Thank you for the very positive response I got to last night's chapter. I have been suitably encouraged to write this.
He went in first and put the lights on, and she followed him inside a moment later.
"Well, I didn't say it was much," he told her, "But it's home. Sort of. As you can probably tell, I don't really plan to spend all my holidays here."
It was small, and like he had said it was sparsely furnished, but she was glad to get in from the dark and cold outdoors before it had started to rain.
"It'll do for tonight," she replied, "Better than sleeping in the back garden."
"Yes, it should be marginally warmer than that," he agreed, "Are you cold?" he asked her.
"A little bit," she had taken his jacket off, putting it on the back of one of the four chairs around the table, and was beginning to regret it.
"I'll turn the fire on," he told her, indicating to the small electric device at the side of the room, "I can see about a cup of tea, if you'd like one?"
"Yes, please that would be lovely," she replied as he went to the fire.
"Have a seat," he told her.
"No, let me get the tea," she told him in reply.
"Alright," he agreed, "Kitchen," he pointed towards the correct door.
"Right oh," she told him, "Shouldn't be a minute."
She brewed two mugs of tea in the cramped little kitchen, warming her hands a little on the steam from the spout of the kettle. Once she came back into the kitchen the electric fire had had the chance to take effect and it was marginally warmer. He was sitting on the settee and she joined him there, handing him one of the mugs.
"Thanks," he told her, accepting it.
She sat beside him, consciously leaning in towards his shoulder. It was simply warmer that way, she told herself, and she was only just stopping herself from shivering. He seemed to sense an air of disappointment in her quietness because he said, a moment later;
"I'm sorry about the rather primitive conditions, if I'd known I would have a guest over here I would have been a bit more prepared."
"Will you stop apologising?" she asked him, "Haven't I made it clear that I'm glad to have a roof over my head? Anyway, you needn't worry, it's only me. You don't need to impress me."
She could not think what made her add that last, and took a quick sip of tea to avoid the temptation to dwell on it. He, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas.
"Perhaps I want to impress you, Ann," he told her, "You in particular."
"Why should you want to do that?" she forced lightness into her voice that she certainly did not feel.
He looked at her levelly.
"Ann. I thought we agreed we weren't going to wind each other up."
"Sorry," she replied, smiling a little, "Force of habit, I suppose."
They were quiet for a moment.
"You're still cold," he told her after a moment, sounding aggrieved.
"Perhaps I am," she admitted, wondering how on earth he could possibly tell, perhaps she was shivering without knowing it.
"I could see if there's anything stronger to put in the tea, warm you up a bit," he offered.
"Does a plentiful supply of alcohol follow you around?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied flatly, "I'm surprised it's taken you this long to realise. There's bound to be something in a cupboard."
She smiled.
"Thanks," she replied, "But I don't think me drinking any more would be the best idea."
"Fair enough," he told her, "But you're still going to be cold. We'll have to think of another way to warm you up."
She caught the look in his eye. She almost gulped on her tea as she swallowed the lump that seemed to rise in her throat, but somehow managed to stay vaguely composed.
"Paul," she told him as levelly as she could, "If we've decided that we're not going to wind each other up, then you're overtly trying to seduce me."
Immediately the words had left her mouth, she found it almost impossible to believe that they had. For his part, Paul looked a little bit taken aback too, but managed to disguise it fairly well.
"Aren't I always?" he asked after a moment.
It was then that she spluttered. Hurriedly putting her tea down on the little table beside her, she looked at him rather aghast, leaning away from him a little.
"You mean, you've always been serious?" she asked him, "Every time you've-... made remarks."
"Perfectly," he replied, "Did you think I was joking?"
"Well, yes!" she replied.
"Did you really?" he asked, his eyes narrowing a fraction, "Or is that what you told yourself?"
She sat there silently for a moment, trying to take it in. Trying to work out how it made her feel. Trying to think straight.
"Don't worry," he told her, "I understand how things are. I would never do anything you didn't want me to. But if you did-..."
"I just-..." she trailed off in bemusement, "I never thought you were serious."
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked her, "Have you seen yourself? Ann, you're beautiful."
She felt herself flush right down to the collar of her green dress.
"I always wondered what it would be like, you know," she admitted, a moment later, "What we would be like."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure you're being serious?" he asked her lightly.
"Is it likely I'd joke about it now?" she asked him in return, a little sharply.
He was silent. They both were. For long moments.
"Paul," she said at last, her voice quiet but somehow resonant in the silent room as she said it, "I want to."
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