‘In nature we never see anything isolated, but everything in connection with something else’
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
As the days grow hotter, we see the first of the sunflowers appear in the fields surrounding St Quentin. The plans and paperwork for The Barn are progressing at the usual laidback French speed, which almost threatens Cal’s positivity until he decides to ‘just go with it’ and ‘kick back a bit’. The ‘do-it’ list I share with Poppy for the wedding gets variously renamed the ‘do-I-have-to-do-it?’ list, the ‘we-must-get-on-and-do-it’ list and now the ‘just-do-it!’ list. Though sometimes we add a swear word or two between ‘just’ and ‘do’, if we’re having a bad day.
I’m up early, even though I haven’t any guest breakfasts to get, because I’d rather Flump hurtled around the garden like a furry nutcase before it gets hot. He throws himself into everything with such joyful abandon that it can’t fail to put a smile on my face. He is so innocently, unequivocally happy. It’s like he has effortlessly prised open a crack in my heart and for the first time in ages I feel pure love and an uncomplicated joy. What I feel for Cal, the cautious seedling hope that has been tentatively growing during our evening walks to the lake, is far more complicated and deeper.
One advantage of not being on duty in the kitchen is that I am still in my nightshirt. It looks like it might be a T-shirt dress though, so it does for Flump’s morning walks. As we are still toilet training I don’t exactly have time to hang about getting dressed and doing my hair and make-up.
Flump is now bounding about chasing a butterfly with such a comical look on his face that I laugh out loud. It’s a definite change in me. I can’t remember the last time I laughed properly, not just a polite smile at someone else’s joke, not before Flump and Cal came onto the scene anyway.
Loving animals is so much easier than loving humans. Maybe I should just be like Angeline and end up surrounded by lots of rescue animals. She seems pretty happy. I take a quick look at my phone and look again at the text message that came in from Annabel last night. I really must reply. Or add it to my ‘do-it-or-else’ list.
I don’t want to hassle you JoJo but you’re going to need to decide if you’re going to take the offer for the café.
Great. Do I accept the offer so that it’s all over and done with, even though it’s a low one? I rub my forehead, feeling a tension headache starting there. Then I look up and notice that Flump is nowhere to be seen. Ever since he ran out onto the road that time I’ve been plagued by panic when he disappears. Even though it’s usually only for a few minutes and it’s only to hide behind a bush or under the sofa, somewhere I hadn’t even known he could fit.
We’ve been training and he thinks recall is a good game. Unfortunately, he also thinks hide and seek is an even better game, for which I blame Peanut.
‘Flump, Flump, come here.’ I pace around the garden trying hard not to feel fraught. Logically I know he won’t have gone far. In this direction, behind the house, there are only fields and a neighbour’s garden, no roads really to worry about.
But still, he’s too much of a puppy to go missing. If he did get further afield he has no road or traffic sense yet. He doesn’t know to be careful of cows … What if there are cows in calf in the fields? Panic grips my chest and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I pace the perimeter of the garden, peering through hedges and fencing, becoming frantic when I can’t find any hole he could have escaped through or see a flash of creamy tail amidst any of the dense foliage.
‘Flump, Flumperooni, come here right now,’ I shout, resorting to one of his nicknames.
‘What’s wrong?’
I turn around to find Cal has joined me. I’m so relieved to see him I could cry. Cal always seems to be there when I need him nowadays. I’ll process that thought later. Right now, I need to focus.
‘It’s Flump, he’s gone. He was just here.’ I point at a spot by the hedge. ‘And now I can’t …’
Embarrassingly my voice wobbles.
‘Shh.’ Cal takes hold of my elbows and something about the firm gesture and the calm eyes that meet mine helps stop my panic spiralling. ‘Let’s listen for him.’
I nod and we creep up to the hedge.
‘Call him now and then stay quiet,’ he says in a low voice.
‘Flumper, come here, Flumperooni.’
I ignore Cal’s eyeroll at the nickname and join him in listening.
I can hear the faint tinkle of Flump’s tags knocking together. I part the branches of the pine tree, trying to penetrate its darkness and notice that the wire at the bottom of the fence has been pushed up a little, perhaps by a fox or cat on its nocturnal rounds. I continue to push through, ignoring the branches scratching at my bare legs and also ignoring Cal’s suggestion that I wait.
