Once out in the corridor, I realised I still had a hold of Barclay’s hand. First face touching and now hand holding – he was going to think I was obsessed with him at this rate.
“Okay, right, great,” I burst out, dropping his hand like it was on fire and scuttling up the corridor away from him. I was not used to embarrassment and I was not finding it a pleasant sensation. Millie was the most self-conscious, shy, easily embarrassed person I knew – did she feel like this all the time? If so, she was a goddamn heroine for even leaving the house.
“See ya.” I gave what I hoped passed for a jaunty little wave and decided to make a run for it.
“Wait,” he snapped.
“Stuff to do,” I said, not slowing down and not turning to look back at him either. “Peeps to see. Bedfordshire to visit.”
I jogged up the stairs hearing his heavy footfall behind me. Once on ground level, I made a beeline for the kitchen (I’d learnt my lesson about leaving from the back door to avoid the press) but just as I’d cleared the counter, a large hand closed over mine and I was pulled to an abrupt stop.
“Just for once,” he said, spinning me round to look at him, “just this one time can youpleasedo what you’re told?”
“I . . .”
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Henry.”
“Don’t wor–”
“But you went too far,” he said, cutting me off. One look at his face told me he was over being spooked and had gone straight to angry. He was scowling down at me and a muscle was ticking in his jaw. “You pushed him too far. He’s not ready to contact his friends.”
“Let go of my hand,” I said in a quiet voice. For a moment his fingers actually tightened around mine. His jaw ticked again and then he released me. I took a step back and if anything, his scowl deepened. “He needs to get back to his old life, Barclay. There’s no reason for him to live like a hermit. Okay, if all his old friends are cockwombles and he wants to get new ones (one of which by the way isme), then he can do that. But I suspect that Flopsy and co. are anything but a bunch of cockwombles, and that Henry would be a lot happier if he could reconnect with them.”
“He was crying,” Barclay said, his voice gruff and worry seeping through the anger of his tone. “You made him cry.”
I frowned. “I didn’tmakehim do anything. Heneededto cry. He’s been bottling everything up for way too long. It was good for him.”
“I’ve never seen him like that.”
“I know it scared you–”
“I wasn’t scared,” he lied, his mouth setting in a hard line. “Look, I’m not sure he’s ready for all this. What if they–?”
“Life with HIV is still life, Barclay. You can’t keep him here protected forever.”
“I don’t think–”
“Do youwantto keep him locked away?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. “Is that it? Are you worried he’ll air his dirty laundry in public? Maybe impact your squeaky clean reputation?”
“Howdareyou say that,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, the air in the room vibrating with his hostility. “I would never–”
“Then don’t hold him back.” I flew in the face of the thick atmosphere. “Encourage him to get back out there. You’re such an uptight, priggish, old worrywart.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up, Flopsy. You asked me here. You wanted my help. This is me . . .helping.”
He took a step towards me and I took one back.
“You just don’t want to–” I was cut off by his lips on mine. One moment I was standing a foot from him, pointing in his direction from a safe distance, the next he was kissing me. It was hard and closed mouthed at first but then it softened. His hands moved into my hair and mine moved to his chest where I felt a low sound vibrate through the expensive suit he was wearing. Maybe it was the sound that did it. Or maybe his smell. Or maybe the stubble grazing my face. But I was lost. I opened my mouth, his tongue swept inside and any last vestige of self-control or self-preservation was obliterated.
“Fucking finally,” he muttered against my mouth. “You finally shutup.”
“Shut up yourself, Flopsy.” I fastened my hands behind his neck and hopped up to wrap my legs around his hips. He caught me, his large hands hoisting me higher as he started walking me backwards until I was against the wall.
Okay, so all my boyfriends had been bigger than me (Iwasbarely over five foot) but none of them had ever lifted me up like I was made of feathers and held me against a wall with one hand, before burying their other hand into my hair and kissing down my neck.
“I need to see you,” his voice rumbled against my skin, and I shivered before giving him a small nod. His hand slid from my hair to my shirt. He started undoing buttons. One went flying across the kitchen and the sheer frantic desperation of it sent a wave of excitement through me that was so strong I actually felt lightheaded. Thank you Universal Spirit Force for directing me towards my 70s paisley shirt and lime green miniskirt that morning. The skirt was now up around my waist and the shirt was open, revealing my purple lace bra. He held himself slightly away for a moment to look down at my chest. Slashes of red appeared across his cheekbones and another low humming sound vibrated against my hands, still on his chest.
