This 1 out of 2 for today's double update.
Remember when I used to post these a lot? *sigh* Hopefully, I'll have a bit more time to write now that I'm done with a massive project at work.
Also, this chapter was supposed to contain a civilised discussion of Jackie's past - but my characters never listen to me.
I hope you enjoy! I sure did ;)
Cheers,
K. xx
***
Jackie thought how ridiculous it would be to fall off her bike in front of him, like every protagonist in every shoddy young adult book; and then her right foot half-slid off the pedal, shooting the familiar pain into her ankle. Jackie simply ignored it, preoccupied with getting off her metal stallion as efficiently and embarrassment-free as possible.
She took the earpods out and unbuckled her helmet.
"Morning, Jackie," Alexander said, locking his screen, and putting his mobile away to his cross-body bag.
"Morning," she said and ruffled her ginger mop. "Don't you just hate this feeling? When your hair is all flattened, and your scalp is oddly numb." She then added with a laugh, "I'm being presumptuous. I don't even know if you ride a bike."
Also, considering how healthy and glossy his dark curls were, he clearly took much better care of his locks. She'd given up on her orange springs before she'd hit puberty - which in Jackie's case, had been donkey's years.
He studied her head - paying most attention to the grey part above her forehead, it seemed to her - and then he met her eyes.
"I do ride a bike," he said. "I've got a sensory friendly helmet."
His hand flew up to his neck, probably to indicate where the strap would bother him; and he brushed the tips of his fingers on the underside of his beard. It was longer today, fuller, less like a stubble. Jackie was once again struck by the realisation of just how grown-up he was. She still half-expected to see an exceedingly long neck with a protruding Adam's apple and disproportionate, uncoordinated limbs.
Also, since she'd returned to Fleckney, from the first time they'd met in his ice cream parlour - and she'd been so discombobulated that she hadn't taken notice then - he'd been calling her Jackie! She'd been Mrs. Mair, and then Ms. Burns after her divorce, to her pupils; and Jocelyn to her colleagues. 'Jackie' had been reserved for her family and her friends - and the three men in her life who had been more than that.
She threw him a discreet glance while unrolling her trouser leg. There was no way to correct him - and she couldn't decide whether she needed to.
"We might have to wait for Michael," she said, straightening up. "He's always on time. It's just us who are early."
He lifted his hand, and the fitness watch on his wrist lit up.
"We can go inside," he said and took a keychain out of the back pocket of his black jeans. "Let's lock up your bike in the potting shed."
"I've got a potting shed?!" she exclaimed.
"There's an outbuilding, also from 1874. One half is a shed. There are shelves and a tap. The other one's empty," he explained monotonously. "As long as you aren't disturbing the stonework, you can use it for whatever you want."
"I'm not going to disturb anything!" Jackie jabbered, dashing after him to the back of the house. "Nothing in the cottage either! It's glorious! It just has this vibe - and the cornflowers on the wallpaper! And the garden is overgrown! And I love the cricket pitch behind the garden! And my Granny's furniture will fit so well!"
He unlocked the shed, and she led the bicycle in. It was dark and smelled damp. She could see the outlines of pots, a ladder hanging above a tiny window, and a few lonely tools leaning against the wall.
The bike wheel rammed into something; there was a clank - and suddenly Alexander's arm went around her waist. He yanked her, her back pressing against his front flush.
Jackie gasped - and then a shelf went down, with a loud creak; jerking the bike out of her hands; and there were pots crashing on the floor, exploding with shards and dirt.
She realised that she was now facing the door, because he'd twirled her around, wrapping around her, shielding her.
"Alexander!"
She wrung out of his embrace and grabbed his shoulders.
"What's hurt?! Did it hit you? Alexander!"
He wasn't saying anything; and she instinctively pulled him down, peering into his face. His eyes widened, giving him an uncharacteristically emotional look.
"Alexander!"
"Nothing's hurt," he said, his voice coarse. "The shelf didn't hit me."
"Oh thank goodness," Jackie exhaled and let him go. Everything was shaking inside. "You shouldn't have done it! What if it hadn't missed you?!" She smacked his upper arm. "What were you thinking?!"
"Better me than you," he blurted out - and straightened up, regaining his usual composure.
"Bollocks!" she retorted. "What kind of logic is this?!"
"My logic," he deadpanned.
"Well, I'm not a child or elderly, so your logic is moot!" she scoffed and marched out of the shed.
He didn't follow her right away; and she had a few seconds outside to fume and mutter to herself.
