The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  “Look at you,” Livi said. “After all those test runs, maybe you’ve finally found one you like enough to keep on.”

  Cass looked coy. “Yes, maybe…I think so.”

  “Well, I approve. He’s a sweetheart. I want to see you happy, too.”

  Cass gave her hand a squeeze, and they smiled at each other.

  When everyone was settled with their drinks, Livi told the story of her eventful day, to much exclaiming. Then there was the inevitable comparing of Cam’s accent to Livi’s almost non-existent one.

  “Remember that time you suddenly regained your English accent?” Cam asked her. “You sounded far more posh than your mum and dad ever did.”

  There was laughter as she shook her head. “No,” she insisted, suddenly very conscious of how English she sounded now. “I don’t remember. You must be thinking of some other terribly British New Zealander.” And she gave him a wink, which he returned with a knowing smile.

  “It’s good that they sorted things out,” he said, and everyone murmured their agreement.

  “It’s such a relief,” she said. “Although I shouldn’t have let it affect me so much.” She sighed and looked into her glass. “I mean, I’m not a child any more.”

  “You’re their child,” he said gently.

  He was there, all those years. He knew. She smiled gratefully at him. Around the table, her friends looked at each other, all obviously wondering if this sweet moment was the beginning of something.

  But the moment passed, and one round eased into the next, and the next. While Steve kept a low profile, Cam more than held his own with the in-jokes and teasing. Sitting next to him, her wine slowly going tepid, her foot sticking to a tacky spot on the wooden floor, the hum of voices and the close, warm air pressing around them, she was suddenly acutely aware of how good he smelled. She relaxed a little to her left, imperceptibly closer, she thought. But he put down his pint with a bump and threw his arm around her shoulders. “That’s my girl,” he said, and squeezed her against him. Then he leaned across the table to join Will and a more animated Steve in a vigorous debate about the merits of Harley versus Triumph. She breathed out and took a careful sip of her drink, not wanting to show any sign of the unexpected shock of pleasure she’d felt when he put his arm around her, or the disappointment when he let her go. Distracted by her own thoughts and his proximity, she lost track of the conversation around her.

  She was jolted back to attention by her friends’ laughter.

  “Jack Dee! That guy looks like a swear word.” Aidan’s face was scrunched in disapproval.

  “He does not!” Cass laughed. “But which swear word?”

  “No particular word, but you know what I mean. And the shiny suits…no.”

  Cam looked curious. “Does he swear a lot?”

  Livi shook her head. “No more than the next comedian. But he has that seventies cop show look about him. Why are we talking about Jack Dee?”

  “Embarrassing celebrity crushes,” Cass explained.

  “Really? That’s not especially embarrassing.” She looked across at Aidan, who had his hand up like an eager schoolboy. “Tell us yours then.”

  “Easy. Christopher Plummer, Sound of Music. Such authority. So well-groomed.”

  Will nodded in agreement, and Aidan gave him a nudge. “Come on then. Your turn.”

  “All right,” Will said. “I’ll admit it. Russell Brand. There’s a superb brain behind that wanton exterior, you know.”

  But Cass wasn’t having it. “No, no, he doesn’t count. Even the sneery people who claim not to fancy Russell Brand, secretly do.”

  “I don’t think any of you are in the spirit of this,” Livi said. “I thought it was supposed to be embarrassing crushes. Try again.”

  Will looked reluctant. “Well, then…I suppose it would have to be Alan Titchmarsh. He really is desperately lovely.” When Aidan laughed heartily, he retorted, “At least I told the truth. We all know that your greatest love is yourself. You won’t be happy until you’re permanently installed on the fourth plinth.”

  “Don’t be snippy,” Aidan said. “I know you love me just as much.”

  Will rolled his eyes and turned to Livi. “So, now that you’ve embarrassed me, what about you? Apart from George, not embarrassing. And the American, of course.”

  “Oh no, not the American!” she said hastily, feeling Cam’s eyes on her. “No, I don’t have any. Apart from George.”

