by Lynne Shelby
And I’d been writing to him for fifteen years, signing my letters, Ton amie, Anna.
Twenty
Beth stared wide-eyed at me across the restaurant table. ‘So what you’re saying is that nothing has happened between you and Alex – but you’ve realised that you like him in that way.’
Alex. Nothing had happened between us, but the feelings I’d had towards him in the garden of the Red Lion hadn’t gone away. Rushing past him in the mornings on the way to work, I was aware of a delicious fluttering in my stomach. The previous night, sitting next to him on the sofa reading, while he did some editing on his laptop, I’d caught myself watching his strong hands as they moved over the keyboard, and imagining how it would feel to have those hands moving over my body. I’d been quite unable to concentrate on my book.
‘I do like him,’ I said, ‘I like him a lot, but I can’t see anything coming of it.’
‘Why not, now that Nick’s out of the picture? Or is it too soon?’
‘No, it isn’t that.’
Only four days had passed since Nick had stormed out of my flat, but that had been quite long enough for me to pick up the reins of my life as a singleton. I hadn’t gone into Nova Graphics on Monday morning and announced in the weekly staff meeting that I’d broken up with my boyfriend, but I had told Izzy and a couple of other people, and word had spread. I’d already received an invitation from one of my co-workers to a supper party that I doubted I’d have been invited to if I’d still been half of a couple, (‘Do come, Anna, I know my brother would love to meet you.’). Outside of work, I’d phoned just a few close female friends to tell them that Nick and I were over, but I’d received enough calls and texts (Heard about u & Nick. Soz . Girls’ night out next week? xx) to know the gossip had reached beyond my inner circle. Polly, my old school-friend, at whose wedding Nick and I had met, called to let me know that she was determined to stay friends with both of us, and that she hoped that one day Nick and I would also be able to meet as friends. I said I hoped so too, while thinking it extremely improbable. It struck me after that call that Polly was the only one of the people I’d told of our break-up who would be likely to have any contact with my ex in the future.
From Nick, I’d heard nothing more. I’d looked up the cost of our proposed holiday on the internet and sent him a cheque for what I hoped was the right amount, along with a brief typed note, but it had been sent back by return, torn in half, with no note. I’d also sent him a parcel containing those few possessions of his he’d left at my flat (two white office shirts, a tie, a couple of classical music CDs, a rather good fountain pen). It was, I reflected, a very small package, considering the amount of time we’d been together, and indicative of how little his and my lives had become entwined. I’d had other failed relationships where the eradication of all traces of the guys from my flat had taken weeks, and the retrieval of my clothes and shoes from their homes had never achieved closure. I couldn’t think of anything I’d left at Nick’s place, apart from a toothbrush.
‘I don’t need more time to get used to being single. I’m ready to date again.’
Beth leant forward, her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her steepled fingers. ‘So what’s stopping you letting Alex know how you feel about him?’
Mon ami.
I said, ‘Alex has never given me the slightest hint that he wants to be anything other than my friend.’
‘You mean, if you came on strong to him, and he wasn’t interested … I guess it would make sharing a flat with him a little problematic.’
‘It could ruin our friendship.’
‘Well, if posing seductively on your kitchen workshop in your underwear is out, couldn’t you just flirt with him a bit? See if that sparks his interest.’
‘Define “flirt a bit”.’
‘Honestly, Anna, I know you’ve been in a long-term relationship, but you can’t have forgotten how to flirt. You were always so good at it. Admire the guy’s biceps, and ask him how often he goes to the gym. Toss your hair. Giggle when he tells a joke and tell him he’s so funny.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Because that would definitely appeal to a sophisticated twenty-eight-year-old Frenchman.’
‘OK, forget the flirting,’ Beth said. ‘Do you want more coffee?’
‘I’ll get it.’ The sandwich bar in which Beth and I had chosen to meet for lunch was one of those establishments that allowed its customers an indefinite number of caffeine refills. We’d decided it was going to become our regular lunchtime rendezvous.
When I got back to our table with two brimming cream-topped glasses of café latte, Beth was looking thoughtful.
