The Titan Code

13. Freaky Friday

I'm running about the flat at five o'clock tidying up and cleaning and dusting, aware that Alex is due within the next two hours and I need to look like I have my life together. I have my oil burner going so the Fresh Linen scent might permeate the lingering odour of last night's takeaway.

He sent me a text at half past two saying he'd set off and should be here after six. I don't know exactly what the plan is, if we're just having a quick briefing about the weekend or researching together or whatever but somehow I must maintain an air of unflappable ease so I don't come over as a demanding nutter, which, yes, I know I am but I don't want it to be apparent.

There's a knock at my door and I frown- surely it's too soon for Alex? He said he'd text when he checked in at the hotel, so as I open the door, fully expecting to be bothered by some volunteer wanting a donation for asthmatic goats or whatever, my mouth drops open.

Hermes is stood on my doorstep.

He's here, smiling, immaculately styled and looking like he's been on a sunny beach in the Caribbean, clutching a bottle of something expensive as I stand like a mute potato holding a duster.

"Hi!" I manage, mercifully regaining control of my jaw, "you're back!"

"Yes, and I brought a gift," he replies indicating the bottle in his hand.

"Please, please," I mutter, waving him in, my face turning bright red again like I knew it would. Why did I ever think about him??

My flat is mostly tidy and the layers of dust covering my things has been removed yet even then it looks wildly out of kilter with the effortlessly expensive form of Hermes. He goes to my kitchen and places the bottle down next to the paper bag, which he begins to unload.

"I've brought some things, I wasn't sure if you'd eaten yet," he explains as he unloads probably a hundred pounds sterling's worth of antipasti. My counter has never looked quite so middle-class and refined.

"Usually people just text first, you know," I say witheringly, "or maybe back in your day you'd send a messenger."

He smirks and little dimples appear either side of his smooth cheeks. I try not to notice.

"Back in my day I was the messenger."

A little guffaw escapes my mouth and Hermes allows himself a chuckle. Somehow he seems so... human and it's easy to forget he's an otherworldly being. He starts telling me about a Traveller he met a hundred years ago who somehow only managed to appear in one person's bathtub in France, three years this went on for but ultimately she actually prevented a drowning and was released.

There's so much I want to ask but I'm interrupted by a knock at the door. I presume it must be Alex so I carry on talking as I get up.

"I suppose she should've been grateful that there weren't indoor toilets back then!" I joke and he laughs with a telling expression.

"Is that another story?"

"Maybe," he teases, his full lips twisted into a tight smile and momentarily I forget to open the door.

Damn, that man is hot.

The knocking starts again and I pull myself round ready to greet Alex.

"Hello, Ella, love!"

My mouth genuinely hits the floor this time.

It's my Mum and Dad.

*

Has Hermes given me some bad cheese? Why are my Mum and Dad standing at my door, smiling, holding a plastic tub with a cake in it?

Mum kisses me on the cheek and comes strolling into the flat followed by Dad.