New Places, New Problems
Chapter 36
"Well, that went alright, didn't it?" Stephen said when the school day was over. He had been glancing at Claire now and then, but she had been coping well. He had seen she had no experience explaining things to children and it had made him wonder why exactly she had applied for this job. Why would someone who did not even know whether she liked it because she had never done it before apply for a job that would complicate her life? Even the most experienced of teachers would not do this easily. It was different for the inexperienced teacher who already lived here, Stephen thought, but he would never move so far away from home to do this.
Claire's motivations were not entirely clear to him. Nothing here could have attracted her. She would not have heard of this place, nor had she commented on its natural beauty so far. She had not said she had moved here because she liked the way it looked. This region was not sophisticated, nor would her salary be sufficient to afford any sophisticated things. He would have understood her move had the municipality offered her something that was far above average, but assuming she was getting the same as he was, it was very ordinary. She did not know any people here either. Sometimes that was a reason to move to a place as well, especially if the move occurred in a direction opposite to what was generally the case. Most people moved to a larger town with more amenities and their move was the result of pull factors.
Stephen looked at Claire as she was grimacing in response to his question. There were no pull factors in this case. He could say with almost absolute certainty that there had only been push factors at work and that she might have ended up anywhere, as long as it was far away from where she had been.
Why? He tried to decide whether being pushed from somewhere was a good or a bad thing, but as usual, there were more sides to this issue. Knowing that one was in the wrong place and taking action accordingly was a good thing, but not being able to face your troubles and fleeing from them was not a good thing. It was too complicated to take up a position and he did not want to. The last thing he wanted was having to sort out somebody's psychological problems. That was probably very selfish of him, he reflected, but he just did not have the time for that. He was already balancing two jobs and if he had to play a therapist alongside that, he would not be able to cope anymore. He would listen if she needed him to, but essentially Claire would just have to sort out this problem by herself.
"I'm dead," Claire sighed, feeling exhausted. She wondered why he was looking at her with such reserve. He must not really be meaning that it had gone well.
"I had that too in the beginning."
It sounded sympathetic in a Stephen-kind of way, but he never seemed to go to any extremes, emotion-wise, so it was probably a lot more sympathetic that it sounded. "You did?" Claire asked. It surprised her. He seemed to do it with such ease that it was amazing that he could ever have become tired.
"Sure. I just had more practise." Stephen began to tidy his desk. Maybe he should go to Lirra to buy a desk or at least a chair for Claire, but that would be a wasted investment if she might not be staying. He had a strict budget and buying unnecessary things meant that the children would have to miss a fun trip or two. It was forty to one and there would really have to be very strong arguments in favour of that one person. He wondered at which point he would be able to tell for certain that Claire was staying.
Claire watched him. He was thinking about something and she had reason to suspect it was about her. Sometimes he briefly looked at her and then looked back at the piles of books and papers he was sorting out. "What is it?" If it was about her, she wanted to know, especially if it was bad.
"Will you be staying long enough to…" Stephen tried to think of a good way to put it. "…make it worthwhile for me to make an investment in…er…"
"Staying where?" she interrupted. It was a scary question. She might not be able to answer it, even if she tried. The future had been a blank ever since she had thrown away all of her certainties. And what kind of investment?
He gestured around himself. "Here."
"And what are you going to invest in if I stay?"
"Furniture." That was the word.
"Furniture," she repeated. "What kind of furniture? Don't I already have a bed?"
"You can't teach from your bed."
"Oh." She looked at the desk. "You mean something like an office space?"
"I call it a desk, but I suppose it would amount to the same thing." Stephen re-piled the books. He had not got the order quite right the first time. Maybe she was not staying at all. Maybe tomorrow she was going to find out that she hated it here and then she would leave.
"And a chair. I can't always sit in your lap," Claire nodded. Stephen gave her odd look that she could not interpret, but then he concentrated on his books again. He had tried out all possible orders by now, but none seemed to satisfied him.
"No, you don't like it," he said evenly.
