by H. A. Nicola
She pulled back the duvet and reached for her bag on the bedside table. Her phone was sounding again. Quickly swiping the screen with an upward stroke and keying in her security code, the screen uploaded to reveal evidence of several missed calls, texts and WhatsApp messages.
Her phone was ringing again.
She could hear the television switch on without her looking, glancing up she saw his naked body perched at the edge of the bed as the images on the screen flickered into view. The unmistakable backdrop of Westminster peered over the shoulder of the female news correspondent, and Cayenne could just make out the blaring headlines of some sort of security threat when she heard…
“Muu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uum!” Diego’s voice permeated her eardrum, like a volcanic eruption. The only time her son shouted at her was when he was unable to reach her, or if her phone was switched off for a period of time, and he was concerned.
“Yes, what is it, son.”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone, I’ve been calling you. Haven’t you seen the news?”
He carried on shouting as she peered ahead and read the headlines streaming across the screen.
The news reporter was standing with her microphone in hand, and a look of deep concern was etched on her face.
She assured Diego that she was okay and placed her phone down.
He had finished his phone call too. She briefly wondered who he had been reassuring. The look of worry had returned to his face. The look she had grown familiar with.
He switched off the TV abruptly and crawled over to her and held her in a comforting embrace. “Everything okay at home?”
She nodded.
He looked at her as though she were a bird with a broken wing that he needed to take care of. Whatever distractions that had momentarily diverted his attention had been cast aside. For now, he wanted to take care of her again and again, right this moment. Something about this moment was precious. This reminder that anything can happen, that the next moment is not promised, fired his determination to seize the day. She gladly welcomed his epiphany. Forceful and demanding, yet nurturing and purposeful, he maximised the moment with every last drop of him. Desperately needing to ensnare every last ounce of her.
Wrapping her in her towelling robe and fastening it tightly before slipping on his own, he led her by the hand out towards the terrace. Pulling open the sliding doors, they stepped out onto the deck. The enormity of the disturbance engulfed them as the sounds and sights of disarray and bedlam swirled around the streets below.
He pulled her close, directing her eyes away from the chaotic scenes as though wanting to shield her and prolong their harmonious bubble for just a little while longer.
Chapter 38
Cayenne could have predicted what would happen next. She might have known that her heroic, debonair seducer with his confident, self-assured demeanour would most certainly have packed his heroic costume into his office bag and any masterful resolutions abandoned in a miscellaneous file by the stroke of midnight.
The last time they had met up for tea in Chanel, he had taken her hand in his and looked at her strangely as though questioning something, both in her and in himself.
She was aware that she was now more open with him physically. More engaging, allowing him to see the effect he was having on her. That was new for him. Up until this point, it had been him expressing the most desire, and her combatting his advances just enough to keep him interested.
“What’s going on here? How come you give a shit about how much time has passed since we last saw each other?” He was smiling with his lips, but his eyes were still questioning.
She didn’t know the answer either. What was going on? Was she falling for him? Had he fallen for her? She would need to know that first.
“I think an awful lot of you. I’m just a bit worried that this could lead to ruin for me. I mean I’ve spent so much money in a matter of weeks. I can barely concentrate at work. This just isn’t… sustainable.” He shook his head as though trying to convince himself. “It’s not sustainable.” He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee which was lukewarm by now, as was hers.
When they stood facing each other to say goodbye, he made several attempts to leave her. On the pier overlooking South Quay to the rear of Chanel, for the most part away from prying eyes, he attempted several times to physically leave her but would spin around and walk back to her, holding her to him again.
She was loving this. Seeing the emotion that he was battling with. Watching his not wanting to let her go.
Kissing her again and again, dipping his fingers between her legs as though stealing another whip of cream from a delectable trifle that really ought not to be touched.
Sighing depressingly as his corporate schedule beckoned, and his precarious private life seemed to weigh heavily upon him. Looking deep into her eyes, like an abandoned puppy at a shelter. Willing her to have an answer.
Eventually, they resigned themselves to the inevitable. His deep kiss spoke a thousand words. Their fingertips lingered as they backed away. He turned away first. Head down with his hands in his pockets, she watched as he wandered back towards Canary Wharf. She watched until he merged with the bustling crowd. Until he became almost obscured from view, with just flashes of him dotted in the canvas. Flickers of his blue-striped shirt, a glimpse of his long hair over his collar. His head hanging low. Then she couldn’t see him anymore.
He was gone.
Chapter 39
“Ignoring my currently redundant role, I do hope you had a lovely day. Happy Birthday, gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Not for the first time, she was touched that he had remembered.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve it…”
“Aww, thank you…”
"Can I treat you to a night out as a birthday treat?
Can the Queen confirm next week’s diary… her toy needs to compensate for his neglectful behaviour."
Later Cayenne browsed the internet for somewhere special to celebrate her birthday. He had told her to choose wherever she wanted. Immediately, only one place came to mind.