‘What you need,’ she said, ‘is for someone else to tell Alex that you fancy him, and that he ought to ask you out on a date.’
‘For goodness’ sake – we’re not in high school.’
‘Seriously, why don’t I get Rob to drop a few hints the next time they play squash?’
‘Seriously, no,’ I said. ‘Alex’s friendship is important to me. I don’t want to risk losing it.’ I thought I’d lost it once, and I couldn’t bear it.
‘Alex could be feeling exactly the same way about you.’
‘I’ll hold that thought.’ I checked my watch. ‘Oh, no. I’m going to be late back at work.’
‘You go,’ Beth said, immediately. ‘I’ll get the bill.’
‘You’re a star – I’ll pay you back next week.’
‘That’s OK – but you have to call me if anything happens between you and Alex.’
If only.
Despite my high heels, I ran all the way back to Nova Graphics. How could I have let myself get so caught up in talking about Alex that I lost all track of time? I was getting as bad as Izzy.
Twenty-one
Vicky said, ‘I’m going to try my prom dress on again. Which bag is it in?’ With total disregard for the survival of their contents, she began rummaging amongst the numerous carrier bags on my living room floor.
‘Mind out, Vicky,’ I said, ‘My photo frames are in that one.’
‘Do you really need to put that dress on now?’ my mother said.
‘Here it is.’ Vicky flourished the fabulous dress that was the pièce de résistance of our mother-and-daughters shopping trip. A gorgeous shade of coral, it had thin straps that crossed over at the back, and was tightly fitted to the waist before flaring out over the hips to fall softly to the floor.
‘Aren’t you glad I talked you out of the yellow organza?’ I said.
‘I so am. What was I thinking?’ She started to pull her T-shirt over her head.
‘No, don’t strip off in here,’ I said. ‘Alex’ll be home soon. Go and get changed in my bedroom.’
‘Oh, yeah. You said he’d probably appear at some point. I forgot.’ Holding her dress reverently before her, Vicky fairly skipped out of the room.
‘I’m glad you talked her out of that yellow concoction,’ my mother said. ‘She never listens to anything I say about clothes. But who goes to their mother for fashion advice when they’re a teenager?’
‘I never did. Though maybe I should have. The leather dress I wore to Beth’s Sweet Sixteen party – I can’t believe you actually let me leave the house in that.’
‘Some arguments just aren’t worth having.’ My mother smiled at me fondly. ‘Vicky showed me the posters you had designed. Thank you for doing that. This prom means so much to her.’
‘Oh, that’s OK. My taste in clothes may be more refined these days, but I can still remember what it’s like to be eighteen and about to leave school.’
‘Well, it was very generous of your friends to give up their free time.’
The posters that Izzy and Alfie had created for Vicky’s prom were terrific, and I was very grateful, as I’d said to Izzy when she’d shown them to me. She’d told me that she hadn’t minded in the least. Spending time with Alfie outside office hours had been fun. He’d been very complimentary about her designs, and after they’d finished the artwo
rk, they’d gone for a curry. When I had a chance to thank Alfie, he’d told me that the pleasure was all his, and Izzy was coming over to his place the following weekend to work with him on the flyers and the tickets. I’d raised one questioning eyebrow, but he’d merely smiled and told me that he’d keep me updated.
‘Vicky’s prom may turn out to be one of best projects Alfie and Izzy ever work on,’ I said.
My mother gave me a puzzled look, but was distracted by Vicky making her entrance in her new-bought finery. She’d caught her hair up in a messy ponytail, with curls escaping around her face, and although she wasn’t wearing much make-up, she looked absolutely stunning.
‘Oh, Victoria,’ my mother said. ‘I like that dress even more now than I did in the shop.’
‘You look great, Vics,’ I said. ‘Really glamorous. No one would think you were a schoolgirl.’
Vicky beamed. ‘I’m going to put the shoes on as well.’
