A CUP OF TEA LEAVES

By Atonia Walpole

Part 3:

Billy paid for the taxi and sent it on its way. He helped Meagan into her house and to the sofa arranging her crutches within reach.  “Now would you like a cup of tea or something?” he asked as he took off his leather jacket, laying it across the back of a chair.

“You don’t have to stay, Billy, I can manage,” she tried, then noticing he wasn’t going to respond, added, “Okay a cup of tea, thank you. You’ll find the tea things…”

He was out of the room and into her kitchen, easily finding her kettle and tea cups. Meagan had her leg propped up on the sofa when he returned with her cup of tea. “I’ll go out and get you some food and milk. I noticed you’re low. Anything you especially want?”

Meagan laid her head back on the sofa and looked at him, “Sit down and drink your tea, Billy. I’ve told you how I feel about your being here. I…I don’t what else to say.” She took a sip of her tea. “There's a list on the table over there that I made up when I knew I was going to get a payday this week. I don’t often get one, you see. I own a little boutique and have expenses I have to meet, an employee I have to pay. If at the end of the month there's extra money, then I get paid. Do you understand now why I followed you?”

Billy put the cup down and rose to go pick up her list. “This it, then?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Oh, and by the way, there’s a bill over there, too, for the hot water heater. You’ll want to pay that as well.” She looked over her cup at him as he pocketed the list and picked up the bill.

“Right. Will you be ok on the sofa until I get back?” he asked.

“Actually, I’d like to go upstairs.” She put her cup down and reached for the crutches, pulling herself up she made her way to the bottom of the stairs. Billy watched her progress and followed her to the staircase.

“Let me just carry you up. It’s easier on you.” He took the crutches from her and picked her up. Her arms went around his neck as he carried her up the stairs. She directed him to her room and he still held her as he looked around her bedroom. “Pretty room. Looks like where you would sleep.” He met her eyes for a moment and set her down on the bed. “I’ll get your crutches.” And he was back down the stairs.

Meagan waited until she heard the door close then heaved herself up on her crutches. She wanted a bath and a change of clothes and would rather do this on her own without an audience. She sat in the bath puzzling over Billy.  He was a thief and God knew what else. She couldn’t get past his eyes. He wasn’t going to let her get inside. She dipped under the water and rinsed her hair. I am very vulnerable here with him, she thought, looking at her leg draped over the side of the bath.

After some maneuvering she managed to get out of the bath and into a robe. She dried her hair and applied her body lotion.  By the time she got back to her bed she was tired from the effort  so lay down, pulling the coverlet over her, and was asleep when Billy got back. He came upstairs to check on her. She'd had a bath he discovered as he gathered her damp towels and spread them over the side of the tub. He picked up her lotion and smelled the bottle, closing his eyes, then set it down and went back down stairs.

When Meagan woke in the semi darkness of her room she smelled food and something else. She turned her head and saw a vase with three pink roses on her bedside table. Billy.

Billy pulled the chicken casserole out of the oven and set it on top of the stove, sprinkling fresh parsley over the top so that it looked just like the picture on the back of the soup tin. He opened the bottle of wine, checking the label once again, ‘suitable with chicken…’ and poured two glasses, setting them in the fridge to chill. He had taken some liberties with her grocery list.

Meagan scooted down her bed, reaching across into a drawer, finding an oversized sleep shirt which she pulled over her head. When she turned, Billy was leaning against her bedroom door. She hadn’t heard him come up the stairs a little chill ran down her spine.

“Are you hungry?” he asked quietly.

“Ah…yes, I am. Something smells good.” She glanced toward the roses and back at him. “I like roses. They’re my favorite.”

“I’ve got your tea ready. I’ll carry you down.” He didn’t wait for an answer but scooped her off the bed and carried her down the stairs. She noticed the table set for two and something delicious in the air.

“This is very good, Billy. Where did you learn to cook like this?” she asked, spearing another mushroom and a chunk of chicken.

“I just followed the recipe on the back of the tin. Anybody can cook if they read the labels.”

Yes, but would they bother, she thought, especially a young man. “You amaze me, Billy. How old are you?”

Billy took a sip of his wine and looked across the table. “Twenty-three. Why?”

He was younger than she thought. Was it something in the eyes? “Not many young men your age would be reading labels. They’d be down at the chippie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like take-away shit all the time.” He refilled the wine glasses. “How’s your foot tonight?”

“Settled in to a dull ache. It feels better when it’s propped up.”

“Well, let’s get you propped up on the sofa.” He came to her side of the table and took her around the waist. “Just lean on me. I’ll get you there.”

She looked up at him. “I don’t want to lean on you.” He stopped and met her eyes.

“Yes, you do, and besides, you don’t have a choice, do you?”

