by Lynne Shelby
‘I will. Merci.’
‘Maybe we could go out? I saw a sign outside the pub down the road advertising Sunday lunches. All these weeks I’ve been in London, I’ve still not had a traditional English roast.’
‘We should certainly rectify that.’
He kissed each side of my face. ‘Goodnight, Anna. Á demain.’
‘Bonne nuit. See you tomorrow.’
He went off to his room. I went into mine, and started getting ready for bed.
Nineteen
I slept late the following morning, and would have slept on even longer if it hadn’t been for the ringing of my mobile phone. By the time I’d picked it up off my nightstand, it had stopped ringing. I groaned when I saw that I had a missed call from Nick. Then my phone announced the arrival of a text:
I have to talk to you. Call me when you get this. N.
Knowing that I’d have to speak to him at some point, if only to find out how much I owed him for the holiday, I called his number, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I left a message to say that I was returning his call, and phoned Beth.
‘Anna,’ she said, ‘I was just thinking about you. How are things with Nick?’
‘We broke up.’ I wondered how many more times I was going to have to utter those words before every one of my acquaintance was aware that Anna Mitchel and Nicholas Cooper were no longer a couple. I described to Beth what had taken place between me and Nick the previous night, and how I’d come home and cried all over Alex.
She listened without interruption, and when I’d finished, she said, ‘I’m not surprised you were upset. You and Nick were together a long time. You’d have to be heartless not to feel bad for him after you’d turned down his proposal.’
‘That’s more or less what Alex said to me last night.’
Beth was silent for a moment, and then she said, ‘I have to ask … is there really nothing going on with you and Alex?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘there really isn’t.’
We chatted for a few more minutes, before Beth went off to do a jigsaw with Jonah, and I again tried to call Nick. Again, I got his voicemail, so I left him another message, before calling my parents’ landline.
‘Hi, Dad, it’s me,’ I said, when my father answered.
‘Hello, you,’ my father said. ‘I trust this fine spring morning finds my eldest daughter healthy, happy, and solvent.’
‘Yes, I’m fine. But the reason I’m calling is that I wanted to tell you – you and Mum – I’ve broken up with Nick.’
‘Oh, sweetheart –’
‘It’s OK, Dad. I’m OK. It was me who finished with him.’
‘I don’t need to invest in a horsewhip and hunt him down?’
‘No horsewhips,’ I said. ‘No pistols at dawn.’
I could hear my mother in the background, saying, ‘Is that Anna on the phone? Is she all right? What’s wrong?’
My father said, ‘Anna’s perfectly all right. All that’s happened is she’s given Nick his marching orders.’
‘They’ve split up? Then obviously she’s not all right. Give me the phone – Anna? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m still here, and I’m really fine, but I’m no longer dating Nick.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry to hear that, but if he wasn’t the right man for you, better you found out now rather than after you had a joint mortgage and a dog, like your cousin Maria.’
‘I didn’t know Maria had a dog.’
‘She doesn’t any more. That was rather my point. Of course, Maria’s boyfriend played away – Nick hasn’t been playing away, has he? He always seemed so reliable. What we used to call a good provider.’
‘Nick’s done nothing wrong. I wish him well, really I do. I just don’t want to be with him.’
‘Was he very upset?’
The image of Nick walking away from me on the bridge floated unbidden into my head.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘He will get over you, you know,’ my mother said, ‘however much he might not believe it at the moment.’
‘Yes. I know. But right now he’s hurting – and I’m sorry.’
My mother said. ‘I don’t like to think of you sitting there all alone in your flat feeling sorry for Nick. Would you like some company? Shall I ask your father to drive over and bring you back here for the day? He won’t mind.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I said, ‘but I’m not on my own. Alex is here. We’re going out for a pub lunch.’
‘The little French boy?’ my mother said. ‘Oh, yes, you said he was staying with you for a few weeks.’
‘He’s staying ’til July.’ Not that I’d describe him as little.