"It's not very ergonomic," Claire apologised hastily. She placed her hands on the edge of the desk, leant on them and then removed them to grab his left hand. "Stop fiddling with those books. You're making me nervous and there's absolutely no point in it." She studied his hand, trying to see how it differed from hers. It was bigger, for a start. "I can't say if I'm staying. I might think I am and then find out in two years that this is not what I want either. I thought I would be staying where I was, but you see what happened. Life just isn't very clear right now. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."
"I'm against doing that." Her taking his hand had only increased his urge to fiddle with something, so he fiddled with her fingers a little.
"Make an exception."
His earlier resolve to be firm and not take on any of her problems crumbled under her pleading stare. He was too weak. "I'm not sure I can," he said, but that came out as unconvincing as it felt. And now he was lying too. He was a weak liar.
"Please?"
She had better be sincere. It was always painful to find out someone had been insincere and the heart learned from its experiences - in some ways, but not actually enough to withstand everything. He did not like risks and he had avoided them by living here, but this attitude was catching up with him now. He had been a fool not to think that sooner or later he would be facing decisions of this sort. "To say it or not to say it."
"Say it."
Stephen looked at her. "It's not easy." He did not really know why it was not easy. It was quite simple, rationally speaking.
"It is. Stay or don't stay. Please? Help me out." Was it as impossible as that? Surely she was not asking the impossible? The impossible was waiting until she was able to make a decision herself, because if it never came, she might be living in uncertainty forever and that was too much to take.
"It's wrong for me to decide for you."
"I don't care. It's wrong for me to be indecisive. Give me a push and I'll continue myself." She inhaled deeply. "Stephen, I'm not asking you to do something as important as marrying me. All I'm asking you is whether you want me to remain your colleague. It's quite easy to get rid of a colleague. I'm not asking you to commit yourself to me for life and if we teach different groups, we might even keep our meetings to a minimum. But if you think I'm bad at this job, then I don't want to stay here, because I know how irritating it is to work with incompetent people. Just tell me so. I won't be offended. So, tell me. Write it down, for all I care!"
"I'm not retarded," Stephen answered with a tiny hint of indignation. "I can talk."
"Well, do so for once!"
"Stay."
Claire felt relieved. "Was that so difficult?" she asked timidly. It obviously was.
If she thought 'stay' meant 'stay' and nothing else, it was certainly not difficult, but for Stephen the word carried so many implications that saying it had become rather difficult. He could not begin to explain them all. Plain words could never capture all the different connections and implications that came with it. It was not more than logical for him to assume that Claire saw them as clearly as he did and that she would see that he had just exposed himself. It felt that way. With one word he had given her insight into his thoughts and feelings that he always preferred to keep hidden.
Claire did not see anything. She only saw that he looked apprehensive. "Don't look as though you've just been forced to invite an annoying aunt to stay for three weeks."
He frowned at her. "I'm not. I wouldn't mind an annoying aunt. The whole three weeks would be a countdown and I'd be overjoyed if she left. It's a nice aunt that would be a problem. Do you see what I mean?" He saw what he meant himself now too. He liked Claire, but he did not want to like her too much, because she might leave. In addition to being a weak liar, he was a coward.
"Yes, I do." Claire wondered if she was comparable to a nice aunt. Maybe he was just talking in general. While she recognised the problem, she also saw something else. "I've had that problem. Let's not invite her, because I'll be sad when she leaves? Let's miss out on all the fun I might have during her brief stay? Very, very safe. Too safe?" She thought about it. "Too safe. I'll have to think about this one. It seems relevant to my situation right now." And to his, she thought, but she did not say so. He would know that already. She hoped they were done here and that she could go home - to his house, she meant - and that she would be free to go for a walk.
Chapter 37
When they had finished tidying up, Stephen paused just outside the school. The day was not perfect, but at least it was not raining and he could easily sail to Lirra if Claire wanted to. He looked at her, but she was dreaming. Unwilling to disturb her thoughts by speaking up, he just walked on and soon slipped into thinking about his story.
