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She looks back at the albums. “Can I put one on?”
“Of course. I’ll take these to the bathroom.” I take them through. When I come back, she’s standing, about to put on a record. I join her there and pick up the cover. She’s picked The Beatles’Revolver.
“My dad’s going to love you,” I say.
She gives a shy smile. “You’ve got some great albums.”
“Yeah, not bad. Vinyl always sounds so much better.”
“I’ve never used a record player. It goes here?”
“Yep. That’s side two.”
“Yeah, I likeGood Day Sunshine.”
“Fair enough. Now move the needle across… that’s it.” The record starts crackling, and then song begins playing.
She takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.
“Better?” I ask.
She nods. “Music helps.”
Standing in front of her, I slide a hand under her chin and lift it so I can look in her eyes. “Are you feeling okay? Do I need to call Mathew?”
“No, I’m all right.”
“Are you sure? No pain, no bleeding or anything? He won’t mind.”
“No. I feel a bit cold, and I can’t stop shaking, that’s all. It often happens when I get panicky.”
“It’s shock. A bath and food should sort you out. But you let me know if you don’t feel well.”
“Yes, sir.” A ghost of a smile flickers on her lips.
Giving her a wry look, I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom. I turn off the water and test it. It’s warm but not too hot, and the bubbles are almost to the brim. I flick off the main light.
“Oh,” she says, looking around at the candles. “Oh, Saxon.”
“Come on. Let’s get you in.” I go out to the laundry cupboard, retrieve a couple of fluffy white towels, and bring them back. She’s still standing there, arms wrapped around herself. “Best to take your clothes off first,” I advise.
“Go out, then,” she says, shivering.
I shake my head. “You might slip over in the bath.”
“Saxon…”
“I’ll hold up the towel if you want, but I’m not going out until you’re in. Come on. Get that tee off.” I lift up the towel, and, grumbling, she strips off her tee and leggings, then, blushing, her underwear.
“I have seen you naked before,” I point out. “I believe I’ve kissed about sixty percent of your freckles.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to remind me.”
Chuckling, I put an arm around her and hold her steady as she gets in and sinks beneath the bubbles, removing the towel at the end so it doesn’t get wet. The song has changed toAnd Your Bird Can Sing, and she hums along to it she leans back, briefly revealing her curvy body before she sinks beneath the bubbles. “Oh,” she says with a sigh. “I haven’t had a bath in forever.”
I fold up the towel and slip it under her head. “Well, enjoy. I’ll be back in a bit with a snack.”
Turning to go, I pause as she says, “Saxon?”