Just as I am trying to squeeze through the bush and to swing my leg over the wire, I feel my nightdress tear and my leg snag on the same thorns. Fantastic.
Cal whistles for Flump and the little dog races happily towards the fence, ducks underneath it and hurtles towards Cal, ignoring me completely. I grind my teeth and try to pull free from the bush only to discover that I am well and truly stuck.
Oh, bloody hell.
‘Do you need some help there?’ Cal asks, peering in at me with Flump in his arms. They are both wearing identical WTF expressions, as though my behaviour is inexplicable.
‘I’m fine,’ I huff and try to disengage myself, to no effect except for another tear in my favourite nightdress. ‘All right, maybe I’m not okay. Can you help me?’
My request for help is tinged with an irritation that rationally I realise Cal doesn’t deserve, given he’s helping me yet again. Maybe that’s where my irrationality creeps in. Yet again Cal gets it right and I’m the one stuck in the thorny bush. There are real-life comparisons that could be drawn from this, I’m aware. And I’ve no doubt Cal is aware too.
There’s another, much more basic reason why I’m reluctant to let Cal help me and that’s because I don’t wear underwear under my nightdress. In hot weather it’s much more comfortable and it’s not like I ever bump into anyone when I’m doing Flump’s early morning toilet run. Not usually, anyway.
I can’t think of a way to mention the fact without making the situation even more mortifying.
‘Sure, no problem.’ Cal seems to be enjoying my predicament, or maybe he’s just enjoying the fact that I’m asking for help and having to rely on him. His fingers are gentle as they unhook the thorns from my dress, one by one. ‘Have you heard that spending just twenty minutes in contact with nature lowers your stress hormones?’
‘Ha ha, is that so?’ I grit my teeth and wince when he unhooks a thorn from my thigh. His fingers travel higher up and I go rigid.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll try to be more gentle with the next one.’
I don’t bother to explain that I’m tense for another reason altogether. Instead I close my eyes and just hope he doesn’t notice.
Cal seems to enjoy the experience of extracting me from the hedge far more than I do. Although all the accidental touching and brushing up against me is definitely having an effect of a very distracting nature. His hands linger on my body once I’m out and he runs his eyes over me.
Flump is at Cal’s feet, also scrutinising me, head tilted as he tries to puzzle out why I’m making such a meal out of hopping through the hedge.
‘That thing about stress hormones?’ I try to divert attention from the growing sexual tension.
‘What about them?’
‘I’m no scientist but I think the stress hormone effect might be negated if the trees are actually attacking you.’ I look down at the torn hem of my nightdress and the trickle of blood running down the back of my leg.
‘Hey, it was self-defence,’ he says, a definite twinkle in his eye. ‘You just launched yourself at the hedge, no introductions, what do you expect?’
‘Hmm.’ I attempt a withering glare, but it seems to glance right off of Cal’s sunny mood.
‘You could do with cleaning those scratches. Would you like me to help? I have first-aid training because of working in kitchens.’ Callum attempts a more solemn expression and I can’t help but smile back at him. It’s hard to stay cross with him for long.
I’m aware one of the scratches on my chest is near one of my breasts and imagine his fingers gently caressing me. His touch, while disengaging me from the thorns, was surprisingly tender. I have no doubt that some of the touching was not accidental but it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it.
I enjoyed it too much, that’s the problem. I’ve just about got used to our chats and have been kidding myself I can keep Cal in the friend zone.
‘I’ll be okay, thank you.’ I pick Flump up, concerned he might run after Cal instead of coming with me. That would be mortifying. ‘And thanks for helping me get Flump back, yet again. I really appreciate it.’
I am genuinely thankful for his help with Flump, who seems utterly determined to get himself into as many precarious situations as possible, just to keep me on my toes. Having someone else with me definitely helped to keep my panic in check.
‘At least let me put antiseptic cream on those scratches. Did you know you’ve got a nasty one here?’ Cal lightly touches the back of my neck and I shiver.
‘I’m sure I can manage.’ I stare down at the top of Flump’s head, aware my voice lacks conviction and that my skin is flushing pink at the thought of Cal touching me again. Yes, I might be sore and look like someone has been using me as a pincushion but evidently my body is still capable of arousal.