She did have a choice and she knew it but she let him help her to the sofa. She sipped her wine while he cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen. Despite her better judgment she was becoming fascinated by him. What did he want? Power? Was it power over her? No, somehow that didn’t fit. He could overpower her anytime he wanted to. She set her glass down on the coffee table and noticed the receipt from the hot water heater payment. He had paid the total amount owed, not the pittance she had intended to pay. By her calculations the 300 quid was gone, roses, wine. She was destitute again.

“You’ve spent all my money,” she said when he came back in the room.

“I don’t have your money. I took care of that,” he said, pointing to the receipt for the hot water heater.

“You don’t have it now, right? Oh, Billy, that money had to last me for a month!” She threw the receipt back on the table and closed her eyes. She felt him sit down on the sofa next to her.

“I told you, I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything except getting better. Hey, don’t cry! Don’t worry. Everything's going to be alright.” He put his arms around her and held her against his chest.

Meagan blinked her eyes, letting the tears soak into his white tee shirt. He was a bastard…

“Are you ready to go up stairs?” he asked, his face in her hair, drinking in the fresh shampoo smell.

He shifted her onto his lap and stood, holding her against him, and carried her up the stairs. He set her down on the bed and straightened himself. “Anything you need before I go?”

“You’re leaving?” She was surprised.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in the morning, make your breakfast…take care of you.”

She shifted herself around on the bed, reaching for the covers. He pulled them up around her, tucked her in and sat down beside her on the bed, leaning over her, his hands on either side of her head. She thought he was going to kiss her and her eyes widened in alarm.

“You’ll be okay tonight. Be careful if you get up.” He lifted his chin and moved to the door, glancing back once and he was gone.

She listened as he locked the door behind him downstairs then she breathed a sigh of relief.

Billy tucked his hands in his pockets and walked up the street to wait for the bus to take him to the tube. It was too late to work tonight. He’d just go back to his flat. He took a deep breath, still thinking about how she smelled, clean and fresh, not old and diseased when he held her. He had wanted to kiss her but the fear in her eyes stopped him. Why was she afraid of him? He turned the collar of his jacket up and looked down the street for the bus.

 

Part 4:

 

After a troubled night’s sleep Meagan sat up, looking at the tangled bedcovers. She had dreamed of Billy last night and the last dregs of the dream were fading away. Hopping over to her crutches, she took care of her morning rituals. Tying her hair back with a ribbon, she picked out a pair of knit shorts and eased them over her cast. She called her employee and let her know it would be a few days before she would be able to get back to work, answered some questions and was glad to hear things were going well at the store. She checked her messages... still no call from David. Her mind examined the thought of David, bringing her close to the decision she was nothing more than a date when he was in town. She hobbled herself over to the top of the stairs and laid her crutches down. Sitting, she began moving down step by step on her bum and had made it three quarters of the way down when her front door opened.

Billy took off his jacket, hung it up by the door and turned to see her on the step. “What are you doing?”

“Coming downstairs all by myself,” she grinned.

Billy laughed, “I see you left your crutches at the top of the stairs. Were you going back to get them?”

She turned her head. Damn, forgot about that. “Looks like you showed up at the right time,” she said, a wry grin on her face.  He took her under her arms, lifted her up and catching her around the waist, carried her to a chair by the table. ‘You’re awfully strong, aren’t you?”

“Not especially. You don’t weigh much. Ready for coffee and some breakfast?”

She drank her coffee while he knocked about in her kitchen, the smell of bacon filling the air.  She wondered what it was like being a young man of twenty three, learning to cook and look after himself, for he certainly was alone. She decided to probe a bit and see what came up.

“Wow, what’s this?’ she exclaimed as he sat a plate in front of her.

“Egg and bacon buttie. Eat up. It's good for you.”

It was good and she finished, not even leaving a crust for the trash bin. “You’re good in the kitchen ,Billy. How did you learn your way around? Your mum teach you?”

“Me Mum’s dead.” He gathered up the plates and took them to the kitchen.

He came back with a damp cloth and wiped down the table. “I’m sorry about your mum, Billy. How old were you?”

Why was she talking about his Mum? “She got sick when I was 19. Took her two years to die. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Sure, sorry.” He had closed up like a clam. There was something there. She lit a cigarette, deciding not to push him.  Finishing her cigarette, she stubbed it out and reached over, opening the blinds to her back garden, a tiny patch of green with a border around the edges of the walls.

“Anything needs doing out there?” He had moved over behind her, taking one of her cigarettes and lighting it.

“No, I don’t think so. Are you a gardener as well?”

“I could learn. You could teach me, show me what to do.”

That simple statement hit home. “Yes, I could…are you a good student, a fast learner, take your lessons seriously?”

Billy met her eyes. “Yeah, show me once and I’m off.”

