Slightly Foxed (7 page)
Authors: Jane Lovering
followed, my Sex God readiness switched up to red alert just
in case he turned out to be spread-eagled over the table,
panting with insatiable lust.
"Oh, I'd already told him I'd got it back, said that I'd
destroyed it, so—" As she spoke she thrust the book into the
Aga and slammed the door on it; I shivered as though
watching my best friend burn. "Leo's not had an easy time."
The door opposite opened and she smoothly changed tack.
"But farming in general is having a really bad few years." I
nodded slowly, trying to keep my eyes from shooting to the
doorway, but anyway my nose had let me know who the
incomers were. "Josh, Ivan, this is Alys. She's come by to
visit me, we were at school together, you know."
"Oh, aye." The two men nodded in my general direction,
then leaned their ample bottoms against the Aga rail. "Leo
having his dinner with us? We could have a word with him
about those fences."
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"Yes, what a good idea," Isabelle said brightly. "Go and
ask him, Josh. We can introduce him to Alys."
Oh God. Here I was wearing my least flattering jeans, the
ones that made my bum jut out sideways. I was caught
between desperately wanting to meet my idol and not
wanting to be seen looking like a shelving unit. "Isabelle, is
there anywhere I could change? Maybe get a wash?" I asked.
I was directed to an upstairs room, where I waited until
she'd shown me how to work the shower and gone back
downstairs, then hoiked the mobile out of my bag.
"Jace? It's me," I hissed into it.
"Of course it's you." Jacinta's reply was loud and clear.
"Who else would be ringing me?"
"I need help. I've got to have dinner with this gorgeous
man, and I've only got my jeans and that white T-shirt to
change into."
"Hmm. Which jeans? The ones that are making your
bottom veeeeerrrry wide?"
"No, those others, the pale blue ones."
"You have no worry. They is good. Anyways, men are
never seeing what women is wearing, they are too busy
thinking what she is looking like
not
wearing clothes."
"I don't think this man is quite like that, Jace." I heard her
snort of disbelief. "But how do I look alluring, sexy and
available yet classy, in jeans and T-shirt?"
"You must make shorter the straps on your bra. Is simple.
Lift up your bosom further and make it look out."
I peered down my front. "Hair up or down?"
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"You have hair on your bosom?" Jacinta sounded confused
and I could hear Simon's voice asking if there was a problem.
"On my head! Up or down?"
"Up. But not too far, you are not wanting to look like a
dog. I must go now, Simon is fitting with me."
"Having a fit," I corrected, but she'd already gone.
I washed and changed, pausing midway to ring Florence.
"Hello, darling. How did the exam go?"
Florence grunted. "Okay, I suppose."
"Was it easy or hard, or what?"
Another grunt. "Okay. Look, I've got to go. Piers is taking
me out."
"Out? You've got Maths tomorrow!" But I was talking to
myself and I felt the tiny sting of memory, how she'd wanted
to tell me everything about the SAT exams she'd taken, aged
ten. Now I was lucky if she'd tell me it was raining.
I made the necessary adjustments to my undergarments,
then went downstairs. Approximately halfway it occurred to
me that I'd shortened my straps too far. Although this gave
me a cleavage which looked as though I was peering out from
behind a couple of boulders, it meant that if I raised my arms
higher than my waist, my bra would forcibly propel itself
upwards and out through my neckline.
"Go and sit in the dining room, Alys. Help yourself to some
wine, we won't be long." I went through the indicated door
and found myself in what would have been a nice room if
every wall hadn't been groaning under the weight of
photographs, each one featuring a small, fat pony.
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I poured myself some wine from the open bottle on the
table. A reflection caught my eye in the glass frame of one of
the photographs. I'd not quite got my hair right and without
thinking I raised my hands to the back of my head to tweak
down some curling tendrils around my face. My bra was
thereby freed from its supporting position at the top of my rib
cage and relocated halfway up my chest. "Oh shit!" Crouching
to see my reflection more clearly, I shoved my hand up my T-
shirt and tried to yank my underwear into a more serviceable
position.
"Charlton Thistle."
I froze guiltily. "I beg your pardon?"
"Charlton Thistle. The stallion in the picture you're looking
at. He was my first success."
I forced my eyes to refocus, away from my reflection and
onto the picture itself whilst furtively tugging under my shirt.
"He's very handsome."
Bugger me, you can say that again
, I thought as I turned
around and saw Theo Wood—Leo Forrester, glass of wine in
hand, only inches away from me. Close enough for me to see
that his eyes weren't the deep brown I'd assumed, but a clear
green, and that he had a tiny scar running from his nose to
the corner of his mouth. It made his face slightly flawed,
more perfect.
"Mmmm. He was a little long in the back for me, but the
judges seemed to like him."
A pause followed. He carried on scrutinising the
photographs while I tried to think of something intelligent to
say, staring at him fixedly all the time. Without the flattening
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effect of the camera lens, his face was thinner, bones more
prominent. The whole thing added up to a look which could
have made a career out of fronting aftershave adverts. The
pair of rimless, angular glasses he wore only added to the lust
factor, emphasising those green eyes.
Come on, Alys, make a move. I'd confronted him so many
times in fantasies over the past couple of weeks that I should
have a line ready. But that had been when I thought he was
dead. Safe. "I'm..." I started, but he'd already begun to
speak.
"He only died last year you know. Thirty-three, bloody
good age for a stallion. Mind you, his dam lived to be twenty-
eight."
Now I'd have to wind my introduction back up again.
