For the first time since he had left the island he felt at peace when he woke up. There had been no alarm clock, just the gently awakening of consciousness: the cushioning of his pillow, the silk of her skin, the mass of her hair, the heat that radiated from her body as he realised that Camille was still entwined in his arms, her hand over his ensuring that he couldn't leave her.
He wanted to wake her. Really wanted to wake her. But thought he might be more in her good books if he actually got her some coffee. He tried to remember if she had bought any yesterday. There had been some instant in his cupboard he knew that, but it wasn't very good. Certainly not up to her expectations and not what he wanted to give her to put her in a good mood.
A coffee shop? There was one a couple of minutes walk away. A decent one too if he remembered rightly. It wouldn't take longer than 5 minutes, providing there was no queue. He checked his watch. Well the queue was debatable at this time of the morning, mothers with buggies in all probability. He shuddered and the inevitable wailing he would have to endure. But Camille's need for coffee was greater than any annoyance he might feel at tripping over babies and bags. He slid out of bed as quietly as he could, Camille murmuring as his hand left hers, and moved to the chair where he had placed his clothes the night before, Camille's laughter at his fastidiousness still ringing in his ears.
Last night's shirt looked pretty creased but it would have to do – he couldn't risk getting another one out of the cupboard. His pocket notebook was on his dressing table and he silently ripped out a page, writing a brief note and leaving it on his pillow before gathering up his clothes to change on the landing.
There had been rain in the night, small pools had formed at the base of the trees that lined his street, quickly soaking through the hard soil. The pavement looked damp but no longer wet and Richard guessed that by the time he returned the sun would have gained enough strength to dry it out completely and burn off the clouds that still hung raggedly overhead.
The coffee shop, he was gratified to see, was artisanal enough to put off the majority of starbucks seeking parents. There was still a queue, but he didn't mind waiting in this environment: the dark wood, the quiet music, the delicious smell. Not for the first time did he lament not liking coffee as much as he should. He supposed he had been put off by too many cheap cups at three in the morning. What the hell though, he thought, he'd buy one for himself. He'd only taste it on Camille anyway.
Paying, and only just managing to avoid being outraged at spending £7.50 on two cups of coffee, he stepped outside back in to the sunshine, feeling lighter and more in control of his life than he had done in a while. Moving aside to let a couple of girlfriends walk by him he was rewarded with a smile. He also thought that one of them checked him out, but it had been so long since that had happened that he instantly dismissed the interest in her eyes and the small curl of her lips. He probably had some sort of stain on his shirt or something. Women, and pretty ones at that, didn't look at Richard Poole in that way. They never had. Except Camille.
His pace quickened at the thought of Camille. He wondered if she was awake, if she had found his note. Rounding the corner his concentration was momentarily taken by an old couple ahead of him.They looked bizarrely like his parents. His train of thought meandered again. He should probably call them. He hadn't spoken to them for a while. He'd do it after Camille had left. He was pretty sure that his mother had mentioned something about coming to London for the day anyway...
The pieces fell into place instantly in his mind, a swear word tumbling from his lips as he started running. He got to the door just as it was closing, silently cursing the fact that he had ever given them a key. He pushed it open roughly, hoping that he wasn't about to hit one of them in the face.
He saw his mother's look of surprise and fear before it relaxed into recognition. "Richard! How lovely, I thought you were at work today?"
"Mum!" He kissed her quickly. "No, I've taken a couple of days off. I'm sorry I forgot you were coming..." He was falsely jovial, trying to manoeuvre himself around his parents in order to further block their progress into his hall.
"Oh, we won't be in your hair for long, we just came by to get your father a drink before heading out..." She took in his creased shirt, raising a hand to smooth his collar a gesture born of nearly four decades of worry and of care. Tutting her disapproval she pushed her way past him again. Richard resisted rolling his eyes and narrowly avoided tripping over Camille's shoes which he then stood in front of, hoping that he was shielding them. Wondering how the hell he could get rid of both of them, he was unaware that his father had been watching him with a gleam in his eye.
"Is that coffee Richard?"
He stared at the cups in his hands, wiling them somehow to disappear. "Um...yes."
"Two cups of coffee"?
Richard was beginning to wish that the ground would open up and swallow him up. Or at least do the decent thing and swallow his parents up.
He was searching for an answer, knowing that nothing he could possibly say would be an adequate explanation. "At the weekends I like to get two...it's very good," he finished lamely. There was no way his father was going to believe that. "But, I'd, um, be happy for you and mum to..."
"Emily, Richard's brought us coffee!"
"Lovely – thank you darling!" His mother seemed to have forgotten that she'd had no idea they were coming.
