Blowing It (14 page)

“Good.” Charles nodded approval. “We’ve always
raised Magnus to be sensible with his money. I’m glad he’s finally found
someone with the same outlook.”

I glanced at Magnus and smiled. “So am I.”

Magnus cleared his throat. “You said there was
wine, Lorna?” he asked, looking pleadingly at his sister-in-law.

“Red or white?”

“Red, please.”

“Owen?” She looked expectantly at me.

I shook my beer bottle, assessing the volume of
liquid sloshing around inside.

“He’ll have red,” Magnus said, taking the bottle
from me and handing it to her.

“You shouldn’t let Eric foist something on you if
you don’t like it,” she chided.

“No, it’s my fault. I asked for beer.”

“What is he doing out there?” Elaine asked, looking
into the garden, where, if anything, more smoke than earlier was filling the
air.

“God knows.” With an exasperated shake of her head,
Lorna left to get more drinks.

“The kids are going to stink of smoke,” Elaine
continued, looking concerned. “Their parents will be livid when they come to
collect them.”

“It’s only a barbecue,” Magnus said. “They’ll
wash.”

Elaine made a sound which said she wasn’t
convinced.

 Lorna returned, a bottle of wine and several
glasses in hand, and the conversation moved to safer subjects like the weather
and Abigail’s performance in school. Eventually, the smoke outside cleared,
Eric declared the fire right for cooking, and sausages and burgers were ferried
from the kitchen to the garden. Soon the delicious aroma of sizzling meat
filled the air.

Magnus switched to Coke after he finished his glass
of wine and, noticing, I followed suit, despite his assurance I was free to
keep drinking. “I’m not getting drunk and embarrassing myself in front of your
dad,” I said when he insisted. “I don’t think he’d ever let me live it down.”

Magnus chuckled. “He can come across a bit severe.”

“He’s only looking out for you.” I touched his arm.
“It’s sweet.”

“It was sweet when I was eighteen,” Magnus
corrected. “I’m thirty-one.”

“And you don’t look a day over twenty-five,” I
purred.

Magnus laughed. “That kind of flattery will get you
everywhere.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

We left Eric’s house in the early evening. I sank
happily into the leather passenger seat and waved to Elaine and Lorna, who were
standing in the doorway to see us off, as Magnus backed out the drive. As he
turned the car out of the cul-de-sac and onto the road towards home, I released
a contented sigh, closed my eyes, and rested my hands across my full stomach.

“Did you have a good time?” Magnus asked as the
radio played the soft strains of something classical.

“I really did.” I looked at him and smiled when he
glanced in my direction. “My family aren’t that close, so it was different.
Nice.”

“You don’t see your parents?”

He’d phrased the question in an offhand tone, but I
could tell he was curious. We’d never spoken about my mum and dad.

“I do,” I said, “but not often. Certainly not as
often as Mum would like.”

“There a reason for that?”

I thought I recognised the melody currently playing,
and after confirming it was “Morning” from
Peer Gynt
, Magnus pressed the
question, rebuking me for changing the subject.

I grinned sheepishly. “It’s my fault,” I admitted.
“My parents are great—they really are—they’ve always been supportive, I just… I
don’t know. I moved to London, and I was young and the lights were bright, and
we seemed to lose touch. I should call them more often.”

Magnus nodded. “It happens. You had your own life
to lead.”

“True. I still feel guilty about it, though.”

“It’s never too late,” he pointed out, his tone
gentle and without judgment.

“I know. And it’s not like they live far.”

“Where are you from?” he asked. “There’s something
in your accent I can’t quite place and it’s been bugging me for weeks.”

I laughed. “You should have looked on Wikipedia. It’s
my West Country burr. I did everything to get rid of it when I moved to London,
but it still slips out occasionally.”

Magnus caught my eye and grinned. “You’re a Cornish
lad?”

“Not quite. Bristol.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard
it’s a nice city.”

“It is,” I conceded. “Although I didn’t always
think so. Growing up, it seemed too provincial, too far from anywhere. It’s all
hills and sheep for miles around in any direction.”

“Or sea,” he added.

“Or sea,” I agreed. “We used to call it the Avon
Bore.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t a very funny joke.”

Nonetheless, Magnus chuckled politely.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d listen to this
stuff,” I said, indicating the radio, which was now playing another classical
track I knew the name of, Delibes’s “Flower Duet” from
Lakmé
. The
sopranos’ melodies rose and fell in delicate harmony, climbing ever-higher as
they warbled their way through the lyrics.

“My tastes are pretty eclectic,” Magnus said. “Have
a look.” He indicated the glove box in front of me, which I opened to reveal a dozen
or so CDs.