‘He was such a sweet, polite child. Although I do remember being amazed at the amount he ate …’
‘I could come over next weekend,’ I said. ‘I could bring my washing like I did when I was a student.’
‘Don’t push your luck,’ my mother said. ‘But it would be good to see you. I’ve said I’ll take Vicky to buy her prom dress next Saturday – why don’t come with us? We could make a day of it. It’s ages since we all went shopping.’
‘A mother-daughter day out does sound fun.’
‘That’s settled then.’
We arranged a time and place to meet up, and with many exhortations to take care of myself, my mother rang off, leaving me feeling very grateful that I had such supportive parents. That got me thinking about Nick’s relatives. His mother and father were still away on their cruise, but I could imagine the gloating expression on Mrs Cooper’s face when she arrived home to the news that I was no longer in a relationship with her son. She’d probably do a victory dance on her dining table. No doubt the rest of Nick’s family would now dislike me as much as she did. I was sorry about that, because I’d felt that Georgina and I were on the verge of becoming friends. Not that there was anything I could do about it. When a couple broke up, there was always fall-out.
My thoughts were interrupted by a rap on my door.
Alex said, ‘Anna? Are you up? Do you still want to go to the pub?’
I really should try and call Nick again before I go out. Then I thought, Nick is now my ex-boyfriend. I don’t have to fit my life around him any more. ‘I’ll be right with you.’
At lunchtime on a Sunday, the bar of the Red Lion was packed, so while Alex queued for drinks and ordered our lunch, I went and sat at one of the wooden tables in a sheltered corner of the marginally less crowded garden. He appeared sooner than I expected, carrying two glasses of red wine.
‘It’s so warm today,’ he said, shrugging off his leather jacket and rolling up his shirt-sleeves.
I raised my glass. ‘Santé.’
‘Cheers.’ Alex clinked his glass against mine.
I swallowed a mouthful of wine and looked up at the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face, hearing the murmur of conversation from the people at the other tables in the garden, and the occasion burst of laughter.
Alex reached into his jacket pocket and produced the smallest of his several cameras. ‘May I?’
‘Bien sûr.’
‘Tilt your face up again.’
I did as he asked, and heard a faint click and whir.
‘I try not to annoy my friends by recording their every move with my camera,’ he said, ‘but sometimes I cannot resist.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I said. ‘Can I take a photo of you on my phone?’
‘I guess that would only be fair, as I have so many photos of you now. How do you want me? Smiling or serious?’
‘Both.’ I held up my phone. Alex obliged with a broad smile. Then he drew his brows together in a frown and stared moodily into the distance.
‘You do brooding very well,’ I said.
‘Can I see?’
I passed him my mobile.
‘That’s not a bad composition,’ he said, ‘but there is a slight camera-shake. Try holding your breath when you take a photo; that’ll help you keep your hand steady.�
��
‘I’ll remember that. Now we need a selfie of both of us.’
Alex rolled his eyes, but handed me back my phone, and came round to my side of the table. I stretched out my arm and took a picture of us sitting next to each other. Looking at the result, I could only grimace.
‘No good?’ Alex said.
‘I seem to have missed our heads,’ I said, ‘but it’s a great shot of your shirt.’
‘Shall I have a try?’
‘Well, you are the professional.’
‘And my arms are longer than yours, which makes taking a selfie a little easier. I think we need to be sitting closer together –’
He shifted along the bench, put one arm around me, and held out his camera with the other. His face was very close to mine, and I felt his stubble brush my cheek. Suddenly, I was acutely conscious of his strong hand resting on my shoulder, and the press of his jean-clad thigh against my leg.
‘Years of training to be a photographer, and I’m taking selfies in a pub garden,’ he said. ‘Caroline would be horrified. There – it’s done.’ He removed his arm from my shoulder, and showed me the photos he’d taken. ‘Not quite up to my usual standard.’
The photos might have been snapshots rather than works of art, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with them.
