Matchmaker Cat (A Romantic Comedy Short Story) by Elizabeth Kyne (ap literature book list .TXT) 📗

and keep youawake with his snoring for a couple of hours - that's a realman.’

‘Not myDarren.’ I placed my hand on my heart and fluttered my eyelashes.‘He's perfect. After he's set off a firework display inside mybody, I lay there stroking his firm muscles until he's ready topleasure me again.’ I managed to keep a straight face until thelast word, then burst out laughing.

‘Stop it,’ saidSheila, tears of laughter running down her face. ‘You're making mehorny and I've got to go to work tomorrow.’

‘Work!’ I'dalmost forgotten it was my first day at the new job in the morning.I clipped on my seatbelt and started the engine. ‘Come on, let'sget you home so I can get me home and get some sleep.’

We giggled toourselves as we made our way back to Bedgrove and had pretty muchexhausted our funny bones by the time we got to her place.

‘Thanks for thelift, Rach,’ said Sheila as she got out.

‘You'rewelcome.’

‘Give my loveto Darren!’

I smiled. ‘Iwill.’

*

It was a fiveminute drive to Elmhurst at that time of night and I was prettytired when I got there. I'd moved in less than a week before and itstill didn't feel quite like home. I'd managed to unpack most ofthe boxes and throw some paint on the main bedroom wall, but theplace was still acclimatising to me.

There wassomething different about it when I walked into the hallway. Thelight was on in the lounge and there was a smell that wasn't quiteright - sort of perfumy. I stood for a moment, looking at the softglow coming from underneath the lounge door, trying to remember ifI'd left the table lamp on. The police say to always leave a lighton in your house when you're out to deter burglars. Except, I'djust taken on a mortgage and was trying to keep the electricitybill down.

I turned thehandle of the door and entered.

The glow wasn'tcoming from the table lamp, but from a collection of candles on thecoffee table. I froze. I would never risk burning down my new houseby leaving lit candles unattended - not as if I'd lit them in thefirst place.

I tensed at thesound of creaking upholstery. A man's head poked up from the sofa.‘Hello Rachel,’ he said. ‘Had a nice time?’

I screamed.

Fear, anger andpanic inside of me all at once, scrambling my ability to thinkstraight. I turned left and right and left again like a trappedwild animal, searching for something - anything - I could use as aweapon. I grabbed the tiffany lamp from the phone table next to theradiator and held it to my chest - a barrier between me andhim.

‘Whatever's thematter?’ He got up from the sofa and approached me.

My heartracing, my breath panting; I backed off and bumped up against thelounge door I'd just closed behind me. The cord of the lamp snaggedtight at the socket. I was ready to yank it free from the plug andbeat him to death with it if I had to. ‘Who are you?’

‘It's me.’

He took anotherstep. I flinched.

‘It'sDarren.’

Whirls ofconfusion made me dizzy. ‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘No, no, no, no,no, no.’

‘Are you allright, darling?’

‘You're notreal.’ I said it more to convince myself.

‘Rachel, whatare you talking about?’ He smiled - an amused smile. ‘Of course I'mreal - look at me.’

He stood withhis arms out wide. He was handsome and slim with a full head ofblack hair swept across his forehead and a toned body beneath hisclothes. He was tall enough to be manly - almost six foot - but nottoo tall as to dominate me. He was the type of man my fantasyDarren might be - if he were real.

‘How did youget in here?’

‘I live here,’he said.

‘No. This is myhouse. I paid for it. My name's on the deeds.’

‘Racheldarling, it's our house. We bought it, remember? Are you feelingall right?’

He moved as ifto get closer, but I lifted the lamp higher, ready to take a swingat him. It tugged at the flex again.

‘Rachel--’

‘Staythere.’

Stuck betweenthe need to protect myself and my instinct to run, I tried tothink. He'd got into my house somehow, he knew my name and knewabout Darren somehow. No ordinary burglar could do that - surely? Aconman could go through my rubbish and find out stuff about me, butonly a few people knew about Darren.

It was a windup. It had to be a wind up. God, let him be a wind up, and not somemad psycho rapist.

‘Did someoneput you up to this?’ I said.

‘Rachel, whatare you talking about?’

He wasn't goingto admit to it. Fine. But this prank had gone beyond the pointwhere it was funny; not that it had been funny in the firstplace.

‘Don't move.’ Ithreatened him with the tiffany lamp again.

He obeyed.

Keeping thelamp in one hand, I used the other to delve into my handbag. Irifled past hairbrush, purse, petrol receipts, half-used tissues,until I found my phone. With hands shaking and heart pumping - nottaking my eye off the stranger for a moment - I called Sheila.

It rang. Good,her mobile was still on. It kept ringing. I willed her to pick itup.

At last sheanswered. ‘Yeah?’ A sleepy voice down the phone line.

‘Sheila? It'sRachel.’ My voice trembling. ‘I don't know how you did it - ha ha,very funny - but you can tell him to leave now.’

‘Wwwhat?’ sheslurred. ‘Rachel? What're you talking about?’

‘The man yousnuck in pretending to be Darren.’

‘What? Rach,Darren's not real.’ A heavy sigh. ‘I'm tired, hon. We'll talk aboutit tomorrow.’

‘Sheila,don't--’ I shouted.

--hang up.

The line wentdead. I hit re-dial. It went straight to voicemail.

Bugger.

The Darren-manwas still looking at me. Like a dog looks at his master when itcan't understand why the human is behaving strangely. ‘Why don'tyou come and sit on the sofa,’ he said in a soothing voice. ‘I canpour you a glass of wine and then we can make love.’

‘No!’ Iscreamed, loud enough to wake the neighbours.

He was largerthan me, stronger than me. If he attacked me, I could fight back,but he would win. I started to wheeze. I put my hand out to thedoorframe, leaned against it, trying to slow my breath. It broughtback playground memories of