Taking them out, I pored through them, surprised to
see how similar our tastes were. There were a couple of classical compilations,
mostly songs familiar from TV themes or adverts, as indeed the Delibes was.
Whenever I heard it, I still thought of the old British Airways ad which had
made it familiar to an entire nation. One disc very helpfully indicated from
where the music would be known, listing “Adagio for Strings
(Warburtons
Bread)”, and “The Nutcracker Suite (Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut)” among others.
The additions made me smile.

Alongside the classical CDs were albums from groups
of the ’60s and ’70s, Fleetwood Mac and The Carpenters among them. A bit of
soft rock, a couple of modern artists, and even, I realised with a laugh, Seasick
Steve.

“Stop judging me,” Magnus growled as I held up the
disc, eyebrow raised questioningly. “I spend most of my time in the car. I need
something to keep me entertained.”

“Not judging,” I promised, stacking the boxes and
stowing them neatly back into the glove box.

“I tried listening to audiobooks,” Magnus
continued.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’d find myself sitting outside the house I
was supposed to be visiting, waiting to finish the chapter.”

I laughed. “They’re probably not best suited for
driving,” I conceded. “You could always get one of those language tapes, learn
French between surveys.”

“Ha!” Magnus grinned. “I was terrible at French at
school. I don’t think it’s one of those things that improves with age.”

“You’d probably never use it, anyway. I think I’ve
forgotten most of what I learnt.”

Magnus feigned shock. “You mean you don’t translate
your books yourself?”

I snorted with amusement, and we exchanged fond
looks before returning our attention to the road.

All too soon we were surrounded by the lights of
London, the skyscrapers twinkling like Christmas trees, blues and yellows and
reds mingling. Magnus wove the car expertly through the busy streets, traffic
lights adding green to the mix as the sky began to pale in the west, washed-out
orange fading to deepest indigo.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Magnus asked as
we exited the M1 and turned towards the city centre.

“Sunday tomorrow,” I pointed out, stretching
languidly as far as the car seat would allow. “I don’t have anything to do if
you don’t.”

“You sure? You don’t need to work on your book?”

I shook my head. “I handed the edits back to Squire
yesterday, and there’s no rush to write the next. I can take a day off.”

 “My place it is, then.” Magnus steered the car
through Highgate, past the Wood, and onto the quiet, residential streets which led
to his home.

The flat was cool, but Magnus flicked on the
storage heater in the lounge when we entered, and I knew it would soon heat up.
In the height of summer it would be delicious, the rear of the property shaded
by a raised garden, meaning his ground-floor flat would never overheat no
matter how hot it got outside.

“Don’t sit down,” Magnus warned. “I’ll pull the bed
out first.”

I gave him a hand turning the sofa cushions over
and removing the bed frame suspended underneath. While he tucked a sheet over
the thin mattress, I got the pillows and duvet from the storage cupboard set
into the wall between the kitchen and living room. Once made, we kicked off our
shoes and sat on top of the covers, my head on Magnus’s shoulder while he
flicked idly through the TV channels until he found a comedy show we both liked.

I’d never fancied living in a studio, although with
London prices being what they were, I understood why Magnus had opted for one. Living
alone, I supposed it wasn’t such a chore to have a combined day/night space,
although when I stayed with him, I missed sleeping in a proper bed. The sofa
was top of the range and comfortable enough, but long-term, I couldn’t imagine
it did his back any good. Realising how old my musings made me sound, I rolled
my eyes at myself. Magnus was young and fit and could handle sleeping on a
pull-out frame for a few more years yet, if he needed to.

“I’m glad you came today,” Magnus said, once the
programme we were watching had ended.

“So am I.” I curled against him, wrapping my arm
around his waist. “Your family is great.”

“I still can’t believe you gave Abi a draft of your
new book.” He shook his head. “You know they’ll never let you forget that.”

I smiled at how easily he spoke of a future in
which I was still around for them to remind me. He probably hadn’t even
realised the implication of what he was saying. “I don’t mind,” I said,
deciding not to point it out. “Besides, what else was I going to get her? I
haven’t got a clue what ten-year-old girls like.”

“You didn’t have to get her anything,” Magnus
chided gently.

“I wasn’t turning up empty-handed.”

He chuckled. “No. You did the polar opposite
instead.”

“Go big or go home.”

We both laughed. Magnus slid an arm around my
shoulder and squeezed me against his side. “How did I ever get lucky enough to
find you?”

I rolled my shoulder, shrugging uncomfortably. “I
think I’m the lucky one.”

He looked at me, expectant and curious. “Oh?”

“My ex….” I waved my hand, encompassing and
dismissing the whole mess that had been Carl. “He kinda put me off men for a
while.”

Magnus’s expression turned sympathetic. “Bad
breakup?”

I snorted. “Bad relationship. Only I was too blind
to see it.”

He nodded. “I’ve been there.”

