against
him, weeping.
‘Sorry, sorry!’
Iain’s almost weeping himself. ‘I don’t know why I said that, I
really don’t. I don’t know why I think that!’
Lamia steps back
slightly.
‘Mr Sinclair,
perhaps it’s not my help you require, but a
psychiatrist’s!’
‘No no,’ I say,
weeping in my chair, in Iain’s comforting arms. ‘I don’t think a
psychiatrist’s the answer. I think it’s that Iain doesn’t really
love me–’
‘Steph, that’s
not true, I d–’
‘He just likes
to show me off! He lusts after me!’
‘Steph! Of course I love you!’
‘I must admit,
Iain,’ Lamia says sternly, ‘from what I’ve heard today, it doesn’t
seem as if you do love her.’
‘But I do love her! I’ve always loved her!’
Always loved her?
He’s always loved me?
‘Always loved
her?’ Lamia asks suspiciously.
Iain’s head
ashamedly droops low once more.
He didn’t
notice, once again, that Lamia and I swap strangely conspiratorial
looks.
How can he have always loved me?
He never said
anything.
‘Why didn’t you
ever say anything, Iain,’ I ask from my chair, ‘if you’d always loved me?’
Iain grimaces.
Like even now, he still wants to hold back from finally admitting
something he’s kept hidden for so long.
‘Yes, Iain,’
Lamia coaxes, ‘why didn’t you say anything ?’
‘I loved her,
loved her so much it hurt. I wanted to tell her, to ask her out;
but I never knew what to say whenever I was around her. I always
made a fool of myself, I was so nervous. I’d blurt it out all
wrong, I knew I would, and she’d laugh, and everyone would
laugh!’
How long have I
wanted to hear Iain say that?
But what am I
saying?
This is just a
dream isn’t it?
‘Or a
flashback.’
‘Or your
subconscious.’
Jassy and Dave
grin supportively.
‘Then how did
you ever expect to be together, Iain,’ Lamia asks, ‘if you weren’t
prepared to say anything?’
‘Can’t you
imagine how much it would have hurt me if she’d turned me down?’
Iain says. ‘Better, I thought, to live in hope that she also
secretly loved me, than to suddenly have everything all dashed to
pieces. I just hoped that, somehow, we’d just sort of be almost
naturally drawn together; that that’s how it would work out if we
both loved each other.’
‘Seems like you
didn’t need that love potion after all,’ Jassy says, nudging me
playfully. ‘A foregone conclusion eh?’
‘That’s if Steph
actually did visit our Miss Morticia here,’ Dave adds,
somewhat breaking the magic of what I’m hearing.
‘But you would
never have come together, would you Iain,’ Lamia points out, ‘if
you were both just relying on things happening by chance? So,
ironically, even though you were both in love with each other, you
could never realise that love until Stephanie here came to me for
my love potion? I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Tristian and
Isolde? No?’
‘Hmn, moot
point,’ Jassy hisses defensively. ‘Tristian and Isolde blamed their
doomed love on the potion they’d both mistakenly taken. But they
were really naturally drawn to each other.’
‘So,’ Iain says
hopefully, ‘your potions do work? They are potions?’
Even as he
spoke, Lamia had been making her way over to a large cabinet that,
when pulled open, revealed a multitude of old-style stoppered
medicine bottles.
‘Yes, they are potions.’
‘Are they
safe?’
Iain watches
nervously as Lamia deftly pours out and mixes a number of both
crystalline and liquid ingredients.
‘Does Stephanie
look in any way ill to you?’
Iain glances at
me. His smile is uncertain, yet he shakes his head, says, ‘No, she looks fine.’
There a hint of
doubt in the word looks .
‘She seems
different,’ he adds.
‘Only to you
Iain, only to you.’
Lamia still has
her back to them as she continues her swift, skilful mixing of the
potion.
‘And that’s
because she’s now confident, assured. How is she regarded at school
now; is she more
him, weeping.
