end of the L-shaped corridor.
He kept pace with me and raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve gotten feisty since you’ve been away,” he said admiringly. I knew he was taken with the new me. I heard it in his voice.
I shrugged and tossed my head, as if I didn’t care, yet I was very aware of him, tall, rangy and still absurdly and youthfully good looking. He followed closely on my heels as I pushed open the door and went into the bedroom. I could smell his familiar scent too as he brushed past me. It was making me feeling rather weak-kneed, so I raised my head and straightened my spine as I went over to a closet and hauled my two suitcases from on top.
“Think you’ve lost a few pounds too,” Freddie said, leaning back against the dressing table, crossing his arms casually as he watched me go about slinging shoes, clothes and other personal bits and pieces into the suitcases that I’d slung on top of the bed. “Looking good, Bailey, looking good.”
I ignored him as best I could, while I finished up. Sadly, there really wasn’t much to show for the three years I’d shared with him in the flat.
“Right, I’m done,” I said at last, flipping the cases shut and setting them on the floor. “Guess I’d better get going. I’ve got a taxi waiting for me outside.”
“Back to big brother?”
“Actually no, not this time. Going to visit my dad.”
“I’d say give him my best wishes, but I’m not sure you would.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” I snapped. “Those days are past. You don’t get to have a piece of my family any more. You made your choice. Now you can live with it.”
Even as I spoke, and as I’d so often done in the past when I used to live there, my eyes slid automatically to the wall above the bed. To the place where my portrait should have hung. Now in its place was an abstract painting that looked like a cross between a Jackson Pollock and a Kilm Malm.
“Oh.” And I could hear the tremor in my voice as I spoke, and I swallowed hard. “You’ve taken down your painting of me.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t seem appropriate to leave it hanging there,” Freddie said, managing to convey just a small amount of shame and regret in his voice.
I felt hurt. He’d painted it very early on in our relationship, when I’d been happy and had felt both beautiful and adored all because I was newly in love with such a talented artist. Freddie had taken me to his studio, taken off my clothes and given me a chair to wear. Nothing about the painting was indecent, as I’d straddled the chair and the back of it had hidden most of my naked body. My long brown ringlets had flowed in a cascade of curls over my shoulders and front and down my back, and my chin had rested on my crossed arms which in turn had rested along the top of the back of the chair. He’d captured a look adoring happiness and I’d loved the picture ever since.
“She told you to take it down,” I guessed.
He didn’t reply. Neither to deny or confirm.
“S’pose it’s difficult to concentrate on the job with your ex- girlfriend smiling down on you,” I said, sort of half wangling for more information, while at the same time not wanting to hear any of the lurid details. It’s funny how perverse people can be.
“So where is it then? It belongs to me and I’d like to have it back,” I said, somewhat defiantly, but I was a little nervous that Kristie had decided to feed the shredder with it. I could quite easily imagine her committing such a wilfully destructive act out of sheer malice.
“It’s safe,” said Freddie, as if he’d read my mind. He jerked his head towards the top of a storage cupboard. “In there.”
I started to drag the chair from the dresser over to the cupboard, but he was there before me, barring my way, getting in my face.
“Wait, I’ll get it for you, Bailey. It’s too high up, and I don’t want you toppling over and hurting yourself.”
“So you still care about me a
He kept pace with me and raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve gotten feisty since you’ve been away,” he said admiringly. I knew he was taken with the new me. I heard it in his voice.
I shrugged and tossed my head, as if I didn’t care, yet I was very aware of him, tall, rangy and still absurdly and youthfully good looking. He followed closely on my heels as I pushed open the door and went into the bedroom. I could smell his familiar scent too as he brushed past me. It was making me feeling rather weak-kneed, so I raised my head and straightened my spine as I went over to a closet and hauled my two suitcases from on top.
“Think you’ve lost a few pounds too,” Freddie said, leaning back against the dressing table, crossing his arms casually as he watched me go about slinging shoes, clothes and other personal bits and pieces into the suitcases that I’d slung on top of the bed. “Looking good, Bailey, looking good.”
I ignored him as best I could, while I finished up. Sadly, there really wasn’t much to show for the three years I’d shared with him in the flat.
“Right, I’m done,” I said at last, flipping the cases shut and setting them on the floor. “Guess I’d better get going. I’ve got a taxi waiting for me outside.”
“Back to big brother?”
“Actually no, not this time. Going to visit my dad.”
“I’d say give him my best wishes, but I’m not sure you would.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” I snapped. “Those days are past. You don’t get to have a piece of my family any more. You made your choice. Now you can live with it.”
Even as I spoke, and as I’d so often done in the past when I used to live there, my eyes slid automatically to the wall above the bed. To the place where my portrait should have hung. Now in its place was an abstract painting that looked like a cross between a Jackson Pollock and a Kilm Malm.
“Oh.” And I could hear the tremor in my voice as I spoke, and I swallowed hard. “You’ve taken down your painting of me.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t seem appropriate to leave it hanging there,” Freddie said, managing to convey just a small amount of shame and regret in his voice.
I felt hurt. He’d painted it very early on in our relationship, when I’d been happy and had felt both beautiful and adored all because I was newly in love with such a talented artist. Freddie had taken me to his studio, taken off my clothes and given me a chair to wear. Nothing about the painting was indecent, as I’d straddled the chair and the back of it had hidden most of my naked body. My long brown ringlets had flowed in a cascade of curls over my shoulders and front and down my back, and my chin had rested on my crossed arms which in turn had rested along the top of the back of the chair. He’d captured a look adoring happiness and I’d loved the picture ever since.
“She told you to take it down,” I guessed.
He didn’t reply. Neither to deny or confirm.
“S’pose it’s difficult to concentrate on the job with your ex- girlfriend smiling down on you,” I said, sort of half wangling for more information, while at the same time not wanting to hear any of the lurid details. It’s funny how perverse people can be.
“So where is it then? It belongs to me and I’d like to have it back,” I said, somewhat defiantly, but I was a little nervous that Kristie had decided to feed the shredder with it. I could quite easily imagine her committing such a wilfully destructive act out of sheer malice.
“It’s safe,” said Freddie, as if he’d read my mind. He jerked his head towards the top of a storage cupboard. “In there.”
I started to drag the chair from the dresser over to the cupboard, but he was there before me, barring my way, getting in my face.
“Wait, I’ll get it for you, Bailey. It’s too high up, and I don’t want you toppling over and hurting yourself.”
“So you still care about me a
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