**an unexpected sequel to 'You Won't Come Back, Will You?' I've never had 2 stories written months apart that stitched up so seamlessly. Must be beginner's luck. Or a neural loop.**
S2 E8 – Harry Dances
Part 1 of 2
He wakes up on his side, facing east, roused by dawn's first light. Even this softest of lights makes his head hurt. But it isn't all that bad, he thinks, considering how much I had to drink the night before.
Stretching lazily, he winces as his lower back twinges unexpectedly. That's odd, he thinks, I must have slept crooked. Oh, well, I might do with a stroll along the beach later, MY beach, with perhaps a few stretches to loosen up in the shade of the palm trees.
His shoulders seem tight too but nothing can dispel the happiness as he opens his eyes to greet his first rosy morning as a permanent resident of Saint-Marie.
Home. Saint-Marie. Today, this morning, the idea doesn't seem shocking at all. Not like the death-sentence of two years ago. Not like the deliberate subterfuge of one year ago. Not like the curious anxious half-dream of even the past few months. No, he is where he belongs and where he wants to be.
He shudders and closes his eyes in dreadful remembrance of his week in London just finished. Finished? Is that the right word? No, it isn't. Try endured! Try spitted and roasted over an open fire of doubt and fear! I needed a plan. I had a whole week to come up with a plan; a simple, sure-fire, easy-peasy, you-betcha plan. Annddd… nothing, nada, zippola, crickets, dead air. There's still time, he consoles himself. I only got back yesterday. Maybe I'll spend the day walking my beach and planning my plan.
He smiles, flexing out his tender back. His whole day is booked now, just the way he likes it.
Then he frowns to remember how he'd left in such a rush a week ago. How it had felt like the basest betrayal and abandonment of his home island… and I don't mean England! How he'd left so much unsaid and undone… I could have written her a note if I'd had the time. How he'd left alone… the prisoner didn't count. Well, his brilliant plan (pending) will make up for all that! He hadn't wanted to go at all but had been forced by circumstance and duty!
He scoffs quietly, folding an arm beneath his thumping head. Just like I was forced to come here in the first place, yeah? I remember how angry and spurned I felt. What an idiot I was not to realize I'd been given my salvation. Maybe not on that first day so long ago… but the truth should have hit me sooner than it did. I shouldn't have had to wait until a week ago to realize I was in love.
Now he smiles again, sighing, his eyes ticking back and forth beneath his eyelids as he lets this impossible fact wash over him. It feels like gentle spring rain come to soften the earth from its cold winter sleep, to heal and awake and draw new life forth where all had lain frozen and dead. It feels wonderful! Scary as hell but still wonderful!
All he needs is that plan.
What a week it had been, too, his forced absence. He recollects the flight away (passed in a daze), the hotel (something with a bed), the visit to his parents (OK but it killed him to not mention her name), his old snug (a shocking disappointment), the court appearance (BORE-ing) etc. etc. etc.
He'd been SO LONESOME! In a city of roughly eight million people, he'd been all alone. His old life had been exposed for what it truly was; grey and drear and empty! So empty he could hear ringing echoes everywhere. No matter how many people there were in his vicinity, there'd been no air, no light, no music, no perfume, no colour, no laughter. He had stood outside in the freezing rain and sleet and HATED every second of it because, mostly, there were no teasing dark eyes helping him to cope!
He missed her. He missed her so dreadfully that it had taken him several days to admit it.
It was only for one week! How can you possibly hurt so much from just one week's absence? Well, you can hurt pretty badly it turns out. But now I'm back. I'm back home and now I have to face my dilemma. I have my whole life before me and I have to settle my future.
All I have to do is solve one… major… problem. Just one. Easy-peasy, right? Um. What's the plan?!
He shifts, tries to find a more comfortable position. Really, why does my back throb so? What did I do yesterday that would account for it? He searches his clearing memory, recalling images of his home-coming; the excited team, the smiling Commissioner, the banner, the balloons, the party. Ah, the party! I had not expected to see such happiness in their eyes. He knew then that he had made the right choice. These are my REAL people. Finally.
He cannot recall hurting his lower back. He shakes his head. It will come back to me. Sooner or later, everything comes back to me. It is both my curse and my secret power. Anyway, I shouldn't be wasting time on memories. I'm back home and I'm ready to start my life. Only one thing can ruin it now.
He groans. Just one thing. I have to be very careful. Much thought and planning is needed to further my future. This could be the trickiest puzzle I've ever tried to solve. I'd better get up and start my day, beginning with that walk along the beach!
Just as he is tensing to lever himself out of bed, he hears a tiny clatter, very close.
He opens his eyes again to a most astounding sight.
Harry is on the bannister only inches away - and he is dancing. Well, either that or having some sort of seizure. Whatever, it is astounding to watch. Harry's back is arched, his tail swung forward and quivering. He lifts one front foot then the other, a slow two-step interspersed with dignified head-bobs then a completely unexpected and spectacular scarlet chin-flap arches out like a sail catching the wind. It pulses and flashes briefly in the strengthening morning light before folding back up and the whole procedure starts over again.
Richard watches this with stunned fascination. That flap! A blazing flag! It practically shouts 'Here I am, ladies! Come and get me!' I wish I had such a blazon. She couldn't fail to see me if I did! But then he sinks into reverie. I don't want to advertise to ALL the ladies. Just the one. And I certainly don't want to attract the attention of other males in the vicinity. That leads to fights. Any of her blind dates could lay me out in a twinkling.
Now he pauses and ponders the unthinkable… but would they? I'd be fighting for my future, not just a date. There is a happy home and domestic bliss and, perhaps, children on the line here. I would fight with every ounce of strength in my body and I wouldn't give up. I'd fight to the death. This sobers him and he looks back to his little dancer with new respect. Biology is an unthinking machine; relentless, remorseless, and uncaring. You either get with the program or you get out of the way. You either win or you lose.
In his heart, Richard knows he is about to enter the fray. He only hopes he survives.
Harry hasn't stopped his routine. His tiny gleaming eyes are focused on Richard most fixedly then they shift almost imperceptibly to a spot behind him before flicking back. His reptilian regard is steady and deadly serious. If anything, his pace picks up. Almost like something is coming to a head.
Richard leans forward in anticipation. What on earth could happen next to top THIS performance? Almost hypnotized by this never-before-seen display behaviour, he does not hear the soft rustle of bedding. Indeed, he does not realize he has company until the bed dips briefly beneath him, a smooth chin nestles onto his shoulder, and a sleepy amused voice whispers, "Morning. What's so interesting over here?"
Jet-lag, hangover, sore back, walks and plans; it all burns away in a white-out flash of incandescent shock in Richard's head.
Several things crash into clarity all at once; the feel of a warm Camille snugged up to his bare back, her sly kisses on his shoulder, visions of last night's party, the taste of exotic drinks, vague recollections of dancing, the feel of her arms around him, lots of laughter and snogging, urgent matters that needed resolution back at his place, the woozy mid-night drive, the mature Rioja brought out at last.
After that, everything got a little bit hazy and he doesn't have time to hunt for the memories because...
… only one thing remains crystal clear.
A warm Camille is snugged up to his bare back and her kisses are gaining urgency.
End – part 1