by Lucy Coleman
It’s my turn to study him now and I see there are dark circles beneath his eyes and when he isn’t smiling he looks a little drawn.
We both kick off our shoes and lie at opposite ends of the sofa, our legs entwined. Arran wants an update on Dad and there isn’t really anything further to report since we spoke on the phone yesterday. Now it’s all about the healing process, but the shock of what has happened has taken a toll on us all. I’m eager for his news but sense he isn’t ready to start talking yet. That means it’s not going to be good news.
So instead we talk about the garden and then I take him on a tour around the cottage. It is too big for me and I do rattle around, but it’s an investment. If my books stop selling overnight, then it’s a comfort to know I could get a nice sum for this place and move into something more modest. When you are on your own there is no safety net other than the one you provide for yourself.
We while away the afternoon, heading out for a walk along the country lanes and up through onto the common at the top of the nearby hill. The sky is grey and particularly uninspiring today; together with the chilly breeze it feels more like autumn than summer. Arran keeps commenting on how chilly it is and even though we’re wearing jackets, we’ve had to keep up a brisk pace to avoid feeling cold. Longingly, I remember the heat of the Italian sunshine and I can appreciate it must take Arran a little while to adjust every time he comes back to the UK. We have had some beautiful days, it’s true, but we’ve also had torrential rain that seems to last for long periods. Sometimes it’s hard to believe the sun will put in an appearance again.
When we get back I lead him into the sitting room and I notice he makes no attempt to relinquish his jacket. I slip mine off but then I am wearing a thick jumper.
‘I’ll just put the heating on.’ I turn on my heels, but he immediately starts speaking.
‘It’s a long time since I’ve warmed myself by the heat of a fire. Does this thing work?’
He points to the log burner, a wistful smile sweeping over his face.
‘Of course it does! I use it a lot actually. Summer evenings can be quite chilly.’
He gives a chuckle. ‘Some of the days, too, I have on good authority.’
Arran settles himself on the sofa, watching as I perform the ritual of making fire. He’s clearly delighted, although I know that turning on the central heating would have warmed things up more quickly. Sitting with my back to him, I lay out a row of kindling, then add the firelighters. Next, I begin stacking the logs.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ I break the silence, knowing that I can’t rest until I know.
I don’t have to turn around and look at Arran’s face because I can tell by his drawn out sigh that he’s had a rough time.
‘It’s hard. I don’t even want to hear myself putting it into words, to be honest with you.’
I place one last log on the top of the pile and light a screw of paper, nestling it next to a firelighter. Then I join Arran on the sofa and we both focus intently on the little flame as it slowly spreads and turns from a silvery blue to a yellowy red.
‘When I arrived back from saying goodbye to you at the airport I didn’t know what to do. All I could think about was that I wanted to be by your side, not going back to pretend everything was alright. It wasn’t alright because you weren’t there. I wanted to help because I was worried about you and instead I had to try to push my anxiety away and carry on.’
I reach out and he wraps his hand around mine, pulling me into him. We lie back as he begins to tell me what has happened while we’ve been apart.
‘I’m not a big drinker, well, aside from the night you got me drunk.’ I think if I could see his face now he’d be trying to raise a smile, albeit a half-hearted one, because his tone is strained.
Arran squeezes my hand lightly, his other arm sliding around my shoulder to pull me even closer. The warmth of his body next to mine makes me tingle all over and it’s a truly wonderful feeling.
‘I let the group go off to dinner and then took a bottle of vodka up to my room. I spent, I don’t know how long, trying to clear my mind enough to work out what I was going to do. I rang Carrie, in case she knew of any writers who were holidaying in Italy and might have been able to step in at short notice. I even contacted a writer I know who retired a couple of years ago and lives about a two hour drive away. When we both drew a blank I had to face the fact that at the very least I needed someone who could act as a host. If I only had the sessions to cope with, then I could probably get through it.’
I half turn to look at him, fearing that he’s going to tell me something I’m not going to want to hear.
‘Inviting Harriet back to Villa Monteverdi was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It’s been two and a half weeks of hell, but…’ He pauses, letting out a deep breath. ‘But she was the perfect hostess. She chaperoned the groups on the two organised trips and took my place at every evening meal. I couldn’t shake off this overwhelming sense of loss without you there and I sure as hell couldn’t make small talk. Without her help I don’t know how I could have gotten through it and that hurt so badly. But there’s always a price to pay because Harriet doesn’t do favours.’
I swallow hard to disperse the lump in my throat, as I take in the hollow look in Arran’s eyes. After a few seconds he begins speaking again.
‘The villa is hers now for the next two months.’
I know that must be hard for Arran to accept, as when she left I’m sure he vowed that she would never return. It’s his home and sitting here, knowing she’s living at the villa again as if she belongs there, must be galling.
‘It’s just two months, Arran and for most of that you will be in the UK. It could have been worse, and you had no choice. It’s no one’s fault and there was no alternative. She could have refused you.’
Arran nods, shifting uneasily in his seat.
