Page 61 of Romantic Hero
I shrug. ‘Just, you know, taking in the, uh, wall,’ I reply like a dunce.
River nods slowly. ‘Well, as fascinating as this wall is – truly – I’m so glad I interdimensionally travelled here to witness it … I reckon it’s time to get back home.’ He lifts up the bag of books he’s carrying. ‘You and I have got some work to do.’
*
I don’t mean to zonk out within thirty minutes of getting home, but I’m so mentally exhausted I barely get through one chapter of the library books Aled gave us before I drift off into a late-afternoon slumber. I come to when I hear the sound of a gentle sizzling, the scent of something fresh and delicious emanating from the kitchen area. I slide on my glasses and sit up on the bed to see that River, hair damp and dressed in fresh clothes, is quietly dancing his way around my kitchen. Is hehumming? I watch for a second as he takes a wooden spoon from the ceramic holder on the countertop and swishes it over the pan, occasionally bending down to give a rapt Squish a tiny bit of cheese. Wait – the fridge was empty. I’ve been eating nothing but takeaway meat for a whole month. Did he go out?
River’s face brightens when he notices I’m awake.
‘Squish suggested I steal your card so we could venture to Sainsbury’s to pick up some groceries,’ he says. ‘I told him you wouldn’t be happy about it, but he insisted and the dude isstubborn. I would pay you back, but unless you guys have interdimensional bank transfer abilities then I’m afraid dinner is on you.’
‘You can’t take dogs into Sainsbury’s. Did you get told off?’
‘Nobody said anything.’ River waves the spoon about. ‘In fact one of the check-out assistants asked if she could take a photo of Squish and I for her Pinterest inspiration board, whatever that may be.’
I roll my eyes. Of course that’s what happened.
I climb out of bed, which causes a cacophony of excitement from Squish who spins in precise little circles, scampering his way across the floor like one of those battery-operated cuddly toys.
‘That smells great,’ I remark, glancing skywards as I hear the rhythmic patter of rain on the rooftop. ‘So what’s cooking?’ I head to the stove and peek at a pan full of lightly charred red peppers. As I do, the bare skin of River’s forearm brushes against mine, a little shock making us both jump. I take a big sidestep to the left. River clears his throat.
‘Just veggie tacos,’ he says, moving the wooden spoon over the pan. ‘Like I said, I never cook at home – no time – but I found this.’ He taps at one of Josie’s old cookbooks lying open on the counter, pages covered with sauce stains and scribbles that Josie had made in the margins. Vegetable tacos was one of her go-tos.
My face must be doing something because River asks, ‘That okay?’ He points down at the handwritten notes. ‘Figured if you’ve made it before, that you’ll definitely like it.’
I take a deep breath. ‘It’s perfect. I’ll set the table.’ I grab some cutlery and napkins from the kitchen drawers. River lights one of the cream dinner candles I usually only use for display purposes and then, grabbing a chilled bottle of Sancerre from the fridge, pours us both a glass of wine.
‘No whisky?’
‘I’m attempting to be civilised.’
‘It doesn’t suit you.’
He brings the plates over to the table and sets them down neatly. I take a seat, lift up my wine glass and then halt. ‘I don’t actually know what to toast to. Everything has been … sort of shit, hasn’t it? A horrible day all round.’
‘Not everything,’ River says lightly.
‘No?’
‘I mean, we’re eating tacos right now,’ he thumbs at the plates of food. ‘Two very different people, from two very different worlds, having a home-cooked meal right in the middle of London. We’re warm, we’re safe, we’re accompanied by a very odd dog, and this wine is …’ he takes a sip, ‘passable.’ I laugh out loud. River laughs too. ‘And we laughed. And that means there was some good in this horrible day.’
And so the pair of us toast to that, our voices stoic beneath a low rumble of thunder from above. When our glasses clink prettily, I try my best to ignore the fact that this feels very much like a date.
*
When we’ve finished eating our tacos – which turned out to be just as delicious as when Josie made them – River opens the fridge and pulls out a cardboard box. He waves it at me, eyes twinkling.
‘What are you so happy about?’
‘I got me some Auntie’s Delicious Spotted Dick,’ he announces, examining the box of pudding with delight. ‘I cannot believe this is the name of a real pudding here.’
While the pudding microwaves, he grabs an open library book from where it lies on the sofa. ‘I’ve been reading this.’
I sit up straighter. ‘Anything useful?’
‘Possibly. I was thinking that maybe after dinner we could go through them all and try to make a plan? You in?’
His jaw flexes then and I realise that despite the seemingly chirpy bravado he is deeply worried about getting back to his own world in time for the land auction, about saving the place he promised his father he would always look after.
