‘Hey, lassie, wait up!’
Ava turns to see her dance teacher hurrying along the street behind her. She stops, surprised, wondering if perhaps he’s come to critique her, perhaps he’s not seen such appalling dancing skills in all his years as a teacher. Perhaps he just didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the rest of the class. In which case, Ava is deeply grateful.
‘Hello,’ she says as he reaches her. ‘Hi.’
‘You’re a fast walker,’ he says, a little breathless.
Ava frowns. ‘I am?’
‘I wanted to catch you after class, I didn’t think you’d have got so far.’
An awful thought suddenly strikes Ava. ‘You’re not – I am allowed to keep taking your classes, aren’t I? I’m not that dreadful a dancer, am I? I’m practising, I promise, I even bought a CD. I think I’ll be much better quite quickly …’
Ross laughs. ‘What are you talking about? Of course you can keep taking my classes.’
Ava realises she’s been holding her breath. She exhales.
He holds out his hand. ‘I’m Ross.’
Ava nods. ‘I know. You introduce yourself at the beginning of your classes.’
‘Aye, of course, I’d forgotten.’ He smiles. ‘But I’ve not yet introduced myself to you personally.’
‘True,’ Ava acknowledges. She takes his hand. ‘I’m Ava.’
‘Lovely name.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you from Cambridge?’ Ross asks.
Ava nods again. ‘Born and bred.’
‘I’m from Scotland.’
Now, Ava smiles. ‘I’d never have guessed.’
Ross shrugs. ‘Some people think I’m Irish.’
‘American people?’ Ava asks.
Ross laughs. ‘Aye, usually. So …’ He shifts from foot to foot. ‘I’m glad you’re taking my classes.’
Ava grins. ‘Me too.’
Ross points down the road. ‘You going this way?’
Ava nods.
‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘Oh, okay,’ she says, wondering why, wondering what else he wants to talk about. They walk for a while, exchanging stilted sentences, until they fall into silence. Ava waits, deciding if Ross has something to say then she’ll just let him say it.
At the end of the street, a skinny young woman in ripped jeans is playing the guitar and softly singing. Her voice is lovely but she swallows her words, as if half of her wants to share them but the other half doubts they’re good enough.
Ross stops. ‘Hang on a sec.’
Ava looks at him, increasingly confused. ‘Sorry?’
‘I have to say something to her.’
‘Oh, okay,’ Ava says.
Ross walks up to the young woman, digging into his pockets. He stands a few feet away from her, in front of her open guitar case. He drops in a five-pound note. It floats down to settle among the few scattered pennies on the black velvet. The young woman looks up, surprised.
‘Never stop singing,’ Ross says, ‘never stop singing. You will succeed, one day you will. You have an exceptional voice. You just need to be a bit louder, a bit bolder. So, whatever happens, no matter how many times you think you should, just don’t give up, okay?’
The skinny young woman stares up at him, open-mouthed, wide-eyed.
‘Can you promise me that?’ Ross asks.
She nods, finally finding her voice. ‘Yes, I promise.’
‘Grand.’ Ross grins, then turns and walks back to Ava. ‘Thank you.’
‘What was that?’ she asks as they walk on. She glances back, to see the skinny young woman staring after them with a bemused but delighted look.
‘What?’ Ross asks. ‘With the singer?’
‘Of course.’ Ava laughs. ‘What else?’
Ross shrugs. ‘We all need a little encouragement now and then; don’t you think?’
‘Yes,’ Ava agrees. ‘But that was rather more than that.’
Ross shrugs again. ‘Well, I just knew she needed to hear those words right now. When things get dark, she’ll hold on to them and they’ll help keep a small, flickering light on inside her.’
‘Dark?’ Ava frowns.
‘Aye,’ Ross says. ‘I’ve got a feeling that one’s going to have her faith tested.’
‘How do you know that?’ Ava asks, wondering if it’s possible that he could be like her, if he can see the things that she can see.
‘Sometimes I hear words in my head,’ Ross explains, ‘and I have to say them to someone, cos they need to hear them, and—’
Ava hesitates. ‘You hear voices?’
‘No, it’s not like that.’ Ross laughs. ‘I’m not crazy. It’s sort of … Heck, I guess you could say I’ve got a gift.’