‘Sorry, sorry!’
Iain’s almost weeping himself. ‘I don’t know why I said that, I
really don’t. I don’t know why I think that!’
Lamia steps back
slightly.
‘Mr Sinclair,
perhaps it’s not my help you require, but a
psychiatrist’s!’
‘No no,’ I say,
weeping in my chair, in Iain’s comforting arms. ‘I don’t think a
psychiatrist’s the answer. I think it’s that Iain doesn’t really
love me–’
‘Steph, that’s
not true, I d–’
‘He just likes
to show me off! He lusts after me!’
‘Steph! Of course I love you!’
‘I must admit,
Iain,’ Lamia says sternly, ‘from what I’ve heard today, it doesn’t
seem as if you do love her.’
‘But I do love her! I’ve always loved her!’
Always loved her?
He’s always loved me?
‘Always loved
her?’ Lamia asks suspiciously.
Iain’s head
ashamedly droops low once more.
He didn’t
notice, once again, that Lamia and I swap strangely conspiratorial
looks.
How can he have always loved me?
He never said
anything.
‘Why didn’t you
ever say anything, Iain,’ I ask from my chair, ‘if you’d always loved me?’
Iain grimaces.
Like even now, he still wants to hold back from finally admitting
something he’s kept hidden for so long.
‘Yes, Iain,’
Lamia coaxes, ‘why didn’t you say anything ?’
‘I loved her,
loved her so much it hurt. I wanted to tell her, to ask her out;
but I never knew what to say whenever I was around her. I always
made a fool of myself, I was so nervous. I’d blurt it out all
wrong, I knew I would, and she’d laugh, and everyone would
laugh!’
How long have I
wanted to hear Iain say that?
But what am I
saying?
This is just a
dream isn’t it?
‘Or a
flashback.’
‘Or your
subconscious.’
Jassy and Dave
grin supportively.
‘Then how did
you ever expect to be together, Iain,’ Lamia asks, ‘if you weren’t
prepared to say anything?’
‘Can’t you
imagine how much it would have hurt me if she’d turned me down?’
Iain says. ‘Better, I thought, to live in hope that she also
secretly loved me, than to suddenly have everything all dashed to
pieces. I just hoped that, somehow, we’d just sort of be almost
naturally drawn together; that that’s how it would work out if we
both loved each other.’
‘Seems like you
didn’t need that love potion after all,’ Jassy says, nudging me
playfully. ‘A foregone conclusion eh?’
‘That’s if Steph
actually did visit our Miss Morticia here,’ Dave adds,
somewhat breaking the magic of what I’m hearing.
‘But you would
never have come together, would you Iain,’ Lamia points out, ‘if
you were both just relying on things happening by chance? So,
ironically, even though you were both in love with each other, you
could never realise that love until Stephanie here came to me for
my love potion? I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Tristian and
Isolde? No?’
‘Hmn, moot
point,’ Jassy hisses defensively. ‘Tristian and Isolde blamed their
doomed love on the potion they’d both mistakenly taken. But they
were really naturally drawn to each other.’
‘So,’ Iain says
hopefully, ‘your potions do work? They are potions?’
Even as he
spoke, Lamia had been making her way over to a large cabinet that,
when pulled open, revealed a multitude of old-style stoppered
medicine bottles.
‘Yes, they are potions.’
‘Are they
safe?’
Iain watches
nervously as Lamia deftly pours out and mixes a number of both
crystalline and liquid ingredients.
‘Does Stephanie
look in any way ill to you?’
Iain glances at
me. His smile is uncertain, yet he shakes his head, says, ‘No, she looks fine.’
There a hint of
doubt in the word looks .
‘She seems
different,’ he adds.
‘Only to you
Iain, only to you.’
Lamia still has
her back to them as she continues her swift, skilful mixing of the
potion.
‘And that’s
because she’s now confident, assured. How is she regarded at school
now; is she more
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