THE FLAPPER'S FAN

Chapter 8 - Rotten Timing

I found the dining room empty and followed the delicious aromas to the kitchen where Mrs Brewer was putting the finishing touches to a meal fit for the quarter finals of Masterchef. I looked with envy at the clean bench and sink bereft of dirty dishes. The woman was a marvel, or perhaps some kind of witch, if she could cook such an incredible meal and clean up all at the same time! I noticed her hat and coat on the kitchen table, where she ate her own meals, and where sometimes Nick joined her.

"That looks and smells delicious." I said warmly.

She looked up at me with a speculative gleam in her eye.

"Over your grumpy mood then?" she asked. I laughed and felt my cheeks grow hot.

"I apologise for my terrible behaviour Mrs Brewer. I had a dreadful hangover."

"More than a hangover I think." She muttered, placing all the dishes on the trolley she used to deliver the meal to the dining room.

"I can take that." I offered.

"No love, I'll do it." She said kindly, patting my hand. She looked me in the eye. "Master Nicholas told me what happened and I can tell you I gave him a right talking to. I'm ashamed of him, I am. He also told me that you thought we were all being nice to you because he told us to keep you in the office yesterday." She shook her finger in my face. "And I can tell you, young lady, that if that boy ever had the gall to tell me to do such a thing I would spank his bottom! They never get too old to put over your knee! My family could not stop talking about what a lovely girl you are, what a hard worker, and so funny." She shook her head, smiling as if she remembered one of the extremely lame jokes I had told when it was my turn to offer an entertaining story. "And so beautiful too." She patted my face gently. "You made quite the impression, and quite a few friends too."

I had a lump in my throat now the size of a potato and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I had thought there were no tears left, but it seems I was wrong, they were threatening to pour out any moment.

"Well now," Mrs Brewer said briskly, whisking off her apron. "I'll take you up on that offer. All this blathering has made me late. Enjoy your dinner, luv, and I'll see you tomorrow."

She picked up her coat and hat and slipped out the back door. I let out a ragged sigh and pushed my shoulders back, rolling the trolley into the dining room. Nick walked in as I finished serving the plates and he pulled out my chair for me. We ate in companionable silence, both no doubt aware of the similarities to the night before that ended in my locking myself in my room in a drugged stupor. I know it was on my mind. As I collected the dessert from the bottom shelf of the trolley, a Dundee cake with clotted cream, the tension began to build. I was afraid to look him in the eye, afraid of what I might see, and what might happen next. But I was judging the evening by twenty first century standards. The desire was there, but Nick was a gentleman, and he displayed it by standing abruptly and with a short bow and muttering something about it being an exhausting day and so on and so forth and moments later he was bounding up the stairs. I glanced at the kitchen clock as I wheeled the dirty dishes back for Mrs Brewer to take care of in the morning, as she had instructed. It was so early, and I had been sleeping all day. I was not ready for bed. I climbed the stairs and once in my room I walked around, picking up books and putting them down again, looking through my suitcase and my bag to familiarise myself with everything. I heard doors opening and closing, shoes clicking on the floors. Nick was restless too. I was keenly aware that there were only thin walls between us and I couldn't help but remember our afternoon snuggling on my bed. I jumped when the knock at the door came and my heart kept on thumping, as I smoothed my skirt and hair and walked calmly to open it. He stood there, looking impossibly handsome, his hair neatly brushed back and oiled, making his eyes seem even bluer. It took me a moment to realise he held a bag in one hand, his coat over one arm and his hat in the other hand. His expression was apologetic.

"I just had a messenger, I'm required to go away for a few days, leaving tonight," he said. SIS no doubt, although he had not confirmed it. He gave me a rueful smile. "Rotten timing, I know."

"Duty calls." I leaned against the door, wondering if his leaving was a good thing, or a bad one. I could feel myself falling for him, which was exhilarating, but I had a mission to complete, and after that I could be whisked back to my own time without any notice, leaving one or both of us hurt.

He was silent as he looked at me and then he suddenly dropped the bag, the coat and the hat and grasped me around the waist, pulling me against him. Was that a groan I heard as he pressed his lips against mine? I was gasping in surprise and he took advantage of my open mouth by opening his own in a kiss so hot and primal I felt my body simply melt away. When we broke apart we were both panting like we had run a marathon. He didn't let me go, but pulled me in closer with a gentler touch. I still felt liquified and I moulded beneath him as he slid his other hand into my hair, holding my head tenderly as he kissed me softly, repeatedly, and then leaned his forehead against mine while we both caught our breath.

He stepped back and picked up his things while I marvelled at the fact that my legs could hold my own weight.

"We'll talk about this later," he rasped. I nodded and watched him walk down the hall, hearing the front door close soon after he was out of sight, and then I closed my door and sunk slowly to the floor.