  “And Hugh,” added Cass. “You know, Livi, we have a laugh about Nicolette and her old-age pensioner, but now I realise you’re just as bad.”

  “They’re not that old! Leave me alone.” She couldn’t bear to look at Cam, who was laughing along with the others. Now she was very glad she’d never confessed her lingering affection for Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise.

  But Cass wasn’t done. “Actually, there is someone of a reasonable age. You were just telling me the other night.”

  It was true. “Fine. Okay. David Tennant. Are we finished now?”

  “She doesn’t like the latest guy,” Cass told them, as Livi blushed.

  “When did you start watching Dr Who?” Cam said, intrigued. But before she had time to reply, Aidan was holding his hands out to Cam and Steve.

  “Now that we have demolished poor Livi, that just leaves you, our guests of honour,” he said, the drinks making him extra grand. “Visitors are not exempt.”

  But Steve wouldn’t be coerced. “Nothing to confess,” he declared, glancing sideways at Cass, who looked pleased.

  Then Livi held her breath as everyone turned to Cam.

  He smiled. “It would have to be the marvellous Miss Olivia Callaway, of course. World famous in New Zealand.”

  A collective ‘aah’ went round the table, and Livi felt her cheeks flame. If he was joking, it wasn’t very funny. She didn’t want to be reminded of her brush with fame. But if he wasn’t joking…

  She gave a dismissive wave, trying to look casual. “That doesn’t make me a celebrity. My fifteen minutes are well over.”

  But as she said it, Cam looked awkwardly away. “What?” she said, a horrible feeling starting to take hold. “What is it?”

  “I thought you would know,” he said.

  There was a kind of suspended tension at the table as the others waited, riveted, leaning forward over their glasses.

  “Know what?” Queasiness grew in her stomach.

  He was plainly reluctant to say anything more, but with all eyes on him he had to continue.

  “The footage from that night, when you saw…you knew it was all over the news. Then there was a debate in the media about the ethics of reality TV. Nothing exactly like that had happened before in New Zealand.”

  “No Big Brother for you,” Will said, and Cam nodded.

  “But that was ages ago,” Livi said, although to her ears it sounded more like a plea than a statement.

  “It was, but auditions for the second season are starting soon.” He looked pained to have to say it. “And they’re using the clip of you in all the promotions.”

  As her past came rushing in, the queasiness turned to a violent, stomach-twisting urge to throw up. She pushed the last of her wine away, unable to bear the smell. The voices in the pub were suddenly much too loud, and she put her elbows on the table, holding her head, knowing they were all looking at her. Was that why Rob had suddenly turned up at her old flat?

  Cass was enraged on her behalf. “They can’t do that! Surely they don’t have the right to use that without her permission?”

  “I don’t know.” Cam sounded despairing. Sitting up, she could see he looked despairing too. She tried to give him a smile.

  “I’m sorry, Livi,” he said.

  “Don’t they think, don’t they realise she’s a real person, with feelings?” Cass fumed. “That’s so freaking classless.”

  “Not exactly Strictly,” Will commented.

  “No.” Cam shook his head. He took her hand and they all sat
in silence, the merry mood ruined.

  But, with the recharging warmth of his hand, Livi gathered herself.

  “Oh, screw them. Why should I care anyway? I’m on the opposite side of the earth, and I’m never going back. It was yesterday’s news once before, eventually it’ll be yesterday’s news again.” And she slugged back the remains of her wine.

  Said firmly enough, it sounded quite convincing, and everyone stirred and nodded and sat up a little straighter.

  “Good for you,” Will said.

  “Yeah, screw them,” agreed Cass.

  Cam put his arm around her shoulder again. “That’s my girl,” he said once more.

  She looked around. “I think someone could buy me another drink now.”

