CHAPTER TWO

First Kiss—Last Kiss?

William felt empty. 'That's it, then. She's gone. And I'll probably never see her again,' he thought to himself.

'Here's your coffee,' Martin said brightly, as he came back into the shop.

'Thanks. You won't believe who was in here a minute ago.'

'Who? Somebody famous?' Martin asked, excited.

But William suddenly changed his mind. 'Oh ... er ... no ... nobody.'

'Perhaps one day a famous person will come in!' said Martin, his eyes shining. 'I saw one of the Beatles once ... Ringo Starr. Well, I think it was Ringo Starr. I'm not really sure ... he was quite far away. He had long hair and a beard.'

'Hmmm ... so you think you saw Ringo, but perhaps you didn't?'

'Er ... yes, that's right.'

'Maybe it was just a man with long hair and a beard?'

'Yes, maybe.'

'Not a very good story, then, is it?' suggested William. He shook his head and finished his coffee. 'Right ... another one?'

'Yes. No, let's go crazy! I'll have an orange juice.'

Five minutes later, William left the cafe and hurried back to the bookshop with the orange juice. But as he turned the corner, he walked straight into a woman. The orange juice ran down her shirt.

'I'm so sorry ...' He looked up at the woman's face. For the second time that day, it was Anna Scott! 'Oh ... really, I'm sorry. Here ...'

'What are you doing?' Anna shouted angrily, as William tried to clean her shirt with a paper towel.

William jumped back. 'Nothing, nothing. Listen, I live across the street. You can wash at my house.'

'No, thank you. I just need to call my driver.' She turned away.

'I also have a phone. In five minutes, you can be clean and back on the street again ...

She turned and looked at him. 'OK. What does across the street mean? How far is your house exactly?'

William pointed. 'It's just there. That's my house. The one with the blue door.'

She looked down at her shirt. Then she looked back up at him. 'Well, OK.'

They walked towards William's house. He opened the door.

'Come in. I'll just ...'

The house was in a terrible mess. William ran inside in front of her and kicked some shoes under the stairs. He threw away an old pizza and tried to hide some dirty plates.

'I'm afraid it's a bit untidy.'

Anna looked around. Her face showed nothing. Taking the bag of books from her, William pointed towards the stairs.

'The bathroom's up there and there's a phone on the desk in the room next to it.'

She took her other bags and walked upstairs. William ran around the ground floor, clearing the mess.

'Anna Scott is in my house! She's in my bathroom! And look at this place! I'll kill Spike,' he thought.

He heard Anna's feet on the stairs and looked up. She was wearing different clothes now—a black top and skirt. Without the dark glasses, her deep brown eyes shone. She looked wonderful. William stopped and stared. He tried to think of something to say.

'Tea ... Would you like a cup of tea before you go?'

'No, thanks.'

'Coffee?'

'No.'

'Something cold? Orange juice? No, probably not. Water?'

'Really, no.'

'Something to eat ... some fruit?'

'No.'

'Do you always say no to everything?'

Anna looked amused. 'No. I must go,' she said. 'Thanks for your help.'

'You're welcome.' He wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. 'And I'd like to say ...' he continued, finally, 'you're wonderful. It's my one chance to say it. When you've read that terrible book, you'll never visit my shop again.'

She looked pleased. 'Thank you.'

William walked her to the front door. 'Nice to meet you. Strange, but nice.'

Anna left, and he closed the door behind her.

'Oh, no!' he thought. '"Strange, but nice"! What was I thinking?'

There was a knock on the door. It was Anna again.

'Oh, hi. Did you forget something?'

'I forgot my books,' said Anna, stepping quickly inside the house.

'Oh, right.'

William ran into the kitchen to get the bag. 'Here they are.'

'Thanks. Well ...'

They stood near the door again. This time, William felt more comfortable. Then Anna moved forward and kissed him. He could smell her hair; he could feel the smoothness of her skin against his. He couldn't believe it. Anna Scott, the woman of his dreams, was here, in his house, kissing him, William Thacker.

At the worst possible time, a key turned in the lock.

'Oh, no. It's my lodger, Spike! I'm sorry. There's no excuse for him.'

Spike walked in and straight past them towards the kitchen. 'I'm going to get some food,' he called over his shoulder. 'Then I'm going to tell you a story that you won't believe ...'

Anna looked at William. 'You won't tell anyone about this, will you?'

'Right. No one. I mean, I'll tell myself sometimes. But don't worry ... I won't believe it.'

He opened the door for her a second time.

'Bye.' She touched his hand lightly. And then she was gone.

William walked slowly back into the kitchen.

'Shall we watch videos tonight? I've got some really great films,' Spike said, between mouthfuls of food.

'Yes,' thought William sadly. 'I've got nothing better to do with my life.'

One of Spike's videos was a film starring Anna Scott. Later that evening, as the two men sat in front of the TV, William remembered the touch of her hand, the smell of her hair.

Spike shook his head at the screen. 'It's hard to believe. Somewhere there's a man who can kiss Anna Scott—anytime, anywhere.'

'Yes, she's quite wonderful.'