Page 49 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

She silenced the little voice in her head that was saying, But what about Max? What about your speech?

She paused at the top of the stairs. ‘Well, I know that’s the bathroom,’ she said, indicating the door on the right, ‘and a very dreamy bathroom it is too. But what’s through here?’

She pushed open the door with her foot. It swung open, revealing a large bedroom. Harry’s bedroom, quite probably, although it was difficult to tell because like the rest of the house, this room was quite sparsely decorated. She stepped inside and looked around. Harry grabbed a book off his bedside table, kicking it under the bed with his foot, but she pretended not to notice. Instead she let go of his hand and went over to study a huge picture on the wall, a blurry landscape with a steam train emerging from the mist. At least, she thought it was blurry; it could have been the wine.

‘Nice,’ she said, still gazing at the picture.

She was aware of Harry standing behind her, could feel his breath on her neck.

‘It’s a Turner,’ he said.

She turned to face him. ‘I didn’t realise you were into art.’

Harry put his arms around her. ‘I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.’

Like you don’t know that I have a child, she thought. A lovely, but difficult, child. A child who doesn’t like change and who wouldn’t cope too well with Mum having a boyfriend and I ought to stop this now, because I know it isn’t fair on you.

But the alcohol had clouded her judgement. Although it wasn’t just the alcohol. It was also an aching longing to be in his arms again. For all her independence, there was one thing that Taylor couldn’t do on her own, and that was give herself a hug. And there’d been so many times when she’d really needed one, but Max wasn’t a tactile child, and who else was there? So a heady mix of wanting to be held and sexual attraction and a little too much wine, and she reached up, intending to stroke his face. Then she spotted that he still had a pen tucked behind his ear. She took it and held it out to him, laughing. ‘I don’t think we’re going to be needing this again tonight, do you?’

She hadn’t intended that to sound quite as flirty as it did.

He took the pen from her, placed it on top of a nearby chest of drawers then pulled her gently towards him. She angled her face up to his and he kissed her cheeks and her eyelids and her nose, and then finally her lips.

He began to caress her neck with his fingertips. She kissed him back enthusiastically, then put her hands on his chest and pushed him back a little. They stepped backwards together, and she pushed him again, so that they fell onto the bed, with her lying on top of him.

She stopped kissing him then and smiled down at him.

If she’d been surprised by his performance in the kitchen – that meal really had been delicious – Taylor was even more surprised by his performance in the bedroom. Harry made love the way he kissed; he was a gentle and attentive lover. It was a long time since anyone had made her feel so desirable; in fact, she wasn’t sure anyone ever had before.

It was funny how sex changed things. She’d liked Harry before – well, she’d hardly have gone to bed with him otherwise – but now she was well and truly smitten. Harry got up quickly afterwards and went to make the promised cup of coffee downstairs and she lay back on the pillows, listening to the sound of the grinder and looking around the room. It was, like the rest of the house, a little bare. The walls were plain, with just that one picture. The effects of the wine were waning a little now, but the picture was still blurry; the steam train emerging from the mist put her in mind of the famous scene towards the end of The Railway Children when Bobbie stood on the platform beside a train, and as the steam cleared, she saw her beloved father, newly released from prison. She cried to him, ‘Daddy, my daddy,’ and ran into his arms.

When she and Max had watched the film together, he’d been completely unmoved at that moment, whilst she herself had been reaching for the Kleenex, despite the fact she’d seen it a million times before.

Max. Taylor sat up with a start and wondered where she’d left her phone. What time was it? She’d promised Sylvia she’d be home by half past ten, which meant being on the bus by quarter past at the very latest. The evening had flown by but it couldn’t be later than ten, surely?

Harry nudged the door open with his foot and stood in the doorway, looking at her. He was clad in a blue towelling dressing gown and wore navy velvet slippers. Old man slippers, Taylor thought, but she rather liked that. He obviously felt he could be himself around her.

‘What time is it, d’you know?’ she said as he placed the coffee on the bedside table.

He kicked off the slippers, but slid back into bed still wearing the robe.

‘Five past eleven,’ he said.

‘Shit, already?’

‘I know. I couldn’t believe it either. This evening’s gone so quickly. You’re welcome to stay.’

But Taylor was already out of bed, padding around his room in her bare feet retrieving her bra and knickers from the carpet. She didn’t even have time to feel self-conscious as she pulled her clothes back on.

‘What about your coffee?’ said Harry.

‘Sorry. I’ve really got to go.’

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, registering the disappointment on his face. She didn’t want to leave like this. Should she just come out with it? Explain about Max, and that she had to get back for the babysitter? That she wasn’t really in a position to have a relationship?

Although that was jumping the gun a bit. She still didn’t know if he was looking for a relationship.

This wasn’t the kind of conversation you could rush. It would have to wait for another day. If she hurried, she might make the last bus. Sylvia was lovely but Taylor suspected that if she was really late, she mightn’t be so keen to volunteer her babysitting services in future.