“I’m already off the porch.”
“But you’re still on a lead.”
“Sometimes desire is out of our control and the lead is broken.”
“We shouldn’t let it get out of control. We should raise ourselves up to higher thoughts, not succumb to our primal instincts.”
He laughed affectionately. “Who are you kidding? You sound like a bad textbook.”
“I know what’s wrong, that’s all.”
“Don’t try to analyze it. I know you feel attracted to me, too.”
“I would never admit to it. I’m a married woman.” But she felt the blood rush to her cheeks to give her away.
“It doesn’t matter whether you admit it or not. I can sense it, like a dog. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop desiring you. It’s not just your beauty—there are many beautiful women in the world—it’s something else. Something unique to you that I won’t even try to limit to a word. I felt it the first moment I met you. It hit me hard and left me reeling. I know I should walk away, but I don’t want to.”
“Well, hello, Angelica.” It was Jenna, towering over the table in a blousy blue shirt with billowing sleeves, obviously the height of fashion. For Jack she took off her sunglasses, pushing them up into her hair.
“Leighton Jones,” he said, coolly extending his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Jenna replied, smiling coyly. “You’re from South Africa.”
“Johannesburg.”
“Beautiful city and such friendly people.”
“Thank you.”
“So, Angelica, how come you’re having lunch with such a handsome stranger?”
“He’s my publisher—aren’t I lucky!”
“You certainly are. You know, I’ve always wanted to write a book.”
“You should,” said Jack. “Everyone has a book in them.”
“Oh, I know I’d write a best seller. My life is full of incredible stories, and I’ve met the most amazing people.”
“An autobiography, then?”
“Un roman à clef,” she replied in a flawless French accent.
“Well, when you do, let me know?”
“Do you have a card?”
Angelica was astonished by her forwardness. Jenna held out an expectant hand.
“You write the book first,” said Jack with a smirk. “Then, once you’ve finished, get in touch. Everyone has good ideas; few manage to write them into anything resembling a book.”
Jenna wasn’t used to being rebuffed. She faltered a moment, then regained her composure. “Okay, I’ll do that. Well, it’s been nice meeting you. See you at the school gates, Angelica.” Jack watched her walk away, which was what she intended, because she walked deliberately, swinging her hips.
“She’s a good-looking Yarnie,” he said as she disappeared round the corner.
Angelica rolled her eyes. “If that’s what rocks your boat.”
He chuckled. “It doesn’t, as it happens. But I can appreciate good legs.”
“How far off the porch would she tempt you?”
“Little more than a sleepy glance.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Anyway, I’m already off the porch. Remember, I know my Yarnies from my Enrods, and you, my darling Sage, are an Enrod through and through.”
They remained at the table until after three o’clock. The restaurant was almost empty. Waiters bustled about clearing tables and laying up for dinner. Angelica reminded him that the children came out of school at half past. “Then I suppose I have to let you go,” he said, waving for the bill.
“Thank you for lunch.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
“I hope you have a good few days here.”
“They will be good if you let me see you again.”
“Jack . . . I don’t know . . .” The effects of the wine had worn off, and she remembered who she was. “I have a family.”
“I’m only asking for your friendship. I like you.”
“And I like you, too. But it’s not appropriate.”
“Look, I’ve put my cards on the table, but I’m man enough to have you on your terms. As you observed, I’m still tied to the porch. Let me have a bark; I’m not asking for more than that.”
She thought about it a moment. “All right, I’ll see you again. You can call me.”
He took her hand, and Angelica’s spirits soared as his smile shone a light into the neglected recesses of her soul.
He paid the bill and accompanied her out into the street. It was still sunny, but long, damp shadows fell across the tarmac to remind them that it was autumn.
“So,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward. “It’s farewell.”
“So long, Sage,” he replied, putting his hand in the small of her back and bending down to kiss her. For a moment she felt unsteady as he pressed his lips to her cheek, taking his time. The lime of his cologne was subdued by the natural spice in his skin, and she breathed it in dreamily.
“Back to the porch,” she said softly, pulling away.