“Robbie?” I asked hesitantly, giving him a chance
to change the subject if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Robbie wasn’t a bad guy,” he said diplomatically.
“We just weren’t right for each other.”

“But you thought you were?”

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, what’s the point of
dating if you don’t think it’s going to work out?”

“True.”

“We wanted different things. Robbie was younger than
me. He wasn’t ready to settle down, and I so
was
.”

I laughed gently. “I get that.” I caught Magnus’s
hand and laced our fingers across his chest. “So… how much younger?”

He shot me a glance, checking if I was going to
tease him. I kept my expression bland.

“Five years,” he said at length. “It didn’t seem
like much. I mean, there’s eight between my parents, and they’ve been married
almost forty years.”

“Times were different then. Settling down young was
what people did.” I could see plainly what had happened.

Magnus nodded. “Robbie was only twenty-three when
we met, and I suppose part of him felt resentful that he’d spent his best years
being tied to me, settling down while all his friends were out clubbing every
night. Not that I ever stopped him from going out,” he added hastily. “He’d do
his thing and I’d do mine, and it worked for a while. He was out with his
friends, which made him happy, and I’d stay in, watch TV, work my nine-to-five.
It used to be weekends only, then he started going out on Wednesdays, then
Tuesdays….” He sighed. “By the end we were less than flatmates. Some days the
only time I saw him would be when he came in from a club as I was going out to
work. Others, we wouldn’t see each other even that long. He was just some guy
sleeping in my bed.”

I hugged him. “He sounds like an idiot.”

Magnus shook his head. “I wonder, looking back, if
the reason he went out so much was to get away from me. Was he still looking,
do you think?”

I grimaced. “I’m the last person who could answer
that. I couldn’t spot it when it was staring me in the face.”

“Your ex?”

“Carl didn’t even hide that he was looking. I just
didn’t want to believe it.”

“He cheated on you?”

Doubt coiled in my gut. While I didn’t think Magnus
would judge me for the mistakes I’d made in the past, the shame and humiliation
of what Carl had put me through were never far from the surface, even two years
later. There’s no easy way to tell anyone you had the clap.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not
ready,” Magnus said.

“No, we should.” I squared my jaw. “I mean, you can
probably guess some of it…. Who uses condoms for a blowjob, right?” I laughed
uneasily.

“You’re positive?” He spoke gently, unflinching, his
arm still around me and his gaze steady. It didn’t surprise me that was what
he’d suspected, but the hope I felt at his ready acceptance of the possibility
gave me all the encouragement I needed to go on.

“No, not HIV. God knows it could have been, though.
Carl was sleeping with half of London behind my back, and I wasn’t as careful
as I should have been. I should have insisted on condoms….” I smiled weakly. “I
trusted him. I was a fool.”

“No you weren’t,” Magnus said firmly, hauling me
half-across him so he could hug me properly. “We all have to trust the people
we’re with eventually, otherwise what’s the point? Yes, that leaves us open to
getting hurt, but that’s what love is. It’s giving someone the power to hurt
you and believing they won’t.”

My smile broadened into something genuine. “That’s
a great way of putting it. You should be a writer.”

Magnus laughed. “I’ll leave the writing to you,” he
said, nuzzling my jaw.

The bristles of his beard tickled my neck, and I
squirmed in his lap, shivering at the sensation but not wanting to move away.
Not that Magnus was letting me go anywhere. I palmed his cheek, raising his
face to kiss his lips. I felt him smiling, and the knowledge made my toes curl.

“So that was when you broke up?” he continued when
we parted. “He gave you… whatever, and you ended it?”

“Gonorrhoea.” I said it quickly, spat the word out
like I could distance myself from the diagnosis. Like it hadn’t been
my
dick weeping green gunk. “The doctor said I probably got it orally. Carl had a
sore throat, but I didn’t think anything of it—you don’t, do you? Just a bug. So
yeah, when I started showing symptoms, Ryan took me to the clinic, and then I
had the proof of what he’d done. It wasn’t just that he’d cheated on me, he
wasn’t even careful about it. He hadn’t even been tested himself.”

Magnus shook his head. “I’m sorry that happened to
you.”

I grinned. “Ryan was going to kill him.”

Magnus smiled. “I bet. How did you stop him?”

“I told him I needed my best friend with me, not
banged up in Pentonville. Plus, Sameer said he wouldn’t be visiting him in the
clink.” I laughed, remembering. “When we told Ryan English prisons don’t allow
conjugal visits, I think that settled the matter.”

“I don’t think I’d have been swayed,” Magnus
growled.

I rubbed his head affectionately. “Breaking up with
Carl was the best thing that happened to me,” I said. “It didn’t seem like it
at the time, but it was while I was still moping, feeling sorry for myself, I
got into that argument with Ryan about YA being easy to write. I think he only
challenged me to do it to give me something to occupy myself with. Carl never
had much time for my writing.”