‘A gift?’ Ava frowns, wondering if the Scotsman is about to declare himself to be the next Jesus. She hopes he’s not crazy, since he’s rather nice in an odd sort of way, and the most phenomenal dancer. She’d hate to have to give up his classes, especially on grounds of insanity. ‘So, this “gift” of yours, what does it involve, exactly?’
‘Okay.’ Ross takes a deep breath. ‘I help women realise their true potential, their innate beauty and brilliance. I enable them to see themselves through my eyes. I bring out everything that’s locked up inside them, so—’
Ava raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re a motivational speaker?’
‘Not exactly.’ Ross laughs again, deep and mischievous. ‘I just go about my life and, when I see someone who needs my assistance, I assist them.’
Ava regards him with suspicion. ‘Is that why you’re following me, then, because you think I need “assistance”?’
‘Aye,’ Ross says. ‘You could say that. But don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. We all need a little help now and then.’
‘Hmm.’ Ava ponders this, unsure. ‘So, what do you think I need?’
Ross smiles. ‘Have you eaten? It’s late. I’m starving. Do y’ fancy a bite to eat?’
Ava and Ross sit cross-legged on the low stone wall outside King’s College, the remains of a takeaway pizza in a box between them. A bottle of red wine is secreted behind the wall, and Ava and Ross each cradle a half-full plastic cup hidden within the folds of their legs, taking discreet gulps now and then between bites of pizza. They talk about this and that, and nothing in particular, until Ross gets a gleam in his eye.
‘So,’ he says at last, licking his fingers and reaching for another slice. ‘Tell me everything.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Tell me everything. Your hopes, dreams, passions, longings, your desires …’ Ross continues, beginning to cast his particular kind of magic, ‘… the things you’ve always wanted to do but have never done.’
‘Oh,’ Ava says, surprised. No one has ever asked her this question before. Not even her sister when they were younger, even though they’d been as close as two people could be. Or so Ava had thought. ‘I don’t really know. I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘Really?’ Ross asks, incredulous.
Ava considers. ‘I do like dancing.’
Ross laughs. He throws his untouched slice of pizza back in the box, licks his fingers again then takes a gulp of wine. ‘Aye, of course, everyone loves dancing. Unless they’re so uptight they don’t even like sex.’
Ava stares at him. Is this a date? Is he suggesting something? Is she so naïve that she hadn’t even contemplated that before? Ava says nothing.
‘Do you like sex?’ Ross asks.
‘What?’ Ava splutters. She reaches for her plastic cup and takes a big gulp of wine. If this evening is going to develop in any sort of sexual direction, then she’s going to need the assistance of alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
‘You should have a fling.’
Ava chokes on her wine. ‘With you?’ she asks, when she’s got her breath back.
Ross smiles, placing his hand gently on her knee. Ava glances down at his hand, then back at his face, his mouth, his lips … And, suddenly, she’s so overcome with desire that it terrifies her.
‘No, not me, lassie. I don’t sleep with anyone I’m assisting. It’s not part of the service and it just ends up complicating and confusing things. Trust me, you’d regret it.’
‘Oh,’ Ava says softly, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘Okay.’
‘Aye, but I do think ye need a fling. Not a relationship – not yet. Nothing serious, all right? Promise me that. Fun is what you need. Dancing and sex. Sex and dancing. All right?’
Ava looks at him, incredulous. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude,’ she says, still feeling the sting of rejection, ‘but I don’t even know you. Why on earth should I take your advice?’
Ross smiles. ‘Because I know what I’m talking about. This is what I do. I see into women’s souls and I tell them what they need to do to be happy. And this is what I’m telling you.’
Ava scowls. ‘And how do you know I’m not already happy?’
Ross gives her a look.
‘Okay, okay.’ Ava scowls. ‘But sex and dancing? Really?’
Ava frowns.
‘Stop being so cynical,’ he says, still smiling. ‘You know – deep down, you know I’m right.’
And Ava’s scowl intensifies, because she does.
When Finn opens his curtains she is the first thing he sees. He blinks, but when he opens his eyes she’s still there. Finn closes the curtains.
Fuck. He can’t do this. He won’t. He won’t step into someone else’s marriage. Even if she’s willing to, he will not be a party to it. No matter how deeply, no matter how desperately he wants her, he will do the right thing.
Finn opens the curtains a crack and peers through. Greer seems to be leaning against the tree, though of course that’s impossible, since surely she’d slip right through. He steps back and waits. A few minutes later he peeks again. Greer hasn’t moved.
