One Perfect Summer

by Paige Toon

  Lukas gently intervenes. ‘Perhaps we should go out?’

  ‘You can accompany me to my hotel.’

  It doesn’t sound like it’s up for discussion.

  She’s staying at a super-swish hotel in Cambridge. Her chauffeur drops us off at the door and hurries to get her bags out of the boot. A doorman takes them from him and we’re ushered inside to the lobby.

  ‘I will call you tomorrow,’ she says to her chauffeur, before turning to Lukas. ‘He’s an excellent driver. You can have him, if you like. I’ll arrange it.’

  ‘Thank you, Mother,’ Lukas says, caught off guard by her generosity. ‘But I still have my car.’

  ‘I thought you sold it.’

  I’m glad someone is clearing this up.

  ‘Not yet,’ he replies.

  She signs in at reception and Lukas takes the key. We go to the lift and press the button for the sixth floor.

  ‘Your father wants Klaus to return,’ she muses as the lift starts to climb.

  ‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘I can make do without him.’

  She humphs again. ‘We’ll see.’

  Frau Heuber is in the penthouse and it’s spectacular – panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the river and rooftops of Cambridge. The sun is just beginning to set. I notice that Lukas, not his mother, tips the doorman when he arrives with the bags.

  ‘Wow!’ I enthuse, peering out of the window at the rows of boats lined up at the Magdalene Bridge punting station.

  ‘I suppose it’s only for two days,’ she says snootily.

  How can this not be good enough for her?

  ‘It was very kind of you to come,’ Lukas says, not asking the question that’s certainly been plaguing my mind: why did she come?

  She joins me at the window and looks down.

  ‘I should like to go on a punt,’ she says.

  ‘I can take you,’ I offer uneasily.

  She regards me with alarm.

  ‘Alice is a punter,’ Lukas interjects with an anxious glance at his mother.

  ‘A punter?’ she snorts.

  ‘Yes, I work as a tour guide.’

  ‘You work as a tour guide?’

  Sorry, is there something wrong with her hearing?

  ‘Alice has been able to pay her own way through university,’ Lukas says calmly.

  ‘Well, my parents have helped too,’ I add quickly.

  ‘But you pay your own rent,’ he says.

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘How very interesting,’ she says flatly, turning away from the window. ‘My son, I have run out of indigestion tablets. Could you go downstairs and ask the receptionist to get me some?’

  ‘Er, why don’t I ask on the way to dinner?’ he suggests.

  ‘No, I think I should like them to get some for me now,’ she replies with an air of finality.

  He glances at me apprehensively and then gives a little nod, before leaving the two of us alone. Her icy gaze falls on me.

  ‘Perhaps we would be more comfortable through here.’

  I follow her nervously to a small, but stylish living-room area. She indicates the sofa for me, before settling herself in a chair.

  ‘You have been seeing my son for some time,’ she says.

  I nod carefully. ‘Almost a year.’

  ‘You know of his situation?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re referring—’

  ‘He was to be engaged to Rosalinde Pfeifer by the end of the year.’

  I jolt at the sound of her name. ‘I knew he was set to marry her at some point. By definition, I thought that meant they were already engaged.’ I try to keep my cool, but my heart is hammering inside my chest.

  ‘No announcement had been made. It was not official. Not yet.’

  I don’t know what she expects me to say. Eventually she continues.

  ‘Lukas is not my husband’s heir. He will not inherit the house. That right falls to my eldest son and, his son after him.’ Markus and Maximilian, I presume.

  ‘I’m not after him for his money, if that’s what you mean.’ I find my courage. ‘I just really like him.’ Her eyes narrow. ‘Love him,’ I correct myself.

  ‘Then surely you want what’s best for him?’

  ‘Of course.’ I shrug, feigning nonchalance. ‘But he’s amazingly bright, you know. I think he’s capable of choosing that for himself.’

  She regards me for a long moment. I don’t know how I manage it, but I don’t break eye contact, and neither does she. Finally she nods.

  ‘So be it.’

  So be what?

  I never get an answer to that question because Lukas returns.

