I awoke to the sound of Marc busy in the kitchen making us dinner. I sat up on the comfortable navy blue sofa that was facing a 24 inch TV screen with a DVD player. I lookrf around the living room and took in the creamy white walls, old fashioned black fireplace, with a matching navy blue chair in the corner by the window that was double glazed.
I stood up with my hands on my lower back as I slowly walked into the open kitchen.
"Megumi, go and sit back down," Marc said.
"Marc, I'm fine. I'm pregnant not dying," I pointed out with annoyance.
"I know, honey, but it's for the best you sit down. Remember what the Gynocologist said get plenty of rest," he replied, shaking out cooked spaghetti in the drainer over the sink. Straining out all the hot water from the pasta.
I took a seat at the long wooden breakfast table and watched as he got two white plates from the cupboard, cutlery from the drawer, and placed the spaghetti down on the plates quickly and then poured tomato bolognese sauce over the top. Marc set a plate in front of me a long with a fork and spoon.
Marc sat beside at the breakfast table and set his plate down and a small plate of grated cheddar cheese.
We started eating in silence for the next five minutes.
I decided to make conversation . I cleared my throat "while I was asleep, did you by any chance manage to call the police about Cynthia Olivia Downing?" I asked,turning my head to look at him side on and the blank expression on his face old me he hadn't. "Oh, Marc."
"Sorry, hon, I was busy bringing our suitcases in from the car then had to start on dinner," Mark said.
"Ok, make sure you do. It's really strange how she was there one minute and then the next gone, don't you think?" I asked.
He nodded in agreement.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door.
We looked at each other and then back to the door.
Marc stood and went over and opened the door.
Cynthia stood drenched in front of him underneath the porch light. Her eyes were wild.
"Cynthia, what happened to you?" he asked, not keeping the surprise out of his voice.
"Can I come in?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Of course," he stepped aside to let her in.
Cynthia walked in and gushed in admiration at the furniture of the cottage. "Wow, nice."
"Sorry, Megumi and I are just finishing our dinner," he said.
"Of course, don't mind me, I'm not hungry. Sorry I took off I dropped something back on the road and needed it back," she explained.
Marc sat back down and finished off his meal.
Cynthia sat down at the table as well uninvitingly. "So, Megumi, when are you due?"
"October," I replied.I couldn't believe how rude this girl was. And why wasn't she cold in her wet clothes?
"Oh, how lovely. It'll be nice to have a bouncy new born at this cottage again. Hasn't been any for years," Cynthia said.
Marc and I looked at her wide-eyed. "You know this cottage?" Marc asked incredulously. "It must be over a hundred years old."
"I've read up on it," she said quickly with awkwardness as if she was holding something back. Something's she's not telling us.
"Well, I think you should stay with us for the night and then in the morning I'll take you to whereever you need to go," said Marc kindly.
Cynthia's eyes lit up "thank you, that would be great," she responded with delight. "well, I better get going, I'm exhausted. See you in the morning." Cynthia stood up.
"wait a minute, let me show you where the guest room is," Marc said.
She flashed him a dazzling smile of hollywood white teeth. "it's OK, I know my way around these old cottages like the back of my hand."
"Oh, OK," he responded quite surprised and so was I.
"Goodnight," Cynthia called. She disappeared up the stairs.
Once she was was gone I mocked her. "Thank you, that would be great."
Marc dug his left elbow into my right arm "hey, what's up with you?" he asked, watching as I stood up and took the dishes over to the sink.
"She's got a thing for you," I said.
"Has she?" he asked with surprise.
I laughed "come on, you hadn't noticed how she looks at you?"
"Erm," Marc had to think.
"Oh, god, don't tell me you hadn't noticed?"
He shook his head but wrapped his strong arms around me. "Even if she had a thing for me I wouldn't be interested. I only have eyes for you."
I looked up at him. Marc was tall with green eyes, quite muscular in the bicep area, and short black hair. He had olive skin making him look very exotic. He had told me his parents came from Alanya, Turkey, and his grandparents were from Turk Cyprus.
We kissed and then decided to have an early night. We turned off the lights in the kitchen, living room, but left the upstairs light on so we could get up the stairs without breaking our necks. When we walked up the old creaky staircase we saw Cynthia pop her head round the guest bedroom door that was down the hallway.
"Goodnight," she said, smiling sweetly.
"Goodnight," Marc and I said together.
Cynthia turned and went back into the room and shut the door.
We went into our bedroom and shut the door.
"She is strange," I commented softly to him.
"No, you're the strange one," Marc teased.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because you married me," he replied.
I laughed lightly and we kissed passionately arms around one another as we fell on top of the now navy blue duvet covered double bed. After we took off all our clothes and got into bed and began to make love softly.
While Marc and I were making love, I opened my eyes and my body became as stiff as a board. My heart began pounding like a drum against my chest. I wanted to scream out with terror as a boy in his late teens dressed in clothes from the nineteenth century stood at the bottom of the bed staring at us. I shut my eyes hoping it was just a frigment of my imagination. I opened my eyes again and the boy was gone. Gone into thin air.
Marc rolled off me breathing heavily when we had finished making love.
"Babe, are you alright? You seem alittle tense. Was it OK?" he asked, concerned.
I forced on a smile, "yeah, it was fine," I said. Hardly believing what I'd just witnessed. I turned on my head to him and he was snoring. I chuckled then glanced away. My heart started pounding again, my palms were sweaty, sweat dripped down on the temples of my face.
The boy appeared again, this time by the door. He stared at me with such sadness in his eyes. The boy opened his mouth wanting to say something to me but then disappeared into thin air.
What was happening? Who was this boy?