by J Wells
Mum snorts into her glass and almost falls off her chair laughing. With his head buried in his hands, I don’t think Dad quite knows where to put himself.
Shaking my head, my eyes dart to Mum, urging her to stop, but her whole body’s quivering and she can barely hold herself up. I shoot a glance towards Adrianna, who’s stopped eating, her knife and fork on her plate. I wouldn’t say she looks angry, more hurt.
Suddenly, she’s removed her wig and it’s on the table, covering her plate. Reaching over, she takes Danielle’s hand and gets to her feet.
“I wanted to look nice for you tonight, Mum.” Her eyes look heavy as her eyebrows drop. “Three hours I sat at that damn college, letting the fashion students loose on my face and hair. You’re always moaning my hair’s too short and it was, too short for extensions, hence the wig.” She looks down. “You’re always telling me I should make an effort, buy myself some decent cosmetics, but when I make an effort all you can do is laugh in my face. But then…” Her voice breaks. “That’s all you’ve ever done.”
Mum’s face straightens and in a matter of seconds it seems she’s sobered up. She reaches across the table and asks Adrianna to sit back down.
“No, Mum.” She snatches her hand away. “You don’t need me, you’ve got Dad, Tash and Josh to enjoy your birthday meal with. Anyway, Danielle’s headache seems to be catching, so I think it’s best we call it a night.”
She’s pulling Danielle up by her arm and away from the table.
“God, Adrianna, get a grip, it was a joke.”
I pull Josh by the sleeve of his shirt.
Danielle scowls, sticking her thumb up.
“Nice one, Josh.”
Conversation around the table dried up, and only awkwardness remained. Not having eaten, Josh finished everyone’s starters. As for the mains, we’d lost our appetites and so didn’t bother. The entire time we sat in the restaurant Josh never slipped his arm round me and never reached for my hand. I don’t even remember a kiss or a peck on the cheek. He was totally engrossed in his new business venture, and listening to him speak it was as though I hardly knew him. I felt more like a client in a boardroom than his fiancée. He didn’t even look the same any more. Sitting next to me, he even held himself differently. My Josh went to America, and although it hurts to admit it, somebody else has come back in his place.
Dad paid the bill and we said our goodbyes. Mum stepped into the taxi and thanked Josh for the crystal vase… Since when did Josh start buying crystal vases?
On the way home we hardly spoke, and I just stared out of the window at the passing cars and street lights.
Larry was sitting by the kitchen door crying, so I let him out into the garden. When he eventually decided to make his way back in, I settled him down on the settee and locked up. The light was off in our bedroom, and Josh was already snoring when I slipped under the sheets besides him. Facing away from me, I opened my arms to wrap around him. I thought at any moment he would turn over, rip off my knickers and jump on top of me, but his back stayed towards me. I stroked his hair and closed my eyes.
“Welcome home, Josh,” I whispered.
Both arms hang around Josh’s neck, my fingers gripped tightly together.
“Just another half hour,” I plead, pulling him back under the covers.
“I’m afraid not, not today,” he mutters, plying my fingers apart.
I’m left lying alone as he lifts himself off his feather pillow. He turns his head, gazing down into my eyes.
“You’ll just have to be patient and wait till tomorrow.”
He gets up, resting his hand on my shoulder. My smile is literally swallowed up by his words and I cross my arms over my chest.
“You’ve just got back and we’ve hardly spoken … you haven’t even touched me.”
I get up. I’m not wearing a stitch in the hope that this might tempt him, but it doesn’t. I flounce down on the small white ottoman. There’s no change of expression on his face, and he doesn’t open his arms for me to run into like he used to.
I clear my throat. “Is this the future I’ve got to look forward to?”
“Sorry, Tash…”
My heart pounds in my chest on seeing his eyes looking me up and down.
“But duty calls, so to speak.”
Turning away, he grabs his towelling robe from the back of the door.
