Trying Not To Love You

Part Eleven

Chapter Eleven

                    “Dinner will be half an hour,” she called out to Aunt Lucy. Sunday night was music night for her aunt, the church hall held a dance. So she ate dinner early purposely. And she didn’t provide ‘fancy’ food for her anymore. “Chicken casserole, your favourite.”

When her aunt appeared grumbling, she set the home cooked food in front of her.

                    “Where you going?”

Martha paused at the door, turning back to her aunt, “taking some of this to Sonny.” She didn’t know when she decided to do that. They were hardly friends, though fate had thrown them together on more than a couple of occasions, and Sonny had helped her out every time. It was the least she could do, and she did have excess of food and was away the following morning, it was logic wasn’t it?

The huff and the tut came as expected, then there was the roll of the eyes, and the muttering under the breath, “soft...just like your dad.”

Martha gave her head a shake, “for all your church going and supposed goodwill you can be really hard Aunty, he’s on his own and I have extra food. Where’s all that Christian spirit you talk about?”

                    “He already has free lodging.”

She shook her head, “he’s not taking up any space, no one else would live there. It’s hardly the Ritz. And he has helped me out more than a few times around the place.” When her aunt raised an eyebrow, she looked down at the container in her hand, “do you begrudge him this? Or should I give it to Tessa? Is a dog worth more than him? I know she’s grieving, but really?”

Aunt Lucy had the good grace to look more than a little embarrassed, so smiling at that victory, Martha headed out to the yard.

She didn’t know if he was in, he could be anywhere, she hadn’t seen him for a few days. But she was feeling quite generous today. She was home in the morning, back to London for a snapshot at her life and she was counting the minutes.

He answered the door within a few seconds in a t-shirt and grey tracksuit bottoms, his feet bare, his hair on end, and his eyes still half closed.

                    “I woke you up again, sorry.”

He smiled, “it’s fine, you ok?”

She nodded, “I was cooking...made too much. Wondered if you were hungry?”

Sonny sighed, “you are like my fairy godmother! I could eat a horse.”

                    “No horse,” she feigned a look of concern towards the field of horses. “But it’s chicken casserole.”

Smiling he rubbed at his tired eyes, “amazing. I haven’t had a good meal since the last one you handed my way. Is it good? I bet it is!”

She shrugged, “haven’t tasted it yet. Bit early for me, but have to cook early as old Lucy is heading out.” She paused for a moment, “she’ll be gone in half an hour. Do you want to come up to the house? Eat there? I’ve got a bottle of wine and there’s one of the Bourne films on later.”

Sonny looked at her for a moment wondering why this woman was being so accommodating. His room was anything but homely, and the thought of relaxing, being ‘normal’ for the night was more than appealing.

                    “Sounds amazing. Thanks.”

                    “Lucy’ll be picked up in about twenty minutes, head up after that?”