The following morning, having kept his curtains closed for the whole day previously, Finn pulls himself out of bed and takes another peek. Greer is still standing by the tree. He wonders if she’s come and gone, once or a few times, or if she’s actually been there, unmoving, since the day before. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Either way, he won’t go to her.
Three hours later, after he’s practised and showered, Finn is in the kitchen forcing himself to eat toast. He forgets to butter it and the slightly burnt bread scrapes against the roof of his mouth. He has to go into the school today, he has eager (or, more often, reluctant) students waiting to be imbued with the joys of Mozart and Beethoven. Finn glances out of the window overlooking the garden. She’s still there.
Six hours later, after a rather trying day of attempting to persuade the young of the enlightening glories of classical music, Finn slams his front door and slumps onto his sofa. He tells himself he won’t look. He’ll practise, he’ll eat dinner, he’ll fall into bed and he’ll sleep. That’s what he’ll do. He won’t look out of his windows, he won’t draw back any curtains. He’ll focus. He’ll be good.
Ten minutes later, after more of this self-talk, Finn wanders into the kitchen for, ostensibly, a glass of water. He stares at the glasses, the taps, the fridge. And then, just as he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do, Finn sneaks a glance out of the back window. She’s gone. Despite the thick, concrete crust over his heart, he can still feel it contract. Disappointment washes through his blood, sorrow. He pushes himself up against the fridge, struggling to breathe.
And then, all of a sudden, she’s there again. In just the same place as before, unmoving. It was simply the light, a trick of the fickle, flickering late afternoon sunlight shining through the leaves of the tree. Finn gasps and, before he can stop himself, before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s yanking open the back door and is running through the grass until he reaches her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Greer says, before Finn can speak. ‘I’m sorry I left without explaining, without coming back. I know—’
‘You’re married.’
‘Well, yes, but—’
Finn frowns and this time, though he can hardly bear it, his hardened heart rises with hope. ‘What do you …?’
‘I tried to be, again. I tried to be as I was before,’ Greer says. ‘But I’m not, I’m not the same – I don’t love in the way I used to, when I was alive.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I love my husband. I do. But I love you. And I, I … want to be with you, if it’s possible, in the way you thought it might be.’
Finn swallows. His chest aches as he feels the crust on his heart start to crack, the ice begin to thaw. ‘Do you want to be with him, like that, too?’
‘Perhaps. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain – I feel deep affection for Edward, I’m sure I always will. And, at first, I thought I came back to be with him, just him, again. But now I don’t think I did, at least, I don’t think I can.’
‘Have you told him all this?’ Finn asks.
Greer nods.
‘And he’s okay with it?’
Greer glances at the grass. ‘Well, it’s a lot to ask, he’s human, after all. But he understands. At least, he’s trying. He’s being pretty amazing, actually. And if you’re not okay with it, I understand too. I know it’s a lot to ask – to love without attachment. It’s not something humans do very well.’
Finn nods, thinking back over the past week. ‘No,’ he admits, ‘I guess it’s not. And, I confess, I feel more attached to you, more desirous of you, than I’ve ever felt for anyone in my life.’
Greer is silent for a while. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘But the way I feel about Edward is … It’s part of the way I feel about everything. I want to see him every day, I want to be affectionate with him, I want to be allowed to keep loving him – but I won’t be with you if that’ll cause you pain.’
‘Oh, no,’ Finn exclaims, suddenly feeling her slipping away again. ‘No, I didn’t mean—that doesn’t mean … I’m not insisting on keeping you all for myself. You can come and go as you please,’ Finn says, slightly surprised to find himself saying the words but, at the same time, knowing that he means them absolutely. ‘I don’t need to own you … As long as you come back to me, as long as you’re here from time to time, that would be … bliss.’
‘Really?’ Greer asks. ‘You could do that?’
Finn nods. ‘This is a very strange situation, but yes, I think so.’
Greer smiles. ‘I know.’
‘It’s certainly not one I ever expected to find myself in.’
Greer glances down at her transparent self. ‘Me neither.’
‘No,’ Finn admits, ‘I suppose not.’
They stand in silence for a while until Greer finally speaks.
‘So …’ she ventures. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think I love you,’ Finn says. ‘I even love the fact that you love your husband, as strange as that sounds. I think I want to be with you, whenever possible. I think that I don’t care about anything else.’