Two Kinds Of Truth(39)

I curl my fingers around the bannister, the wood cool against my skin, then lift my foot and take the first step, climbing each in turn. My heart beats loudly in my chest and I’m fearful of waking Maddie. It’s as though my own body will betray me.

I’m dressed head to foot in Callum’s clothes. Our tastes are not so different; jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. We’ve changed everything, right down to our socks, shoes and underwear. I pull the neck of his shirt away from my throat, smelling his aftershave on its collar. It’s clean and fresh and citrusy. When I reach the top of the stairs, I stand there in the darkness for what seems like an age. There’s a slit of light shining down the hallway from the master bedroom, the door slightly ajar.

Slowly, I make my way towards it, inching closer to the bedroom with each step I take. I’m filled with nervous energy, my hands shaking when I lift them into the light of the moon coming in through a window, then it seems I’m there, pushing the door wide open.

I don’t want to disturb Maddie. She’s fast asleep, her tousled blond hair fanned out across her pillow. It reminds me of yellow corn, and I can’t deny she looks beautiful lying there. Her cupid-bow lips are alluring and seductive and her long dark lashes flicker, like butterfly wings, in her sleep.

As I draw nearer, I slowly unbutton my shirt and gaze at her beauty, her skin creamy white, like porcelain. A deep sigh escapes me, for her lips are so tantalisingly plump and moist. They make me want to kiss her, to taste her.

As though in a dream, I gently brush my lips against hers and she stirs and I take a step back, afraid she’ll awaken and realise I’m an imposter. I convince myself there’s no way she could tell the difference between Callum and me. Even Alasdair has difficulty telling us apart at times.

Taking a deep breath, I chide myself for overreacting and close my eyes and calm my beating heart.

When I blink my eyes open, it’s to let out a sigh of relief at seeing Maddie still sleeping.

I brush my hand across the counterpane of the bed; it feels familiar, the quilt soft beneath my fingers, and a vision of Claire materialises inside my head. I see us both naked, wrapped in each other’s arms, making love on this very bed. Even when I squeeze my eyes tight shut, to obliterate the memory, it doesn’t fade. I sit on the edge of the bed and untie my laces, then take off my shoes.

“Callum?” Maddie murmurs without opening her eyes.

I freeze for a moment, then whisper, “Go back to sleep,” and she turns onto her side and mumbles something incoherent.

I wait for her to settle and listen to her breathing, watching her chest rise and fall. When I think it’s safe, I gently pull back the covers.

“I love you,” she mutters and flings herself onto her back.

I unclasp my belt and unfasten my trousers, letting them slide past my hips and down onto the floor.

***

Maddie



“Callum, don’t leave,” I say.

“Maddie, I have to,” he replies, picks up his bags from the driveway and flings them onto the backseat of the Peugeot. I take a step closer and pull at the sleeve of his jumper.

“Please. Stay here with me,” I plead.

“I wish I could, but I can’t.” He’s clearly controlling his face, trying not to grin—again. He’s been laughing and joking all morning. I guess it’s down to the amazing sex we had last night, and I hide a shy smile behind the back of my hand. He woke me up at some ungodly hour to make love to me, just like in the old days.

He gives me that stare, the one which makes his eyes smoulder. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make me blush, to relive the passion we both shared together in bed.

I feel like we’ve only just met, shy and giggly and not wanting us to part ever again.

He kisses me on the lips and gently slides his tongue into my mouth. It’s warm and seductive, and my body responds, but he lets go.

“There’ll be more of that when I get back,” he says, huskily, then opens the driver-side door and eases down into the leather seat. Clicking on his seatbelt, he closes the door and winds down the window.

“See you next week.”

“Ring me when you get home,” I say and wave goodbye as he drives away, my hand halting a mid-farewell gesture as an emptiness engulfs me. I look towards the rolling hills and hate that I need Callum to be happy.

Back in the kitchen, I make myself a pot of tea. In the background, an old battered transistor radio is playing famous songs from the seventies. I glance at the clock; it’s almost eight. Alasdair should be back soon. I grab yesterday’s newspaper and go and sit by the fire. It’s a frosty morning and I enjoy warming my toes over the glowing embers.

I’m glancing at the lonely-hearts page when I hear a car approach outside and sit bolt upright. I wonder if it’s Callum, whether he’s forgotten something important, and listen for the front door opening. When it doesn’t, I fold up the newspaper and place it onto the chair, leaving my cup on the kitchen table before hurrying through the hallway, to peer out of the front window. I push back the net curtain and see the back of a woman’s figure, someone who looks oddly familiar. But then I recognise the long dark hair and her slimness: it’s Ally, the vet. She’s dressed in tight blue jeans that make her legs look deliciously long as she stands beside a white 4 x 4. She slams the car door and kicks one of the silver wheel hubs. Then she lets out an infuriated scream. She’s pissed off about something, and so I press my nose closer to the glass to see whether she’s suffered a flat tyre, but doesn’t seem to have, not as far as I can tell. I’m about to pull on a pair of boots and go outside and investigate when I see Jamie hurrying towards her. As soon as he’s within earshot, Ally raises her voice and shouts: “I need to see him, now.”