Richard winced at his parent's booming voices. The last thing he needed was for Camille to emerge from his bedroom wearing next to nothing asking what the hell was going on. He risked a look up the stairs to check and when he turned back saw that his father had followed his gaze.
"Everything ok?"
"Yup, fine." He feigned nonchalance.
His mother's voice filtered through from the kitchen again. "Oh dear Richard! Your kitchen is filthy!"
He risked another look at his father, knowing that he knew. He shot him a pleading look, imploring him to take his mother away before she started snooping. He remembered the mess in his sitting room. Wine glasses, cushions on the floor, the outer layers of Camille's clothing strewn around the furniture. He wanted them to meet her, but not like this.
His father took the hint, raising an entertained eyebrow as he did so, clearly communicating his amusement at the situation and turned to follow his wife into the kitchen. Richard could hear him take up the conversation as he surveyed the situation.
"Ah. Yes this is a mess." A pause. "Why don't we go to a coffee shop?" Richard could hear his mother start to bemoan the cost when a little work would ensure they could all sit together at his home when his father cut her off again. "Richard's treat."
"But it's such a shame..."
"Nonsense, it will be a lovely start to our day out, we could have a late breakfast..." He hoped that it wouldn't take too long for her to agree. His diplomatic skills weren't what they once were and he wasn't sure what other tactics he could employ. He held out his hand, and gave her a small little coaxing wink praying that she would take it. She did and he smiled at her, grateful that she wasn't going to argue over this.
He led her back past Richard. "Oh darling, it's such a lovely thought. Does Daddy know where we're going?"
Richard nodded and started walking behind her, gently pushing her to the door. His father paused before leaving and listened quickly to the simple directions.
He smiled the Poole lop sided smile. "You know, if you don't turn up then I won't be able to keep her there. Not now she knows you aren't at work."
"I know."
A pause. "Will you come on your own?"
Richard lowered his eyes and shrugged, too embarrassed to look his father in the face. "I don't know. Its early days, so..."
"So, she might not want to meet your parents."
Richard nodded. As his father started towards the door he realised how much his father had just achieved in 30 seconds and managed to mumble a curt, "thanks Dad."
He raced up the stairs as soon as the door had closed. "Camille?"
She was standing by his bedroom door in his old shirt and boxers and he couldn't help but smile at the tableau she created and the fact that she must have panicked when she couldn't find his clothes and gone through his wash basket. He wondered cynically if she might now consider buying some pyjamas of her own...
"Are they gone?" Clearly she had heard everything.
He nodded. "I'm sorry, I forgot. You arrived, and then my promotion and time off...I said they could use the house as a base." He shrugged. "I'm sorry." He finally remembered that he was still holding two cups. "I got coffee." He hoped it would go some way to sooth her, before he dropped his next bombshell.
She took it gratefully, taking a large warm mouthful. Her eyes closed in enjoyment and he could see her smile form around the plastic lid as the liquid hit her taste buds. She looked at him fondly. "Thank you." It was said with feeling.
As the coffee worked its magic she began to realise that he hadn't touched his. "Don't you like it?" She indicated the coffee.
He was trying to work out the best way to tell her that he didn't want it because he was about to get a fresh one. Oh and by the way did she want to come with him to meet his parents for the first time? He could hear it in his head and knew it sounded ridiculous.
"Richard?"
"I have to go out..."
"Oh." She looked disappointed for an instant then covered it with a smile. "Can I come too?" She caught his look and took the hint. "Oh. It's fine. I don't have to come..."
"No, it's..." He took a deep breath. "My parents, they haven't exactly left. They're just...around the corner. I have to have breakfast with them."
"Oh." Then, "did they leave because of me?"
He was weaving his head, trying to be tactful and failed. "Sort of. Dad managed to get mum out before she snooped too much. Otherwise she probably would have come up to introduce herself!" He pulled a stupid face, gave a fake bark of laughter, saw that Camille wasn't playing along so stopped.
"But you don't want me to come..."
He realised what he'd done. "Of course I want you to come! But, I don't want you to feel like you have to. Mum doesn't know and Dad won't mind. We can do it another time." He thought about making a grab for her hand, to show her how sincere he was, but his arms seemed to be stuck by his side, completely inert and independent of his brain.
"But your mother will find out that I was here and think I didn't want to meet her..." She was at her suitcase, decision already made, throwing clothes aside in search of a perfect outfit. "Why do I not have anything to wear!" Richard had no answer. Anything would have been suitable for her to wear, but he didn't dare tell her that. Instead he backed away, taking refuge on the staircase, cold cup of coffee still in hand listening to the clattering of her getting ready.