"Yes," I agreed without having much of an idea what I was
agreeing to. "By the way..."
"Leo. Leo Forrester." He whipped around suddenly and
grabbed my hand. "Izzie's brother. You're Alys, I understand?
At Blandburgh with Izzie?"
Isabelle entered carrying a huge casserole dish and took in
the scene with wide eyes. Her brother appeared to be holding
my hand, whilst my underclothing was heaving-to at an angle
previously only seen on a post-iceberg Titanic.
"I see you've introduced yourselves," she said indistinctly.
"Leo, could you go and shout for Ivan?"
Leo let go of my hand, leaving it tingling slightly and went
out.
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Isabelle looked sideways at me. "It's nice to see Leo
talking to someone he doesn't know." She distributed stew
onto plates around the table. "He's usually terribly shy."
I turned away and gave one last hoik under my T-shirt. My
cleavage subsided somewhat, but at least everything was
now tucked back where it should be. "He seems very sweet,"
I said, understating.
"Oh, he is. He's a lovely man, he's just..." At that point we
were interrupted by the entrance of Ivan, Josh, Leo and a
small dark girl who was introduced as "my daughter Emma".
We sat down to eat, leaving me fretting about the potential
end of Isabelle's sentence.
He's just...
Just what? Just
psychotic? Just got a half-inch willy? Just gay?
The conversation went on around Leo and me. We were
seated opposite one another which gave me the maximum of
opportunities to stare at him. Although a carelessly placed jug
of water cut off most of my view from midchest down, I'd
already noted that he was wearing a black T-shirt and close-
fitting black jeans. His dark hair was long in an I've-been-too-
busy-to-get-to-the-barber's way, curling around the back of
his neck and wisping down over his forehead. He had short
nails, slightly bitten, and his face was stubbled with a couple
of days' growth. All in all, desirable.
"It's bad news about The Star, Alys, I'm afraid." Isabelle
ladled me another helping of stew. "Fully booked."
"Oh." Damn, blast and bugger. "Well, if you can give me a
lift to somewhere, I can get the bus. I'll find somewhere to
stay in Exeter. Or go back tonight."
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Everyone exchanged a smile. Even Leo. Perhaps this was
the moment that someone said, "Oh, you can't go out after
dark. Not round these parts."
"There won't be a bus back to Exeter until tomorrow
morning," Josh explained. "Trains up to York stop running at
eleven. It's nearly nine now."
There was a short pause then Leo, with his eyes fixed
firmly on his stew, mumbled something.
"Oh that would be wonderful," Isabelle said. "That will save
Alys a lot of bother."
I smiled brightly. Leo looked up and caught my eye.
Although he seemed a bit panicked, he managed to give me a
small grin. I wondered what he'd suggested. I drained my
glass of wine and hoped he hadn't offered to post me home in
a Jiffy bag.
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The evening petered slowly to a close, helped to its
conclusion by a steamed treacle pudding which Isabelle bore
triumphantly from the kitchen accompanied by a jug of
custard. I hadn't seen so many calories on display since I
caught sight of some illustrations in
The Lard Modellers
Handbook
. Eventually everyone pushed back chairs and
emptied glasses, looking at watches and making noises about
how late it was getting.
I helped Isabelle clear the table in the hope that she'd drop
some hints about what Leo had suggested for me.
"Um. Alys. Later. Well, it's not that we're not delighted
that he's taken to you but—if you could be a
little
bit careful
about what you mention. Only, there's the poetry,
obviously
,
and it might be best if you didn't mention his wife either. Still
a bit of a sore spot. If he asks anything about school just bluff
it. I said that you left after a year to go and live in South
Africa, so he shouldn't."
"What if he asks something about South Africa?"
Isabelle slammed the dishwasher shut. "Oh. I never
thought of that. What do you know about South Africa?"
"Um. Apartheid. Nelson Mandela. That's it, I'm afraid."
Leo walked into the kitchen and stood by the Aga, his arms
full of lengths of rope. He was tying and untying knots in
them, but every now and again his eyes would flicker up and
rest on me for a moment. I pretended to be busy swilling out
some pots and not noticing, but I could feel it each time his
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gaze landed on me almost as though it had physical weight.
Once I turned and looked over my shoulder, addressing a
remark to Isabelle, and his eyes caught mine. He looked away
after a second but—had I imagined it?—a blush crossed his
face as he glanced back down at the twisted rope in his
hands.
When the kitchen was tidy, I stood awkwardly. Leo bid his
sister goodnight and the pair of them looked at me. "Er," I
began, but Isabelle cut me short by wrapping her arms
around me and giving me a huge hug.
"Well, Alys, it's been lovely seeing you
after all this time
.
Thank you for coming all this way."
Leo seemed to be waiting for me. Cautiously I followed
him to the door. "Goodbye," I said, somewhat quietly, in case
I wasn't going. "Thank you for dinner."
Leo was standing outside the door with a torch in his hand.
I picked up my rucksack and Isabelle closed the door behind
us with a resounding and somewhat thankful thud. So. Let me
recap. I was standing in the dark, with a man I desired
marginally less than I liked breathing, and that man showed
every sign of
wanting
to be there. I let out a silent murmur of
thanks that I'd been keeping my karma shiny and bright. I
must have been very,
very
good, probably in quite a lot of
former lives, to have deserved this.
"So," I said, as we began to pick our way by the narrow
torch beam up a dusty track.
"I hope you don't think I normally do this." He spoke
without looking at me. "Taking women home when I've just