She walked down the road towards her car, arms folded, head bowed, her thoughts still with him. She dared not turn around. When she reached her car, she unlocked the door and climbed in. Risking a look now that she was behind glass, she saw that he had gone. She remained a moment at the wheel, reflecting. If infidelity extended to thoughts, then she was guilty already.
10
It is only with darkness that one can appreciate light.
In Search of the Perfect Happiness
“So how did it go?” Candace was waiting for Angelica at the school gates. “Don’t do that!” she snapped at Ralph, whose nose was buried once again in the bottom of a far smaller dog. “Really, I can’t take him anywhere!”
Angelica was about to divulge the details when something snuffed out her intention, like a sudden pail of water thrown onto a bonfire. Her exuberance fizzled away beneath her friend’s formidable gaze. Candace was her confidante—she could normally tell her anything—but this foolhardy leap over the marital border line was beyond her comprehension and approval. As much as Angelica longed to share, she knew what Candace would think—and she couldn’t bear to incite her condemnation—or be persuaded to delete Jack’s number from her telephone.
“It was really nice,” she replied cagily.
“Nice?” Candace crinkled her nose. “Lunch with the vicar is nice!”
“Okay, it was fabulous. He’s everything I remembered him to be. He’s gorgeous, handsome, funny, clever, sensitive, witty, and thinks I’m delicious—which is almost the best thing about him . . .”
“But? I can hear a but . . .”
“He’s married, and so am I. It’s not going any further.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was a little embarrassed actually, sitting there as if I was about to embark on an affair.”
“Look, you had a great lunch. You had a flirt. You feel good about yourself. Now go home and wrap yourself around Olivier. I’m not Catholic, but a few Hail Marys won’t hurt.”
Angelica laughed. “At least he propelled me into getting into shape.”
“I thought it was Olivier’s comment about the belt.”
“I lied. It was Jack.”
“Well, you can thank him for that, and Olivier will never know.”
Angelica’s mobile telephone bleeped in her handbag with a message. She thought of Jack’s number hidden in there and felt a quiver of guilty excitement. Candace restrained Ralph, apologizing to another mother who picked up her terrier in disgust. Angelica delved into her handbag for the telephone while Candace summoned Kate, Letizia, and Scarlet with a wave. “Over here, girls!” she shouted into the throng of perfume and Prada. Angelica flushed as she read the text: Loved our lunch, Sage. Fancy taking this dog for a walk in the park tomorrow morning? X DOP
Candace looked at her quizzically. “Who’s that from?”
“Sunny. She wants me to pick something up on the wa
y home,” Angelica lied, clicking the telephone shut and replacing it in her bag. It shocked her that she was able to fib with such ease.
The three girls came over to join them. “Hi, dolls. I’m just telling Kate and Letizia about this lad from Yorkshire I’ve hired for half term to teach the children football and tennis. If any of yours want to join them, they’re most welcome,” said Scarlet, who thought nothing of wearing tight black hot pants with boots to pick up her children from school.
“A manny?” said Candace. “I’m loving the sound of that!”
“Sort of—he’ll keep them busy so I don’t have to.”
“Sounds perfect,” Kate interjected. “We were going to go to St. Lucia, but Pete now has to go to Moscow, and I don’t relish the idea of taking the children on my own, in my condition.”
“It’s an inspired idea, darling. How did you find him?” Letizia asked. “Might he be available for the Christmas holidays? Does he ski?”
“He’s the son of a friend of mine. A fine young man who’s nuts about Manchester United and sufficiently handsome that I won’t tire of looking at him. I don’t think he skis, Letizia, but I’ll find out.”
“Oh, will you, darling? I need someone to help over Christmas. Maria isn’t legal, so she can’t travel. Such a bore. A skiing manny would solve all my problems.”
“Pete and I are thinking about renewing our marriage vows,” said Kate, who knew just how to grab everyone’s attention.
“Don’t you think you should wait nine months?” Candace replied. “In case the baby looks like someone else.”