Claire was thinking about what Stephen had said. He liked her. It was nice to be liked and it would be alright to stay. She noticed they were going to the harbour. "You don't have to take me to Lirra if you don't have the time."
"I have to go with you, because of the boat," he replied.
"You can wait until Friday if it's too much trouble."
Stephen, who was always looking for excuses to go out in his boat, did not think it troublesome at all. "It's not. I'd only think it a bit irritating if you wanted to go to Lirra for a special brand of deodorant."
"If I was that picky, do you think I'd be able to find it in Lirra?" Claire asked doubtfully.
"Well, you'd have to, unless you'd like to drive to Glasgow."
"Drive?" She looked around herself as something struck her that she had not completely realised before. There were no cars on the island and it seemed likely that Stephen did not have one. What car was she supposed to drive then?
"Yes, I wouldn't drive you." Not for deodorant anyway.
"Could you?" Did he have a car then? Or did he mean he would not because he did not have one?
"Yes, I can drive."
"I wasn't doubting that," Claire said patiently, even though this was a typical answer for him. It was no use slapping him. He would not change. "No man can reach thirty-three without learning how to drive. I wondered if you had a car."
"Yes, I do."
Information really had to be dragged out of Stephen. "Where?" She stared at him.
"In Lirra."
"Oh. And you wouldn't drive me to Glasgow?"
"No, I wouldn't." Not for deodorant anyway, he had said, or maybe he had not said it yet? He was confused about whether he had said it or not. Maybe he had only thought it.
"Why not? Assuming that I'd agree with you that it would be for a stupid reason," she added, not wanting him to think that she was as demanding and spoilt as that.
"If you insisted on going there for a stupid reason, I'd give you the keys and tell you to fill the tank yourself."
"Well, that's a way to do it," Claire said pensively. "Though I wonder why you wouldn't just tell me to drop dead and take a bus." His answer surprised her.
"I'm not all that tough." To some people he might be, but Stephen doubted that he would say such a thing to Claire. "I suppose." It might also be that there was not really a good bus service, at least not one he would force any friends to use. It might take a person a week to get to Glasgow.
"Don't regret that." She said it so softly that he might not even have heard it.
Stephen had arrived at his boat. He wiped his hands on his jeans. The air seemed to be humid. "I don't. Do you want to go today or Friday?"
It was pretty useless to walk all the way to the boat and then decide against going, but Stephen was strange. Claire shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me," she said uncertainly. Maybe he had other plans.
"Let's go now," he said longingly. He wanted to go out on the sea and would even go shopping if that was the price to pay for it.
"It will cost you too much to go there every day."
"I have no dependants and no temptations here to spend any money on. It all goes right into the bank and it stays there. I can afford a trip or two." He jumped on board and gestured that Claire could jump into his arms. He caught her and put her safely on deck, very safely for a boat that was not moving.
Claire staggered anyway. Even unmoving boats were unstable and it was good that Stephen's hands were so steady. "Could you lead me to a seat?" she asked. "I'm afraid I'll fall."
Because she was really a bit unsteady, he obliged and then went about getting the boat ready to sail off.
Claire looked around herself. Stephen did have some cushions on the benches inside. She remembered their discussion about sleeping here, vaguely. It was good that he had not left her here that time. The cushions were not very comfortable to sleep on. She drew a piece of paper from under one of them and studied it. It had only a few sentences on it and most were crossed out, but it seemed to be part of a story. It was not the children's story he had been writing on the beach, however. She frowned and put it back. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her about it. It was no use trying to make Stephen tell any of his secrets.
She did not venture away from her safe bench when they were out on the waves, afraid that she would fall. Stephen beckoned her, but she shook her head.
"Come on, Claire. You're not going to fall overboard," he called. She crawled towards him with little shrieks and he laughed at her. "I have stopped the boat, you silly girl."
She had not even noticed that. "You haven't stopped the waves," she retorted, clutching his leg when she got to him and pulling herself up.
"Small children do that too," he remarked, placing her between himself and the controls so she could not fall.