  Twenty-Three

  By the time they went unsteadily home that night, Livi had drunk more than enough to dull the sting of her distant fame. Or notoriety. No, she supposed that was Rob, who, after all, was in the footage too and was still there in the middle of it all. Quite a satisfying thought. She wondered what had happened to sequins girl, and Jasmine. Ironic that not one of the three of them had turned out to be his perfect match.

  It seemed surreal to be sitting in one of the now-familiar tube carriages with Cam next to her, his backpack on the floor between his legs, as though he’d been transported not just from another place, but from another time. Which, in a way, he had been. The plastic arm rest pressed into her side and separated their bodies, but, further down, his knee sat comfortably relaxed against hers, as though their limbs had always been this closely acquainted. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Walking home from the tube station, Cam and Steve went ahead, deep in motorbike talk, while she and Cass wandered behind, deep in their own thoughts. Then Livi caught Cass looking at Steve’s behind. Cass said, “Well?” and pointed at Cam’s, just visible below the backpack.

  Livi hissed “No!”, slapping her hand down, causing them both to fall into giggles. The guys turned around curiously, making them both laugh even more.

  “Cass, don’t,” Livi whispered, as they turned back to their manly discussion, shaking their heads. “You know it’s not that way with us.”

  “But it could be,” Cass persevered. “Why do you think he’s here?”

  Livi grabbed her arm and slowed down, letting the guys get further ahead. “He said he had things to do…people to see…I don’t exactly know.”

  “And by people, he means you. He was quick enough to come and stay with us.”

  “That’s because I invited him! It’s only polite.”

  That was actually true. When she invited him to stay that morning, she had the purest of motives—good manners and friendship. Since then, it seemed like things had got more complicated.

  “Yeah, right.” Cass clearly didn’t believe it. “Although, I don’t know why I’m encouraging you. I mean, you’re going to Paris to find your American next.” She considered Cam’s behind. “But maybe I like this one better…”

  “Just stop, please,” Livi begged under her breath as they looked around again. “Let it go.”

  Cass shrugged, but her expression made it obvious she would do no such thing.

  When they got back to the flat, she wasted no time. “Well, I am extremely tired,” she said pointedly, as soon as they went into the living room. “What about you, Steve?” He, of course, was knackered. They said goodnight.

  “Be good, you two,” she sang over her shoulder. “Or not.”

  “No,” Livi started. “We’re—”

  But she was gone. They heard her bedroom door shut. For a moment they looked at each other, then Cam broke the silence.

  “This couch looks all right,” he said heartily, going over and bouncing in a positive manner on the slightly less lumpy sofa. He took off his jacket and folded it up into a pillow. “This’ll be great.”

  “We can do better than that,” she said. “I’ll get you some pillows and blankets. Oh, and a spare key. Mum left hers behind.”

  She busied herself getting the things, aware of him watching her go out and come back in. There’s no reason to be self-conscious, she told herself. An over-emotional night and too many drinks and your imagination gets away on you. Focus now. She passed him a blanket.

  As they worked together to turn the sofa into a bed of sorts, he said, “Steve’s a nice guy.”

  “Yes, he really is. Cass thinks so too, especially after the Len thing.” She took the back cushions off the sofa to make more room. “I think it took her a while to get used to the idea of someone who works in a garage though. She usually goes for guys in suits and corner offices.”

  Cam took the pillow she offered. “But he’s not just a grease monkey. He’s a motorbike designer—an independent consultant. He’s quite well-known.”

  “Really? I don’t think he told her that—he just let her assume he was a mechanic. She’ll be impressed.” She stood back and looked at the bed doubtfully, comparing its length with his six-foot-plus frame. “I don’t know how comfy you’ll be.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I can sleep anywhere.”

  Was it her over-charged imagination, or did that last word hang in the air? He was smiling now, waiting for her reply, but she found herself completely distracted.

  “Okay then…well, make yourself at home. You know where the bathroom is, and the kitchen, if you need anything. Nothing’s hard to find in here. But if you need anything you can’t find, just let me know, you know where to find me.”

