The weather changed overnight. The heat seemed to have ignited the heavens as dark grey clouds tumbled in, soon crackling with lightning and echoing with deep booms of thunder. The storm had woken both Max and Bella. Tasha had slept with them in the spare room, grateful for the distance from her marital bed, two little bodies curled up against her to keep safe. She cherished these moments when Max was cuddly and sleepy. They were few and far between. Bella was always in the mood for hugs but her little boy was more reticent. She remembered those blissful hours cradling him in her arms when he was a newborn and marvelled at how the time had flown. Despite his tantrums she loved his fierce independence, his feisty little personality. Every time she looked at him, his freckles, his sandy fringe and the pale skin that had rarely seen the light of day that lay beneath, she knew that all his trickier moments were worth putting up with.
As Tasha enjoyed her cup of coffee in the garden the next morning she breathed in deep lungfuls of air. The damp smell of the earth was heavy, the plants bejewelled with raindrops and the grass soaked through. The garden was saturated with water, its thirst quenched by the rainfall over night after a long dry spell. There was a sense of regeneration in the air.
The children rose without protest for once, relieved by the coolness. Arriving in the kitchen, Bella proffered her kilt for Tasha to do up her button. It was too tight for her to manage herself. Tasha made a mental note to dig out the next size up from Flora’s hand-me-downs, another item added to her ongoing list. She thought once again about the mental load article that she had discussed with Flo.
‘Can we have scrambled eggs today, please?’ Bella asked.
‘Good idea, darling. We haven’t had eggs for ages.’
‘Have you seen my skort?’ Flora asked, coming into the kitchen pulling on her polo shirt. ‘I need it for games today.’
‘It’s in the pile of clean washing on the stairs, I think,’ Tasha replied, clearing a pile of Charlie’s papers from the table then fetching eggs and a bowl from the cupboard.
When all three children had located their various belongings, dressed themselves in the requisite parts of their uniform and eaten their breakfast, they set off up the road. Tasha was praying that the rain would hold off; she had forgotten to bring an umbrella and the clouds above looked full to bursting and ripe for another downpour. Luckily the heavens resisted the temptation to open and she managed to get them all safely through the school gate in time for the first bell.
After swapping pleasantries about the weekend with a few of the other mums she headed for home, lost in her thoughts. She was still fuming about Charlie’s lack of appreciation yesterday, not to mention his utter failure to read her or her mood. As she rounded the corner she noticed Javier sauntering up the street towards his front door, approaching from the opposite direction. He had the paper and some milk in his hand and was looking up at the sky as if he had just felt a droplet of rain.
‘Tasha!’ Javier exclaimed as he lowered his eyes, his gaze falling upon her.
‘Morning, Javier,’ Tasha replied.
‘That was quite some storm last night, wasn’t it?’
‘It certainly was! Were you at work?’
‘We were treating a guy who’d been knocked off his bike. There was a power cut but thankfully the generators kicked in. It must have been a big one.’
‘Gosh, I hadn’t thought about that. Thank God for generators.’
‘Indeed.’
‘I wonder whether they have them in Haiti…’ Tasha said.
‘Why Haiti?’
‘My sister’s in hospital in Port-au-Prince.’
Friendly concern flickered across Javier’s face. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?’
‘She has malaria.’ Tasha filled him in on all that she knew so far. She was grateful to be able to talk it through with a fellow medical professional.
‘It sounds like she is doing well?’
‘As far as I can tell. The doctor I’ve spoken to doesn’t speak much English.’
‘An old colleague of mine works in Port-au-Prince, I don’t think he is at the same hospital, but he might be a good person to contact if things take a turn for the worse? He is French but he speaks fluent English.’
‘Oh, wow, thank you, Javier. That would actually be great.’
‘Come in and I’ll get his details for you.’
He unlocked the door and walked into the hallway. She glanced through the door on her left to the sitting room where she had noticed Javier eating his dinner the other day. It was decorated in neutral tones, simple and uncluttered, just as she had imagined. Beautiful photographic prints hung on the walls. The kitchen had a small island, which was covered in paperwork. It was clearly not in use as a work surface for cooking, as Tasha’s was.
Javier rummaged around for an address book. ‘I think it should be in here somewhere,’ he said. ‘Just give me a minute.’ As he thumbed through the pages Tasha noticed a trace of his spicy aftershave in the air. The dampness outside had caused his shirt, a pale blue linen, to cling ever so slightly to his back, revealing muscular shoulders that curved down to narrow hips.