My mother and I were still admiring Vicky’s dress, the vertiginously high gold shoes (she was as tall as me, but had never shared my adolescent angst about her height) and the gold clutch that completed her outfit, when Alex walked in. I became aware of a familiar fluttering in my stomach.
‘I see you’ve had a successful shopping expedition,’ Alex said, his gaze taking in the carrier bags strewn all over the carpet.
‘We did,’ I said, adding, ‘Mum, you remember Alexandre?’
‘I do remember you, Alex, of course I do,’ my mother said, ‘but I have to say that I wouldn’t have recognised you. You’ve changed a great deal since you stayed with us.’
‘While you, madame,’ Alex said, ‘haven’t changed at all. I have many happy memories of the time I spent with Anna’s family. It’s very good to see you again.’
‘Oh, please call me Cheryl,’ my mother said, her smile broadening.
‘And this is Vicky,’ I said, ‘who is currently modelling the gown she’ll be wearing to her senior prom.’
‘Enchanté, mademoiselle.’Alex said. ‘I remember Anna’s sister as a very small girl – but now you are all grown up.’
‘Bonjour, Alexandre,’ Vicky said. ‘As I was only three the last time I met you, I’m afraid I don’t remember you at all, but I’ve heard a lot about you. Anna says that you’re a brilliant photographer. She talked about you all through lunch.’
As far as I recalled, while I may have mentioned Alex once or twice, it had been Vicky who had dominated our lunchtime conversation with endless wittering about the boy whose (apparently) sole ambition in life was to escort her to the prom. My mother had remarked that she hoped Vicky wasn’t distracting him from his schoolbooks.
‘Anna is very flattering about my work.’
Vicky glanced at me, and then she said, ‘Alex, do you think you might be able to take photos at my prom? Anna says you do fashion shoots, and portraits –’
‘Vicky!’ I said. ‘You can’t expect a photographer like Alex to take pictures of teenage couples at a school dance.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for one thing, you can’t afford him.’
‘We can’t pay anyone,’ Vicky said. ‘That’s the problem. We’ve completely used up our budget. A boy in my class who’s doing A-Level Photography has said he’ll step in if we can’t get anybody else to do it for free, but it would be so much better if we could find a real photographer.’
‘When is the prom?’ Alex said.
‘It’s the last Saturday in June. After all the exams are finished.’
‘I’ll still be in England then–’
‘So you’ll take the photos?’ Vicky said. ‘Please say you will.’
‘Alex, you really don’t have to,’ I said.
‘S’il vous plait, monsieur,’Vicky said.
‘How can I resist, if you ask me in French?’ Alex said. ‘D’accord. I will be your prom’s official photographer, mademoiselle.’
‘Thank you so much! The Committee are going to be ecstatic.’Vicky’s eyes were shining. ‘Merci très très beaucoup.’
‘Vicky, you are shameless,’ I said. ‘You shouldn’t have given into her, Alex, but thank you.’
‘Yes, it really is very good of you,’ my mother said.
‘It will be interesting for me to see how students in England celebrate their high school graduation,’ Alex said. ‘Vicky, I’ll talk to you again before the event. For now, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ve some photos I need to upload or I’m going to miss my deadline. I’ll see you later, Anna.’
‘Á bientôt,’Vicky said, as Alex left the room.
‘So that’s Alexandre Tourville,’ my mother said. ‘Didn’t he turn out well? Such a charming man.’
‘He’s gorgeous,’Vicky said. She put one hand on her heart, and fanned her face theatrically with the other. ‘If I’d had a hot guy like him for a penfriend, I’d be as good at French as you are, Anna.’
‘He is very good-looking,’ I said. ‘Not that I knew that before he came to England, so I can’t say that it was his square jaw and chiselled cheekbones that made me write all those letters to him.’
‘He’s a lot better-looking than Nick.’
‘Victoria!’ My mother gave Vicky a long, meaningful stare. ‘Remember what I said to you before we came out.’
‘You don’t mind talking about Nick, do you, Anna?’ Vicky said. ‘Mum said it might make you upset, but it was you that dumped him, so I don’t see why.’
‘I expect I can hear his name without being traumatised.’
