The Ice Marathon (15 page)

“See! Told you to avoid the blazing guns!” Tina reminded me.

“I thought I stood more chance of reasoning with them if you
stayed at home,” Simon explained. “I’m sorry.”

“In fairness,” said Nicky. “He was doing a pretty good job.”

“Ah, I just know my parents well,” he said, batting away the
compliment.”

“I’m sorry that you had to return to chaos. I haven’t even
found out if you completed your marathon.”

“Darling,” he said, pausing for effect, “the ice marathon
was the easy part.” Then, he added, “However, life will be much easier now that
we’re going to live together.”

You what now?

Chapter 15

I’d been planning on telling Simon that two former lovers
living under the same roof was a recipe for disaster, but there was never a
good time. So here we were, on Christmas Day, sitting on the sofa together
sipping port.

As it happened, having somebody encourage me to put up a
Christmas tree did make the house that little bit brighter. Likewise, having
somebody cook a turkey did make Christmas a little bit more festive. Actually,
living with my former nemesis turned out to be decidedly better than I ever
thought possible. Of course, having somebody in the spare room when Joseph woke
up at night was welcome too.

I was wearing my party dress – a short, dark red, taffeta
affair with sequins and a little net underskirt that caused it to flare out at
the bottom. Simon was wearing a dark green Christmas shirt with the jeans that
I particularly liked – loose but tight where it mattered.

We sat looking at his photos from Antarctica, which he’d
printed on the shiny printer he bought himself for Christmas. They were
stunning. He had a real flare for capturing the light despite the tricky large
expanses of snow.

“I’ve seen that one – it’s on the website.”

“What website?”

“The online one.”

“As opposed to one of those websites that’s not online?”

I laughed. “You know, the official one.”

“Jim must have put them on there. He copied a bunch off my
memory stick.”

“Why aren’t you in any of them?”

“Seriously?” he laughed. “You think I’d let someone else
hold my camera?”

I chuckled. He had a point. “Where’s a picture of the
snowman?”

“What snowman?”

“You didn’t build a snowman?”

“No.”

“Boring!”

“I did build an igloo!”

“An igloo? That’s awesome.”

“Mike Green thought it would be a nice touch.”

Huh?
“Mike Green, as in, my boss?”

“Yeah. He joked about it before I left, so I decided to
actually do it. It’ll make a great picture for the magazine.”

“Hang on, slow down. What’s Shelter got to do with this?”

“That’s who I ran the marathon for. Well, actually, it’s who
Joe ran the marathon for; I just picked up where he left off.”

“Wait a second. Your marathon raised money for Shelter?”

“Yes.”

“And you knew that all along?”

“Well, naturally.”

“But you never said!”

“It’s never come up.”

“But at that dinner party, when I was mouthing off about
estate agents and homelessness, you could have used that to put me in my place
at any moment.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to put you down. I wanted to hear what
you had to say.”

“Why? I was horrible.”

“You weren’t horrible.”

“I was. I was really horrible.” Then I added, softly, “I’m
really sorry about that night.”

“You’re always apologising about that night,” he said,
suddenly sounding annoyed. “You apologise for this fight, you apologise for
that fight.” I was surprised to note that he seemed to be getting quite heated.
“You’ve never once apologised for the thing that actually hurt me.”

It distressed me to see him looking so hurt. “What thing?”

He sighed and shuffled awkwardly.

“What thing?”

“You never called,” he mumbled.

“What?” I laughed, surprised.

“See! You don’t even see that that’s a problem.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to call. We hated each other.”

“You keep saying that!” he snapped, standing up angrily.
Then facing away from me, he added, “But
I
never hated
you
.”

“That sex was brutal,” I pointed out, standing up next to
him.

“It was the most moving experience of my life.”

It was?

Oh.

I took a moment to take in what he was telling me. He had
wanted
me to call. But my whole understanding of our relationship was based on the
assumption that he
didn’t
like me, at least not back then.

Quickly, I pointed out, “But you didn’t even wait around.
You were gone when I got up.”

“I waited for
three hours
. In the end I had to go, I
had plans.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know,” I said, softly.
“Hey!” I said, grabbing his arm. “
I didn’t know!
”

“Would it have made a difference?” he asked, defensively.

