I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Anthony and Alex didn't even acknowledge one another at supper. When Alex was finished eating she dabbed her mouth and left the room. I gave her time to get well into the hallway before following her out and once in the hallway she wheeled around, 'Must you always tag along behind me like some lap dog?'

A lump formed in my throat. I didn't know what to say. Finally I squeaked out, 'I'm sorry,' and hoped I wouldn't start crying.

She sighed and crossed to me. 'I didn't mean that, sweetheart.' She pulled me to her and I rested my head in the crook of her neck. 'I shouldn't vent my spleen on you. I apologise.'

'Ok.'

She stepped back, 'Would you fancy a walk?' I nodded and we started down the hallway. We didn't speak, just wandered along side by side, looking at the paintings and tapestries. We went up to the first floor, apparently no one lived there—as it was dark—but we walked the length of it anyway. On the right hand side of the east wing of that floor she opened the last door and clicked on a light to illuminate a small sitting room, similar to the one in her house in Oxford, but less cluttered. The floor was a medium brown hard wood with several dark patterned rugs lying here and there. There were a couple sets of wing back chairs placed either opposite small tables or side by side. The bare fireplace had a grate with a painting by William Morris on it. There were several bookcases crammed full and a writing table in one corner. The one painting in the room was obviously Alex's and I was proud that I could recognise her style. In the middle of the room was a three-piece set of furniture consisting of a brown sofa and two squashy chairs. We sat in the squashy chairs and as she seemed content to remain quiet, I said nothing, happy to be with her. On a small round table situated in the angle between the corners of my chair and the couch were three glass perfume bottles in varying sizes. I was studying the crystal pieces on the mantelpiece when I felt her gaze and turned to find her regarding me with a thoughtful expression. I smiled a bit in response and she asked,

'You really are rather my lap dog, aren't you?' My smile faded, I wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. She continued, 'Not that it's a bad thing, you simply seem content to be with me.'

'I am.' Wasn't she content to be with me?

Her features softened, her mouth relaxed and after a pause she said, 'It's refreshing. To be with someone with whom I can sit comfortably, with whom the mere act of carrying on a conversation isn't exhausting.'

I smiled, 'I feel that way about you all the time.'

Her dimple appeared, 'Do you?'

I nodded and we sat quietly for several minutes before she stood and I followed her out. After she'd put out the light and closed the door I asked, 'What is that room?'

'My little sitting room. A private place other than my bedroom.'

I wished I'd had a second room of my own when I was growing up.

As we made our way back toward the west wing of the house I ventured carefully, 'Are you all right?'

'Oh, yes. I'll be fine.' She took my hand and we strolled along until the stairway that led to the second floor. Once there she asked, 'Are you turning in just now?'

'I should probably get back to my story. I haven't worked on it very much lately.'

'Oh.' She seemed disappointed.

'Why?'

She shook her head, 'I'm a bit restless, that's all.'

I hated it when she was sad and offered, 'We can do something, if you like. Play a game or something.'