The SAS And The Glam That Goes With It

Chapter 10

Outside, there was a distinct chill as the sun set. A breeze was stirring the litter in the back alley gently, sending paper and wrappers skittering along the cobbles and raising gooseflesh on her bare arms. Sam set her glass and the bottle on the windowsill and perched herself on top of the bins, hidden in the ivy that coated the back of the gallery building. Above her, the setting sun painted the sky in vivid hues, lighting up the patchy clouds in shades of lilac, pink and gold. It was truly magnificent, and for a moment, Sam forgot all about her troubles. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the cool stone.

Part of her felt like carrying on out of the back of the gallery and sneaking off down the alley, a solution that conveniently avoided having to speak to Price, or Gaz, who for some reason, seemed to be determined to make her life miserable. Why did he invite Price? She opened her eyes and her brow furrowed as she thought. Perhaps he's trying to tell you that you're not welcome? She groaned. She had thought that he liked her.

Sam knocked back her wine and poured herself another. She stared down the narrow, fluted glass, watching the bubbles rise and sparkle across the surface. Bollocks. She thought. She wasn't ready for this yet. She wasn't even sure if she was ever going to be ready for it, but if she had been, this wouldn't be what she wanted. She had wanted to see Price, but not like this. She hadn't wanted to bump into him wearing make-up that not even a well-meaning liar would call gothic, and veering slowly from tipsy into drunk.

As she considered her situation, a fat ginger tomcat detached itself from the shadow of the yard opposite and slunk across the cobbles towards her. It ducked into the crevice between the bins and the wall and, with a clatter, leapt onto the bin beside her. Settling onto its haunches, it mewed.

"Hello, puss!" She said,

The cat looked at her like it was waiting for something.

"I've only got wine!" She laughed and tickled its ears. It stretched its neck back, sniffing at her hand. She smiled. Its fur was warm and soft under her fingers. She scratched its back, smoothing the fur, and stroking along its tail.

The door to the shop creaked open and Sam jumped. The cat leapt from the bins and darted towards the noise, jumping over her legs in a single bound. Sam followed it to where it stopped, at a foot leaning out into the doorstep, the body still in the kitchen. She looked at the brown brogue and followed the slim leg up as the person stepped out into the yard. Her heart leapt into her throat: it was Price.

Sam froze. He was looking at the cat, who had seated himself expectantly beside the doorstep. It stared back at him and mewed plaintively, a noise that Sam knew was deliberately constructed for maximal feline gain. Price stared at it for a few moments, and then he crouched down with a grunt, dangling one of Gaz's miniature sausages, still impaled on a cocktail stick, in front of its nose.

He hadn't noticed Sam and she wasn't sure what she should do. She wondered if she should say something, but anxious fear held her paralysed. Perhaps he might go away if she kept quiet, or go back inside for another nibble and then she could make a run for it? She bit her lip, considering her options. Bollocks!

The cat grabbed the sausage and Price laughed under his breath. Sam looked at his face as he was distracted. He had the same strong profile, dominated by his Roman nose. The moustache had evolved into a full, neatly-trimmed beard that flowed into his sleek, short hair. She thought this looked even better. A small knot of excitement tightened in her belly and then she was cross with herself for being so pathetic.

She watched as he stroked along the cat's back, rubbing the fur underneath his hand. The other hand rested on his bent leg, and she noticed with a start the bandage over his wrist. Had he hurt himself in the siege? She felt guilty, she hadn't even considered this possibility and feelings of concern for him overrode the prickly remains of her anger at his words.