‘Don’t be an eejit.’ Cal deliberately thickens his Irish brogue to make me smile. ‘You can’t even see half the scratches, let alone reach them. I promise it will all be above board. Flump can be your chaperone if you like?’
I laugh and roll my eyes. ‘You’re the eejit, Cal.’
‘That is the worst Irish accent I’ve ever heard.’
‘It was deliberately bad. I was being ironic, obviously.’ I grin. ‘Okay, I’ll confess, I totally wasn’t, I’m just really crap at accents.’
‘Definitely a little eejit.’ Cal puts an arm around me as we head back to the house.
‘Ow.’
‘Sorry.’ He moves his arm. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I always wanted to be a doctor.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I always have been fascinated by science, and how things work. Plus, I used to enjoy playing the game Operation. Do you happen to have a funny bone that needs removing? Because I’m pretty handy with a pair of tweezers.’
‘Ha ha. No, I’m good, thank you.’ I giggle. ‘See, my funny bone is intact and working!’
I realise I’ve laughed more since Cal arrived at Les Coquelicots than in the whole of the rest of the year put together. It reminds me of who I used to be, makes me feel more myself somehow. It feels … nice. Nicer than nice. Resisting Cal is getting more and more difficult. I’m finding it hard to remember why it’s worth protecting myself. This is one risk that is looking pretty attractive from where I’m standing.
‘You’re a good girl, are you?’ Cal’s eyes are teasing.
‘Hardly,’ I say and think desperately of how to change the subject before the rest of me turns as pink as my neck. ‘So, why didn’t you study medicine then?’
‘Let’s say my dedication to study didn’t match my enthusiasm.’ Cal shrugs. ‘I’m an intellectual butterfly, flitting from subject to subject as something new grabs my interest. So many things to discover, places to go, girls to kiss … you know.’
I bite my lip, losing my battle with the flush that has spread to my cheeks. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed. My body may as well be signalling my interest with a neon sign.
The silence stretches between us, comfortable but charged, crackling with sexual electricity. I abandon my attempts to defuse it or damp it down and decide to enjoy it instead. It’s been a long time since I felt like this.
‘I think I can imagine,’ I reply eventually and open the back door to Les Coquelicots, putting Flump down on the floor.
‘If you sit down at the kitchen table I’ll go and get the antiseptic cream and some wipes,’ Cal offers, briefly touching my elbow before he heads off upstairs to the bathroom where we keep most of my first-aid supplies.
I can feel the anticipation coiling inside me, a mixture of fear, emotional desire and physical attraction bubbling up and spilling over. I fiddle with my torn nightdress hem and nibble anxiously at my lower lip.
When he comes back with the first-aid box and gently pulls the top of my nightdress down at the back so he can use alcohol wipes on the scratches, I can’t help starting a little at the contact.
‘Sorry, did that hurt?’
‘Um, yes, a little bit.’
Sure, that would be why I jumped. Absolutely nothing to do with Cal touching my neck. I’ve always found my neck is particularly sensitive to male attention but that’s not a piece of information I’m about to volunteer willingly.
When his fingers gently brush away strands of hair on my neck that have come loose from my ponytail I inhale sharply, and my pulse quickens.
I glance round at Cal and catch a knowing gleam in his eyes, a warm, teasing light that is more playful than predatory. My skin flushes. I can’t help my body responding to him. His fingers linger on the pulse point on my neck.
‘Did you know the heart beats on average one hundred thousand times a day? That’s thirty-five million times a year.’
‘How can you possibly remember that?’ I ask.
‘I like trivia. Like I said, I’m particularly interested in anything science-based.’ He disposes of the first lot of alcohol wipes in the kitchen bin and grabs some more. ‘I used to read a lot of How to… and Science for Boys type books as a child and I still read widely on topics that interest me.’
He picks up the cream and I tilt my head forward to make it easier for him to apply it. I notice the scratch on my chest and wonder if he’s seen it. The thought of the hands that are so tenderly ministering to my back slipping around to do the same to my chest makes my heart rate pick up. I think my heart will be beating a lot more than one hundred thousand times today, thanks to Cal.