Looking at the pictures of the Shard on the website made her all the more determined that this was the right choice. She had asked him to plan a complete itinerary for her. One of the things she loved about their time together was the fact that she only had to turn up. He would send her a message stating ‘details to follow’ or ‘await further instructions’. It filled her with excitement that he took responsibility for organising everything. She wasn’t so naïve as to think that this was totally for her benefit, but it was enthralling nevertheless.
She had always wanted to go to the Shard. Even before they had moved from Torquay, Sugar had travelled to London on a school trip; and one of the landmarks that they were scheduled to visit was the Shard, as well as Big Ben and to embark on a short boat trip along the Thames. Cayenne had been fascinated by the detailed preparation that had gone into preparing to let a hoard of six-years-olds loose in the capital.
On their return, they had been given a project to complete which included a study of the capital city and the task to write small essays about it and draw pictures of the landmarks they had seen. Prior to this, Cayenne knew very little about this world famous tower which had grown from an office block in its 1970s hey-day, to the spectacle it is today, with world-famous restaurants, fascinating installations, and a neighbouring hotel offering some of the best views of London.
Now it was considered one of the top spots for celebrations and family gatherings or romantic evenings with the 95-storey skyscraper attracting people from all over the world to enjoy it’s Neo-futurism style of architecture.
Cayenne couldn’t wait to experience the bars and restaurants with the panoramic views of London as the perfect backdrop.
As if on cue, an email notification interrupted her perusing.
“Hey, gorgeous. Trying to juggle stuff. I hadn’t factored in my boss being out for half-term, so I will be expe
cted to hold the fort.”
“Is next week off then?”
“Will tell you shortly. I want to be in a position where I can totally switch off and enjoy it.”
“Understandable.”
“You alright? Good weekend?”
"Yeah, weekends are currently a blur of gym activity.
I think this was the first weekend of many where your voice was noticeably silent."
“Wow, did you actually miss it?”
“Clearly you didn’t”
“Oh really… I still need my fix. You must be looking so toned. Fancy a tea?”
“Provided gym gear is permitted. The schedule continues…”
“Sure. Want to do now or 5:00 p.m.?”
“Either…”
“Cool. I’ll see you in 15–20 minutes.”
Over tea he had shown her the Shard booking for her birthday treat, and together they browsed the website and discussed the things that they were looking forward to the most. For him, it was the Jacuzzi. For her, the Oblix Restaurant.
It had been another rushed union as he had urgent meetings to attend late afternoon. She hadn’t had time to eat the cake he had bought for her, so she had tucked it into her bag to enjoy after her planned cardio class.
“Are you home yet? How was the cake?”
"A tad on the dry side… lacked moisture. But the flavours were there…
Thank you."
“You’re summing up the cake and not me I hope. I could feel the rush again on the way back to my 4:30. meeting”
“A familiar tingling resurfaced I must admit…”
“Mmmmm good…”
Diego picked up the leaflet on the kitchen counter as he cast his eyes around the refrigerator in search of a snack.
“Yay, Mummy, going to the Shard, huh? Look at you.”
Cayenne smiled unable to hide her excitement. She knew that Diego was pleased for her. He had tried to encourage her over the years to socialise more, especially as he came of age to be able to look after the younger two. Not that they required much looking after.
She appreciated that he had the maturity not to ask too much about the stranger. He would listen to as much or as little as she cared to share, which was minimal, although she was usually incredibly open with her older son. Diego seemed satisfied with the fact that his mother was clearly enjoying herself, and that it was a positive experience for her.
The black and white bandage dress was limiting her pace somewhat, and the platform heels meant she had to pay close attention to each step which was proving exhausting as she made her way towards Canary Wharf station. The single clasp had broken on her full-length coat, and she shivered as a gust of wind flew up from under the underground carriage, blowing her hair across her face.
She whisked the wisps of hair that were attracted to the red adhesive gloss on her lips, back behind her ear and readied herself amongst the herd of urgent passengers, mentally selecting her seat in the approaching carriage from the imminent vacancies.
As the tube hurtled towards London Bridge, she was too excited to concentrate on the book that she had tucked into her bag at the last minute. She knew she would end up just looking at the words but not taking anything in. A lady sitting opposite did a double take as she sat down after the train had arrived at Canada Water. Cayenne smiled at the lady in appreciation of the compliment, even though the lady hadn’t smiled or indicated that she liked what she saw. She had simply stared, glanced at Cayenne’s clothes and boots and then looked straight ahead only looking again as Cayenne rose on the approach to London Bridge.
Not even the smattering of patchy drizzle could dampen her spirits as the commanding presence of the tallest building in the country came into view.
She had deliberately not checked her phone that day and chose resolutely to be in the moment. To let the day unfold without distraction.
Walking into the immaculate reception area, she was met with an impressive sight. From the dazzling design feature, a vast chandelier which glittered with tiny fragments of crystal all the way up to the 35th floor and the intricately marble-clad lobby. The contrast from the South London Street to this hive of opulence took her breath away.
Strolling towards the reception desk, she switched her phone back to the sound option and glancing at the screen she could see that the email symbol in the top left-hand corner was stacked, indicating that more than one message awaited her attention.