She liked that.
"Do you want to steer?" Stephen asked.
"No, it's okay." They would probably capsize if she got her hands onto this control panel, Claire thought with a distrusting look at it. "It's too complicated." Her legs were steady now, but her brain was still out of order.
Stephen placed her hands under his so that she was in fact steering. "No, it's not."
"I don't know what I'm doing," she warned him anxiously.
"Neither do I," he muttered. They would not get to Lirra any time soon at this pace, but did he want to? "But what the heck."
"I beg your pardon?" She had not quite heard what he had said and now there was this annoying drop of water that had flown onto her nose. Shaking her head would not work and her hands were unusable. "Grr!"
"Why are you shaking your head so spastically?" Stephen asked.
"There's a drop of water on my nose that is making me cross-eyed and I can't get it off," Claire said in frustration.
"Let me see." She turned her head and he studied her nose. "Yes, it's there."
"Argh! Don't tell me. I know! Can you wipe it off, since you won't let go of my hands?"
"Sure, close your eyes," he said and she raised her face expectantly with her eyes closed. Stephen did not really know why he had told her to close her eyes, but thinking about it he came to a better way to wipe the drop off than by using his hands. He softly kissed the tip of her nose and the drop was gone. Then he straightened his back and looked out over the waves. "Done."
Claire did not really know what had happened, except that he had not used his hands. She could only guess at what he had done, but she knew that it had sent a very agreeable shiver down her spine. When she dared to open her eyes again, he was looking the other way. She did not mind, this one thing was enough to make her all wobbly again. If he looked at her, she would fall. Really. She was jammed in between him and the controls, but she was the sort to manage to fall in spite of that anyway. Very close to Lirra another cloud of drops hit her face. The feeling had already faded away for the most part, but she was not averse to having it renewed. "Stephen, there's another drop on my nose…"
Chapter 38
They were a bit too close to Lirra to take real advantage of the fact, Stephen realised. That was a pity, especially since this seemed to be an invitation. He had not known how his action had come across the first time, but apparently Claire had not minded at all. He smiled, raising one hand to her face and wiping any drops off. "I'm sorry. It's hard, but I have to keep an eye on where I'm going."
"It's okay."
Claire seemed to sag again when he slid his hand from her face down her neck and arm back to the steering wheel. "Is this still one of your extra-sensitive days?" Stephen asked, suddenly making the connection between this limpness and the fact that he was touching her. This morning she had reacted oddly to sitting in his lap as well.
"Mmm." The air, the smell, the motion of the waves, Stephen, the scenery -- it all worked together to render Claire incapable of saying more than that. It was beautiful out here.
"Mmm?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure it's not an illness? It's not quite normal to have these lapses in stability. Shouldn't you be treated for it?" Stephen inquired.
"Treated…" That was a difficult word, just like normal, lapses and stability. Claire had no idea what it meant. It was pure gibberish. "I could be treated? How?"
"I don't know. Something has to be done. I put my hands on you and you go all weak and funny," Stephen complained. She really seemed to have lost her mind, he thought in amusement. But he was not solely amused by the situation; he also wanted to know why.
Weak, yes. But funny? "You did say you were good at fondling," she reminded him. "It's your fault."
He groaned. Why had he ever said that? "Yes, my dear, but I'm not sure I should test real fondling out on you if this is what happens after really innocent actions. You might faint." Now if she said she would not faint, he might reconsider.
Claire's curiosity was piqued. "What is real fondling?"
"Oh no," Stephen said decidedly. "We won't go there. I'm sure I lied to you anyway when I said that." What if she was expecting something great now and he disappointed her? He pulled himself together again. It was one thing for Claire to go weak and funny, but quite another thing if he did the same as well.
"You don't lie, Stephen," Claire said confidently.
"I hate you," said Stephen to cover up his confusion. It was his fault. He should not have begun to flirt with her, because there was no way back now. It was as if he was standing next to himself, watching himself fall. He could see what was happening, but he could not do anything about it. Claire seemed to be going along with him, but he could not look inside her head to see what she was thinking and every now and then she said something he could not follow and that made him wonder if she was going along with him. It might just be wishful thinking.