‘So, any more interesting facts about the heart to share?’ I ask in an effort to distract myself from the thrumming of my own.
He leans over me to dab at the scratch on my chest. His lips are close to my right ear and I can’t help silently begging for his mouth to close the gap. Maybe he picks up my signal because I swear his lips oh so gently brush against my earlobe and a not so gentle shock of sexual electricity courses through me.
His fingers trace down from my collarbone to my heart where he places the palm of his hand over my nightdress. He moves slowly, giving me the opportunity to stop him at any time. I can’t bring myself to stop him. My skin prickles deliciously to his touch. It feels almost unbearably intimate. There is no way to hide the rapid thrumming of my heartbeat now. No hiding how turned on I am by him.
‘The heart is the most powerful source of electromagnetic energy in the body. The field actually extends way beyond the surface of our bodies. There’s even evidence that our hearts emit complicated signals, like they are transmitting information. These signals can be picked up by other people, subconsciously of course. So, if you ever get a bad vibe from someone, you’re probably basing it on more than just a subjective feeling.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, our hearts are talking to each other.’
‘Like the trees?’
‘Like the trees. There’s always a lot more going on beneath the surface than we think.’
My heart is doing a bit more than talking at the moment: more like it’s doing the conga at a booze-heavy office party. I get up and twist around, leaning back against the kitchen table as I tentatively place my own hand over Cal’s heart, and he replaces his on mine.
‘We can even influence each other’s heart rates.’ Cal’s eyes are dark now, almost indigo blue as his gaze locks on mine.
Now that isn’t news to me. Cal has been influencing my heart rate since the moment I met him. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so vibrant or so interested in the world around him. Aiden had charisma of a sort, but it quickly became apparent that the only planet he was interested in was the planet Aiden.
Cal’s energy stirs me, makes me want to know more, to experience more and to start looking outwards, to the world around me, instead of the inward, centred life I’ve been living since I went into hiding.
I’m holding my breath, wondering whether he’s going to kiss me, how far he plans to take this. It could just be a flirtation. I’m sure that for some men flirting is like breathing, instinctual and unthinking. For others maybe they like to know that they can still attract a woman; they don’t really plan to take it much further than flirty banter and enjoyment of sexual tension. As for Cal? I have no idea what he really wants from me.
For that matter I don’t know what I want. I want him to kiss me, of course I do … But mixed in with the genuine desire and magnetic attraction is a lingering anxiety that nags at me like an unrelenting toothache. It can’t be calmed by desire or soothed by anything except trust. Can I trust Cal? It’s far too soon to tell. My body says yes but my body has been wrong before.
I want him, I really do, but I’m unclear about his motives. Does he just want to be able to say he fucked the girl from the sex tape when he goes back to his real life?
Also, there’s one hell of a difference between coming out of hiding to live a relatively quiet life and switching a great big spotlight on myself by dating another celebrity.
I stay paralysed by conflicting desire and indecision.
Instead of leaning in for a kiss Cal’s fingers skim under the hem of my nightdress, lifting it up a little. My breath hitches again and my body tingles in a most delicious way, my skin prickling with anticipation. This is pretty forward for a next move.
But instead of lifting it up high enough to display my lack of underwear he takes his other hand from my chest and grabs another antiseptic wipe to clean up the nasty scratch on my thigh.
From the twitch of his lips I’m guessing he knew exactly what I was thinking and that he might already know I’m not wearing anything underneath. He then trails a finger up my body, over the hem of my nightdress and over my hip, taking me totally by surprise when he goes in for a tickle.
I giggle. God help me, Cal has turned me into a giggler! Then I wriggle away, half relieved, half disappointed. Clearly, he’s not going to take this further until he gets a full green light from me, rather than a light that keeps flickering from green to amber and back again.
‘Just checking your funny-bone response, to see if it needs removing with tweezers.’ He grins. ‘As I recall from my highly educational game of Operation it’s located just about here.’
He reaches out and tickles me again before I can get away and I squirm. I can’t even remember the last time I was tickled. It’s fun. I’m having fun. My mind dimly recognises the unusual concept.
That Cal decided to make me laugh rather than trying to get into my pants make me like him all the more.
Can I trust him? Only time can tell me the answer to that. My impatient, horny hormones are going to have to take a number and get in line.