‘Well, I like them,’ I said. ‘Maybe not as much as the ones you took of me in the studio, but I’m pleased to have a picture of us together.’
‘Moi aussi.’ Alex’s mouth lifted in a lazy half-smile. His dark hair, which he hadn’t had cut since he came to England, fell forward, and he shook it out of his eyes. I had an unexpected longing to run my fingers through his hair. Low in my stomach, I felt the sinuous uncoiling of desire.
I thought that if I kissed Alex right now, he would taste of wine and sunlight. Instantly, guilt swept through me, but then I realised that being aware of Alex’s attractions was nothing to feel guilty about. I no longer had a boyfriend. I was a single woman. And Alex was a single man.
My mobile rang, making me jump. I glanced at the screen, and saw that it was Nick.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Alex said.
‘No.’ I switched off my phone. ‘It was my ex-boyfriend. I’ll call him later.’
‘It’s OK with me if you want to call him now – Ah, here’s our food.’
The arrival of a waitress bearing two plates of roast beef with all the trimmings and two more glasses of red wine prevented any further discussion about Nick and whether I should call him. Alex returned to his seat opposite me, and set about devouring his lunch, pronouncing Yorkshire pudding covered in gravy to be much to his liking, and talking about the exotic dishes he’d eaten when working in Japan. I ate my meal, and listened to his travellers’ tales, and dared to imagine how it would feel to lean across the table and kiss him on the mouth. What with the sunlight, the laughter, and Alex’s dark eyes, I simply couldn’t help myself. After we’d eaten, we strolled back home arm in arm, Alex shortening his stride to mine, while I stole covert glances at his handsome profile. We’d reached my gate, when he came to an abrupt halt.
I said, ‘What’s the matter? Oh –’ My heart sank. Nick was standing at the top of the short flight of steps that led to the flats’ communal front door. Even as I watched, he rang my doorbell, and bent his ear to the intercom. When he didn’t get an answer, he craned his head backwards to look up at my windows.
Alex said, ‘Would you like me to make myself scarce? I can go back to the pub –’
‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s no reason for you to go anywhere.’
At the sound of our voices, Nick turned around. His gaze went from me to Alex and his mouth became a thin tight line.
‘Hello, Nick,’ Alex said.
Nick gave a curt nod of his head. ‘Alexandre.’
I said, ‘Why have you come here?’
‘I want to talk to you,’ Nick said. ‘As you’re avoiding my phone calls, I had no choice but to arrive at your flat unannounced.’
‘I haven’t been avoiding your calls,’ I said. ‘I left you messages.’
‘I’m not here to argue with you, Anna,’ Nick said. ‘Could we go inside?’
I said, ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Letting go of Alex’s arm, I climbed the front steps. Alex followed, and the three of us stood there in silence while I rummaged in my bag for my keys. After what seemed an interminable length of time, I unlocked the door, and we all trooped in and up the stairs. On the landing there was another excruciatingly awkward pause while I let us into my flat. Alex made a tactful withdrawal into his bedroom, leaving me alone with Nick.
He cleared his throat. ‘Are we going to talk here?’
‘Oh, no, sorry –’
Nick took a step towards my bedroom, but I leapt past him and flung open the door to the living room. I didn’t want to talk to him. I certainly didn’t want to talk to him in the room where just a week ago, we’d had sex. I reminded myself that however hideous this meeting was for me, it was probably a whole lot harder for him.
I heard myself say, ‘Have a seat. Would you like a coffee?’
‘No,’ Nick said, ‘but thank you.’
Why was he here? Surely it wasn’t just to pick up his CDs? ‘You want to talk to me …’
‘Yes, Anna, I do. Since yesterday – I’ve done a lot of thinking – I think we should start again.’
I gaped at him. I’d told him I didn’t love him. I’d refused his proposal of marriage. Why would he think there was a way back from that?
‘I see now that asking you to marry me was a mistake,’ Nick said. ‘For you, it was a complete surprise.’