‘I reorganised all of my commitments to be with you as quickly as I could. And yes, I didn’t have any other options but getting her out once the two months are up might not be so easy. Because I still owe her a lot of money, in her eyes she believes she has a right to be there. I think I can manage to scrape the next payment together. I negotiated an advance on one of the voiceover jobs and together with one of my six monthly royalty cheques and what I have put aside, I can cover it. But that’s it and there won’t be enough coming in to make the one after that unless a miracle happens. Harriet has been aware for a while now that my disposable funds have virtually run out and I believe she’s been talking to my mother. She made me an offer I’m supposed to be considering.’
He pauses for a moment, assembling his thoughts. I’m horrified because this is my fault, isn’t it? I mean, not the money side but the fact that she’s back in his life, and this makes it personal again, rather than arm’s length contact via solicitors. My problems have created a nightmare situation for Arran and yet he’s not blaming me in any way, or angry at the turn his life has taken through no fault of his own. My head is full of ‘if only’ and having to accept that fate dictates the timing of events leaves me feeling frustrated and a tad bitter.
‘I wish I wasn’t the reason why she is back in your life, now.’ I find myself struggling to choke back the tears, hating the fact that this has unwittingly opened the way for Harriet to complicate Arran’s life again. ‘What is it that she really wants?’
We both sit for a moment watching as the logs on the fire begin to spit and hiss. I wonder if it’s only the villa, or whether it’s Arran, too, that she’s after. Has he the stamina to continue fighting with her, or is he at the point where he admits defeat?
‘Whether I like it or not, the choice is between putting up with Harriet in my life, because she made it clear she wants us to try again, or losing the villa.’
My heart sinks faster than a stone thrown into a deep body of water, but I say nothing.
‘My father doesn’t care what happens. My mother, well, she asked about you, b
ut she’s on Harriet’s side and feels I’m being unreasonable. She thinks I’m having a little moment of insanity turning my back on Harriet because she is, after all, my ex-wife. Beautiful, intelligent and well connected. What more could any reasonable man want? But she’s as cold as an ice house.’
He doesn’t add that in his mother’s eyes I’m just a little interlude as, clearly, to her I wouldn’t be suitable daughter-in-law material.
‘The day after Harriet moved back in, my mother rang and withdrew her offer of the loan. She said it put her in a difficult position with my father, but I know the truth. Harriet spoke to her, no doubt putting her professional spin on everything, and now she has a revised agenda.’
‘I’m horrified, Arran. If Kathy hadn’t broken her foot at least you would have been spared this.’
He draws his arm even tighter around me.
‘Don’t say that, because then I wouldn’t have met you, Brie.’
It’s an impossible situation but his words are spoken with sincerity.
As the flames begin to lick up and around the logs on the top of the pile, my brain is working overtime.
‘Is there any news about your manuscript?’
I pull away, desperate to see his expression and search for clues about where this is going.
‘I wasn’t sure if Carrie had spoken to you. It’s looking promising; she now has three publishers interested.’
I slip my hand over his and give him a smile.
‘It’s confidential information, so she would never divulge any details to me directly. But that’s great news! There could be an auction.’
He shakes his head, looking slightly amused.
‘Well, yes and no. Two are only interested if I write the sequel, which is the story of what happened after Arthur returned. Only one publisher will consider taking it as a stand alone and the advance on offer is only twenty thousand pounds. They admit that most people will want to read the conclusion to the story.’
But that’s not even half of the money he needs to meet one payment, including interest.
‘With ten payments still outstanding to Harriet, it’s something, but the likelihood of my defaulting becomes increasingly more likely as each month passes. The money isn’t coming in at that sort of rate. I’d run back to back writing retreats if I could, but it takes five months to set everything up and most people want to come in the summer months.’
We sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at the fire as a distraction. Harriet’s hold over Arran puts her in a position of power and she sounds like the sort of woman who knows exactly how to use it.
‘You don’t have a choice, do you?’ My voice sounds small, the only other sound in the room being the crackle from the logs as they begin to blacken amongst the hungry flames. The room is finally beginning to warm and Arran leans forward, slipping off his coat. He turns to look at me.
‘I feel like a failure; I’ve let my grandfather down. He left me the villa because he felt I would cherish it for generations to come. But it’s been a battle since day one. Initially it caused a problem between my sister and me, aside from the fallout with my father. She hasn’t spoken to me since the day the will was read. But I knew for her it was about the monetary value and that’s why my grandfather chose me to inherit it. Everything else was split between my father and her. And they sold it all, as if there was no sentimental attachment to anything he left behind. His beloved old cars and the penthouse flat overlooking Hyde Park.
‘We often stayed there as children, and yet it seems I’m the only one for whom it held special memories. My grandmother loved it there. And now it’s looking increasing likely that it will be down to Harriet as to whether the villa is sold or stays under my control. All of this because I was a fool and didn’t even consider protecting my inheritance against any future financial claims made by a spouse. Ironically, Harriet insisted on keeping her assets very separate from the start. The fact that she had moved everything she had into a savings account in her own name was enough to exclude it from the equation when it came down to working out the settlement. I was a trusting fool, but then I thought she was a very different woman to the one I’ve seen as time has moved on. She can be quite ruthless when it suits her.’