Somewhere in her consciousness, she was aware that one of the smartly dressed ladies behind the desk was speaking to her, or had already spoken to her and was now awaiting a response. When one wasn’t forthcoming, she seemed to shift nervously transferring her weight from foot-to-foot and tilting her head slightly as though trying to get Cayenne’s attention.
“Erm, sorry. I err…” Cayenne attempted to raise her head and address the woman properly, but the messages she was reading seemed to be scrambling her brain preventing the words from coming out. She knew she had read the words, but somehow needed to read them over and over again whilst her brain slowly, desperately tried to compute the information.
“I…”
“Hello, welcome to our Shangri la Hotel. How may I help you today?”
“I’m sorry, can I just take this call?” Cayenne held the phone to her ear as though she was taking a call and backed away from the desk, turning towards a black leather seating area bookended by two large freestanding antique lamps.
She felt as though she could physically use some bookends to stabilise her on her own feet at that moment and eased herself down into the comfortable chair.
She wasn’t quite sure how long she had been sitting there before she became aware that time was passing by. The bright sky that earlier beamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass now seemed to have dimmed to a grey overcast blanket. She shivered slightly and found herself looking around the vast space, as though trying to ascertain the source of this sudden gust of chilly air. She realised that there wasn’t one. That the chill was emanating from inside.
She knew she really ought to move. Do something. React. Make a phone call. But she just felt numb as though her mind had temporarily frozen, and the repercussions from the slightest pressure to move it forward to an actual thought pattern may be irreparable. So, she sat. For some time, just sitting. Drifting in and out of her subconscious mind. Taking in her surroundings, watching families and couples arriving. Others leaving. Porters ferrying expensive luggage around on golden carriages. Uniformed staff seemingly a part of a choreographed routine, swaying in and out of action.
Had anybody noticed her, they would have seen a serene smartly dressed woman, poised at the edge of her chair, legs folded beneath, clutching her handbag with a carrier nestled on the neighbouring seat. They would have simply assumed she was waiting for some tardy companion, or perhaps at the end of her stay and patiently expecting the reception staff to alert her of her car’s arrival, to carry her on to her next engagement. Something important and official, no doubt, judging by appearances.
Cayenne was relieved to see Charlotte return from her latest quarterly trip to some far-flung destination in search of some deeper meaning to life. Charlotte was exactly as a yoga instructor should be. She was tall, lithe and blond, but that was secondary. Whenever she breezed into a room, she carried the zenness within her. Not all of them had that. It was as though she embodied the very state that she was qualified to guide others into. Cayenne liked her soft, calm voice and her unique way of expounding on the benefits of deep breathing. Earnestly encouraging them to take in as much life-giving force as possible. The virtues of holding it in place for just a few seconds allowing the body to absorb and best utilise each breath, and then the absolute delight, not to mention rewards of letting it all go again. Allowing oneself to become empty and vacant, ripe for something new.
She instantly inspired you to leave your life on the outside of the door as she welcomed you into the heavenly cavity of the yoga studio.
Cayenne had b
een looking forward to this all week. She had been steeling herself for it. Possibly, subconsciously holding her breath in anticipation of it.
“For those of you who are new to the class, I’m Charlotte, and this is Yin Yoga. It’s a unique practice in that the focus is not so much on strenuous poses, but rather it’s about looking inward, examining ourselves from the inside out and ultimately letting go of anything that might be causing the build-up of stress and tension. I’d like to welcome you to a simple practice which is an integral part of Yin Yoga, and it’s a lovely way to start our practice. I’ll talk you through it, and then we will do it together. You may find yourself in stressful situations sometimes; and it’s something you can incorporate in your day-to-day life, and it just takes a few moments. You’ll often find that the result leaves you feeling calmer, less stressed, and able to simply slow the mind down as often our busy schedules cause our minds to become overwhelmed; and that has a negative impact on the body. So for the next 30 minutes or so, I encourage you to soften and close your eyes as much as possible and be prepared to let everything go. Anything that has been weighing you down or that you’ve been overthinking. This is your time. Time to connect with your inner self and be restored.”
Cayenne blinked as hard as she could so as to forbid the tears from rolling out of the sides of her eyes and onto the immaculate violet yoga mat.
She reached out her hand for the neatly folded blanket that Charlotte had always encouraged the class to have handy for comfort or to aid relaxation. She unfolded the blanket, hooking it under her feet and unfolding it over her body until it covered the length of her, creating her own little cocoon in the semi-darkness.
"So, when you’re ready guys, if you can all come to a comfortable sitting position. Feel free to use one of the blocks to sit on if you would prefer. Place your palms together, hands to heart and soften or close your eyes. Sit up as straight as you can. Place your thumbs on your third eye, right between your eyebrows and set an intention for this practice today. It could be something abstract, or it could be something meaningful and specific to you that you want to concentrate on today. Or perhaps there is someone you would like to dedicate this practice to. Perhaps there’s someone who you feel would benefit from it.