Phoenix (11 page)

“Are you hungry?” he asks as we enter the kitchen and I sit down on a
stool.

“Starving actually,” I reply sheepishly.

He turns and looks at me, and I shift in my seat because his stare doesn’t
falter.

“I was going to make lamb. Do you like lamb?”

“Yes. Can I watch you cook?”

“Of course.”

He moves about the kitchen, gathering the things he needs to start the
meal. He opens the fridge and takes out the necessary ingredients. It turns out
that Phoenix is an excellent cook, far better than me. He makes lamb
medallions, thyme and red wine sauce and sautéed vegetables.

I watch as he sets the table for us with knives, forks and serviettes. The
meal is perhaps the most delicious I have ever tasted. Although maybe it just
tastes better due to my lusty feelings for the chef. I sigh when I eat the
first slice of lamb, so soft and succulent.

Phoenix watches me and adjusts his position in his seat on the other side
of the table.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask bashfully.

“No reason,” he says mysteriously.

“Okay.”

 “You have possibly the most amazing eyes I have ever seen.”

“They are a bit odd, I guess.”

“Not odd,” says Phoenix. “They are green like a jade stone.”

I shrug and continue eating. I notice his eyes wandering over me again
and it fills me with tension.

After a minute or two of silence, he says, “Eve, can I ask you a
question?”

“Sure.”

“Where is your brother now?”

“Still in Wales,” I answer, furrowing my brow. Why is he asking about
Maxwell?

“Does he know where you are?”

“No. After Harriet died I settled her affairs and left within the space
of a fortnight. I had moved out of my family home and into her house a year
before she passed.” I swallow painfully, trying not to think of the traumatic
experience that gave me the final push to cut my family off for good. “I didn’t
have much contact with my family after that, although my mother did try to get
in touch every once in a while under the guise of parental concern. I knew it
wasn’t real, though. She suspected Harriet had lots of money and she wanted to
get her hands on it. Harriet was old, with a heart condition that she had to
take lots of medication for. Mum probably had an inkling that she was going to
leave everything to me and wanted to be there when the windfall came.”

“And did she leave everything to you?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I didn’t want it. I would give up every penny to have
my friend back. In her will it said she wanted me to move somewhere new and
become a teacher, so I did. She mentioned this town. It’s where she used to go
for her summer holidays as a young girl. I always remember her telling fond
stories about it, so I decided this was where I would go. It always sounded so
picturesque, so peaceful. I wanted a place like that for myself. Somewhere that
felt like home.”

 Phoenix goes quiet, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Do you think
your family will ever try to find you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. They know Harriet left me a lot of money because
Maxwell went snooping around her solicitor’s office and bribed the secretary to
tell him the details of her will.”

I look across the table to see him clenching his fists.

“He came and threatened me one evening,” I continue shakily as I remember
the scene. “He told me that if I didn’t give him fifty grand he’d kill me and
bury me in a shallow grave. I told him I’d go to the bank the next morning and
he left. He thought I was so scared of him that I’d never even consider
running. He was wrong. Instead of going to the bank, I packed up the last of my
things and disappeared. I imagine he was fuming when he discovered me gone.”

“No doubt,” Phoenix exhales. “You are so very brave, Eve. Your brother is
the kind of man I wish I had come up against in the ring.”

I laugh without joy. “Maxwell only fights people who are weaker than him.
He’d never stand a chance against you.”

“No,” says Phoenix darkly. “No, he would not.”

We eat the rest of our meal quietly, a sombre mood permeating the room. When
we are finished Phoenix leads me into his living room. He turns on the
television and switches it to a wildlife programme about lemurs. I love those
big bulging eyes they have. They make me smile and forget the bad things our
conversation over dinner had caused me to remember. Phoenix sits down beside me,
close enough so that his thigh rubs against mine, and puts his arm around my
shoulders.

I snuggle into his chest and after a while we slip off our shoes and lie
down lengthways on his age weathered sofa. Somewhere in between one lemur shot
and the next, we fall asleep.