The fire is now throwing out a generous amount of heat and Arran leans further forward, soaking up the blast of warmth.
When he relaxes back into the sofa I can see that tiredness is taking over. I lie back next to him and we clasp hands, sitting in silence.
Sometimes the answers don’t come easily. And sometimes they come in a dream.
*
It’s a gentle awakening; Arran’s lips on mine and then, before we know it, we are rolling around on the soft white rug in front of the fire. No longer roaring, the logs half eaten by the flames, the heat is marvellously bearable against our naked skin. The passion is all consuming and the only escape from the nagging worries hanging over us.
Afterwards, I roll over onto my stomach, raising my head to look up into Arran’s eyes.
‘What happens next with us?’
He tilts his head to look at me, amusement flickering over his face.
‘All I know is that I could live the rest of my life quite happily with you on this rug, in front of the fire and never have a regret. No matter what happened in the world outside the front door. I love you, Brie, but I wish I could offer you more than I have right now. I can understand if you decide to walk away.’
Oh. My. God. This is the moment when I wave goodbye to Jude. You are simply my fantasy, but Arran is my reality. The big surprise is that I don’t think Jude could have answered that question as beautifully as Arran did.
‘Come on, don’t leave me hanging,’ Arran asks, anxiously. ‘I’m putting my feelings on the line here, and I’m speaking straight from my heart for the first time ever.’
‘I’m not just in love with you, but I’m in lust with you, too. In my world a love story doesn’t get any better. I couldn’t have written it more perfectly. But what does it mean given the current situation? I only want you, nothing else, but I also can’t be the reason you lose everything, Arran.’
We lie with our heads touching as our bodies relax, trying to get our brains around what comes next.
‘Arran, do you trust me enough to do me a favour? Can you just say yes to make me happy?’
‘Yes, but it depends on the favour. Why do I think I’m not going to like this?’
I roll onto my side to look directly at him.
‘Because your pride gets in the way, that’s why. Grab whatever advance you can get and I’ll be by your side when you need me to help with Rose’s story. I will make up the shortfall so that means you will have the next two payments sorted.’ He starts to object but I put up my hand to stop him. ‘That will give you, what, almost three months grace to decide how you are going to come up with the rest of the money. You can’t creak by as you are doing now. It’s too stressful to be worrying about money every hour of the day.’
‘Thank you, but no. And you are right, I know I have no choice as I need to make some tough and unpalatable decisions. As it stands, Harriet’s claim on the property amounts to a quarter share, which reduces a little after each payment. I can’t afford to take up a loan to repay her in one go, because together with the running costs, financially it would be too big a burden. Aside from selling it, the only other option is that she forgoes the money and we formalise her part ownership. I spend between three and five months a year in the UK anyway. I know that not being able to entertain her friends at the villa was a big loss to her and although she’d no doubt want the summer months, it’s a potential way out, I suppose. I’d just have to grin and bear it, but it would hurt.’
‘But what about the income you’d lose from running the courses?’
‘I’d have to make that up in another way but if that’s the only pressure, then it’s do-able. I want us to be together, Brie, and I don’t plan on letting Harriet prevent that.’
He looks accepting of this as a solution, but I can see how wounded he feels, deep inside. And the fact he’d do that for us tells me more than a string of flowery words.
I reach out and touch his cheek, letting my fingers trail down to the curve of his chin. He doesn’t even realise he’s clenching his jaw and the lightness of my touch is enough to make him stop.
‘I don’t want you to regret any decision you make, Arran. Let me help you out and at least it will gain you some thinking time. If you really do love me, you will do this to prove it. I would hate you to end up living with regrets. As for Arthur and Rose’s story, the sequel makes perfect sense. I also think you should do it for them. A love like theirs deserves to be remembered forever.’
Arran rolls onto his side and our faces are inches apart as we stare at each other.
‘It’s not an easy thing that you are asking, you know that? As for the sequel, think about it – the war is over, and that’s where my interest begins to wane.’
I frown. ‘Now I know that’s not quite true. You were the one who decided to write Arthur and Rose’s story and, yes, while war is the main topic throughout the first book, what inspired you about them was the people they became because of what they had been through; and their daughter, Hope, who was destined to play a significant part in your life. She was a second mother to you.’
Now it’s Arran’s turn to frown. ‘I can’t deny the truth but telling that part of the story isn’t one of my strengths, you know that. You could write it, though.’
I shake my head. ‘No, I can’t, because I didn’t know any of them, so it wouldn’t be me telling their story at all. It would be me writing fiction. That’s not quite the same thing.’
He can deal with facts, no matter how harsh and brutal, but he can’t cope with emotional trauma. Or maybe the hurt of a little boy who clung onto the woman paid to look after him, who gave her love freely when his own mother couldn’t, lies just below the surface still.
Arran sits up, opening the door to the log burner and using the poker to redistribute the glowing red embers, then he adds another log. The flickering of the flames in the darkening room light up his skin as he bends to tend to the fire. He’s really here, in my life and it seems almost too good to be true. I’m going to fight to stop anything that threatens to get in our way.