Awoken - chapter one

Chapter nine

Nine

As Beau and I sat in the cafe‚ opposite the college and safely away from prying eyes, it was as though a new side of Beau had broken through. He was chatty, enthusiastic and attentive and he had the politeness and manners of a 1920's gentleman. The cheeky twinkle in his eyes was the icing on the cake.

'So how was the trip yesterday?'

'Please don't even get me started. It was an absolute nightmare. If I believed in ghosts, I could have sworn I met a couple there. It was just a really weird day, one I wouldn't mind forgetting if that's OK?'

'Of course. No problem.' His words agreed but his eyes did not. I didn't know why but he suddenly looked uncomfortable. I shuffled past it and moved on with a more socially acceptable topic of conversation.

'So what made you choose to come to Claynor?' I asked, my voice now brimming with feigned happiness.

'Well I've been in care for longer than I can remember and they finally gave me a choice. I had to go into hospital last year'.

'Hospital?' I interrupted brashly. 'Sorry that was rude of me, you were saying?' I shoved a complimentary bread roll from the red gingham basket on the table into my mouth quickly to stop another outburst.

'Yeah, well it was nothing very serious. I get these really violent nosebleeds sometimes and my foster parents used to take me into hospital in frantic hysterics. Gwen, the foster mother I'm living with now, was working there at the time. We clicked instantly and for the first time in a long time I made a connection with someone I like. Gwen's been fostering children for the past twenty-five years. When you meet her she'll tell you that our meeting in that hospital on a cold November morning was fate - predestined'. His boyish chuckle and closed lipped smile showed his age as his fond memories played out in his head.

'So you met Gwen, moved here, and are you happy now?'

'Yes, I'm happier now than I ever imagined possible actually.' Behind his words was a pained expression.

'That does not look like the face of a happy man' I teased.

'I have a lot going on that I'm not going to bore you with. I don't know what it is about you but you make me feel free. I can just be me. I don't have to act a certain way when I'm with you and that's very new for me'.

The honesty in his words hit me hard and my desire to comfort him was tearing me up inside. Right I'm going in for the kill; don't ask-don't get. I want to know everything and anything, so this is my chance I thought. 'So if you don't mind me asking, what happened to your parents?' I lowered my head innocently in a bid to disguise my nosiness.

'To be perfectly honest, I've never got the full story myself, just a few random bits and pieces. I'm still trying to get hold of the rest of the puzzle.' He grinned, putting his cup back onto the table.

'Well, if I can ever lend you a hand, I'm pretty nifty when it comes to puzzles.'

Oh my, shoot me now' Embarrassment swelled in my stomach and flushed at my cheeks. Why don't I just go all out and ask him why he behaves so strangely and talks to thin air. He looked at me quizzically, unable to stop the smile on his face. A curvaceous woman, dressed in a low cut, pink, lace top, eye-wateringly tight jeans and a sea scene embossed apron strutted towards our table. With a slapped on sultry (or in my opinion smutty) smile she glanced into the six-foot long mirror on the far wall opposite her and adjusted her curly long blonde hair around and over one shoulder.