Lauren took a deep breath and pressed the tip of one finger against the bell push. The trill of the doorbell echoed in the hallway of James' apartment and, for a heart-stopping moment, Lauren thought that he had gone out. Then, just as she was resting her finger against the bell push again, she heard the measured tread of his footsteps on the other side of the door. Her hands felt sweaty and her heart fluttered in her breast as she waited. She could feel the moisture leaching out of her mouth, leaving her tongue thickened and as dry as dust.
The lock rattled and the door swung open, James standing, silhouetted by the light in the hallway. He smiled at Lauren the soft grey of his eyes twinkling behind the spectacles he wore to read. Suddenly, Lauren was tongue tied, shy and nervous in front of him. He stood in the doorway for a moment, delighted to see his goddaughter again. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter his apartment. The rooms were light and airy, neutral colours on the walls lending a feeling of space, with splashes of colour from treasures he had discovered on his travels. Lauren watched him move, as he led her down the hallway to his lounge, past the kitchen and bathroom. She could see the closed doors to the bedrooms, the guest room where she had spent more than one night after rebelling against her parents for some real or imagined slight or inequity. She remembered him showing her into the guest room when her mother and father had been taken into hospital after the road accident and he had collected her from school. She had been twelve then, but he still spoke to her with the same grave courtesy with which he treated everybody he met. That night, though, he had left his bedroom door ajar and she had been comforted by the thought that he could hear her, if she woke in the night.
Her parents had recovered, slowly, and James had taken care of her, comforting her, supporting her until they were well enough to leave hospital and go home again. The night that they had all gone home, Lauren had cried, partly from joy at having her parents back and partly in bitter sorrow at having to leave James again. Every weekend, James would take them all out into the countryside and, in summer, they would have a picnic or, in winter, they would stop at a country in and share a meal. Lauren looked forward to the weekends, to sharing some time with James.
Then came university. She had moved away and stayed on the campus. Every week she would receive a letter from James, keeping her up-to-date with everything happening at home. Even when he had been admitted to hospital, he managed to send her a letter. Those letters had been a high point of each week, even though she rarely wrote back and then usually to complain about the course or one of her professors. now she was back after her first year's examinations, waiting for her grades. Lauren had told her parents that she would be back next Friday, leaving her free to indulge herself for the next four days.
"Lauren," James laughed, "I didn't expect you back until next week. Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," she replied, I just came back a little early. I have something I need to do," she assured him.
They both paused, something seeming to hang, charged in the air between them. Lauren looked around the lounge, her gaze resting on the photograph that hung above his mantelpiece. James had taken it himself, just before Lauren had left for university, joking about having something to remember her by. It was about the only photograph of herself that Lauren liked, a study of her between laughter and solemnity. she had not seen it enlarged before, James had taken it on the eve of her departure, when she had arrived on his doorstep and they had spent most of the night talking, well he listened and she talked.
"Your Ma and Pa will be glad to see you early," James said.
"I haven't told them I'm home yet," she told him, "I was wondering if I could stay with you."
"What's wrong? Are you ok? Of course you can stay here, just give me a minute to make up the guest room."
"Nothing's wrong and I'm fine but I don't mean stay in the guest room, I mean stay with you."
James looked puzzled, for a moment, and then his expression cleared, only to cloud over with concern. He steered her to the couch where she used to sit and look out of his picture window at the sky and sat in his usual chair opposite. She turned her clear green eyes to meet his and shook the tumbling cascade of chestnut hair away from her brow. For a moment, James said nothing, just watched Lauren composing her thoughts. He saw how the girl he had cherished and nurtured had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Her movements were lithe and quick as a cat, with a feline sensuousness. Her face was perfectly heart shaped, the jade green of her eyes seeming to glow with hidden fire. She was wearing a simple cotton dress that clung to her figure, blousing a little over her breasts, proud but neat mounds. Her calves were shapely, even in the flat pumps she had worn to drive over here and unusually were covered on stockings or panty hose. She even smelt fresh, some light floral scent that he had always associated with his thoughts of her. At last he spoke;
"Do you know what you're suggesting? What about your boyfriend at university?"
"I know what I'm, saying and why do you think I have a boyfriend?"
" I-I-I assumed that you had someone, I mean you're beautiful. I just thought..."
