The Winter Guest *Complete*

Thank you all for waiting so long, hope you enjoy! xx

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CHAPTER TWENTY

The following weeks we acted like newlyweds, most of our nights we spent together. Either making love or talking. He told me about his life in London, his family. I told him about my life in France. We watched movies he picked up from the small local video rental store, I begged him to pick a movie he was in but he refused, he scanned my private collection of movies and picked Amélie and laughed at me for crying at the end. I watched him sleep, his face looking serious, his chest rising and falling to his steady breath. He washed my hair in the shower. I let him taste wine and he made me proper English tea. We didn’t speak about what would happen after the filming had finished and when he would return to England. We both couldn’t handle that truth just yet. We enjoyed our secretive love too much.

“Don’t you ever think about going back to England?” asked Alan one night when we sat on my balcony watching the stars as I sat on his lap, a blanket wrapped around us. “No, not really,” I answered. “But you still have family there don’t you?” I thought about that for a minute. “Yeah, more or less.” “How can you say more or less,” Alan looked at me. “My father is still alive, at least, I think he is.” “You don’t know for sure?” Alan said. “No,” I shamefully had to admit that I didn’t. I hadn’t seen my father in a long time. My parents had split up when I was still a child. I’d lived with my mother while growing up. All I remembered of my dad was him never showing up at birthdays and Christmas even though he had promised. At the age of 14 I’d decided that if he didn’t want to put an effort in seeing me, neither would I.
“And your mother?” Alan looked at me. “She died two weeks before...before the robbery in the hotel,” I whispered, “you know, even though I didn’t have my dad around me, you still think that your parents will be there forever, at least I thought that of my mum. But one day, you are alone. No one will look after you anymore.” “But she’s still in your heart,” Alan said as he held me a little tighter. “In a way, she will look after you, as long as you remember her, she will look after you in a way. And so will I, even when we are not together.”
And we both cried, pretending we cried for our mothers. Honouring them in silence as we thought about how they might be looking down on us. I thought about how she would have felt about this semi-relationship I had going on, and a hidden one for that matter, and I send a little pray up to my mother promising her that I had everything under control. I ignored the tears that came because Alan had talked about not being together anymore. It was hard to imagine life without him.


Old year’s eve came and went. Alan flew back to London for the first weekend of January. I felt ashamed, I knew he would spent some time with her. I also felt the emptiness of him not being there. The truth about us doing something that was completely immoral and above all very self destructive hit me once again.

January and February flew by, soon our final month together was there. Frantically we tried not to talk about us having to say goodbye forever in less than four weeks. But I knew we had to discuss it at some point, not that there was much to discuss. This was the deal. Three months together and after that no more. Never. The idea of being alone again scared me to death.

That night he was working late, I already was half asleep when I heard him enter my room. Trying to make as little sound as possible. He quickly undressed and crawled into bed with me, gently kissing my forehead. His nose was cold from the night. Sleepily I wriggled myself into his arms.

“You asleep?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I moaned. He chuckled. “I love this,” I said drowsy.
“I know, it feels good this,” he replied.
“If only…” I started the sentence but didn’t finish it. I didn’t want to spoil the moment.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing,” I sighed and clung a little closer to him.
“I know,” he said into my ear, “Oh God, how I know…”

And that was it. We didn’t talk about it anymore until the final night of his stay in France was there.


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Two days before the dreaded date, I woke up early in the morning. It was March 25th and a gentle ray of light was playing on my face. Although it was still early for me, Alan had already left hours before. He had to be on set at the most horrible times. As I smelled the sheets on the side where he had slept I refused to get up just yet. My arms reached for his pillow but instead found something else. I opened my eyes, thick of sleep, and saw a little tray standing on the edge of the bed. On it was a little card. I opened it:

“Tonight, 8 pm in front of your hotel, make sure you look dazzling.”

Of course I should have felt like a little girl going to a prom. But I knew this was the beginning of the end. Tonight he would start saying his mental goodbyes to me. A wave of nausea went through my body as I got up from the bed and crawled to the bathroom to reach the toilet just in time. Shaking, I emptied the few contents of my stomach and felt horrible as I looked at my white face in the mirror. I took a shower and felt a little better as I sipped from a strong expresso 20 minutes later. I didn’t feel particularly dazzling though.