Tasha suddenly felt out of her comfort zone. Being in his house felt different somehow. Their previous encounters had always been outside on the street, in the open, with the freedom to walk away and the safety of knowing any passers-by could witness their interactions. In her home, she had been surrounded by all of the evidence of her family. But here she felt strangely vulnerable, as if the power balance had subtly shifted.
‘Here you go!’ he said, scribbling down a name and number on a piece of paper. ‘I’ll just write mine underneath,’ he added. ‘In case there is anything else.’ He looked up at her and she held his gaze for a moment.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘Like I said, it’s no problem.’
They stood in the kitchen, somewhat awkwardly. His unsettling effect on her seemed intensified now that she was in his home. She looked around the kitchen, suddenly finding it hard to tear herself away.
‘You have so many amazing photographs,’ she said, gesturing at a scene of a lake with perfectly reflected snow-capped mountains in its waters. ‘That is absolutely stunning. Where is it?’
‘I took that one in New Zealand.’
‘You took them?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Yes.’ Javier shrugged his shoulders and smiled, his brown eyes twinkling.
‘Wow!’ she said, taking a closer look. ‘A jazz-playing doctor and a photographer – an impressive skill set indeed.’
‘Ah, so you’ve heard my saxophone?’
‘Occasionally. It comes through the window from time to time.’
‘Do you like jazz?’
‘I don’t really know much about it. I love the saxophone. And I have enjoyed what I’ve heard you play, so I suppose I must.’
Javier nodded. He was still smiling at her, almost quizzically now.
‘Where did you take this one?’ she asked, peering at the face of an old woman, a gap-toothed grin breaking out across her deeply wrinkled skin.
‘South America, in a little village in Peru.’
‘You are well travelled, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t travel much any more but I spent several years travelling and taking pictures before I began my career in medicine.’
‘That’s the time to do it,’ Tasha said wistfully. ‘I wish I had done some more while I still had the chance.’
‘There’s still time,’ Javier said.
‘I suppose…’ Tasha took a step closer to examine the photograph. Javier was right beside her, looking at the image, seemingly lost in his thoughts. She wondered what he was thinking, who he had travelled with, what his story was. He must be well into his forties; those laughter lines gave his age away. Now that she was so close to him she could see the odd salt and pepper strand of grey in his thick, dark hair.
As she stood there she felt the energy between them slowly intensify. Tasha kept her eyes fixed on the photograph. Once again, she knew she should break this dangerous intimacy and leave but she just couldn’t seem to tear herself away. Adrenaline flooded her body. She couldn’t even turn her head. Her whole body tingled at his proximity to her. He was mere inches away.
After a while she could bear it no longer. She glanced up at him and found him looking at her. No doubt he was wondering why she was hanging around. He smiled at her and she blushed, feeling her neck flush with colour. She couldn’t deny it: she wanted him. He seemed to have an intoxicating effect on her.
‘Would you like a coffee, Tasha?’ he asked, softly.
‘No. Thank you,’ she replied. She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. Her heart was pounding. She seemed unable to break the lock his eyes had on hers. Her breath was shallow and she felt a little light-headed. Her mind was screaming warning bells as loud as claxons but her body seemed utterly determined to ignore each one. The rational part of her brain was sending a checklist of reasons to leave through her in rapid succession: Charlie, the children, it went on and on. Yet her primal instincts were overpowering all logical thinking. She was standing in front of this man, who had listened to her, complimented her, noticed her. She knew she was not in a good place with Charlie but that was not an excuse. It wasn’t the right thing to do but she was almost daring him to make a move, to see what her reaction would be. Surely she would bat him away and walk past him? Wouldn’t she?
Time seemed to slow down. She was aware of his breathing. She could see each piece of stubble on his chin, the caramel-coloured flecks in his deep brown eyes. Tentatively he reached out and touched her hand. At his touch the tingling she had experienced was intensified, as though someone had turned up the voltage. Her whole body thrummed with electric energy. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he took a final step towards her, closing the gap between them. She shut her eyes. She knew it was wrong but she didn’t want it to stop. In that moment, all she wanted was for him to kiss her. She could hear nothing apart from her pounding heart. It overtook every thought. As his lips slowly touched hers every cell in her body seemed to come to life. Parts of her that had lain dormant for years and years kicked into gear. She felt a deep, primal awakening within her. The overwhelming power of lust punched her in the gut with its force. She knew it was hopeless. She knew in that moment she would surrender. As he kissed her she felt herself disappear into the longing that he created inside her. He led her upstairs to his bedroom and she followed blindly, collapsing onto his bed and succumbing to each mesmerising kiss as he made love to her, powerless to stop it.