"I'm sure you do," she said softly. "You're beginning to say funny things, did you know that? And of course you hate me for making you do so." She suspected he was being drawn out further than he was really comfortable with.
"How funny?"
"Well, the kind of funny things that people like Matthew wouldn't get away with."
"Do I get away with it?"
"Do you have to ask? You have been getting away with it for some time now," Claire realised. "Oh my. It seemed normal, but it wasn't. How come I never noticed?" She had probably been too busy participating. How embarrassing. She liked Stephen.
Stephen was still reflecting on the fact that he could get away with something that other people could not. It was flattering. He grinned as he steered into Lirra's harbour. "I like it."
"Like what?"
"It."
"What's it?" she asked, although it seemed to be another, less direct, word for flirting. When she thought about it, it seemed to suit Stephen perfectly -- really vague and concise and open to multiple interpretations. If she said she did not like flirting, he would easily be able to say it had not referred to flirting at all. She shook her head at this and smiled.
"Getting away with it."
"You sometimes come across as though you don't," Claire remarked. It sometimes seemed to happen against his will. Poor Stephen. She liked him for it. Maybe that was exactly why he got away with it. Poor Stephen again. The problem could not be solved. Of course the fact that she did not protest forced him to do it again and again, which in turn served to make her like it even better. It was impossible to turn back.
"Well, sometimes I don't."
Of course he would not. He might go so far that he risked having to reveal too much about himself. That would really be unforgivable. Claire snickered. He probably did not know he was already revealing enough. "But you do right now?" She did, anyway. Now what did that reveal about her? She had already concluded that she liked Stephen, but this might have to be modified into being attracted to Stephen. It was a startling thought, but not unpleasant. It was actually rather stupid to realise this only now, after such a great deal of flirting had already taken place. She snickered again.
He hesitated. "Yes. I think so." He could not follow Claire's snickers here.
"Ahh. Can I just assume you always mean well and ignore your little quirks?" she asked. "And assume that if you don't like it, it's not my fault?" She did not want it to be her fault.
"Hmm…" Stephen thought about it. "Yes, I think you can. Now, sorry…" He was mooring the boat. "You need to get out of my way a bit."
Claire sat on one of the benches with her head in her hands and replayed the conversation. She shook her head at it. Were they blind? They had to be blind. She knew she was not a natural flirt, so this ought to have told her something and Stephen was no natural flirt either. You did not have to be very perceptive to realise that. Getting to this conclusion had been relatively easy once she had opened her eyes, but it was far more difficult to carry on thinking from here.
"Are you alright?" Stephen asked her.
She raised her head. "Oh yes. I was just wondering where we were going."
"To buy a chair."
"No, I meant with it." It might be best to use some Stephen-lingo here. He would understand that better.
Stephen blushed and looked uncomfortable. "Oh, that. I don't know." He did not want to think about it. Claire might not have the same ideas about what it was anyway.
"Don't, don't, don't, don't do that!" Claire begged, jumping up from the bench nervously. "Don't blush! Not if you don't want to know." He looked cute when he blushed.
"Er…why not?" Stephen raised his eyebrows.
"Because you'll make me want to say things I don't want to say."
"That's really an odd sentence." He wondered what she did not want to say.
"It's your fault. You're odd." She jumped up and down with little jumps. There was no way back and no way out, but it was frustrating. She was jumpy enough to be able to jump onto the shore herself, which surprised her.
It surprised Stephen too. The previous time he had to push her up. Maybe she did not like to be pushed. Maybe she thought he took too many liberties. He jumped after her. "I'm sorry."
"I don't understand what you're sorry for." Claire gave him a puzzled glance. "I was really only joking about your being odd, but maybe if you're apologising you're really odd. Your mother once said to me we were communicating on different levels. What level are you on now? I don't think I'm with you anymore."