  Oh, God, she was babbling. She forced herself to stop. Damn that last drink too many, and Cass for creating this awkwardness, throwing her off-centre. What was the goodnight protocol in this situation?

  “Thanks,” he laughed. Then he stepped towards her, and they were hugging goodnight. He seemed to hold her extra close, so that she could feel the length of his body pressing against hers. Or maybe it was just the wine making her acutely aware of the breadth of his chest and the warmth of his breath in her hair. She swayed a little. If she just looked up now…

  Then he let her go. “I’d better get some sleep,” he said. “Early start tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” she said, snapped back to reality. “What are you doing?”

  “People to see,” he replied, opening his backpack. “Nothing exciting.”

  “Maddening man! Goodnight then.” And she left him to it.

  Lying in bed after cleaning her teeth and giving her face a very perfunctory wash, she could hear him get in the shower. She’d forgotten to give him a towel, but he must have found one. She tried not to think about it. Soon the water stopped, and there were shaving sounds. She was almost asleep, the wine working its soporific magic, when she heard him come out and pause in the passage outside her door, open just the tiniest crack.

  “Sleep tight,” he called gently. “Stay strong.”

  * * *

  She got up the next morning feeling every single one of the previous night’s consoling drinks. Cam was gone, leaving a stack of pillows and neatly folded blankets on the floor next to his backpack, but Cass and Steve were there, a picture of domesticity over the kitchen table.

  “I think you had a bit too much,” Cass observed, as she gingerly came through the kitchen door. “Maybe you should have paced yourself,” she added, conveniently overlooking her recent carnival excess.

  Livi decided to ignore her. She silently got a large glass of water and eased herself into a chair.

  Steve looked sympathetic. “I’ve got a bit of a headache too.”

  “Where’s Cam then?” Cass asked suggestively. “Still in bed?”

  Livi didn’t have the energy. “He wasn’t in my bed, as you well know. I don’t know where he’s gone.”

  “I saw him this morning, early,” said Steve. “He didn’t say where he was going, just that he had—”

  “People to see,” Livi finished for him, and he nodded.

  “I don’t know about that,” Cass said. “I think it’s all a good story to cover for coming to s
ee Livi.”

  “He’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it believable then,” said Steve. “A big black car came to collect him.”

  They both stared at him. “A big black car?” Livi repeated, suddenly much more awake.

  “With a driver?” Cass said.

  “Well, obviously with a driver,” Steve laughed. “But if you mean a driver with a uniform and a peaked cap, then no. He was just a guy wearing a suit.”

  Livi and Cass looked at each other. “I can’t even begin to guess what he might be doing,” Livi said. Where could he be going that was substantial enough to warrant a big black car and a driver? He was an economist, not a movie star. Her head ached even more trying to imagine what he might be up to.

  “Wow,” said Cass. “Impressive. Livi, you might have something big here.”

  To distract her, Livi changed tack. “Speaking of impressive, Steve, I hear you’ve got some serious credentials in motorbike circles.”

  He blushed, reminding her of how shy he was the first night Cass brought him home. “Oh, well, not really.”

  But Cass was onto it. “Credentials? Don’t be modest, tell.”

  Livi took her glass of water and left them to it.

  Some time later, as she tried to wash away the hangover fug under a hot shower, she heard Cass call out goodbye. “Bring me that satchel!” she replied over the sound of the water, using her sternest voice. “I mean it!”

  But Cass just laughed. “Not until Paris!” she yelled back.

  Livi could hear her talking animatedly to Steve as they went down the stairs, then there was peace. She took her time to wash her hair, standing with her head tipped back under the water, rinsing away the stale feeling, letting the steam soothe her tired eyes.

  Finally she turned the mixer to cold for just a few moments, turning quickly around under the water, gasping as the chill hit her body. It was brutal, but apparently it was the secret to good circulation, better skin, shiny hair and, best of all, a pert bust, so she figured it was worth a go. Unlike some beauty secrets, it was free. Plus, she’d heard that James Bond always finished his shower with a cold blast. What better recommendation could there be?