“No, no, no, you have to study, learn the basics before you start improvising. You start with the soil, making sure all the right ingredients are there for a healthy plant. I have books that tell you what’s needed. Then we’ll talk about honesty, honesty in packaging. You want to make sure the seed you plant matches the packaging, different plants need different things. If the packaging is off, your plant won’t do well because you haven’t prepared the soil to meet its needs.” She stopped, wondering if he comprehended anything she was trying to say to him. He hadn’t moved from behind her except to put out his cigarette.

“How do you know the packaging is off? Maybe it was a bad seed.”

“You have to trust the distributor, the people who package up the seeds. Too many complaints and they lose the trust. You have to trust.”

“Me Mum used to get what she called pass-a-long plants.”

“Right, and she trusted the distributor.”

“You still don’t trust me, do you?”

“I think your packaging is off. I’d like to find out just what kind of plant you are.”

“Ha, I’m a weed! Do you want to move from here, go out in the garden or to the sofa or something?”

In other words, change the subject. “Okay, to the sofa, if you don’t mind, and you could go get  my crutches I left on the stairs.” A weed in one man’s garden is a flower in another, she thought as he bounded up the stairs for her crutches.

“Thanks, Billy, just put them where I can reach them. You never told me your last name and where you’re from.”

“Billy Seward's my name. I’m from York, actually.”

“You arrived from York ,what, four days ago? Why did you come to London? You’re not working, are you?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well, we seem to be spending a lot of time together. I’d kind of like to know who I’m with.”

“You’re with me. That should be enough. I haven’t asked you anything ,have I?”

“No, you haven’t, but I wouldn’t put it past you to dig around here and find out all about me.”

“You underestimate me. I wouldn’t pry into your private life.”

“I’m trying my best NOT to underestimate you. I find you very intelligent and well-spoken and am finding it hard to place this person with the one who stole a pay envelope from my bag.”

“Ah, we’re back to that. I’m not even going to answer that again. I think I’m going out for awhile. Will you be okay here or do you want back up the stairs?”

“I’ll stay here.” She watched him take his jacket, pushing his arms through the sleeves. He was agitated and needed to get away. “I must have pushed a button,” she said to herself after he closed the door. She hoisted herself onto her crutches and clumped out to the kitchen and stopped, looking around. Her shelves were bursting with food. The kitchen actually shone it was so clean. She opened her fridge, finding it stocked as well. Her cooker had been scrubbed clean. “My God, he's been busy!” She leaned against the counter, noticing the bottles of wine. “He’s spent more than my 300 quid, what with the hot water heater. Where does he get his money? He doesn’t work.” She suspected he was a thief and that pained her. It wasn’t just her money he stole. “Oh, Billy,” she whispered.

It was hours later, after Meagan had made herself a cup of tea and humped herself up the stairs, when Billy came back. It was dark downstairs and he went around switching on lights before running up the stairs. He found Meagan propped up in her bed reading.

“Sorry I was gone so long. I’ll just get your tea, but look what I found for you in a little shop you'd love. I’ll take you there when you can walk.” He handed her a box to open.

It bore the name of a well-known shop and was wrapped in their paper. Carefully she unwrapped it and opened the box. A tiny piano. Taking it in her hand, she looked up at him.

“Look,” he said, “when you open the top it’s a music box.” He sat down on the bed beside her, pleased with himself.

“It’s beautiful, Billy. You didn’t have to do this. Why…”

“I wanted to give you something. Do you like it?”

“Yes…I’m just surprised…thank you, it's lovely.” He had moved up against her shoulder and she noticed he smelled of soap, a clean fresh smell. “You’ve been home, back to your place and changed clothes.”

He turned to her. “Yes.”

“I’ve been in my kitchen today. It’s never been so clean. You amaze me.” She stared into his eyes and saw the smile begin there then spread to his lips. Somebody to notice his good deeds! “I appreciate what you’re doing for me. I want you to know that.”

“Sure. It’s nothing. Want to come down while I fix your tea?” He scooped her up and carried her down to the table. “I’ll only be a minute. Nothing fancy tonight, okay?”

“Whatever you do is fine, Billy.” She lit a cigarette and ran her hand over her hair.  There was no doubt in her mind she was either the recipient of stolen goods or stolen money that bought the goods. What was she going to do with him? She reached over and closed the blinds on the darkened garden.

When their meal was over and Billy had cleared the table, he brought a bottle of wine and two glasses, sitting across from her. “Hope you like this. It’s an after-dinner wine.”

She smiled, knowing he’d been reading labels again. “Billy, I don’t quite know how to say this.   I love the little piano. It's very sweet and it means a lot to me that you want to give me things, but…I…don’t ever want you to get into any trouble on my account, please. Don’t bring any trouble to my door.”

He took a drink of the wine and put his glass down. “I would never do anything to hurt you, not ever. You have to trust me on that.”

“I want to trust you, I really do.” She tilted her head and caught his eye.

“Then just do. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He moved his hand across the table, touching hers.

ON TO PART 5

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