“Don’t you ‘Sibyl’ me. What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He came toward her but she backed away and he halted.
“This isn’t your place, this is my place,” she informed him hotly. “You aren’t supposed to be here. How did you find out about this?”
Before he could answer a knock came at the door and Kyle poked his head in.
He looked at Sibyl then at Colin then said, “All right, mate?”
Colin inclined his head.
Sibyl, feeling the bizarre need to act politely (for Kyle’s sake), said, “Colin, this is Kyle. He’s our caretaker. Kyle, this is Colin.”
She didn’t give Colin a role. Colin had no role that she’d share with anyone at the Centre.
“Colin, good to meet you, mate,” Kyle greeted and his eyes shifted to Sibyl. “Bus’s comin’,” he announced.
The door closed again and Sibyl closed her eyes and muttered, “Bloody, bloody hell.”
“Listen to me,” Colin demanded but she opened her eyes, sent him a savage glare and interrupted him.
“I have to go help get the oldies on the bus. We’ll talk later.” She was walking to the door as she spoke but stopped and then her glare turned murderous. “Unless there’s something you require?”
He watched her closely for a moment, his expression unreadable then shook his head.
Instead of leaving, like she should have done, she ranted, because that was what she did when her temper flared out-of-control.
“This isn’t fair, this isn’t right, this isn’t a part of our bargain and you know it,” she told him on an infuriated whisper.
“Come here,” he ordered gently.
She stood where she was and continued glaring.
“Sibyl, come here.” This was said in a tone that could not be defied.
She walked toward him but did it in a way that showed she didn’t like it.
When she arrived close enough to Colin, his arm stole around her waist and, with his other hand, he tipped her face up to look at him with a crooked finger under her chin.
“I was curious how you spent your days.” His voice was low and soft and he was looking at her like he’d looked at her in the Centre.
To her dismay, and against her will, she felt her body react to it by relaxing.
She fought against her body but, it must be said, didn’t entirely succeed with her struggle.
“I’m very angry with you,” she announced in an effort to control her emotions.
“I can tell,” he grinned, completely unaffected by her words.
She sought refuge in fury. “Don’t you grin at me, Colin Morgan. You haven’t heard the last of this.” Then, for her sanity (and for the oldies), she tore free of his arm and stalked out of the office.
Several of the oldies were still packing up but she could see the minibus was already there and some of them were getting panicked.
Colin had followed her and she was helping Marianne pack up her cigarettes, lighter and a variety of napkin wrapped food she hadn’t eaten at lunch and would consume for dinner (Tina always gave Marianne a little extra because Marianne didn’t have much and would skip dinner if she didn’t).
Sibyl took Marianne’s heavy carrier bag filled with whatever Marianne (or any of the oldies, most of them seemed to lug around bulky carrier bags) carried around with her all the time, turned around and saw Colin staring out the windows at the bus.
“Make yourself useful,” she ordered grumpily and began to hand him the carrier bag but, uncharacteristically impolitely, he didn’t take it and she lifted her eyes to his face.