Stephen sat down on the wooden bench on the quay where the old men had been sitting last Friday. "I'm on…several levels."
"Okay…" Claire said slowly and sat down next to him. "But I'm on one of them as well, aren't I?"
"I don't know," he said miserably, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I lost it."
She sat in silence for a while and then suddenly spoke triumphantly. "I found it!"
"You did? What and where?" Stephen asked with a faint smile.
The idea began to take a more definite shape now. "We're both on two levels. They're the same levels. But…if you are on one, I am on the other." Stephen turned his head to look at her and she continued. This theory had to be correct, because she could explain it so easily. "That's because we started out on different ones and we're not really used to our second level yet. Do you see what I mean?" She looked at him eagerly.
Stephen stared back at her as he pondered the thought. "My second level…"
"…is where you say really odd things, because you're not used to speaking."
"And yours is where you do really odd things?" he asked, beginning to see what she meant.
"It's the same really," she nodded. "And it's all because of it. We are forced to do it. I don't know why we are, but this is all the result of it."
"Don't blame it. I like it," he said with a smile. "Even if I don't know how to handle it properly yet. It is here," he patted the bench between them, "and it won't go away." He leant back and stared out over the many boats that lay there with a contented feeling. Did they really have to go shopping? He liked sitting there. "It's nice to know that it's there, though."
Claire was in no hurry to go shopping either. "Sometimes. It can be frustrating." Especially when she had no idea what Stephen was thinking, although his words had reassured her right now. They seemed to be thinking alike and it was always nice to talk some more about that.
"It used to be." Stephen glanced at her. "It might just have become less. Although…" he said as he spotted an unwelcome figure down the quay. "Why does he have to be here right now?"
Claire turned her head. It was Matthew. But Stephen and she had it and nothing Matthew could say or do would change that. "I have it with you and not with him. Don't worry." She could face Matthew in a composed manner.
That was what he would like, but he could not help worrying. "The intangible it," he murmured, not as certain of its strength on Claire's side as Claire seemed to be herself. He had always believed it should be sealed with some physical action, but they could easily have another person sit between them. Or maybe Claire had a slightly different it in mind. He told himself he was not worried about it -- well, maybe only a little worried that he would do something at some point that she did not like or want. He agreed that he should not do anything right now, because she would undoubtedly do some really odd things again, such as jump around or faint.
"Not that intangible," she whispered, although Matthew was still miles off. "I allowed you to kiss my nose, didn't I?"
Stephen did not know when he had last laughed like that. He laughed partly in relief and partly because they were both ridiculous.
Chapter 39
"Why are you sitting here looking at your own boat?" Matthew asked curiously when he came nearer. It was a bit odd to come to Lirra just to sit on a bench.
"I like my boat," Stephen replied calmly.
"Does Claire too?"
"Ask Claire."
Matthew looked at her. "Sure," Claire answered.
"Am I interrupting something?" Matthew looked from one to the other. They looked too comfortable.
Claire pulled up her knees and put her feet on the bench. "Not really. We were just about to go shopping."
"Stephen and shopping? Stephen, if you don't want her to hate you, you shouldn't go," Matthew advised with a laugh.
"This is functional shopping," Stephen explained. He could take that.
"Women always think it's functional." Matthew transferred his bag to his other hand. "I'd better get back to Tenrae. I was only here to pick up new supplies at Maggie's house. You chucked a fellow in the harbour last night, didn't you? She told me about it." Maggie was a doctor in Lirra.
"Yes," Stephen said with glee.
"I wondered who it had been. He said he would have pressed charges if it hadn't been an Englishman. I guessed it was you because your accent is the closest to English around here. And of course because he was continuously talking about Claire."
"Bahh, I'm a Scot," Stephen grumbled contemptuously. "I'll put on my kilt if he comes back. Moron."
Claire squealed in delight. "You would?"
"Yes, and with my highland sword I'll chop off his --"
"His head, please," Matthew interrupted hastily. "I don't want to have to sew on any other body parts. Or do it on Maggie's turf."