“I’ve got a meeting in about an hour.” He looks down at his bare chest. “I’m going to be late at this rate, so haven’t got time to sit around chatting. It’s not all bad; I should be back around lunchtime.”
“Great,” I huff, “coz I won’t be here.”
“Why?”
“A surprise … I’ve got to pick something up for our wedding … but I could always ring and rearrange.”
I’m sure Gabriel will understand.
“No, just do what you’ve got to do.”
“Okay,” my voice softens. “What say we make up for it later and I cook you your favourite meal? You can grab a bottle of red on your way home.”
I wink as I cross one leg over the other and place my hand on my hip in my sexy pose.
“An early night perhaps?”
But he doesn’t even blink or raise an eyebrow.
He bends down at the side of the bed, and my bra comes hurtling towards me.
“Here, thought you might be wanting this.”
“Yeah, ta,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh, I forgot to say I won’t be here tonight either.”
“For fuck’s sake, Josh.” I thrust the straps of my bra over my shoulders.
“No, give me a chance to explain. John, Dad’s right-hand man, is leaving the company next week. I’ve only met him a couple of times, but with Mum and Dad off to New York in the morning, Dad’s asked me to stand in for him, as he won’t have time to show his face.”
“Show his face where?”
“John’s leaving do.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m guessing it’s in Staffordshire, where Bev’s retirement party was held last August?”
He nods. “Dad’s hired caterers and opened the stately home for a few days.”
“Great.” I rub my hands together. “What time do you want me?” Thank God I had my little black dress dry-cleaned.
“It’s not that kind of do; it’s nothing like Bev’s, it’s more a sit-down meal and speeches. It’ll be really boring to be honest and I know it won’t be your bag. To tell you the truth, I’d get out of it if I could.”
“Well, if it means spending some time together … between speeches…” I gaze across the bedroom, catching his eye. “We could always sneak off and spend a while in our tree house.”
I feel my lips twitch as my mind wanders back. Every chance Josh and I had we’d make our way there, climbing up the small wooden ladder. The tree house was our own little secret. I smile to myself. And where we had our first time. We were both a couple of months past seventeen, and I remember the night vividly. The sky was verging on black, as clear as glass and devoid of stars. Even the hard settee with its threadbare throw couldn’t ruin the moment. We were both total novices, all fingers and thumbs, and we fumbled around giggling. He discovered all my intimate curves and the little places that made me feel good, and while his hands were exploring me, mine were exploring him. Exploring the dark line of hair that ran down from his navel, I remember my face reddening. I felt embarrassed, but I didn’t stop and my fingers continued down. He sat astride me, and using his teeth he ripped open the small condom packet he’d pinched earlier from his cousin Todd’s wallet. I blushed as I watched him slide it on. Feeling his arms around me, I lay back and closed my eyes. Our first time lasted seconds, but when he was inside me we were as one.
“God knows how many years it’s been hidden away in those gardens, but by the looks of it, it’s a bloody long time; it’s falling apart. Dad said for safety reasons it’s being taken down in the next couple of months.”
“No, Josh, it can’t be, it’s our
s! Isn’t there any way it can be restored?”
He shrugs. “Doubt it. Anyway, doesn’t really matter any more, we’re all grown up.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I blurt out.
He tilts his head, gazing at me.
“Have you forgotten our Friday nights at Mum and Dad’s, the films we watched under the covers… Our favourite, Peter Pan?”
He shakes his head. “Course not.”
“Well, Peter?”
He raises an eyebrow and grins. “For old times’ sake, I guess you’re wanting me to call you Wendy?”
I nod, breaking into a huge smile. “You know what, Josh? You and I will never truly leave Neverland. So hadn’t you better tell me what time you want me to be ready for you tonight? I’m sure the tree house will welcome us one more time.”
His eyes drop from mine. “No seriously, Tash, there’s just no point you coming.”
He must see my smile fade and my face drop.
