Hannah

 

“Somehow, I didn't see you as the picnic type,” I say. Not that I'm sure what the picnic type is, but Kieran seems to belong at the college, at the fire station, at sophisticated restaurants, not wielding a basket full of sandwiches.

“That's you and me both, then. I think I was nine or something last time I had a picnic.”

“So you don't have all the equipment stashed away.”

“I have plenty of equipment stashed away, just not of the picnic variety.”

I can't help it. I laugh. “I'm sure you do. But I was thinking on the lines of a blanket and paper plates.”

“That can be arranged. I'll tell you what, I'll drop the furry zoo off at your place then I'll leave you to get changed while I go and get some supplies.”

“This won't do?” I look down at my skinny blue jeans and sweater. It's turning into a hot day, despite the usual cool spring weather in the north of Scotland. “I guess I could wear something lighter, given the weather.”

He gives me an hour and I scrabble around like a mad woman trying to work around the animal costumes in my tiny room, re-brushing my teeth and fidgeting with my hair. In the end, I grab a sundress and put that on. If I take a cardigan, the dress will do fine even if it turns a bit cooler.

“Perfect,” he says, when he returns to pick me up. He’s changed into shorts and a T-shirt to match the occasion.

“Where are we going?”

“Not a million miles from here.”

“The beach?”

“I thought about the beach, and the forest, but I thought we should have a unique picnic experience, one that few, if any, have done before.”

“Now you're worrying me.”

“No need. If you don't like it, we can go somewhere else.”

He wasn't wrong when he said not a million miles away; he drives for no more than five minutes.

“This is just an apartment building. Have you forgotten something?” I ask because there's nowhere to picnic here that I can see.

“No, but I remembered earlier I have access to the roof from my place. I checked it out—the couple before me turned it into a roof garden, and thanks to the good Scottish rain it's still green up there, even overgrown. Do you want to check it out? We can go to the beach if you prefer.”

“I'd like to see it.”

The ladder is already down when we go into his apartment. His living room is bigger than my room (though it would be hard to imagine a smaller one) and the room is not untidy like mine, more lived in than a complete mess. Nicely furnished and decorated, too, with pictures on the walls, pillows, and plants—an attempt to turn it into a home. I jealously wonder if there's a woman's touch involved and decide I don't want to know.

“If you go up the ladder and through the hatch, you can see if you like our picnic destination or not. I'll be right behind you.”

“Are you planning to look up my dress?”

“Only when you're not expecting it.”

“Perv.”

“I know. Good, isn't it?”

I manage to scramble up the ladder and he closely follows, making sure I don't lose my foothold. He's too close to stare up my dress. I sense his reassuring presence behind me every step of the way.

“I guess climbing ladders is nothing to you,” I say when we emerge onto the roof. It's a great space. There are a few leafy plants in pots around the edges and a foot-high parapet overgrown with ivy around most of it, with higher walls in one corner. “Is this all yours?”

“Yes, no one else has access. I've never thought about using it, but maybe I'll bring a hammock up or something and sleep out here on warm nights, or just lie and contemplate the stars.”

“Which warm night would that be, then? We had one in 2016—you can expect one within the next five years.”

He laughs. “I might have to get one of those patio heaters up here to do that.”

I'm far from needing a patio heater. He's hot! And the sun is beating down. I tell myself to be careful. It hurt enough when he went off without suggesting another date after the restaurant.

He's brought a few things up already. There's a blanket in one corner where it’s sunny and sheltered from the breeze by the walls. I catch sight of pillows, glasses, and plates.

“Were you so sure I'd say yes again?” I say when I spot them. “I'm too predictable. I'll have to start saying no.”

“Please don't. It’s my least favorite word.”

“And what’s your favorite?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about spelunking?”

“Spelunking? You mean exploring caves? That figures.”

“It’s just a word. I like the sound of it. What do you mean ‘it figures’? You’ve gone all American on me again.”

“Because going out with you always seem to involve me crawling into something—a hatch access to a roof, an over-sized animal head. You'll be suggesting going caving next, or digging an escape tunnel. I could be turned off”

He laughs. “Turned off? Were you ever turned on?”

“Briefly, for about five minutes, I had a real crush on you. But I soon got over it.”

“I'm hurt that your affections were so fleeting. When I'm about to feed you chicken sandwiches, quiche lorraine and chocolate mousse, too.”

“Well, if there's chocolate mousse in it, I might manage to pretend I like you for a few minutes longer.”

He kisses my nose and pulls me into his arms. And then his lips are on mine in a long, searching kiss, the kind I was hoping for after L’Etoile, and now I want him more than ever, even though I know he could hurt me by going cold on me again. He kisses me until I melt against the hardness of him, and I get so wrapped up in that kiss it sends any doubts scurrying away.

“Sorry, I promised you a picnic, didn’t I?” He smiles at me. “I think that usually involves food.”

“Yes, but not all picnics are made equal. Some are better than others. Who cares about lunch?”

“I do.” He laughs and kisses me again. “I'll be right back. A picnic is not a picnic without a sandwich.” He disappears down the ladder to get the food and cold drinks.

Kieran is such easy company. Everything with Simon was intense, as if my not following his every whim was a case for debate. He had to know better every single time. And now I suspect he needed to stop any kind of spontaneity in case I got out of hand and arranged something that might lead to him being exposed as the cheater he was. I still don't know if his wife knows what he was up to.

“What are you going to do with all the animal costumes?” Kieran asks, after we feast on quiche and sandwiches and he serves up the chocolate dessert.

“I thought I could have the animals wandering around at the school fair. I'll make some bright new safety notices for the animals and the kids can have their pictures taken with them. I expect parents will post the pictures on social media and spread the safety messages like that. I just needed to know if we had enough costumes or if we should rent them. I can probably rope my friends into wearing them.”

“That's good, because I can't see the guys wearing them, and they'll be busy anyway with the demonstration or at work.”

“You made me wear the thing.”

“I don't think the costumes were made to fit firefighters. Maybe they brought people in to wear them. It's nice to see you out of your yellow fur disguise again, though.”

“It's not a disguise. Teddy exists if you believe he's real.”

He whips the last bit of chocolate mousse out of the pot on his finger and feeds it to me.

“Like magic.” I suck the mousse off his finger, shyly, as if I'm doing something I shouldn't.

“I stopped believing in magic a long time ago.”

“How can you not believe in magic? You really are sad, aren't you?” I’m smiling, but I half-wonder if it’s true, and if he really has something to be upset about.

“I’m not sad today, no. Today I'm with you on the roof in the sun, and I have the whole afternoon off work. That makes me pretty lucky, I would say.”

“Very lucky. I don’t spend the afternoon on a roof with just anyone. Whether it’s their afternoon off work or not. In fact, I think this is the first time I’ve ever been on a roof.” 

“Your first roof top experience. We should celebrate that.”

“And how would you like to do that?” I ask, but I have a good idea of what he's planning with the way he's looking at me in my dress. My body seems to know too because it's reacting to him, my heart thumping, a tingle running right through me to my core.

“Come here,” he says, pulling me to him on the blanket, “and I'll show you.”