"You have a kilt, Stephen?" Claire asked excitedly.
"Of course not, but I can buy one in one of those souvenir shops around here." He turned towards her. "And if you dare to ask me what I'd be wearing underneath, I'm going to chuck you into the harbour as well."
"Stephen, you don't understand women," Matthew commented. "That's not going to shut her up. They all love to be chucked in. Don't they, Claire?"
"Depends on what I'm wearing," she answered.
"See? That's not a no." Matthew touched an invisible hat and walked off to his boat.
Stephen was surprised. "He seems to have given up on seducing you."
"I thought that would make you glad."
"Yes, but…" Stephen stared after Matthew thoughtfully. "Oh well. Let's not think about it any longer." He turned back to find Claire staring at him equally thoughtfully. "Is something the matter?"
"I was wondering how well you understood women and if I was a stereotypical woman."
"I don't understand them at all unless I write them," Stephen said frankly. "They might just be male characters with female names, though. I can't tell. Maybe you should read something once and judge for yourself." That was at the risk of Claire disliking it, but he would have to take that risk eventually. Once he had got over his fear of letting his parents read his work, they had turned out to like it, but with parents one never knew if it was parental pride or genuine praise.
Claire was confused. "Something of what?"
"Something I wrote."
"You wrote more stuff than just that one bit of a story?" It had never occurred to her to think so. She had thought he wrote articles or something like that, nothing with characters in it, at any rate.
Stephen grinned. "Where else did you think I got all those fictional women?"
"I thought you had made them up."
"Oh no." He looked shocked. "They exist. They really exist. In my head."
Claire narrowed her eyes. "How many of them have you got up there?"
He counted on his hands with an innocent look. "About thirty."
"Thirty!" she exclaimed. The man was crazy!
"They don't take up much space," Stephen explained politely and then looked interested. "How many have you got?"
Claire looked horrified. "Well, none! What did you think?" She sat on the bench on her knees and cupped his face with her hands. "Tell me you're normal, Stephen," she said anxiously.
He liked her solicitousness, but he could not call himself normal. It would have no value, since everyone would call himself that. "Sorry, love."
"Stephen!"
"Why do you want to know if I'm normal?" he asked.
"Because we have it. I can't have it with just anybody. Please, Stephen. Tell me you're healthy."
"I have a healthy body."
"Yes, I've seen your lovely body," Claire said dismissively. "It's a nice bonus, but it's not the most important thing."
Stephen raised his eyebrows. "And you said you weren't ogling me." He was sure no man would be displeased if he heard his body being referred to as lovely, though that was not the term he would prefer himself.
"Of course I was. Now tell me you're normal."
"I refuse to be normal. Has anyone ever told you you have a lovely body as well?"
"Stephen, please. We're on the quay." Claire looked around herself in embarrassment. He had never said anything as direct as that before and she did not know what to reply. How did people ever come to kissing anyway? The thought shot through her mind. She liked Stephen best of all men, but she really could not see herself kiss Stephen right now, even though he was looking at her like that. Why was she thinking of that anyway?
"Do you want me to wait until we're in the shops?" he asked innocently, looking at her carefully. Maybe she wanted him to wait even longer. He would. She was becoming all shifty again. He shook her loose and stood up. "I'm normal. Let's go shopping."
Claire was worried. She linked arms with him and glanced up at his face. "Are you upset with me now?"
"I could never be upset with you," he said truthfully. "I was only teasing you a little."
"Teasing me." She felt some disappointment. "And you didn't mean it."
"Yes, I meant it. If you're ready to hear it again I'll gladly repeat it for you, but not at the moment, I think." He smiled down at her kindly.
Chapter 40
Claire forced Stephen to stop in front of a shop that sold kilts. He was glad he was carrying the box with the chair. It would be a bit awkward to take it inside. That saved him from having to go in and try one on, he was sure. "Wonderful, but why do you want to look at them? Do you want one?"
"Suppose my father came. Would you wear one?"
"Would it have any effect?" Stephen was not going to wear one and look like a fool for nothing.