“Look, I promise we’ll make a day of it tomorrow.”
I’m not given time to answer as he brushes past me. Without so much as a sideward glance he disappears into our en suite and closes the door. If I’m not mistaken I hear the bolt slide across.
“Bloody hell, wrong daughter.”
Dad’s head peeks up from behind a laurel bush he’s tending.
“Adrianna?”
He shakes his head. “She cancelled her sitting with Gabriel, and after the disaster last night she hasn’t been home.” He drops his secateurs on the grass and shrugs. “She’s stopping at Danielle’s for a few days.”
“Mum?”
He rolls his eyes. “They haven’t spoken; it’s not through lack of trying, though. Your mum’s been ringing her all morning, but she just keeps hanging up.”
Adrianna is clearly being her usual stubborn self, but after the way she was treated last night I can’t say I blame her. I jump back as Dad backhands a bee flying between us.
“Anyway, what brings you here?”
“Gabriel rang the other day; my portraits are ready so I’m just popping in to collect them.”
I step towards the conservatory.
“I thought you and Josh would be out somewhere nice, spending the day together.”
So did I. I look down at the floor.
“Don’t ask.”
He frowns as I look back up. “Everything okay?”
“Of course.” I nod, but I’m sure my face gives me away.
I tap on the door of the conservatory and stand for a couple of moments. There’s no sign of Gabriel, and turning back, I call to Dad.
“What should I do?”
“He’s definitely in there,” he replies.
“How do you know?”
“He had that cat of his out here on a lead half an hour ago.”
“On a lead?”
“Seriously! Anyway, he had a fag and we stood chatting. I haven’t seen him leave the house since, so he’s in there somewhere. Just go in, I’m sure he won’t mind.”
I lift the handle, open the conservatory door and peer inside. Hearing nothing, I call out his name. There’s no reply, so I stand in the doorway looking over my shoulder towards Dad.
“Go on,” he gestures.
I wipe my feet on the coconut matting. What if he’s in the toilet, or the shower? While I’m trying to decide what to do, the silence is broken by music. If I’m not mistaken, a piano is being played. I take tentative steps towards the dining room and realise the music’s coming from the door leading off. I push it ajar and gaze inside.
“Gabriel!” I call.
He’s sitting at an upright piano oblivious to me, oblivious to anything, his back towards me. My gaze follows his fingers as they run over the ivory keys. I presume this is the lounge, yet there are no easy chairs or a TV. He’s turned it into a makeshift gym, with weights, a rowing machine and a cross-trainer standing in the far corner.
I walk up behind him and place my hand on his shoulder. He jumps, I jump and his fingers slam down on the keys.
“Sorry, I…” I blurt out. “I did knock on the door, and shout.”
He moves over to the far left of the piano stool, tapping the seat for me to sit at his side. I take a couple of steps forward and slide next to him. I sit watching his fingers walk the keys.
“I didn’t know you could play, well, not like that.”
“I learnt as a kid … the piano was my granddad’s. I used to sit on the stool beside him, just like you’re sitting beside me now.”
I look down, feeling his hand resting over mine. He squeezes my fingers, catching them between his own, and then lifts my hand and places it on the keys.
“Go on then, play something.”
I frown. I remember attempting Chopsticks on the school piano, but that was years ago and a disaster. I think I did eventually master Three Blind Mice with one finger, but as I locate middle C, I realise I’ve even forgotten how to play that.
His shoulders rise and he’s laughing while I try to play him a masterpiece. He nudges my arm with his elbow.
“That was hideous; you can stop now.”
Feeling awkward, I snatch my hands back into my lap and look down between my legs at the foot pedals.
“You’re a man of many talents. Even though you can’t see too well, your paintings are awesome and your piano skills aren’t far behind.”
“I don’t need my eyes to play, most pianists don’t; I play by ear. I love music, it’s my way of relaxing. I think it’s right what they say about artistic people: they tend to be introvert.” He smiles. “Hey, why don’t you move a little closer?”
