Under My Skin

Part Eight

Part Eight

Marc flushed slightly, and Isobel didn’t miss that, with a sigh she dropped her eyes, “I knew it. You’re leading me on.”

He shook his head, “no, I’m not, really. But I am embarrassed about things. About eighteen months ago, we dated, very briefly. It was the first time since Sadie died that I felt ready to try again. She, Margaret, was there, she was helpful, enthusiastic. I wasn’t interested that way, not really, but I wondered if I ever would be. So I made the grave mistake of taking a safe option. Nothing changed, I wasn’t really attracted to her and it fizzled out, but she still holds out on the hope of more I think.”

He saw her face pale, and again he felt a strong need to protect her, and make things right. “I may have led her on, but it wasn’t malicious, I promise. I apologise to her all the time, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about things.”

She shrugged, “the past is the past, it’s just I saw the two of you, close...I was coming to apologise a few weeks ago.”

                “And that’s the first thing you saw,” with a sigh he looked up to the ceiling for a moment then back to her. “I feel differently about you Isobel, you occupy my every thought. You are under my skin and I’m not too proud to admit that. I want to spend every minute of every day with you. But I know it has to be on your terms, whilst there‘s a barrier between us it can‘t go anywhere. I get all that, but I want it, more...I want you.”

She broke out of his arms, and headed to one of the sofas, slumping onto it.

The barriers she’d erected were ones to protect her, not only did she not speak about her past, she didn’t think about it, with another sigh, she looked up at him, still stood at the window, “It’s not a nice story, I’m not ashamed, and I wouldn’t change the outcome but I do live with regret.” Standing again she paced for a while trying to formulate the words. “I was devastated after losing my mother, but I knew she’d want me to go on to Uni. So I did.”

She told him about her settling in, the financial difficulties.

                “It was then that Helen suggested I try out in her work. She worked in a bar called Charades; I don’t know if you know it?”

He thought for a moment, then gave her a strange look, “the Burlesque place?”

She nodded, “it’s not sleazy or slutty, it’s provocative, suggestive…”

                “We took clients there a few years back; it was great, full of women watching too! It was all about what you didn’t see as oppose to what you did. I loved it there.”

She was so glad that he understood, some people were so judgemental, “that’s right...so I tried out and got a job!”

His jaw dropped, “I thought you were going to say you worked the bar there…but you actually danced?” When she nodded he added, “That is fantastic! What a great story to tell Taylor! I wish I’d been there to see that. I bet you were amazing!”

Again he was right, so she carried on her story, how she became a success, then meeting Richard. How she looked up to him, was flattered by his lifestyle, and most of all the way he domineered her, whisking her out for meals, buying her clothes, flowers, perfume.

                “He was so much better than me, he mixed in high circles, had a good job in the City. We’d been seeing each other about six months when I found out I was pregnant. He worked a lot, so it was a couple of weeks till I had the opportunity to tell him. We went out for dinner and over dessert I blurted out ‘I’m pregnant!’