Blearily, I open
my eyes. I’m still in Phoenix’s living room, cuddled in between his arms. He
seems to be awake because he stirs and then a moment later glances down at me.

“What time is it?” I ask.

He turns to look at the clock over his mantelpiece and smiles. “Late.”

“I better be getting home then.”

 I’m a little flustered at having fallen asleep. I begin to get up and
fix my hair because it’s all tangled. I slip back into my shoes and stand up.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” says Phoenix. “It’s dark out.”

“Okay.”

When we get to my house I stop at the porch and turn to say goodbye to
him. He takes my hand and whispers into my ear, “Thank you for sleeping with
me.”

Then he kisses me on the cheek and I blush.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks.

“Sure. I’ll be home all day.”

“I’ll pay you a call then,” he says finally and walks back out through my
garden gate.

I feel all light headed as I enter my hallway. I can smell him on my skin
and my clothes. For a brief moment I am almost hysterical with happiness. I have
never felt this way before. I just want to be with him all the time, but I’m
too scared to tell him in case he doesn’t feel the same way.

The weekend passes in a lazy, relaxed rhythm. Phoenix and I spend time in
his garden. He practices his martial arts while I sit by the old oak tree and
read a fantasy novel about a world where demons and goblins exist. The
movements of his body are like the flow of water. There is no disjointedness,
just flux. It’s relaxing, like sitting by the gentle flow of a river.

We eat all of our meals together. Sometimes in my house and sometimes in
his. I let Phoenix cook most of the time because he’s so good at it. We lie on
the couch and watch television together, though I’ll admit I pay more attention
to the small ways that he touches me than to the actual television.

On Monday I practically drift through my classes on a cloud so high that
I don’t even feel the customary nerves of teaching. At lunch Tim eyes me up and
down like there’s something different about me that he can’t quite put his
finger on.

I put it down to the happy glow Phoenix’s presence in my life gives me.

“Hey, Eve. You want to join me for a drink later?” he asks, eyes moving
over me.

His offer takes me by surprise. “Sorry. I’m busy,” I mutter the lie and
then hurry to my next class. He watches me go with a bemused expression.

After work I go to the grocery store to buy some food. In this town there
are only two places for grocery shopping. I pick the first one I see on my way
out of the school. I stroll down one of the aisles, taking my time. I don’t
want to panic in the same way I did in the hardware store last week.

When I’m standing in front of the selection of cereals and trying to
decide which one to go for, I hear two familiar voices in the next aisle. It takes
me a moment to pin them down as belonging to Deborah and Cathy. They are
cackling like a pair of old witches about something and I can’t help but to listen
in to their conversation.

“Oh, you really are terrible, Cathy!” exclaims Deborah.

“What can I say, it’s difficult not to notice a body like that, and the
hair, oh my, it makes me weak at the knees.”

Thankfully, the shop isn’t too packed and Deborah and Cathy have stopped
in their aisle to gossip, so I feel safe enough in my ear-wigging.

“Well, it’s certainly not my knees he affects,” says Deborah. Ugh. Who
are
they talking about?

“You’ve got a dirty mind,” says Cathy, tittering away.

“I’m telling you, I will have him in my bed by the end of the month,”
declares Deborah. “I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Oh, no. My stomach sinks.

“Well, I don’t know how you’re going to manage that. You can barely
squeeze a conversation out of the man.”

“I’m not after his
conversational
skills,” says Deborah in what I’m
assuming is her seduction voice. “He’s coming over this evening to measure the kitchen
and dining room for new doors. I have absolutely no intention of letting him
get away before he measures
me
up, too.”

My palms get sweaty, because there’s no mistaking who they are talking
about now.

“But what about the schoolteacher he came to the barbecue with?” says
Cathy. “He seemed quite taken with her.”

“Her!” Deborah hisses. “She makes my blood boil. Why would he want a
little girl when he could have a real woman?”

Cathy continues to titter. Their conversation makes me clench my jaw
tight. I want to walk right into the next aisle and set them straight. The way
they talk about Phoenix as though he were some sex object to use for their own
gratification makes me mad. They don’t see the person underneath. They don’t
see what I see.