  ‘Rosalinde has met someone else,’ he tells me later that night as he walks me back to Jessie’s.

  ‘Oh.’ I frown. ‘When did you discover this?’

  ‘When you went to the bathroom during dinner.’

  ‘And how do you feel about it?’

  ‘It’s for the best.’

  ‘Does your mother agree?’

  ‘What do you think?’ He gives me a sidelong glance. ‘She can’t force me to do anything.’

  ‘Did she try to convince you to leave me?’ I ask in a small voice.

  He nods abruptly. ‘Yes. She insisted I act quickly before it’s too late, but it’s already too late.’

  ‘You mean, Rosalinde wouldn’t take you back now?’ I’m not sure I would in her position. She must feel humiliated.

  ‘No,’ he says, coming to a stop in the middle of the pavement and spinning around to face me. ‘It’s too late because I want you, Alice. They can’t make me give you up.’

  I don’t know why I think of Joe at that point, but I do. Lukas turns and keeps walking.

  ‘You are going to learn German, aren’t you?’ he asks tersely.

  ‘Yes.’ It’s the least I can do.

  ‘Argh!’

  I wake up with a jolt at the sound of Lukas exploding. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him. It’s the middle of a cold and frosty night in January and I’m in his room at Burrell’s Field.

  ‘I can’t sleep!’ He pounds the mattress. ‘My mother was right. This room is too small.’

  ‘You’ve managed in a room this size for over three years,’ I say reasonably. He once told me he enjoyed experiencing student life like any other student. But he’s been living it up at home for weeks. Maybe that’s the problem.

  ‘I’ve had enough. I can’t stand this bed. It’s ridiculous!’

  I sit up. ‘I’ll go back to Jessie’s, then.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he snaps, pulling me back down. ‘But I need to sleep. I have a lecture tomorrow and I won’t be able to concentrate.’

  ‘Why did you insist on me coming here tonight, then?’ I’m annoyed now. I met up with the literary society girls earlier at the pub to talk about a Dickens quiz we’re organising for next month. I declined Lukas’s offer to collect me, but he turned up, anyway. In his Porsche. He’s got to stop doing that.

  ‘I missed you,’ he laments.

  Christmas passed by without any hitches. I went home and Lukas returned to Germany, but this time he called me every couple of days so I didn’t lose my head like the last few times.

  ‘Well, I’ve also got a big year ahead of me, so I could do with a decent night’s kip too, you know.’

  ‘Do you have to write another essay on Harry Potter?’ he asks in a derogatory tone.

  ‘Children’s Literature still involves work, you know!’ I exclaim. ‘Bugger this, I’m off.’

  He grabs my arm. ‘Don’t go. I’m sorry.’ He caresses my face with his hands and gazes at me in the darkness.

  ‘I know you think my work pales in comparison to yours, and it probably does, but it still means a lot to me,’ I say earnestly. ‘I have to think about my career options and . . . God, I’m too tired for this.’

  My eyes are stinging and my body feels like it’s weighted down.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says again. ‘I’m sorry.’ H
e presses his lips to mine and I feel him twitch beneath me as his kiss deepens.

  ‘Not now,’ I groan.

  ‘It will help you relax . . .’ he murmurs, moving against me.

  It will help you relax, you mean. I push him away and hold him at arm’s length.

  ‘No, Lukas, I need to get some sleep.’

  He curses in German. I haven’t learned all the swear words yet, but I’m guessing this is one of them.

  ‘What is wrong with you tonight?’ I ask crossly. ‘First you drag me away from my meeting—’

  ‘Meeting about a pub quiz!’ he interjects.

  ‘So? It’s still an event and I’m helping to organise it so I don’t appreciate you turning up in that bloody Porsche again and embarrassing me!’

  ‘I’m sorry if you find my Porsche so embarrassing.’ He’s not sorry in the slightest.

  ‘It’s not the car, it’s you!’ I get out of bed and start to drag on my clothes. I’ve had enough of this. ‘You can’t control me; you can’t make me do what you want me to do. I’m my own person. I haven’t made many friends here and—’

  ‘Rosalinde is engaged.’