"I don't care. I just want to see it some time."
"Some time. Not any time soon," Stephen laughed. "And we've just had our annual festivities." He pushed against Claire with the box. "Let's go home."
They went back to his boat. It had begun to rain, so Claire decided she would not stand on deck with Stephen. It would be nearly an hour before they got home and that was a bit long to be in wet clothes. Stephen was wearing something that could not get wet or perhaps he was immune to weather influences. Even Stephen saw nothing poetic in cold rain showers, so he kept up speed to reach Tenrae as soon as possible.
After having dropped the chair for Claire off at the school, it was time for dinner and they walked home. Claire was reflecting on the fact that having her own desk chair meant that she was going to stay for an indefinite period of time. "Stephen…"
"Yes?" Stephen said absentmindedly, caught up in one of his stories again. He had taken her hand when two of his characters had done so in his mind, but now he realised he was not them and he let go of Claire's hand again. "Sorry about taking your hand."
"Why?" Claire had found it a comfortable feeling.
"I have two characters in my head who are in love and I shouldn't take it out on you."
Claire thought it was very odd. Characters did not fall in love unless Stephen told them to and yet he said it was the opposite. "Stephen, which character kissed my nose?"
"Can't remember."
"You did."
"If you say so." He looked away.
"I almost wanted to kiss you on the quay, but I was afraid to." Her words surprised her a little.
If this surprised Stephen, he did not betray it. "Afraid I'd be dreadfully out of practice?" he asked. "There's not much going on out here."
"How long have you been out of practice?" Claire asked curiously.
"Not telling."
She did not press him to tell her. It would be futile anyway. She was getting used to his silences now and it did not bother her at all that he did not speak until they reached his garden. She had plenty to think about. While Stephen had definitely become nicer, he had not become any easier to understand.
To her great surprise he pulled all kinds of vegetables out of the ground before they went inside. "Dinner," he explained in response to her astonished look.
"With a little more, I hope," said Claire, who would like some meat with it and who, quite frankly, did not recognise the things Stephen had dug up. She wondered what they would become.
"Be patient," he told her. He was not going to throw raw vegetables on a plate. What was she thinking? "You'll see. Get changed while I make dinner."
"But you need to put on some dry clothes as well. You look horrible," she said as they were kicking off their shoes right behind the door.
"Horrible?" Stephen was not aware of that.
"Make dinner later. You've got to change first." He was wet and muddy and he might catch a cold. "You look worse than those vegetables."
Stephen glanced at the potatoes and other unrecognisable muddy things in his hand. "But you're not going to clean me with a hard brush. Or are you?" He dropped them in the sink.
"I wasn't going to clean you at all. I was going to let you do that yourself."
"Could you leave it to me?"
"I could." Claire went upstairs. Stephen followed her and she glanced over her shoulder. "Would you like the bathroom first?" Stephen hesitated and then shrugged off what he was about to say. "What?" she asked. "You don't care who gets it first?"
"I was going to say something else."
"What?"
"I forgot," he lied.
"You didn't!"
No, he had not, but he was not going to say it either.
Claire observed his mud-splattered trousers. "You really have to take all that off. Do I look that bad as well?"
Stephen could not pass up the chance she offered him. "Yes, take everything off."
"Not here!"
"I can see you undressed, but I can't see you get undressed?" Stephen mocked. She was challenging him, but he enjoyed being challenged, especially because he did not know how far she would go. "Remember the beach. Need a hand?"
"I most certainly don't!" Claire tried to sound as if she meant it.
"It's really hard to take off wet clothes," he insisted.
"Mine aren't really wet."
"Oh well, I can do something about that." Stephen grabbed her and carried her into the shower. He turned on the cold tap and Claire screamed.
"Stephen, stop!" But that did not help. She figured he would stop if she stopped protesting, so she flung herself against him. "I love it. Join me," she said breathlessly
"I don't really trust you." She had sounded a lot less friendly when she had screamed his name. He debated whether he should join her.
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