He stepped out, locked the shed, and turned to her. His eyes were once again dull, his expression neutral.
"I'm not your pupil anymore."
"What?" Jackie whipped her face towards him. "What are you about?"
"I'm not a minor," he said. "And not your charge. We're equal now."
Jackie opened her mouth to tell him off, not at all certain what exactly she was going to argue; and then her mobile shrieked in her pocket. She grasped it like a lifering.
"Good morning, Ms. Burns," a pleasant male barritone greeted her. "This is David Osuji. We've got your lorry ready. Can we head your way?"
"Morning," Jackie answered in a lost voice. "I'm sorry, what lorry?"
"Your shipment," the man answered with a chuckle. "Well, the first of them. We do all local deliveries; and I believe we have at least five lined up for you, coming to us from different carrier terminals. This one's from Bristol. They are books, I think."
"My books?!" Jackie's fingers curled around the collar of her jumper. "But– but they weren't supposed to come before next week! I specifically put the date on the order."
"I don't believe you have, miss," the man answered softly. "There are no notes on the BOL. We have a furniture shipment for you, arriving to us tomorrow. Would you like to postpone today's delivery and to consolidate them? There will be storage fees, but the freight will remain unchanged. Tomorrow is oversize, but the books were initially regular post. They must have been consolidated because of the weight. Some of your later shipments are standard too, but we have a flat fee for a lorry; so I say you can go either way. So, should we hold off on this one?"
"No, no, it's OK!" Jackie's hand travelled into her hair. "I think it should be– I don't actually– Blimey, I'm properly useless when it comes to these things. If only you had a question about the National Funding Formula for comprehensive schools," she joked awkwardly.
The man on the other end of the line graciously laughed.
Jackie covered the microphone with her hand. "Alexander, what's– What's in the cottage right now? I can't– I'm not sure if they should bring the books in, or– I don't quite get what he's saying, but they've got my delivery–"
"Would you like me to talk to them?" He stretched his hand to her. "It's Mr. Osuji, innit?"
Jackie hesitated, but Mr. Osuji's polite 'Ms. Burns?' in her mobile spurred her. She passed her mobile into Alexander's massive hand.
"Good morning, David," he said and then listened to the other man for a few seconds. It was impossible to read anything on Alexander's face, and Jackie nervously fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. "What's in the third shipment?" he asked and hummed in response. "Makes sense." He paused pensively. "Consolidate the second and the third, so she's got furniture and the oversize from the London storage load together, and add the books to the standard size items later. The difference will cover the storage fees." He pressed his phone to his shoulder and addressed Jackie, "You can get your furniture pieces tomorrow, and the books and the rest next week. This way you can move in tomorrow, you'll have the essentials. They don't have the dates for your other shipment of books yet, the one from London; but he'll waver the freight fees on those. Your total expenses won't change. Alright?"
"Um..." She couldn't believe it! "Yes! Yes! This sounds ace! Goodness me, how did you manage–"
She had to shut her gob because Mr. Osuji rumbled in her mobile - and Alexander's long index finger hovered a couple of centimetres away from her lips.
"Sorry," he mouthed and answered the man.
Jackie stared at the digit; and then she winced away and dropped her eyes to the ground.
There was blood on the ground next to Alexander's black trainer.
"Alexander!" she cried out.
She snatched whatever was closest to her, his forearm, and yanked it to get his attention; with that, pulling the phone away from his ear.
"You're bleeding!"
He lurched forward, bending down to the mobile - and now their noses were almost touching.
"Yes, David, thank you," he said evenly - despite how agitatedly his gaze now roamed Jackie's face. "You can requote the shipping, but I don't expect any changes. Unless you decide to give Ms. Burns an additional discount. And please make sure to give her a call when you're leaving your facility," he added.
Jackie could see his lips continue to move - but somehow she couldn't hear a word.
His beard was pretty much black, and each hair was thick and looked rough. Under his bottom lip, in the middle, the whiskers were longer, hence curling more. There were a few lighter streaks there, golden brown. She suddenly wondered if the curved lines, of where the sides of the goatee part of the beard met the moustache, happened naturally; or whether it was some sort of mysterious trimming that left these two smooth patches under the corners of his mouth.
Also, she had a distinct thought that she'd never kissed a man with a beard.
When he leaned even closer, she didn't even question it - she had been plainly staring at his mouth, after all - and then she remembered why he'd been that close to start with.
She clapped her hand over the lower half of his face.
"Your leg's bleeding!" she exclaimed - and then Michael's car rolled into the other end of the driveway they were standing in.