“It won’t,” Kate retorted swiftly. “It’s Pete’s, I just know it. Mothers know these things,” she added, as if she were the only one among them to have experienced motherhood.
“That’s so romantic,” Letizia sighed. “I love weddings.” “I thought it would be a good excuse for a beautiful new frock. Vera Wang sprang to mind, and I’d love all your children to be bridesmaids.”
“So the credit crunch hasn’t reached Thurloe Square,” said Candace.
“If we’re going to proclaim our love to each other, I want it to be monumental to reflect the size of our hearts.”
“So are we talking St. Paul’s?” said Candace.
“No, that place is jinxed. I thought something less royal and more glamorous. After all, our first wedding was in Cornwall—hardly the height of glamour.”
“So where’s this one going to be?”
“Mauritius!” She clapped her hands with excitement. “And I want all the children in floaty white dresses and breeches. Can you imagine how cute they’re all going to look? And me in my Vera Wang dress.”
“Sounds like an Estée Lauder advert,” hissed Candace to Angelica, who rejoined the conversation after having drifted off into the park with Jack.
“It’s just what we all need,” she said. “A holiday in the sun.”
“I thought June, just after the baby is born, then we return to London with suntans, ready for the summer.”
“Has Pete agreed?” Scarlet asked.
“He’ll do anything for me at the moment. He’s feeling very macho and protective.”
“It’s a great idea. Not often that a girl gets married for the second time to the same man,” said Angelica brightly.
“You know what I really, really want?” said Kate, biting her thumbnail. “You won’t laugh?”
“We wouldn’t dare!”
“To come up the aisle on a beautiful white horse.”
They stared at her in disbelief. Even Candace was silenced. Kate looked from one to the other, waiting for someone to say something. Letizia made to speak but faltered.
“You’re not serious,” said Candace at last.
“I’m very serious.”
Letizia recovered her enthusiasm. “I think it’s a fabulous idea. Only you could get away with it, darling.”
“And what? The kids come up behind in a cart?”
“No, they skip up in bare feet, scattering shells and flowers on the sand.”
“You’re joking,” said Scarlet.
“No, I’m not.” Kate looked hurt. “I thought it would be so romantic.”
Candace dropped her shoulders and smiled. “You know what, honey? I’m with you all the way. If that’s what you want, you go for it. It’s your dream. Just don’t put us in floaty white dresses with shells in our hair, please.”
“Well, I had hoped . . .” Kate began, then giggled. “What do you take me for? You think I’d give you all the opportunity to outshine me at my own wedding?”
Isabel and Joe rushed out of the big doors, throwing themselves at their mother. Angelica wrapped her arms around both of them at once. “Good day at school?” she asked, as they competed to tell her about their day.
“You forgot my gym bag!” Isabel accused.
“Did I?”
“Silly Mummy. I had to sit out and read a book!”
“I’m so sorry, darling. But if I had the choice, I’d much prefer a book than the gym!”
She waved to the girls, then made her way up the street laden with the children’s book bags and backpacks. They ran on ahead, hanging on lampposts and skipping over the lines in the pavement. Angelica strolled behind in a daze, reliving lunch with Jack and deliberating how to respond to his text.
She would love to go for a walk in the park, but the chances of bumping into someone she knew were high. She had got away with lunch, in spite of having been accosted by Jenna; she didn’t dare risk it again. Her mind ached as she tried to devise ways of unpicking the Gordian knot: how to engineer a meeting without risking her marriage and reputation? How to see him without leading him on? How to enjoy the flirt while maintaining her distance? How to restrain herself? She couldn’t deny that she was very attracted to him and was reminded of her teenage years and the crushes she had suffered at school. This was different; it was reciprocated. The feeling of being desired was intoxicating. She wanted to feel like that again. She couldn’t fool herself; she was sliding down the slippery slope into adultery, and she knew it.
By the time she reached the house she was no nearer a solution. Sunny opened the door, and the children tumbled in, running into the kitchen to help themselves to the biscuit tin. The smell of fish fingers wafted out into the autumn air, and Angelica was reminded of where she belonged. She closed the door behind her and felt a sense of security within the four walls of her home. Her mobile burned in her handbag, but she ignored it, setting the dining room table for homework by way of a distraction.