 “You know, she is very young to have gotten a job at St. Paul’s, that
little teacher,” says Cathy. “Perhaps we should have a chat with Principal
Helstone and see what her story is. Maybe there’s some dirt to dig up. That’d
leave Phoenix free and available for you.”

“Oh Cathy, you are devious. Now I know why you’re such a good friend.”

“Indeed. I’ll get her out of the way for you, so long as you promise to
let me have him when you’re done.”

“I don’t know,” Deborah muses with mischief in her tone. “I plan on
fucking that man so hard he’ll be walking funny for a week.”

Cathy gives a high pitched yip of delighted laughter, and the two begin
cackling all over again.

Okay, I have to get out of here now. I think I’m going to be sick. There’s
nothing worse than women this predatory, especially considering Phoenix’s
history. And as far as talking with Mr Helstone goes, there is no dirt for them
to dig up. But still, I hate that they have me on their radar.

I put my basket silently down on the floor and as quick as I can I leave
the shop. With the shock of what I’ve just heard I hop on my bicycle and go
straight home, not bothering to go somewhere else for groceries. Jeffrey is
sitting by the door when I get there, pawing at the wood.

“Okay, okay I’m home,” I say to him. “You can stop making scratches on my
paint work now.”

As I put my key in the door he rubs himself up against my legs.

“Pulling out all the stops today, aren’t we,” I say smiling at him
affectionately.

I open the door and let him saunter casually in. Since I abandoned my
grocery shopping so hastily, I don’t have much to make for dinner. I give
Jeffrey a packet of corned beef and call for a pizza delivery. It’s a mild
sunny evening so I go out into my back garden when I’m finished with the pizza,
bringing a book and a blanket to sit on. Jeffrey comes out too and curls up
beside me. I pet his thick coat and he purrs loudly.

“It’s nice out here, isn’t it, Jeffrey,” I say softly. I get a deep meow
in response.

“Who are you talking to?” asks a husky voice from behind me. I jump and
turn around to find Phoenix standing by the side of the cottage.

“Phoenix! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I exclaim, holding my hand
to my chest.

He’s wearing a crumpled work shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black
T-shirt underneath with light blue jeans. He looks good, but there are lines on
his forehead indicating a stressful day.

“I was knocking on the front door, but got no answer. I guessed you might
be out here,” he explains and comes to sit on the blanket with me.

“Oh. You gave me a fright. And I was talking to the cat, if you must know,”
I tell him with humour, gesturing to a snoozing Jeffrey.

“Ah, is this your pet?” he asks inquisitively, giving Jeffrey a gentle
pet.

“More of an occasional visitor.” I smile and bend down to pet him too.

“Do you mind if I stay a while?” he asks.

“No, I’d like you to,” I reply.

He nods and stares about my garden. Half of it is neatly weeded with
seeds planted and the other half is overgrown and wild.

“That’s a nice blouse,” says Phoenix, in an unexpected change of subject.
He is looking at my chest with those intense eyes of his.

“Thank you...” I manage, coming over all breathy. “Would you like
something to drink?” I ask. “I can make tea and bring it out here if you want.”

“No. I’m fine. I think I’ll just lie down for a while.” He looks tired as
he stretches out on the blanket and then pats the space near to him. “Come
here.”

I do and we are silent for a few minutes as we rest side by side. A
little robin hops from branch to branch on a nearby bush, twittering musically.
The evening breeze sweeps by, tickling my bare legs beneath my skirt.

“How was work today?” I ask breaking the quiet.

“Busy.”

“That’s good.”

 He turns his head to me, then runs his fingers over the top of my hand. “Yesterday,
when we slept on my couch I had no bad dreams,” he says in a small voice. “I
found it very....calming,” he continues.

My face grows red.

“I did, too.” I fall silent for a second. “Um, Phoenix, can I tell you
something?”

“Anything.”

“I overheard Deborah and Cathy talking about you today at the grocery
store.”