why?" he breathed. "You're a sensible woman, you know better than this."

"I... I know... it was just... I didn't think. I'm too tired. Oh God, you're so nice and warm..."

"And you're about three degrees away from being a corpsicle."

"Would solve a lot of things..." I whispered.

"No." he said, softly. "There's never a call for a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Talk to me. Tell me what's up. Fuck me, I can't believe how cold your ears are..."

"Can't. Not important."

"It is important," he snapped. He began to rub my back, trying to chafe heat into me. "You're my best friend, Ella. I care deeply about you. This... this nonsense needs to stop, Ella. Don't keep me out. Tell me. Tell me what's going on. Did you get hurt again?"

And my walls crumbled.

I groaned and clutched at him.

"You're going to... leave me soon," I panted. "Sooner or later. I needed space. I needed... to... to find peace. Kerry's too nice for... for me to compete with. I... I can't. I can't any more. No strength left. All gone. All gone away."

His hands slowed on my back, then stopped.

"Ella? What on earth..."

Mortified shame welled up. I struggled free of his suddenly slack arms, eyes blurring.

I hadn't meant to blurt it out.

I had no right to.

He wasn't and would never be mine.

I had to go.

"Thanks for the rescue," I stammered, desperate to escape. I started to try to take his jacket off. "I'll... I'll be okay now. Thanks, Liam. For... for everything. Goodbye..."

He caught my hands with his and eased the jacket closed around me; I stared helplessly up at him as he fumbled briefly at the zip.

His eyes were blue as I could ever remember them being.

"Keep the coat," he said softly. He zipped it closed, and put his hands on my shoulders. "Get back to your flat. Ella... we'll... we'll talk later. Okay?"

"No."

"Yes."

"It... it won't solve anything."

"We still need to."

I gave up.

"Whatever you want," I whispered. "I can't do this any more."

I sniffed, turned away, and stumbled off.

His jacket smelled of him, and I clutched the remnants of his scent to myself as I slowly, by vague degrees, managed to make my way home.

.:.

I hadn't even finished thawing when there was a knock on my door.

I jerked, coming back to myself from wherever I'd been - perched at my counter, staring at nothing, blanket draped over me and a lukewarm tea forgotten in front of me.

I sniffed, rubbed my chapped nose, slid off my stool.

I slowly made my way to the door.

I dreaded it being Liam.

I dreaded what we needed to talk about.

I dreaded trying to be strong afterwards.

"Who... who is it?" I said.

"Eleanor? It's me. It's Kerry."

"Oh."

Fuck.

"Just... just give me a minute," I managed, panicking.

I swallowed, tried to straighten my hair, to be even partly human for what I suspected was about to be a really difficult "talk".

Then I took a breath and opened the door.

She stood tall and beautiful on the threshold.

She managed a smile.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," I echoed, as I wondered how much worse my life could possibly get.

I swallowed again.

"Come in, please," I whispered.

"Thanks. I... I won't stay for long. What I have to say won't... well, it won't take us much time. Liam... well, he phoned me. Not that long ago, I guess. And now here I am."

"Oh. Fuck..."

I clutched myself, mortified.

She looked down and took a careful step inside; the door clicked gently closed behind her.

I heard her take a slow breath.

"I'm sorry," I began to babble in a flat panic. "Kerry, I'm... I'm so sorry. Oh fuck me I'm so sorry. I've tried so hard to stay away. I didn't mean to say anything. I'm sorry if I've caused you and Liam any problems. It's the last thing I ever wanted for either of you. I feel so horrible and I'm so, so ashamed..."

"No... wait, Eleanor, just, just listen, please," she said. "Just... just let me speak. I don't have much time. All it did was... speed this up, really. It was always going to happen. I can see that now, at least."

She reached out to touch my arm; I shivered.

Then she took my unresisting hand in hers.

"That's... that's why I'm here. Eleanor..."

"Ella, please," I whispered, instinctively.

"Ella,' she said again, softly. She sighed, and took a slow breath.

'I always knew how much you love him."

I went cold.

"... how," I whispered.

"I'm a woman too, you know. And I can see how you watch him. I can see how you light up near him. I can see how you have to restrain yourself from anticipating things he's about to do. I can see all of it. And you're right. I know how hard it is for you. I know exactly how hard it is. Why... why do you think I've always been so gentle? I'm not normally. Not at all. But I could see... I've been there, see. Where you are. I've been there. I know what it's like for... us."