  His interruption is firm, but his tone is flat.

  I instantly stop what I’m doing. ‘What?’

  ‘Rosalinde is engaged.’ He stares up at the ceiling.

  ‘She’s engaged? Who to?’

  ‘Frederick Schulz.’ Before I can ask who that is, Lukas says: ‘He’s from a very good family.’

  ‘What is it with you and very good families?’

  ‘He’s far too old for her,’ he continues, ignoring me. ‘He’s thirty-three and he’s a banker. Extremely successful.’ He elongates these last two words, almost as though he’s drunk.

  ‘How do you know all this?’ I ask with confusion.

  ‘My mother told me.’

  ‘When? In Germany?’

  ‘No. On the phone tonight.’

  I should have guessed as much.

  ‘What does your mother expect you to do, run home and woo this girl back into your arms?’ I can’t help the bitterness of my tone.

  ‘No. She told me to spite me.’ He’s a competitor in the bitterness stakes.

  ‘Oh.’ I sit down on the bed, dejectedly. ‘Do you regret how things have turned out?’ I don’t want to ask the question, but I feel compelled to.

  He doesn’t answer for a moment, which is unlike him. ‘No,’ he says bluntly. ‘If she can do this, then it proves she isn’t the right woman for me.’

  As if proof were needed?

  He reaches over to take my hand and turns to look at me. ‘We should get a house.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We could move in together.’

  ‘Steady on, I’m only twenty.’

  ‘I could ask my parents—’

  ‘No!’ I interrupt.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Lukas, if your parents buy you a house—’

  ‘Not buy, rent,’ he says.

  ‘If your parents rent you a house I won’t live in it with you.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘Because it’s not right! Aside from the fact that I’m far too young to be moving in with my boyfriend . . .’

  ‘Don’t you love me?’ he asks sharply.

  ‘Yes! But that’s not the point!’

  ‘I can’t cope with this bedsit for much longer, Alice. I hardly get to see you – you’re always too busy with punting and this literary society.’

  ‘It’s you who’s always too busy with your studies!’ I say indignantly. When we see each other it’s always more on his terms than mine.

  ‘But if we lived together we could see each other every night . . .’ He tries to persuade me, but I’m resolute.

  ‘No.’ I let go of his hand. ‘I don’t want your parents’ help. There is no way I’ll move in with you if you ask them.’

  I probably should have been more specific.

  He turns up at Jessie’s a few weeks later with a brand-new, shiny silver bicycle. It’s a refreshingly bright and crisp February morning.

  ‘You bought a bike!’ I exclaim. ‘At long bloody last.’

  ‘Come for a ride with me,’ he urges with excitement. ‘I have a surprise for you.’

  I’m perplexed as he pushes past me to grab my coat and scarf from the hallstand. ‘Isn’t the bike a surprise enough?’

  ‘It doesn’t compare,’ he says with a grin, helping me into my coat.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ I think I might burst from the curiosity as we ride away from town.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he replies with amusement, turning right onto Conduit Head Road. I follow him along a gravel road until he comes to a stop outside a picturesque thatched cottage. ‘What do you think?’

  I give him a quizzical look. ‘About the house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s lovely, but . . .’

  ‘Welcome home, honey.’ He says it in a comical voice, but I have a feeling he’s not joking.

  ‘You didn’t?’ I gasp.

  He nods. ‘I did.’

  My face falls. ‘But I told you . . .’

  ‘I didn’t ask my parents for help,’ he says swiftly.

  ‘Then how . . .’

  ‘I sold my Porsche.’

  I stare at him, gobsmacked.

  ‘It’s too late if you don’t like it,’ he adds flippantly, climbing off his bike. ‘I’ve already paid up front for the rent. Come and see inside.’

  I’m too dumbfounded to comment. I follow him in a daze.

  It’s quaint and cosy, full of antiques and Cath Kidston-style furnishings. There’s a small garden behind the house and a sundrenched field beyond that.

