In the rear, Effie sighs. “I think Anders is my new friend.”
Green Flag
Even though Effie sleeps in the car, I get her into bed as soon as I’ve fed her at home. She seems to go off to sleep without a problem and I’m not surprised. It’s been a full-on day.
I would like nothing better than to crawl under my quilt too, but I have to wait up. Anders will be coming to collect his car. I use the time to take a shower and climb into my warmest flannel pyjamas, topped with my fluffiest dressing gown. Anders’s car had heated seats, so I warmed up quickly once I was on the road. But I’m still extra appreciative of warmth at the moment, like one small chill reminds me how thin is the veneer of civilisation and heat on demand.
Putting on the television, I pick a movie and settle down to wait. It’s almost at the end by the time Anders finally messages that the recovery truck has arrived. Except my insurance is basic and when the repairman confirms Lucinda can’t be mended roadside, the situation worsens. Unfortunately, I’m only covered for removal to a garage in Windsor and Anders ends uphaving to walk to the railway station. My sense of indebtedness increases with each message he sends. I’m not ignorant of how much shit he’s bailed us out of tonight. And I’m so grateful I’m not the one having to train it home with an exhausted child in tow.
As soon as he confirms he’s on a train back to London, I relax. Selecting a lightweight comedy series, I hit play and lie back on the sofa. But somehow, I’m deeply asleep when the door buzzer sounds. I check the time; it’s close to midnight. For a moment, a thrill of alarm pulses through me. No-one visits at midnight. My system is prepped for bad news when I remember the day I’ve had and the rescue by Anders. He’ll be here to collect his car.
He is on the doorstep, looking tired and far more rumpled than he was earlier in the day. A most attractive hint of stubble covers his jaw and cheeks. There’s no hint of his normal ebullience, only weariness in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. Another stab of guilt pierces me. Here I am, cosy and warm, dozing on my sofa while Anders has been traipsing around the countryside sorting out my problems. And he really didn’t have to do any of it.
I hustle him inside, offering coffee, the only reparation I can make. But although he steps inside, he declines my hospitality with a shake of his head. I take his still-damp coat and hang it up as he moves into my lounge. His eyes sweep over my things, probably making judgements. The cheap sofa that’s past its best, the basket of Effie’s toys and the half-built Lego red dragon on the table.
The full impact of having Anders in my home hits me. I’ve worked for him for three years and I’ve visited his place occasionally, but he’s never been here. But since his proposal, we seem to keep blurring the boundaries between our professional and social lives. He should not be here, seeing how I live, the lackof money evident. It will change how he sees me, how he treats me.
He sits on my shabby, fake leather sofa. I pass him a glass of water and he takes it, tipping his head back to swallow. I watch his Adam's apple bob. He really is a gorgeous man. In his black denim and tees he’s handsome but a well-fitting suit does miracles for even the scrawniest man. On Anders, it looks divine. The colour of the cloth makes his eyes pop; the padding on the shoulders emphasises his powerful silhouette. Anders in a suit is the most enticing package. One I’m longing to unwrap.
But before either of us can speak, a little voice pipes up. “Hello again.”
“Effie!” My disapproval should be clear to her in that one word, but I follow it up. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I heard the doorbell.” She climbs onto the sofa beside Anders.
“Is that your dragon?” Anders nods to the unfinished Lego kit.
Effie nods.
“Do you like dragons?” Another nod.
“I do, too.” Anders puts the glass down. “In fact, I’ve got one. She’s a bearded dragon.”
Effie’s eyes open wide. “You have a bearded dragon?”
“Yep. Would you like to see a picture?” He hauls his phone out of his pocket.
“Oh, yes,” she breathes. Of course, she’s hooked. There’s one in her reptile book.
Their heads come together over the image. Anders would not do that if he knew how many lice warnings I’ve received since Effie started school. “She’s beautiful,” Effie whispers. “What’s her name?”
“Smauglette.” Anders grins but the joke fails to land.
“That’s an odd name.”
“Not really. She’s very greedy; so I named her after a greedy dragon in a book.The Hobbit.”
“The Hobbit?” Effie turns the words over.
“I think your mother has been neglecting you if you’ve never readThe Hobbit.” Effie turns disapproving eyes on me. Thank you, Anders, for that. Guess what I’ll be reading every night for months. Effie’s reading is good but not quite the independent standard required for a book like that.
“I’ll lend you a copy,” Anders offers.
“Thank you,” I intervene. “But I don’t think you’d get it back.”
Anders shrugs. “It’s the first step on the road to nerdom. I would be honoured to assist her on her journey.”
Effie looks between us, not yet understanding what is being said but realising an offer has been made and not accepted. “Please?”
