Slightly Foxed (12 page)

"No, it's fine. All over now."

98

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

As soon as Simon was safely away in the cubbyhole, Jace

marched me into the cover of Biography. "Well? Is he coming

passionately at you?"

I wrinkled my nose. "He wasn't coming in any sense

whatever." I gave her the details of the attempted telephone

calls.

"Hmm." Jace looked critically into my face. "He is sounding

like an unreliable man. Does he have nobody to be petting his

horses if he is not there?"

"He did try. Anyway, it doesn't matter, I'm going down

tomorrow for the weekend."

"I am thinking that it matters very much, if he cannot

leave his horses to come and see his woman." Jace turned

away. "I hopes you are taking some care, Alys. Hearts should

be given to those who earn them." I would have credited this

with more philosophical depth if I hadn't noticed the Mills and

Boon she'd shoved under the counter, bookmarked halfway

through. She and Mrs. Searle were obviously kindred spirits.

I began dusting Queen Victoria since no one seemed to

have taken any interest in her for quite some time. This

meant lying along the floor to blow dust off the angled edge

of the bookcase. I was thusly prone when a shadow fell over

me and a voice said, "It's okay, Alys, you can worship me

later."

"Piers!" I tried to jack-knife to my feet but ended up on all

fours performing a sort of press-up manoeuvre with my

duster in my hand. "How are you?"

"I'm cool. Listen, when is Florence due back?"

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I hauled myself to my feet with judicious use of the

shelving. "Not for another week, did she not tell you? She's

having far too good a time, if you ask me." Out of the corner

of my eye, I saw Jace lurking in Poetry, wiggling her

eyebrows, and I made shooing motions. She just winked

broadly and lasciviously, and pretended to be rearranging

books in order to earwig our conversation.

"She may have said, can't remember. I wanted her to—

hey, perhaps you can help instead."

"As long as you didn't require her to do anything gyratory

in very small trousers, I shall do my best to replace her," I

said solemnly. Piers did the thing where he combed his hair

back off his face. It drew his tight T-shirt close around his

body and Jacinta nearly poked her eye out with Ted Hughes.

"I've found this flat, need a female perspective kinda thing.

It's very central, very open. But I dunno if it's really, like,
me
,

you know?"

"I'm not sure I'd be any use, Piers. I know nothing about

property buying and anyway, you've
seen
my place. Would

you trust the opinion of anyone who lives in a shoebox?"

"Yeah. I would." Piers noticed Jacinta. It wasn't difficult

since she was hanging from the far edge of Biography like a

cross-dressing mountaineer. "You reckon I can trust Alys's

sense?"

Jace realised he was talking to her and quit her pretence of

tidying, dropping neatly to the floor alongside us. "I think she

has much sense. In some things." She threw me a glance

which was probably meant to be meaningful. "Anyway, if she

cannot help you,
I
am very good indoors."

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I gave in and introduced them, and to Jace's great

gratification, Piers did the slow look up and down that men

reserve for women whose charms have not totally passed

them by. But then, Jace's charms took quite a long time to

travel past anyone. "Hi, Jacinta. I've heard a lot about you."

You liar, I thought, but it was nice of him to make the

effort.

Jace almost broke into a purr. "But you. Alys is not telling

us of
you
."

"Yeah, well, Alys likes to keep me under wraps, you

know?" Piers dropped his voice to a loud whisper. "I don't

think she wants people to know that she's got this crazy

young guy who can do real
amazing
things to women with a

tub of ice cream and a feather."

Jacinta's eyes went very round and she stared at both of

us for a second, until I gave her a poke on the arm. "Jace,

he's winding you up. He has a very peculiar sense of

humour." In explanation, "He's American, he can't help it."

"So, meet you back here at, what, five o'clock? You

finished by five, Alys?" Piers consulted his watch which

caused the T-shirt-stretching thing to happen again, pulling

the fabric close to his rib cage until even
I
could see that Piers

had the makings of a very nice six-pack. Jace could probably

have described his underwear.

"Yes, of course, but—Piers, don't you have any girlfriends

you could take to look at this place? Or your mother? I mean

Florrie would be next door to useless unless you wanted an

opinion on the coolness of the location."

"It'll be good that you're coming instead then, won't it?"

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by Jane Lovering

"Does no one do any work around here except me?"

Simon's slightly cantankerous tones broke in. "There's a lady

here who would like to buy a book and I can't get the till open

because
someone
has got the key."

I went to his rescue, leaving Piers to wink goodbye to Jace,

who had to sit down rather heavily on the library steps as

soon as he'd gone.

"Why can I not find a man like that?" She fanned herself

with Mary Astor, her chest heaving with the exertion.

"You could always make a play for him," I said. "I don't

think Piers would be averse to an experienced woman."

She seemed for a second to consider it, the fanning

stopped anyway. "No, I think he is interested elsewhere. But I

would like to be seen with such a man. It will make other men

curious to be knowing what I can be doing so good."

I went back to sorting shelves. About half an hour later, I

was summoned to the cubbyhole by Simon who stood holding

a bouquet of deep red carnations like a man holding an

unaccustomed small child. "These just arrived for you. I'm

beginning to feel more like a dating agency than a bookshop."

I flipped the card open.
Incredibly sorry about yesterday
, it

read.
Can't believe how much I was looking forward to it. Can

we try again on Friday? Leo
and three
x
's. By now Simon was

tutting so hard he sounded like an unexploded bomb. "Sorry,

Simon. These are a one-off. And it was only Piers again."

