Clementine and her Stalker, Chapter Three (standard:romance, 2409 words) [3/7] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Nov 07 2020	Views/Reads: 1033/708	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapter three of Clementine and her Stalker. Suddenly finding himself falling in love with an earl's beautiful but mischievous daughter poses all kinds of problems for Tony 'stalker' Williams.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


“Mary-Anne got called away, illness in her family – her mother. She was
shaken up and took off quite abruptly. It doesn't seem that she's told 
Father.” 

“So that leaves you ...” 

“Yep, licensed to roam.” She cocked her little finger like it was a
pistol and then playfully punched my arm.  “I've been looking for you 
since yesterday.” 

“Could have phoned.” 

She shook her head. “No, bad move. Phones can be checked. No sense in
taking chances.” 

I thought about asking her why she hadn't come to the college and then
realised that all she knew was that I was studying creative writing, 
nothing more. 

“So, I've been thinking,” she said laying a hand on my knee and sending
my temperature soaring. 

“H'mmm?” I answered, leaning towards her. 

“Well, this is my last full week coming up. Next weekend, I'll need to
start packing, and as this weekend is almost upon us ...” She slapped 
her hands and then held them under her chin, “I thought we might spend 
Saturday in London.” 

“London?” 

“Yes, that big place down south.” 

I didn't know what to think.  Clem looked thrilled at the prospect, and
although I had my doubts – huge doubts – I didn't want to see her face 
drop. 

“London is expensive,” I put forward. 

She shook her head, made those blonde ringlets swirl around it. “I have
means. It's not as if I've had much chance to spend anything since I've 
been here.” 

Springing to her feet, she reached down for my hand. “Come on; let's
take a walk down to the meadows. Run over some of the finer details.” 
Finer details. She spoke as though everything was settled, and I 
suppose it was. My head was reeling. Saturday in London with the 
beautiful Clementine. The beautiful and unpredictable Clementine. I 
couldn't shake off the feeling that we'd be better off staying in 
Stamford. 

“So this is what I think we'll do—” Clem swung her blonde head towards
me, the ringlets sweeping across her face for a second as the breeze 
sprung up. 

“Go on,” I prompted, somewhat disconcerted at the way she'd immediately
assumed command – this hardly seemed like it was going to be a joint 
venture. 

“Well,” she continued, “change at Peterborough for King's Cross, head
for Oxford Street and Regent Street – browse around Liberty's and then 
on to Covent Garden. Hit a few bars, clubs maybe, I know of one or 
two.” 

I looked out across the meadows, not liking how this was going – knowing
of her previous reputation and all – and yet despite my previous 
reservations, I found myself going along with it. She poked my arm. 
“Speak up, stalker, what do you think?” Okay, at least she'd asked me 
what I thought. “Fine,” I said, providing you curb your more 
questionable activities – and I do wish you'd stop calling me stalker.” 


But Clem had crossed her arms over her chest, those lovely eyes showing
offence. “That was then,” she snapped. “I've transformed – I've 
changed,” and then a mischievous smile drifted across her face. She 
raised her hand, palm facing me, “Girl Guides' honour.” 

Yeah, like I believed that, judging by the look she was giving me. 

“Have you ever been a Girl Guide?” 

“Well, no – but that doesn't mean ...” 

I rolled my eyes, not being able to imagine such a thing at all. Clem
narrowed her eyes, kept them on me until I turned towards her. 

“You don't believe I'll be a good girl, do you?” 

“In a word, no.” 

“Well, I'll prove you wrong,” she said, grabbing my hand and swinging
it. “I like a challenge.” 

“Great,” I thought, apprehension cloaking me like a cloud at the thought
of what I might be getting myself into. Clem was barely old enough to 
be frequenting bars and suchlike, even though her looks alone could 
tell a different story. 

We stopped by the brook where we'd first met – I slapped my hand on the
railings, eyes on the ducks below. “So then, what time do we set out?” 

“The earlier, the better, stalker.” 

I rolled my eyes, sighed. 

“What's up? You not an up with the lark kind of guy?” 

“You know what it is.” But despite my frustration, I had to smile. 

“Nope, no idea. School didn't teach me mind reading.” 

“Oh for ...” 

“Tut, tut, temper, temper.” She gave a smile of angelic proportions,
eyes wide, and before I could react, said, “So then, bus station at 
seven?” 

I shrugged. “How do we know there's a bus at seven?” 

“Who mentioned buses?” 

I frowned, shook my head. “Look, you just said ...” 

“Bus station at seven.” She thrust her hands on hips, narrowed her
brows, those blue eyes unblinking. “Taxi, dear boy. Try to use a little 
of that creative writing imagination. Since I have no idea where your 
lodgings are, it's the simplest solution – and before you say anything, 
I'm paying.” 

“You could have just said the magic word, ‘taxi' and I would have
understood ... and no, I'm not entirely broke; we'll split the bill,” I 
said. I shook my head, gazed skyward and then back at her. “You're hard 
work, know that?” 

