Winter's Fairytale. Maxine Morrey

at the studio a couple of years ago – a bride had come in for a final fitting having spent the previous three weeks on a clearly very effective crash diet – I now always made sure I was prepared for another. A flannel, toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste sat neatly in a cosmetic bag in my desk drawer. I preferred to keep the set of spare underwear closer to hand. The remote, yet still possible, chance that someone looking for something in my drawer may unwittingly plonk my undies out into full view gave me a twitch. Which is why they lived in a securely zipped pocket of my carry-everywhere tote. A fact I was extremely glad of at this precise moment. Rob might be sweet enough to lend me pyjamas and socks but I was pretty sure I’d be out of luck in the underwear department and there was no way on Earth I was going to go ‘commando’.

      Rob said he’d left a new toothbrush out in the bathroom for me so I stuck my head out of the door and peered round. It had actually turned into a really lovely evening, just sitting and relaxing together. But I wasn’t quite ready to face up to him in my – or rather his – pyjamas just yet. I looked around. I could hear movement in his bedroom so I took the opportunity to scoot along to the bathroom and get my own ablutions taken care of before he was ready to. I went in, locked the door and picked up the toothbrush. As I peeled the packaging away, I thought back to what he’d said about buying in bulk, and wondered just how much of that was true. And then I wondered why it bothered me if it was.

      I finished cleaning my teeth and, upturning one of the glasses on the counter, popped my toothbrush in it. I stared at the glass for a moment, it being there was yet more evidence at the hint that this place definitely had a woman’s touch to it. I mean, who has two glasses in their bathroom – unless you own a hotel. Or – the other thought barrelled back at me – you’re just used to having people stay over. A lot. We were back to the bulk buying of toothbrushes. And I was too tired to think about it all. Or think about why I was even thinking about it all. I unlocked the door and cracked it open a smidge, checking to see if I could make it back to the guest room undetected. All clear. I did a half walk, half run thing and made it to the door. Except the momentum from the ‘run’ part of the manoeuvre kept me going, and my cosy socks offered no purchase on the wood floor. And I kept right on going straight into the door. I grabbed at the handle in an attempt to stop the inevitable but it happened anyway and I landed hard on my backside in the hallway.

      ‘Izzy?’

      Rob’s door flew open and he stood there in the matching bottoms to my enormous top. After a split second of just staring at me, he rushed over but I was already batting him away, embarrassed.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ I said, trying to decide the best way to make an elegant recovery from the prone position I was now in. I decided there wasn’t one. I sat up and winced. Rob caught it. He bent down, hooked his arms underneath mine and stood me up.

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Are you all right?’ he asked again.

      I did my best to erase the mortifying picture I had in my head of me sliding down the corridor that must have greeted Rob as he pulled open his door, and instead put on a big smile.

      ‘Absolutely.’ Not true. My backside was killing me. ‘Socks. Floor. Slippy.’ I explained. ‘But I’m fine. Really. Just a bit of a sore bum.’

      A smirk fluttered across his mouth, albeit briefly.

      ‘And don’t think I didn’t see that.’

      ‘Sorry.’ he said, ‘I’d offer to rub it better for you, but that’d be such a cliché.’

      ‘It would.’

      ‘So I won’t.’

      ‘I’m so glad.’

      He grinned at me, and I couldn’t help but return it. He took a couple of steps back towards his own room.

      ‘Sure you’re ok?’

      ‘I’m sure, Rob. Really.’

      ‘All right, but just let me know if anything hurts later, or tomorrow. As I said earlier, my mate’s only round the corner.’

      ‘If I’m not going to let you rub anything better, then what makes you think I’m going to let anyone else have a go?’

      Rob looked happily puzzled. ‘My mate’s a doctor.’

      ‘Ohhhhh! Yes. Right. You did say that.’

      Rob took a couple of steps back towards me again and leant over and opened the door. As it had apparently become clear I wasn’t to be trusted with these things myself.

      ‘Night, Izz.’

      ‘Night, Rob.’

      He bent down and kissed me on the cheek.

      ‘Sleep well.’ he said before turning and heading towards the bathroom. I watched him go. It was kind of hard not to. He looked pretty gorgeous in a suit. In pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt he looked… I stopped myself. What on Earth was I doing? This was Rob. We were friends. And he’d even said earlier he wasn’t looking for anything from me, other than friendship. And I wasn’t looking for anything other than that right now either. If I was, I’d have jumped on the hot Italian from earlier. But I didn’t. Because I wasn’t ready for anything like that in my life right now. But I still couldn’t help watching Rob walk away. My eyes slid to his feet. No socks. Ha! I knew it. Sabotage.

       Chapter Six

      I was sat on the floor of Rob’s living room the next morning, my papers spread all around me, when he wandered in, still dressed in his pyjama bottoms and t-shirt. His face had a sleepy look to it and his jaw showed a distinct hint of scruff.

      ‘Morning.’

      ‘Morning!’ I replied, my eyes going back to my work.

      ‘How’s your bum?’

      ‘Absolutely fine, thank you. Yours?’

      He laughed and shoved a coffee pot sachet in his machine and pressed a button. Leaving it to run, he came over and crouched down to where I was sat with his lovely warm blanket around me. He pulled it back and peered around it, and the acres of pyjama top, to where I was sat on a large and, more importantly, soft cushion. He brought his gaze up to where I was purposefully avoiding meeting it.

      ‘Ok. So I bruised it a bit.’

      He let the blanket fall back and stood up.

      ‘Did you get yourself coffee?’

      ‘No, I thought I’d wait for you.’ I glanced up.

      He smiled at me and a few minutes later placed two cups of coffee and a pile of toast on the breakfast bar. I climbed up from my perch atop the cushion and padded over to one of the seats facing the window. Rob took the one next to me. I picked up one of the coffees. Wrapping my hands around it, I looked out at the snow.

      ‘Doesn’t look like it’s stopped all night.’

      He shook his head. ‘Nope.’ he said, simply, snagging a piece of toast and leaning back in his chair to reach for a knife for the marmalade out of the drawer. I watched him for a moment and pictured the scene ending badly. Hopping up, I walked over the few steps to the cutlery drawer, pulled it out, took a knife and handed it to Rob.

      ‘Oh thanks.’ he said, oblivious to the scenario I’d run in my head.

      I returned to my chair and hoisted myself back up onto it. It occurred to me that this was the perfect situation in which to find myself feeling self-conscious. I was sat in someone else’s kitchen, wearing someone else’s pyjamas and little else. But I didn’t. And it wasn’t just the fact that Rob’s top was about three times bigger than some of my dresses. It just felt comfortable with him. Talking. Not talking. Getting up to get cutlery for him so that we didn’t end up with matching bruised bums.

      ‘What