"Still wanting your help with a 'family matter'?" Simon

sounded sarcastic, which was not like him at all. I spent the

rest of the day incarcerated in the back room, which was

Simon's equivalent of the Punishment Cell, sorting a heap of

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dusty old volumes that he'd bought in from another sale. At

five o'clock, Jace had to beat me clean with a damp rag

before I could meet up with Piers, who'd been hovering

outside in the Porsche since four thirty.

The flat turned out to be the whole top floor of a Bonded

Warehouse right on the river. Huge metal pillars supported

the roof, but apart from that it was one long, empty space

with the bathroom a very visible corner behind stylish glass

bricks.

"Well?" Piers stood in the middle of the room, hands in

pockets. "What do you think?"

"I think it would make a great rollerblading rink. But a flat?

I don't know. It is very
you
though, Piers."

"How, me?" He rocked back on his heels watching me

intently. I wasn't quite sure why.

"Very cool, very trendy. Very exhibitionist. I mean, if there

was anyone here with you, you wouldn't even be able to

scratch yourself without them seeing."

"So, you reckon I'm a cool, trendy exhibitionist?" His eyes

were glittering.

"No, you're—" But I stopped myself.

"What
do
you think of me, Alys?" He came a little closer. "I

mean, am I a nice guy or a psycho, or what? Y'see, you never

say what you think, you keep it all locked away, up here—"

He reached out to touch my forehead but, disturbed for no

reason I could think of, I shied away and waved a hand to

indicate the bare brick walls.

"Can you imagine curling up in here with a video and a

pizza and listening to the rain outside?"

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"Er...Alys..." Piers held his hands out in front of him.

"Twenty-one. Male. Too fucking cool to live. I do
not
sit in

with pizza."

I had a sudden flashback to last night, my birthday night,

sitting in front of the TV, cheese stringily dripping onto my lap

whilst Mr. Depp strutted his sizeable funky thing for my

delectation. My sole conversation had been with Mrs.

Treadgold who'd rung to make sure I'd enjoyed the cake. "If

all you want is a sexy address, this will do you fine. But if you

want a
home—
this will never be a home, Piers."

"That was straight from the heart anyway." Piers looked

the place over, with a sigh. "But I guess you're right. It's a

little municipal."

I instantly felt contrite. "But the view, the view is lovely."

Bobbing away down the Ouse were the houseboats and the

tourist craft. On the far bank were the riverside pubs and

clubs. "Very urban."

"Noisy, at night."

"Yes, but lively. And handy for the station and the shops."

Piers just looked at me, steadily. "You hate it."

"Well, yes, but it's not
for
me, is it? Do you like it, that's

the question. What about your girlfriend, does she like it?"

Piers turned away abruptly and leaned on one of the

windowsills, gazing out across the rooftops of York. "I'm—

kinda between women at the moment." There was a peculiar

tone in his voice and I wondered if I'd put my foot in a

monumental great hole.

"Are you gay?" The question came out rather faster, and

more breathlessly, than I'd meant. I'd heard all about his

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penchant for young girl model-types who left not one inch of

him uncovered with lipstick praise, mostly in scathing terms

from Florence. But maybe they'd been symptomatic of a

struggle with sexuality.

Piers seemed unoffended. I suppose, looking the way he

did, all hair and rings and androgynously sexy, it must be

something he got asked a lot. "No. I'm not. There
is

someone, but it's all kinda difficult at the moment, you

know?"

I stood beside him and together we looked out of the

window. "Life, eh?" But I had to admit that he made me feel a

tiny bit better; he might be beautiful and well connected, but

he still wasn't happy.
I
could manage to be miserable without

any of those advantages. "Better get home. Grainger's been a

bit off-colour lately and he's not too hot with the litter tray, so

I don't like to be late."

"You won't come for a drink, then? Maybe some food, say

thanks for coming to look at this place?"

"Wellll, all right, Grainger can cross his little furry legs for

a bit longer. But you are absolutely not to order any wine,

okay?"

"Yes,
ma'am
." Piers executed a very smart salute. His

mood seemed to have switched from forlorn to cheerful in

nanoseconds.

"And we can only go somewhere that won't mind my

jeans, I haven't got anything to change into. Oh, and Piers,

have you got anything to put on over that T-shirt?"

"Yes, ma'am, sure thing, ma'am. Why?"

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"Oh, nothing, it's just that every time you move it's

distracting."

"Yeah?" Slowly and deliberately Piers stretched his arms

upwards, straightening out his spine and rolling his shoulders

backwards, until his T-shirt moved up his torso, over the

waistband of his jeans revealing, inch by inch, bare flesh

studded with dark hair.

"Piers, you are
such
a poser." I turned away quickly so he

wouldn't see that I was enjoying the show. "Come on, stop

flaunting yourself and let's go."

"Sure thing." Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Piers led

the way out of the flat. We ate in an Italian restaurant and

chatted until they closed the place around us. I was surprised

by just how much I enjoyed myself.

Next morning I woke up with the feeling that I'd done

something I ought to regret. I padded out of the bedroom

with my towel, heading for the bathroom. At least it was early

enough that I could have a shower before work.

As I passed Florrie's bedroom door, I heard Grainger give

one of his plaintive
murp
's on the far side of it. Somehow,

and I could be almost
positive
I'd left the door open, Grainger

had become shut in.

I flicked the door and Grainger ran through my legs. To