I stared at the back of his head, astonished. I couldn’t
answer hypothetical questions about the past. The only moment I could control
was right now. I thought about it –
right now
 …

I grabbed his arm firmly and spun around to face me. He
looked at the carpet. I stepped forward so that we were only inches apart,
tilted his chin and kissed him firmly on the lips.

For an excruciating moment, he just stood there neither
retracting nor responding. My lips were still pressing against his. I wondered
if I should back away.

Then suddenly, he began kissing me – and somewhat
enthusiastically! His hands were on my back, then my waist, feeling my
curves …

He grabbed me, lifting me clean off the ground, and threw me
face down on the sofa. At first, it took me by surprise, but after a few
moments, I realised that his manner was deliciously familiar.

“Where were we?” he mused, before climbing on top of me.
“Remember what you did to me?” he asked, lifting up my skirt. “I’ve been
wanting to get you back for ten months.” He held me down with his left hand.
Reflected in the television screen, I saw him unbuttoning the flies of his
jeans …

* * *

Half an hour later, we lay together on the sofa, naked in
each other’s arms – two-all on aggregate. I hadn’t expected the rematch to be
quite so … enthusiastic. Apparently, the passion hadn’t come from hatred,
we just happened to be a particularly electric combination.

Then, slowly my post-orgasmic ecstasy began to fade and the
reality of the situation started to creep into my consciousness. What the hell
just happened? Did I just have sex with my housemate? Well, I supposed he was
the father of my child, so it wasn’t entirely without precedent.

“Where now?” he asked, taking the words right out of my
mouth.

‘Where?’ indeed. Did this mean we were going to be a couple
now? Was he going to call me his girlfriend? Given that we already shared a
child, casually dating seemed out of the question. But diving straight into a
serious relationship would bring problems of its own …

I was surprised to find that I wasn’t anxious about the
future. In fact, I felt as though an important part of my life had clicked into
place. I don’t know exactly when we fell in love, but I knew that we had.

I took a deep breath and replied, “I was thinking, perhaps,
on the table?”

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Seesaw Volume II

Rosen's Second Short Story Collection

Will writing erotica save a grandmother from financial ruin? Where is Emma’s baby and why hasn’t he been returned to her? And will a boy be able to stop his little sister from being made into a gourmet girl burger?

Following Rosen’s acclaimed Seesaw collection, Volume II continues alternating between outrageous comedy and more sinister, psychological tales. At the core are two very different novellas – My Granny Writes Erotica and The Ice Marathon – alongside brand new short stories.

The preface continues Rosen’s own story, inviting you to share in her rocky but exciting journey from long-term incapacity to professional author.

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So called because of its alternation between laugh out loud
comedy and more sinister, psychological tales,
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showcases some of
Rosen’s most loved shorts, alongside some previously unpublished bite-sized
tales.

Includes number one best-selling humorous fiction
Lipstick
and Knickers
as well as critically acclaimed drama
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The collection contains a heartfelt preface about Rosen’s
own life, and two stories that explore living with a mental health problem.

This highly praised collection is renowned for taking
readers through the gamut of emotions, bringing tears of both sorrow and
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About Rosen Trevithick

Rosen is a British bestselling author, who writes fiction for children and adults.

She was born in Cornwall and grew up on Restronguet Creek. She studied Experimental Psychology at St Catherine’s College, Oxford, before moving back to the West Country. She now lives in Falmouth with two imaginary cats, fantasising about getting a real one.

In 2011 Rosen was an aspiring author. Writing was a hobby. The following January sales of her books took off. Readers have now downloaded over a quarter of a million copies of her books.

Rosen has a variety of books in print including Pompomberry House and two Seesaw collections, as well as over a dozen digital titles.

In 2013 she founded the Smelly Troll series – children’s chapter books written by Rosen and illustrated by Katie W. Stewart. The series, which begins with The Troll Trap, has inspired hundreds of children to get involved in creative writing.

Rosen writes in a variety of genres with a strong leaning towards comedy. She has also dabbled in psychological fiction and mystery writing.

She loves wild swimming, mountain biking, interesting boots, quiffs, ‘sampling’ chocolate and cooking tasty treats. She dislikes house spiders, doing laundry and people putting costumes on their cats.

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