‘I totally get why you got rid of Nick, now I’ve met Alex. Does he have a girlfriend?’
‘Alex? No, he doesn’t.’
‘You should so get with him.’
‘That’s enough, Victoria,’ my mother said. ‘If Anna wants your advice about whom she should date, I’m sure she’ll ask you for it. And you need to go and get out of that dress – your father will be here to pick us up in five minutes.’
‘Oh, but I’d like to show Dad my prom outfit.’
‘And I’m sure he’d love to see you in it, but there won’t be time. We’re off out to the cinema tonight, and we’re on a tight schedule – especially if you want us to drop you at your friend’s on the way.’
Vicky pouted, but went off to get changed. My mother started sorting the bags that contained out various purchases into separate piles.
‘How long is it that Alexandre has been staying here with you?’ she said.
‘Nearly two months,’ I said, ‘and before you ask, I didn’t break up with Nick because of Alex.’
‘Did I say that you did?’
‘Well, no.’
‘That would never have occurred to me, if you hadn’t mentioned it. Although now I’ve seen the man you’re sharing your flat with, I can’t help wondering – Oh, was that the doorbell? I expect it’s your dad.’
The arrival of my father put an end to my mother’s speculations. Determined not to miss the start of the film, for which he’d booked tickets, he paused only long enough to shake hands with Alex (who’d let him into the flat and introduced himself before I’d got there), offer his services as the bearer of shopping bags, and give me a hug, before shepherding his wife and younger daughter outside to the car.
‘Come and see us anytime, Alex,’ my mother called over her shoulder, as she preceded my father down the stairs. ‘Come with Anna next time she visits.’
‘Thank you, Cheryl,’ Alex called back. ‘I will.’
‘Ooh, yes, Anna,’ Vicky said, ‘you should definitely bring Alex with you – OK, Dad, I’m coming.’ She clattered after our parents.
When my family had gone, I said, ‘Professionally designed posters and flyers, and now a top French photographer. I reckon my sister has every chance of being voted Prom Queen. Thank you, Alex, I really appreciate it, and even if Vicky doesn’t realise quite how big a favour you’re doing her, I know she appreciates it too.’
Alex shrugged. ‘An evening taking photographs is never going to be a hardship for
me.’ His face creased into a smile. ‘Besides, I have every intention of making you my assistant for the night.’
‘Do I get to wear a prom dress?’
‘Only if I don’t have to wear a tux.’
‘Agreed.’
We smiled at each other.
Alex said. ‘Are you going out tonight?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I may have been single for a whole week, but I’ve not yet filled every date in my social diary.’
‘Come out with me? We could go to a club, if you like.’
‘I would like. But haven’t you already got plans? You’re not usually at a loose end on a Saturday evening.’
‘I’m on the guest list for several media events, but I’m not in the mood for networking. I’d much rather have a night out with you.’
‘Then I would very much like to go clubbing with you tonight.’
‘Bon,’ Alex hesitated, and then he said, ‘Anna … There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.’
‘Is there, Alex?’ We were standing very close together, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. I breathed in the tantalisingly familiar, masculine scent of his aftershave. He bent his head and looked at me through hooded eyes. The thought sprang into my head that he was about to lean in and kiss me. Suddenly, my pulse was racing.
‘Those photos I took of you in the studio …’
My voice scarcely above a whisper, I said, ‘The ones where I wasn’t wearing any clothes?’
‘Yes. I know that you were worried what Nick might think, but now that you’ve broken up with him, how would you feel about other people seeing them?’
Or maybe he isn’t going to kiss me. ‘Oh – I – I don’t know – I guess – I wouldn’t mind.’
‘Are you sure? Because I’d really like to show some of them to my agent. I want to reassure him that I’m not just doing commercial shoots while I’m in London.’
‘I’m fine with that.’ I looked at Alexandre, my childhood penfriend, who’d turned into this tall, strong, beautiful man now standing so close to me in my narrow hallway, talking about his work and his agent, and it shocked me how much I wanted him to kiss me. How much I wanted him.