Catherine Miller - Waiting For You

Leon shifted. His relaxed stance behind the camera became upright and tense. He looked like a horse ready to bolt, her question making him more than a little uncomfortable. ‘I’m not in the right set of circumstances to have children and I’m not sure I ever will be.’

‘And if you were?’ Fliss prompted, curiosity getting the better of her.

‘Then I’d think about it then, not before.’ Leon’s tone put an end to the subject.

A cold shiver went along Fliss’s back as warmth left the garden with the breeze. His expression had changed. The soft edges of his face were now hard. She’d played the part of open book so well and, with a few questions, he’d closed his own front cover in her face. Clearly it didn’t work both ways. ‘Sorry I asked.’ Fliss no longer wanted to chat with him so readily. She’d been stupid to see him as some anonymous listener she could offload to without considering he’d have his own stance on wanting a second child. Or wanting any, for that matter.

‘No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry. It’s a bit close to home, that’s all.’ Leon brushed his hair away from his face.

‘Care to tell?’ Fliss studied his intense hazel eyes, which seemed to be saying so much when he was saying so little.

‘Another time, perhaps, and not in front of the camera.’

‘Oh.’ Fliss was again conscious of her decision to be on film. If Leon wasn’t happy to be recorded after convincing her to do just that, with what seemed like her best interests at heart, perhaps he was trying to get her back onboard again, nothing more.

‘Only because I like to keep my work and private life separate.’ The softness in Leon’s expression returned. ‘This chat should be all about you and what you’re going through.’

Guilt blistered under Fliss’s skin at the pained glint in Leon’s eyes. There was something making him hurt that he clearly didn’t want to talk about and she was pressing him for details. ‘We can finish up now.’ Fliss didn’t want to carry on.

Leon switched off the camera and sat on the patio chair once more. ‘Let me ask you one more question, just for fun.’

‘Okay.’ Fliss wasn’t too sure what it was going to be, considering his change in mood.

‘What items are under your bed?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Someone once told me you can learn a lot about a person by asking them what’s under their bed. So I thought I would ask you.’ Leon stared at her with an intensity that made her shiver.

‘Surely they meant as some kind of chat-up line, not as an interview question.’ Fliss tried to break the spell his eyes were weaving.

‘I’m not interviewing now, I’m being inquisitive. After all, surely what’s under the bed could relate a whole lot to the activity taking place on top of the bed.’

‘Exactly,’ Fliss said, slightly alarmed at how revealing her answer might be, her cheeks flaming at the thought. ‘What if I’m into whips and chains? The stuff under your bed is meant to be private.’

‘I know, and that’s why it’s such a good question. I should have guessed whips and chains were your kind of thing.’ Leon winked.

A hot glow of mortification rushed through Fliss’s veins. ‘They’re not! I just meant I might have, but if that were the case I wouldn’t have brought it up as an example.’

‘What is under your bed, then? No lying to cover up your secrets. Here…’ Leon fiddled with the camera. ‘It’s off, so this is between the two of us.’

‘In that case, you should answer as well.’

‘Okay, but you go first.’

Was Fliss falling for a trick question? He hadn’t been willing to share earlier, but now there was a spark in him that had caught her unawares. ‘There’s a lot of dust for starters. I can’t remember the last time I moved everything out and gave it a good vacuuming.’ Fliss tried to remember what was in the storage boxes under her bed. In view of his comments about whips and chains she certainly wasn’t going to mention the rabbit hidden underneath there. ‘A box with my hairstyling equipment. My weekend-away bag that never seems to get any use and a worry doll that was under my pillow and I’ve never bothered to retrieve from the floor.’

‘What’s a worry doll?’ Leon asked, his eyebrows in perplexed mode.

‘My sister Caroline gave it to me. It’s a tiny doll you’re supposed to pass all your worries to and then you pop it under your pillow when you go to bed. Doing that should help you sleep better at night.’ Fliss flicked her hair, aware that perhaps telling him about the rabbit would have revealed less about her personality.

‘And does talking to the doll help you sleep?’ Leon’s eyebrows maintained their quizzical stance.

‘I only managed to do it for a week and I didn’t notice any difference. I always wake up at slight sounds in the night. I think it’s because of being alone most of the time. Some primal instinct telling me I need to protect my home and my child.’

‘What about your husband’s side of the bed? What does he have stored underneath?’

Fliss hadn’t even thought about Ben’s side. It was a double bed for one, with occasional visits from her husband. ‘There’s nothing under there that belongs to him. Only a few bits in his bedside table and I’ve never bothered to see what they are.’ Fliss cringed at the fact the answers were more telling than she’d ever imagined. And what really irked her was that if Leon went on to ask what was under her husband’s bed in their London flat she would have little to no idea. She’d been there, of course, but only for short weekend visits with Hollie in tow or for the occasional weekend break to fit in some Christmas shopping. During the handful of visits, nosing under beds hadn’t been a priority. Why would it be? But as Leon’s question was making her realise, it could reveal very intimate details about a person. ‘What about you, then? You said you would answer the same question. What’s under your bed?’ she asked before he moved on to the parts of her life she realised she didn’t know enough about to answer.

‘Why don’t I show you?’

‘What?’ If this was his way of chatting her up it needed work.

‘Well, not my bed, but my flat? You can come and assess exactly how much work needs to be done. But I warn you, it’s not going to be pretty.’

Chapter Seven

The drive to Leon’s flat took less than half an hour as he drove them along the Thanet Way towards Herne Bay. It was one of the areas they’d looked at when considering the move, so Fliss knew the area a little, but had never visited for anything other than house viewings.

‘Lucky that you live so close,’ Fliss commented as they made their way out of the car towards a plush set of new-build flats.

Leon stopped suddenly, turning back towards his car. ‘I’m not sure I can go in.’ He placed his hands on the roof, leaning forward so his hair covered his face.

Fliss thought he was getting ready to throw up. ‘What’s up? You never told me what the damage is that I’ll be dealing with.’ She’d imagined some damaged plasterwork after a missed punch.

Leon stood up straighter, taking in deep lungfuls of air. ‘I haven’t been back to the flat since it happened. Sorry, I didn’t think it would be a problem.’

Fliss placed a hand on his back, mummy autopilot taking over, knowing he needed comforting. ‘Since what happened?’

‘The fire. It was an arson attack. The place was a crime scene for a while so I wasn’t allowed back, but to be honest I’ve been avoiding returning.’

Fliss soothed his back while wondering if the site of an arson attack was really something she should be taking on as a job. ‘Were you here when it happened?’ She figured he must have been judging by his current reaction.