But later that day, after a quick visit to the hairdresser and some exercise I felt much better. I was actually feeling rather curious about what would happen tonight, so I dug through my whole wardrobe to search for the perfect dress. Black felt too fancy and so I settled for a sweet, white silky dress with some cleavage. As I applied my make-up I saw my cheeks were red with anticipation.

At 8 pm sharp I stood outside my hotel, waiting for what was about to happen. A black limo drove up my driveway, I was expecting Alan to be in it waiting for me. But the backseat of the limo was empty.

“Miss Kate?” the chauffeur asked as I got into the car. “Yes,” I answered. He gave me a little envelope and drove off. I opened the envelope to find another card just like I had found this morning, “Enjoy the bottle I opened for you,” it said. I looked around and found a bottle of champagne in a cooler with a glass next to it. “Perfect,” I thought as I made myself comfortable and took a gulp of champagne to get rid of the nerves. I didn’t have a clue where we were going to, and nor did I care. I just wanted to be with Alan.

About an hour later the limo pulled up at the entrance of a dimly lit castle, it had a huge gate in front of it, overgrown with all sorts of flowers and plants. I got out of the car and started walking towards the castle, even though it was only March it smelled of lovely flowers and everywhere you could hear the sound of tiny animals that gave away their presence. I didn’t know this place and was amazed by its grace, it was so beautiful. A soft breeze that carried spring played with my dress and the quietness of the place helped me relax. It was as if all tension glided of my back and I was able to see the beauty of the place I was at, feel the romantic buzz in the sky and hear nature for the first time.

I’d started walking around the castle and at the back of the castle was gigantic fountain, it had four stone horses with some sort of soldiers on them spitting water in the middle, sitting on the edge of the fountain was Alan.

He smiled his most stunning smile and twirled me round before he kissed me.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he whispered in my ear.
“You’re not so bad either,” I grinned as I looked at the snug fit of his black trousers and his red shirt which was unbuttoned just a touch too far, just the way I liked it.

On the floor near the fountain lay a plaid with some cushions and we sat down. He’d brought little things to eat, sweet fruits and fine wine which we fed each other like lovers do in the park. We talked and kissed and drank until my mind went a little fuzzy and I wanted to stay at this place forever. I snuggled into Alan’s arms as he tried to make me eat an oyster.

“Go one, you have to try this it’s very good!” he persuaded me as he hovered the shellfish in front of my mouth, “It’s an aphrodisiac.” I look disgusted at the grey matter and Alan decided to eat it himself.
“I don’t need an aphrodisiac when I am with you,” I said and wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close for a kiss.
“You taste of fish,” I giggled.

After we ate all we could, Alan got up and got a little cordless cd player and put it on the edge of the fountain.
“What’s that for?” I asked him.
“To dance,” he answered simply
Soft tones of music filled the silent garden and drowned the sound of the water from the fountain. Alan pulled me to my feet and placed one hand firmly on my hips, his hand seemed to burn through my dress and I pulled him close.
“What are we dancing?”
“A Tango.”
“I don’t know how to dance a Tango,” I laughed
“Just follow my lead,” he said as he looked deep into my eyes and pushed my hips closer to his.

The movements were awkward at first, but as I got the rhythm and felt more comfortable being led by Alan I actually enjoyed it. The dance was slow and sexy, our bodies were in constant contact and after a while I felt myself breathing faster and feeling very hot.

Our lips found each other on their own. And as we stood their, moving in the slowly fading sunlight, we were intensely happy. My hands gently rubbed his back, his hands were in my neck playing with a lock of hair.

“This is how I want to remember you,” said Alan with a soft voice “Beautiful and in my arms.”
I smiled at him and didn’t answer. I simply didn’t know what to say, instead I kissed him again. My tongue eagerly pushing through his lips in search for his tongue. I pulled him closer, if it was possible, to feel his heartbeat.

And like that, in each others arms, we danced the night away.