‘Y-yes, it was. It was a huge shock.’
Nick nodded gravely. ‘As I suspected. You need more time to get used to the notion of marriage.’
‘No, I don’t –’
‘Anna – please – just listen to me.’
I subsided into silence.
‘What I think we should do,’ Nick said, ‘is carry on as we were. I won’t put any pressure on you, I won’t ask you again until I’m sure you’re ready, but I’m confident that you’ll soon see that at this stage of our lives, marriage makes perfect sense.’
‘I won’t –’
‘I know I messed up yesterday. Just give me a second chance, that’s all I’m asking.’
As gently as I could I said, ‘I’m not going to change my mind, Nick. I’d already decided to end our relationship before you proposed.’
Nick shook his head as if to deny my words. He stood up, and before I could protest, he took hold of my wrists, pulled me to my feet, and kissed me, his mouth open and wet on my firmly closed lips.
When he broke off and I was able to speak, my voice came out as a shriek. ‘Nick – Don’t –’ He immediately let me go. I stepped away from him, wiping my mouth with my hand, just as the living-room door crashed open to reveal Alex standing on the threshold.
‘Is everything all right in here?’ He frowned at Nick, who glared back. The tension between the two of them was palpable.
‘Oui,’ I said, quickly. ‘Tout va bien.’
‘Es-tu sûre?’
‘Oui.’
‘D’accord.’Alex said. In English, he added, ‘My apologies, Nicholas, for bursting in on your private conversation. It seems there has been a misunderstanding.’
Nick gave a bitter laugh.
Alex shot him a look, but all he said was, ‘Cri … call, if you need me, Anna.’ He left the room.
I said, ‘Nick, this conversation is going nowhere –’
‘Oh, I’m not staying,’ Nick said, ‘I came here today because I thought I could make you see sense, but I’m obviously wasting my time.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’
Nick’s eyes were unforgiving and hard as blue steel. ‘You would have had a good life with me, but you threw me over for your Frenchman.’
‘No – I –’ To my confusion, heat flooded my face. ‘Alex and I �
� we’re friends.’
‘I was so very wrong about you.’ Nick stalked across the living room and out into the hallway. The whole flat juddered as he slammed the front door.
I sank down onto the sofa. Whatever Nick thought, things had gone stale between me and him long before Alex came to London. I should never have let the relationship drag on as long as it did. Having ‘my Frenchman’ around had only helped me realise that.
A creaking floorboard made me look up. Alex stood in front of me, holding two large mugs.
‘Your talk with Nick did not go well, I think,’ he said, ‘but according to my English mother, “There are few of life’s tribulations that are not eased by a pot of tea”.’ He passed me one of the mugs, and sat down in an armchair.
‘Merci.’ Nick’s anger had left me shaken, but I managed a small smile. I slowly sipped the tea, and I did actually begin to feel much calmer and more like myself.
After a while, Alex said, ‘What did Nick do that made you shout at him?’
‘He’d got it into his head that he could bring me round to the idea of having his ring on my finger, and to prove it, he kissed me – and I over-reacted.’
‘His kissing technique is that bad?’
‘Don’t joke about Nick. I feel bad enough for him already.’
‘Pardonnez-moi. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No you shouldn’t, but you’re forgiven. And thank you for looking out for me. It’s good to know you’ve got my back.’
‘That is what friends do, ne c’est pas?’
‘You are a very good friend to me, Alex.’
‘I try to be. I’ll even fetch you another mug of tea.’ He picked up my now empty mug and went off to the kitchen.
I stared after him, this ridiculously good-looking, straight, single man who shared my home. Given the way I’d been feeling in the pub garden, I couldn’t help wondering what might have happened between me and him, if Nick hadn’t been waiting for us when we’d arrived back at my flat. Instead of being kissed by my ex-boyfriend, I might have found out what it was like to be kissed by Alexandre Tourville. Except that in all the time he’d been living with me in London, Alex had given me no sign that he thought of me as anything other than a friend.