Finally, bath time was over, and the children were in her bed watching an old DVD of Robin Hood. She stood alone in her bathroom in her pretty lingerie. The lights were dimmed, music playing softly, Dyptique candles burning. In the sensual atmosphere of her sanctuary, she decided that she would simply respond that she would love to see him again before he left for South Africa. What was the harm? He’d be gone in a week—this might be her last opportunity to see him, ever.
So she leaned against the sink and wrote a text: Dear DOP, Park sounds good, weather permitting. X S
She climbed into the bath, reluctant to get changed and go out. Olivier was going to meet her for drinks at Sotheby’s, then they were joining friends at Harry’s Bar for dinner. Another late night she didn’t need. She’d have much preferred to stay at home, watching an old episode of Frasier.
Now that she was slimmer she could get into a favorite silver Ralph Lauren skirt and pale gray top. She admired her reflection, scrunching her hair between her fingers. She wished Jack could see her now, all dressed up, looking her best. What would she wear to the park? She couldn’t ask Candace. A stab of guilt weakened her resolve for a moment. She hated to keep anything from her friend, but she didn’t want anything to spoil her fun, not least her conscience.
She kissed the children, stroking their hair and soft faces. Engrossed in Robin Hood, they barely noticed her. “Be good for Sunny,” she said, slipping on silver stilettos. “Hey, how do I look?”
“As cool as Zeus’s mum?”
He grinned. “Cooler.”
“What good taste you have, sweetheart.”
She waved at them. Joe turned his attention back to the television. Sunny was coming up the stairs to put them to bed. Angelica yearned for her own bed but picked up her clutch bag and left the room with a determined stride.
She sat in the taxi staring at her mobile telephone, willing Jack to send her another message. When it bleeped, her heart leapt with excitement, only to be disappointed when she read that it was from Olivier: he wasn’t going to make Sotheby’s but would meet her at Harry’s Bar instead. She wasn’t surprised and found that she didn’t care, either. As the taxi turned into Bond Street she retrieved Jack’s message and read it again.
Sotheby’s turned out to be more fun than she had expected. William and Scarlet were there—Scarlet in the tightest pair of black leather trousers and transparent Chanel blouse—and a whole host of other friends. Everyone she talked to complimented her on her appearance, asking whether she had been away, or what she had had done, and she felt light-headed with all the attention.
At half-past eight she took a taxi to Harry’s Bar. The club was already full of diners, sitting in the dim light at small round tables surrounded by paintings and mirrors and plants. Her friends were already there, but not Olivier. She weaved her way to the other end of the restaurant and greeted them all warmly.
“You look marvelous,” said Joel de Claire, Olivier’s oldest friend. “Why don’t you sit there between Antoine and Roberto,” he said, pointing at the empty chair at the far end of the table. “That way you can see into the club, and when Olivier arrives, you can scowl at him for being late.”
“Angelica doesn’t scowl!” protested Joel’s wife, Chantal, flicking her wavy chestnut hair off her shoulder.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Angelica quipped, edging around the back of the chairs. Antoine and Roberto stood up politely, and she kissed them both. They all sat down. Then Angelica felt her telephone vibrate with a message. While Antoine and Joel conversed across the table, Angelica sneaked a look at her text. To her astonishment it was from Jack: Raise your beautiful eyes and look to ten o’clock. A ripple of excitement washed over her. Suppressing a smile, she glanced through the gap beside Chantal, where Olivier was to sit. There, with his back against the wall, sat Jack, in an open-necked white shirt and jacket, his rugged face dark and handsome, his unruly hair swept off his face so that the blond streaks in it caught the light and glistened as if he had just returned from a day at sea. She was thankful for the dim light as her cheeks burned with pleasure. She turned her attention to the elderly couple at his table, a distinguished-looking pair, diligently reading the menu, and wondered who they were. When she looked back at Jack, he was grinning.
The Perfect Happiness Page 11