Her eyebrows rose. “Me, nuh cocker, I ain't that.” 

I had to laugh. “You'll have to work on that accent ... it doesn't quite
come off.” 

She tilted her head at me. Not a lot; as I've said, Clem was almost my
height. “Is that so? Well, I'm going to prove to you I can do a cockney 
accent as well as any Londoner. Just wait until tomorrow.” 

“I covered my eyes with both hands, drew them slowly down my face. 

“You wouldn't.” 

“When in Rome ...” She gave me that breathtaking smile, but this time
the cheeky version. 

“Well, for one thing, central Londoners don't tend to speak cockney.
Look, you promised to behave yourself, and we haven't even left 
Stamford yet.” 

The breeze swept up from the meadows, and she shivered. Whether it was
involuntary, who knew? There was no knowing with her, but I narrowly 
resisted the temptation to curl my arm around her shoulders. What her 
reaction would have been, who could tell? But the word ‘friend' had 
lodged itself in my brain, and the prospect of getting romantically 
involved with an earl's daughter was unthinkable, coupled with the fact 
that she was as unpredictable as the US president on a bad morning. 

“Did you hear me?” 

I blinked. I must have been deep in thought; I hadn't heard her. 

“What?” 

“I said I'd behave; scout's honour and all that. She gave the salute.
“You're not a scout,” I said, raising my eyes towards the heavens. And 
you're not a girl guide either, we've established that, so your 
undertaking doesn't exactly inspire confidence.” 

She shrugged, sending her golden ringlets dancing across her shoulders.
“Oh, well, guess you'll just have to trust me,” and with that she 
turned her back and began walking away. “See you tomorrow, bright and 
early.” 

“I can walk you back,” I called after her, already having an idea of
what the answer might be. 

“No need.” She gave a wave, albeit an aristocratic one, though even that
may have been contrived. “I'm a big girl. Bright and early, remember?” 

How could I forget? I raised a hand and walked away. The prospect of
Clem going naked in central London something I struggled to dispense 
with. 

*** 

It wasn't until I was up, showered, and dressed the next morning that it
struck me. Why on earth were we taking a taxi to Peterborough when 
there was a station right here in Stamford? 

Could Clem have overlooked this, or could it be that she wasn't aware of
the station's existence, not being a local girl? 

But that was a bit hard to believe when all said and done, because
despite the presence of her minders, she seemed pretty clued-up. 
Anyway, I didn't have to wait long to discover the answer to that, for 
as I reached the bus station, a private hire was waiting there, and a 
swirl of golden hair appeared from a rear window. 

“Just in time,” she called out, “any longer and I'd have gone without
you.” 

I placed my holdall on the back seat, climbed in beside her. Glancing
over, I struggled to keep my eyes off her black denim mini skirt and 
white T-shirt, no doubt designed to emphasise her curvy figure. 
Recovering my composure and ignoring her raised brows, I said as 
quietly as I could the question hot on my lips, “Why the heck are we 
taking a cab to Peterborough when there's a station in Stamford?” She 
leaned closer, tapped a finger on my nose. “I see you worked it out, 
clever boy.” 

I sat open-mouthed. “Well?” 

Clem shrugged. I have to be a good girl and use up my allowance to the
full. It's only fair on Father.” 

I scoffed. “He'll go through the roof if he finds out you spent three
times the amount you could have if you caught the train.” 

“Won't he just. And he'll orbit the space station when he sees the
receipts for the London trip.” 

I took a breath, looked at her gobsmacked. “You're actually going to
give him ...” 

“Naturally,” she said, her voice as smooth as satin. “Oh, don't worry,
I'll keep you out of it. Say |I went with a friend; he doesn't have to 
know what sex.” 

“But won't he go ballistic?” 

She tapped me on the shoulder as the cab sped out of Stamford and onto
the A1. “Oh, stalker, of course he will. I'm eighteen imminently, 
school will be finished. What can he do? It's payback time.” I let the 
stalker tag go unchallenged for once, not that it would have made a 
difference to Clem, anyhow. “Payback time as in you being sent here?” 

“Exactly, you're catching on fast.” I slapped my hand on my forehead. “I
see why I come into the equation now,” I said as quietly as possible. 
“I'm being used to get back at your ...” 

“No, silly. I've told you,” Clem raised her voice, and I realised that
she hardly ever did that. She actually seemed offended, either that I'd 
thought such a thing or that she'd raised her voice. “I've told you; 
this is on me. You're in the clear.” The blue eyes chided me. “I like 
you stalker, and I reckon you like me.” 

That placated me somewhat, except for – “Then stop calling me stalker;
it makes me sound like a creep.” 

“Not a chance.” She looked away and then flashed her dazzling smile
before planting a kiss on my cheek. “We're going to have ourselves a 
wow of a day.” 

I huffed but smiled nonetheless. “As long as you ...” 

“Behave yourself,” she finished for me along with the scouts' salute. I
shook my head, watched the smile remain on Clem's face, not in the 
least comforted by the fact that it looked to be one of mischief.


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