Thief of Hearts
Page 5

Jamie was Alfie’s best friend, and we were both big fans of his book store, Novel Ideas, because it possessed a certain old-timey charm. The place had been handed down through the generations and was originally owned by Jamie’s great-grandfather. We’d known him for a few years, and I personally thought he and Alfie got along so well because they were such polar opposites. Unlike Alfie, Jamie was very open to people and experiences, and he lived life with a sort of enthusiastic ferocity you didn’t come across very often.
My cousin’s eyes lit up. “Yes. Just let me go put some trousers on.”
I didn’t even find it weird that he walked around in his underwear half the time. I was too used to his ways by now. About twenty minutes later we arrived at Jamie’s. We’d called ahead so he had tea and biscuits waiting. Obviously, he was good people.
“How have you been, Andrea?”
Let me get this out of the way. Jamie was eccentric with a capital E. The kind of eccentric who wore a corduroy three-piece suit with an antique gold watch in the breast pocket on a daily basis. Another of his eccentricities was insisting on calling people by their full names. I was always Andrea and Alfie was always Alfred.
“Not too bad.”
“Those banks haven’t sold your debt off to a third party yet, have they?”
Oh, another thing? He had no compunction about bringing up subjects I’d rather not discuss in polite company. Also, yes, a portion of my loans had been sold off to a third party, one that wasn’t so polite when demanding I pay back their money. I’d been doing my best to pay as much as possible, but the salary of a further education teacher didn’t stretch very far.
“No,” I lied, mostly for Alfie’s benefit because I didn’t want to worry him. I was sure he was already up half the night fretting over the possibility of a Third World War or a catastrophic nuclear event to rival Hiroshima.
“Oh well, you should definitely keep an eye on your repayments. I read in the papers just yesterday about the unethical practices of these collection companies. They’re basically loan sharks in all but name.”
“I will. Thanks for the heads-up,” I said and searched for a way to change the subject. I caught sight of a copy of Poldark Season One resting on the counter and asked, “Is that show any good? The female teachers at the college are always talking about it.”
Jamie went and grabbed the DVD, holding it out to me. “It’s great. I just finished it, actually, so you can have this copy. I wouldn’t want you missing out on the topless Aiden Turner scenes. He’s the new thinking woman’s crumpet, after all.”
I laughed and took the proffered case. “I’m sold. Looks like my weekend plans are all sown up.”
Jamie winked. “Don’t thank me.”
We sipped on our tea a moment before Alfie broke the silence. “Andie had a new student join her class today.” I could tell he’d been just itching to talk about it. “An ex-criminal, though you know what the statistics say about reoffending.”
“There’s a twenty-six per cent chance those who get out of prison will reoffend, and an average of three point one offences per reoffender,” Jamie provided casually. The man had a mind like an encyclopaedia at times.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Alfie exclaimed. “It’s not safe.”
“Oh, will you please stop with this. He stole cars. If worse comes to worse my Nissan will be taken and the insurance company will have to fork out for a replacement.”
“What if that’s a lie, though? What if it was something else? He could be a paedophile for all you know.”
“Well, if that’s the case then he’ll have no interest in me.”
Jamie let out a light chuckle while Alfie scowled at my logic. “You know what I mean,” he griped.
“Yes, I do, and it’s nice that you care about me enough to worry, but it’s honestly fine. I’ve met dangerous men before, and Stu isn’t one of them. He just picked the wrong path in life. It could happen to any of us.”
Alfie didn’t look convinced, and even Jamie appeared a small bit sceptical. If I was being honest, I wasn’t entirely convinced myself.
***
The following morning trouble arose when I started our daily book discussion. Although, let it be said I was already bothered by the fact that Stu had strolled into the class twenty minutes late with no apology. I made a note to have a word with him about it before lunch, because in my experience, once one person started arriving late, everyone else began to think it was okay to do the same.
“Did you get a chance to start the book last night?” I asked, my question directed at Stu.
His tone was casual as he shook his head. “Nah, too busy.”
“Well, you’ll need to start finding the time for homework. You’re already behind since you’ve joined us three weeks late. If you leave it too long there’ll be no way to catch up.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Miss Anderson.”
That was another thing. He kept addressing me as “Miss Anderson”, but not in a respectful way. His tone was almost patronising, like he was trying to get a rise out of me. Obviously, I’d worked with my fair share of difficult students over the years and had an endless supply of patience. Unfortunately, there was something about Stu that already stretched my tolerance level.
I continued on with the morning lesson, quietly working up the courage to call on Stu when the class let out for lunch. The closer it came to twelve thirty, the drier my mouth grew and the clammier my hands became. What was it about this man that made me so bloody flustered?
The bell rang and everyone started packing up his or her things and heading out to the canteen for food.
“Stu, can I have a word?” I asked as he rose from his seat. He stared me down for a long moment, then nodded.
“Course you can, Miss Anderson,” he said, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Oh my effing gee. He was doing it again.
“Thank you,” I responded, closing my laptop as I waited for the last of the students to leave. When they were gone and only Stu and I remained, a quiet descended. My stupid dry mouth got the best of me, and I couldn’t seem to find any words. Stu just stood there staring, waiting for whatever it was I wanted to say to him. His eyes traced my form and I grew stiff, especially when his eyes landed on my ring finger. His attention lingered there for a long moment in something akin to confusion, but I didn’t really understand why. Finally, I broke the quiet.