The girls noticed her and all came rushing forward jumping around her with excitement.
“Do you love it, Miss Sibyl? Do you think we look okay?” Katie asked.
“Oh Katie, you look fabulous.” Sibyl bent over and kissed the top of girl’s head then straightened and caught Katie’s chin in her hand. “I’m going to get you some redder than red lipstick and some blue eye shadow and the pinkest blusher I can find. It’ll be perfect!” she announced, thinking Katie would go agog at the idea of makeup.
But Katie was no longer listening to her or, for that matter, looking at her. Instead, the girl was looking behind her.
Sibyl noticed belatedly that the excitement had died to a very strange (for the Day Centre), eerie quiet.
“Who’s he?” Emma breathed, also peering behind Sibyl.
Then Sibyl smelled it, a woodsy scent liberally spiked with cedar.
She whirled and there stood Colin, wearing a handsomely tailored dark suit and an expensive looking deep lavender shirt opened at the collar. He looked like a movie star who had come on a Make-a-Wish errand, standing, powerful and strong and exuding all of his sex appeal in the drab and worn (but cheerful) Day Centre.
“Colin!” she cried, her heart skipping three beats before it began racing like a wild thing.
What on earth was he doing here?
“Sibyl,” he replied calmly, staring at her like… like, she didn’t know. She couldn’t put her finger on it but whatever “it” was made her stomach go funny, her knees go weak and her heart stop momentarily before bouncing around in her chest, out-of-control.
There was no other way to put it – it was a Royce Look, pure and simple.
“What are you doing here?” she forced herself to voice her thought.
Before he could answer, Marianne, the Centre’s bingo caller, shouted throatily from the back, “Billie, is that your young man?” After voicing her question, Marianne collapsed into a fit of smoker’s cough and, once she finished, she sucked another drag off her ever-present cigarette.
Everyone was looking at Colin, at Sibyl, at both of them.
And Sibyl wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She wanted to know what the hell he was doing there.
This was not a part of their bargain. This was not to be touched by him. She needed this when he was gone, not memories of him here.
“Introduce him, Sibyl,” Mrs. Griffith was demanding (loudly), twisting around in her chair to get a better look. “Don’t keep us all waiting.”
“It’s about time he came to call!” Annie shouted, apparently just being informed that Colin was there.
Sibyl stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She noticed Jemma watching her carefully; ready to come to her aid should Sibyl make the slightest indication that she needed it.
Which, of course, she could not do. No one could ever know.
Kyle and Tina had come in from the kitchen and were watching the unfolding drama with speculative eyes.
Sibyl cleared her throat. “Everyone,” she announced loudly, “this is Colin. Colin,” she continued, feeling idiotic and throwing out her arm to encompass the room, “this is everyone.”
A cacophony of greetings emerged from the room.
“Are these your girls?” Colin asked after he’d arrogantly inclined his head to the elderly assemblage. His voice was quiet and his eyes were on the four girls who were staring at him as if he’d just stepped out of a movie screen.
“Um…” she started (bloody, bloody hell), “yes.”
“I’m Colin,” he introduced himself to the quartet.
“I’m Katie.” Cheeky Katie didn’t miss a trick and shot forward to shake his hand, a shake which Colin returned solemnly.
“Cheryl,” Cheryl offered but she was not nearly as bold, though she wasn’t going to be left out, thus no hand shake.
“Emma,” definitely not bold, Emma said her name in a timid squeak and kept her distance.