expected him to turn away, to avert his eyes in embarrassment or shame. He didn’t. Once his eyes locked onto her he didn’t seem to want to move them.
He was old, possibly seventy, maybe more. He had a wrinkled and almost ageless face that would suit a haggard, wheelchair-bound centenarian. His skin was rough, hardened, yet hung loosely from his bones. In the sunlight his eyes seemed almost grey, like little balls of dwindling ash.
After a few moments she gave him a little wave, pretending that she’d been gazing out at the garden in a daze and had only just noticed him. When he didn’t return the gesture she wrapped her hand back around her shins and shifted into the foetal position, suddenly very cold despite the warmth of the morning.
“I’ll go and see if that food’s for us,” Dexter said, zipping up his pants and shaking out the creases. “Come down when you’re ready.”
Pandora turned sharply, almost forgetting he was there. She nodded distantly, he didn’t notice the unease on her face as he gave her another kiss, left a warm hand on her shoulder and then departed.
She turned back to the window, expecting to see the old man still staring, but he was gone. The garden was back to its trancelike state, peaceful and empty. Pandora didn’t feel it anymore though; she climbed off the windowsill and headed for the bathroom. She needed a shower.
Dexter followed the scent of food downstairs, like a wide-nosed cartoon dog tracking the trail of delectable delights. He passed portraits and landscapes, a littering of pictures gilded and hung to keep guests entertained as they climbed and descended the twisting staircase that led from the second floor down onto the entrance hallway.
He followed the smell to a dining room where three tables lay in wait, only one of them set with the implements of breakfast: toast rack, cutlery, plates, a selection of jams and butters. He caught Dorothy rearranging the plates so they sat in perfect alignment with one another.
“Good morning,” he said with a nod.
She turned quickly, instantly broke into a beaming smile when she saw him. He stopped in his tracks, prepared himself for a joyous greeting.
“Good morning love!” she called merrily. She opened her arms, indicating the empty spread in front of her. “You’ll be having breakfast I hope?”
He paused as if to give this some thought. “Sure,” he said with a nod, directing his attention to a buffet table at the other end of the room, where a toaster, a kettle and a series of cereals awaited for the continental offering.
“Excellent!” she made a scene of looking behind him. “Your beautiful other-half not awake yet?”
“She’ll be down soon.” He looked towards the kitchen, the scent of cooked food still making his mouth water as he picked at a few slices of melon. “That smells gorgeous,” he noted, hinting.
She winked at him. “Full English breakfast, all part of the deal my love. Give me a shout when she surfaces and I’ll come and take your order.”
***
“So, dears,” Dorothy exclaimed, pressing her hands together in front of her waist and beaming broadly at Dexter and Pandora. “What’ll you be doing today then, got anything planned?”
Dexter and Pandora exchanged a glance. They hadn’t planned to do anything but keep out of sight for as long as possible. Pandora scrunched up her face and reached for a slice of toast, keeping herself occupied and letting Dexter do the thinking and talking for both of them. She was perfectly happy to have a wander around town, see the area, have a drink or two at the local pub in the evening, but she doubted Dexter felt the same way. He would want to be secure, would probably want them to hole up in their room and avoid any contact with anyone but the smiling B&B owner, who clearly didn’t recognise them.
“What do you suggest?”
She was staring absently at the toast in
He was old, possibly seventy, maybe more. He had a wrinkled and almost ageless face that would suit a haggard, wheelchair-bound centenarian. His skin was rough, hardened, yet hung loosely from his bones. In the sunlight his eyes seemed almost grey, like little balls of dwindling ash.
After a few moments she gave him a little wave, pretending that she’d been gazing out at the garden in a daze and had only just noticed him. When he didn’t return the gesture she wrapped her hand back around her shins and shifted into the foetal position, suddenly very cold despite the warmth of the morning.
“I’ll go and see if that food’s for us,” Dexter said, zipping up his pants and shaking out the creases. “Come down when you’re ready.”
Pandora turned sharply, almost forgetting he was there. She nodded distantly, he didn’t notice the unease on her face as he gave her another kiss, left a warm hand on her shoulder and then departed.
She turned back to the window, expecting to see the old man still staring, but he was gone. The garden was back to its trancelike state, peaceful and empty. Pandora didn’t feel it anymore though; she climbed off the windowsill and headed for the bathroom. She needed a shower.
Dexter followed the scent of food downstairs, like a wide-nosed cartoon dog tracking the trail of delectable delights. He passed portraits and landscapes, a littering of pictures gilded and hung to keep guests entertained as they climbed and descended the twisting staircase that led from the second floor down onto the entrance hallway.
He followed the smell to a dining room where three tables lay in wait, only one of them set with the implements of breakfast: toast rack, cutlery, plates, a selection of jams and butters. He caught Dorothy rearranging the plates so they sat in perfect alignment with one another.
“Good morning,” he said with a nod.
She turned quickly, instantly broke into a beaming smile when she saw him. He stopped in his tracks, prepared himself for a joyous greeting.
“Good morning love!” she called merrily. She opened her arms, indicating the empty spread in front of her. “You’ll be having breakfast I hope?”
He paused as if to give this some thought. “Sure,” he said with a nod, directing his attention to a buffet table at the other end of the room, where a toaster, a kettle and a series of cereals awaited for the continental offering.
“Excellent!” she made a scene of looking behind him. “Your beautiful other-half not awake yet?”
“She’ll be down soon.” He looked towards the kitchen, the scent of cooked food still making his mouth water as he picked at a few slices of melon. “That smells gorgeous,” he noted, hinting.
She winked at him. “Full English breakfast, all part of the deal my love. Give me a shout when she surfaces and I’ll come and take your order.”
***
“So, dears,” Dorothy exclaimed, pressing her hands together in front of her waist and beaming broadly at Dexter and Pandora. “What’ll you be doing today then, got anything planned?”
Dexter and Pandora exchanged a glance. They hadn’t planned to do anything but keep out of sight for as long as possible. Pandora scrunched up her face and reached for a slice of toast, keeping herself occupied and letting Dexter do the thinking and talking for both of them. She was perfectly happy to have a wander around town, see the area, have a drink or two at the local pub in the evening, but she doubted Dexter felt the same way. He would want to be secure, would probably want them to hole up in their room and avoid any contact with anyone but the smiling B&B owner, who clearly didn’t recognise them.
“What do you suggest?”
She was staring absently at the toast in
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