I budge up and we meet in the middle of the stool. I can feel him next to me, his thigh resting against mine, my shoulder against his arm. He fidgets and I swallow hard. Am I too close? The next moment his arm slips round my back and over my shoulder, and I’m closer than close. I gaze up and he gazes down. It’s strange; he’s significantly taller than I am, yet sitting here we fit together perfectly and I feel like the missing piece to his jigsaw.
His hands are on the move again, and his shoes brush over the pedals below. I don’t know the piece of music he’s playing, but it flows in such a way that he almost manages to make this beautiful instrument talk.
“So, Natasha, now you’re here as my guest and not to be painted, why not tell me a little about yourself, your family? For example, how did your parents meet?”
I roll my eyes; I’ve heard this story a million times over.
“Mum was pursuing a modelling career and Dad was the face behind the camera, her photographer. After they’d been going out together for a year, maybe a little longer, I think a wedding was on the cards, but it didn’t work out quite the way Mum pictured it.”
“Why?”
“Well, to cut a long story short, there was a little accident, and their big day ended up more what you’d call a shotgun wedding.”
He screws up his face, confused.
“Let’s just say Adrianna was born four months premature, 7lb 5oz; not a bad weight considering, eh?”
“So you’d say her wedding dress wasn’t whiter than white?” Gabriel pipes up.
“Yeah, that’s about the sum of it.” I chuckle as he plays another piece of music, with me swaying between his arms.
“Now you know a bit about me, what about your folks?”
“Not much to tell really.”
I watch the way he bites down on his bottom lip.
“Dad lost his sight, mum fucked off and fucked someone else, they got divorced, that’s the gist of it. ‘In sickness and health…’” He huffs. “Bollocks! Marriage is bullshit.”
“I used to think the same way; it’s just a piece of paper you sign that traps you.”
“Natasha, if I had a girl like you, I wouldn’t marry her.” He shakes his head. “I would love her with everything I am and show her a good time every single day. I wouldn’t need chains or a contract to keep her by my side, because if she had me…” He hesi
tates for a moment. “If she really had me, she would never want to leave.”
His head is tilted down towards me, but I can’t see his eyes, which are lost behind his dark glasses. I sense he’s waiting for me to say something.
“But that’s just me. Hang on, aren’t you getting married in a couple of weeks?” He raises his glasses. “Why?”
My heart warms at the thought of Josh, and then in an instant my stomach drops as I remember how cold he’s been lately.
“I wondered that myself for a long time, but time has a habit of changing things and I think in the last couple of years it’s changed me. I don’t give my feelings easily; it took two years to actually tell him I loved him and over eight years to accept his proposal. Here we are, ten years later.”
He sits back, taking his hands off the keys and his arm from around my shoulder.
“Is this Josh the only man you’ve known?”
My left eyebrow shoots up.
“Are the notches on my bedpost any of your business?”
“Guess not, but it doesn’t matter to me how many blokes you’ve been with. I’m just making conversation.”
“How many blokes I’ve been with?” I repeat. “If you’re really that interested in my love life, yes, I’ve only ever been with Josh.”
“In that case, how can you possibly know he’s the one?”
“Because I can’t imagine my life without him.”
I gaze up, finding it hard to place his expression. I feel things are getting a little too personal, so decide to move the conversation away from myself, Josh and weddings.
“Soo….” I strum my fingers against the side of the stool. “Tell me more about Mr Pooch. Why do you take her out on a lead?”
“Talking of Mr Pooch, I’d best go see where she’s got to. She usually sits next to my feet when I play. Oh, I almost forgot, your portraits, they’re in the dining room. When you open the door you’ll see them leaning against the wall to your left, covered in a sheet.” He grins. “I hope Josh likes them … I hope you like them.”
Then without warning he reaches up past my cheek and brushes loose strands of hair from my face.