  He leads me up the wooden staircase. The first room is small and poky, the second is slightly larger, but the third has a king-sized four-poster bed and a view out onto the field. The excitement builds inside my stomach. Is that wrong?

  ‘What do you think?’ he asks eagerly.

  ‘It’s . . . beautiful,’ I reply. ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t say anything else,’ he interrupts, kissing me quickly on the nose.

  ‘But Lukas!’ I exclaim.

  ‘What?’ he exclaims back.

  ‘I can’t live here with you!’

  ‘Why not?’ he asks. ‘You have to move out of Jessie’s house soon – his parents are returning.’

  ‘Not until Easter.’

  ‘That’s next month!’

  ‘They said I could continue to live there.’

  ‘In Emily’s tiny bedroom?’ He tries to reason with me. ‘We’d have even less room there than we have in mine.’

  I can’t disagree. Jessie’s parents are due back soon, and while they very kindly agreed to let Emily and me continue to live in their house, it means me moving into Emily’s single room, and Emily shacking up with Jessie in my double, so that he can surrender the master. Emily went with Jessie to see them at Christmas and they got on well, so the new arrangement will suit her; and it seems futile for me to find somewhere else to live for the sake of a few months until term finishes.

  Lukas senses me wavering, but I’m brought back to reality with a bump when I remember one very important point. ‘What would my parents say?’

  ‘You’re an adult,’ he reasons. ‘What you do is up to you.’

  ‘If I want to endure their wrath . . .’

  He sighs. ‘Look, I’m going to live here, anyway. Keep your room at Jessie’s and stay here with me whenever you wish. It doesn’t have to be a big issue.’

  I look out at the field and then back at the enormous bed. Lukas and I grin at each other.

  ‘Shall we christen it?’ I say.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  It’s not long before I’m living entirely with Lukas. I never thought that I’d move in with a boyfriend so speedily, but I can’t say that I don’t like it. Our relationship has been fast-tracked. Not just in terms of moving in together, but how we feel about each ot
her. I’ve got to know him so much more quickly than I would have done in a normal student-relationship set-up, and being with him is strangely easy. We spend most of our days apart, but make up for it in the evenings. It means I don’t see as much of my punting pals as I used to, and I haven’t helped out with the literary society as often as I would have liked, either, but they don’t feel like big sacrifices to make. Not usually, anyway.

  Jessie had a go at me yesterday because I had to cancel our movie night. Our cinema outings have become less and less regular, but I wish he were more forgiving. I would understand if his commitments with Emily stole him away from me.

  Anyway, I needed last night to prepare because Lizzy is coming to stay. Not just Lizzy. Harry and Matthew are coming too, but she’s the one I’m most excited about. She broke up with Callum last week and is pretty cut up about it, so it feels insensitive to say I’m excited, but I’m determined to cheer her up.

  I haven’t seen Matthew since the night of the ball back in June. Harry stayed on to do a Ph.D. and we catch up with him often, but Matthew returned home to Buckinghamshire and I believe he’s now working for a newspaper in London. I don’t like to ask about him.

  Having agreed to cook for everyone, I spent last night uncharacteristically burning mince and chopping up my fingers instead of the onions. Eventually I gave up and went out to buy a lasagne. I think I can manage a salad. I should have gone to the movies with Jessie, after all.

  Lizzy’s train is three and a half hours delayed, so she doesn’t arrive until four o’clock on Saturday afternoon. I hear her taxi pull up and go outside to greet her.

  ‘Hello!’ I call as she climbs out. I go to help her with her bags.

  She gazes up at the cottage. ‘This is a bit nice, isn’t it?’

  Inside, she heads straight to the living-room window. It’s late April and our garden is full of colour.

  ‘Wow! Look at that view!’ she says of the field.

  ‘It’s alright,’ I kid.

  ‘Where’s Lukas?’ she asks, spinning around.

  ‘He’s at the lab.’

  ‘On a Saturday?’

  ‘Oh, he’s there all the time. He’s revising for his exams at the moment, but he’s promised to take a break tonight. He should be back soon. How’s your mum?’ I ask on the walk upstairs to her room.