Fire After Dark Read Free Page B

lie beside her, drop his mouth to hers. She’ll be opening her embrace to him, pulling that perfect torso close, wrapping her arms across the broad back . . .
    Stop it. You’re making it all worse.
    My head droops down. Adam comes sharply into my mind and I can see him just as he used to be, smiling broadly at me. It was his smile that always got me, the reason why I’d fallen in love with him in the first place. It was lopsided and made dimples appear in his cheeks, and his blue eyes sparkle with fun. We’d fallen in love the summer I was sixteen, during the long lazy days with no school and only ourselves to please. I’d go and meet him in the grounds of the ruined abbey and we’d spend long hours together, mooching about, talking and then kissing. We hadn’t been able to get enough of one another. Adam had been a skinny teenager, just a lad, while I was still getting used to having men look at my chest when I walked by them on the street. A year later, when we’d slept together, it had been the first time for both us – an awkward, fumbling experience that had been beautiful because we’d loved each other, even though we were both utterly clueless about how to do it right. We’d got better, though, and I couldn’t imagine ever doing it with anyone else. How could it ever be so sweet and loving except with Adam? I loved it when he kissed me and held me in his arms and told me he loved me best of all. I’d never even looked at another man.
    Don’t do this to yourself, Beth! Don’t remember. Don’t let him keep on hurting you.
    I don’t want the image but it pierces my mind anyway. I see it, just the way I did on that awful night. I was babysitting next door and had expected to be there until well after midnight, but the neighbours came back early because the wife had developed a bad headache. I was free, it was only ten o’clock and they’d paid me for a full night anyway.
    I’ll surprise Adam, I decided gleefully. He lived in his brother Jimmy’s house, paying cheap rent for the spare room. Jimmy was away so Adam planned to have a few mates round, drink some beers and watch a movie. He’d seemed disappointed when I said I couldn’t join him, so he’d be delighted when I turned up unexpectedly.
    The memory is so vivid it’s like I’m living it all over again, walking through the darkened house, surprised that no one is there, wondering where the boys have got to. The television is off, no one is lounging on the sofa, cracking open cans of beer or making smart remarks at the screen. My surprise is going to fall flat, I realise. Maybe Adam is feeling ill and has gone straight to bed. I walk along the hallway towards his bedroom door; it’s so familiar, it might as well be my own house.
    I’m turning the handle of the door, saying, ‘Adam?’ in a quiet voice, in case he’s sleeping already. I’ll go in anyway, and if he’s asleep, I’ll just look at his face, the one I love so much, and wonder what he’s dreaming about, maybe press a kiss on his cheek, curl up beside him . . .
    I push the door open. A lamp is on, the one he likes to drape in a red scarf when we’re making love so that we’re lit by shadows – in fact, it’s glowing darkly scarlet right now, so perhaps he’s not asleep. I blink in the semi-darkness; the duvet is humped and moving. What’s he doing there?
    ‘Adam?’ I say again, but more loudly. The movement stops, and then the shape beneath the duvet changes, the cover folds back and I see . . .
    I gasp with pain at the memory, screwing my eyes shut as though this will block out the pictures in my head. It’s like an old movie I can’t stop playing, but this time I firmly press the mental off switch, and lift De Havilland off my lap onto the sofa next to me. Recalling it still has the capacity to floor me, to leave me a sodden mess. The whole reason for coming here is to move on, and I’ve got to start right now.
    My stomach rumbles and I realise I’m hungry. I go