‘And Daddy always had to be on call for the hospital. There was no question of us ever being more than a few hours’ drive away from his work. In those days he didn’t spend his time making insecure women feel better about themselves by smoothing out a few wrinkles or blemishes, his skills were employed on correcting serious facial disfigurements.’ My mother shakes her head. ‘I don’t think cellulite had even been invented when I was your age. If it had, we certainly didn’t worry about it. Sometimes, it seems as if our whole society has become so much more shallow.’
‘So you think I’m wasting money on therapy?’
‘Of course I do,’ my mother sighs. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. Or with Leo, for that matter. You’re both human and, therefore, you’re both fundamentally flawed. But it’s nothing more sinister than that. You’re just ordinary people trying to make the best of life. And you can either get on and do it together, riding the knocks and the bad times, or you can try to find someone else that you can rub along with instead.’
‘I might not have any choice.’
‘He’s still with this other woman?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘And it’s all going swimmingly, by all accounts.’
‘Don’t give up hope just yet, dear,’ my mother advises. ‘Sometimes it’s all we’ve got.’
Catherine brushes down her skirt and stands up, taking me by the hand. ‘Unless you can kiss like that, you will never know true intimacy,’ she warns. ‘Paulo and Francesca were prepared to die for their love.’
‘They did,’ I say. ‘Her husband killed them both.’
‘A crime of passion.’ As my mother stares at the statue, her eyes fill with emotion. ‘Another very French concept.’
‘Come on,’ I say, linking my arm through hers. ‘It’s time we had some lunch. All this passion is very exhausting on an empty stomach.’
We take one last long look at the statue.
‘Paulo has very inadequate genitals,’ my mother murmurs. ‘That’s the only disappointment.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
Grant and Leo were sitting with their backs turned to each other and they were both sulking. Grant because Isobel wouldn’t help him to snare Emma and Leo because he didn’t think that Grant should even want to.
‘You said she could do anything,’ Grant said over his shoulder.
‘She can’t do this,’ Leo snapped. ‘I did try.’
‘Perhaps not hard enough.’
‘Perhaps you should find someone who isn’t my ex-girlfriend.’
‘You’re an arsehole, Leo.’
‘And you’re a . . .’ What was Grant? He was a mate, really. Leo didn’t suppose that Grant could help falling for Emma – she was fabulous. Anyone in their right mind would be mad for her. Just as he was. Leo stopped and scratched his head. He wondered if he had ever told her that enough. No, he suspected not. ‘You’re a . . . You’re a . . .’ But hard as he tried, an insult wouldn’t come.
Grant was Leo’s friend and he didn’t want to fall out with him. Leo hated arguing with people. Really he just wanted a quiet life. Which seemed nigh on impossible these days. Leo had always been useless at fighting, even in the playground. He’d never, ever hit anyone – he simply couldn’t work himself up to get that angry. But Grant could go out with anyone. Anyone other than Emma. He was a great-looking bloke and, as such, should be perfectly capable of finding someone else. He’d got money, a flash car, all his own teeth and hair. He knew the lyrics to every Queen song ever written. He knew that Bruce Springsteen was The Boss. Despite all of these qualities, he wasn’t right for Emma. They might well make a great couple – that thought made Leo go cold – but he didn’t want Grant knowing the things he knew about Emma – unless he told him, of course. Leo didn’t want his friend kissing her the way he did. And Leo certainly didn’t want him doing anything more than that. How could Grant even consider it? ‘You’re a sad muppet,’ Leo settled on.
‘I hope you’re both very happy,’ Lard snapped. ‘I’m having to comfort eat because of you two.’ He stuffed a Mars Bar into his mouth, chomping it with indignant bites.
Leo had a suspicion that, in the privacy of his own home, Lard contented himself with plastic replicas of women, and there were some days – increasingly frequent – that he couldn’t say he blamed him. If Saucy Suzy started to give you too much grief then you just let her go down on you. Leo didn’t mean that. He meant you could simply deflate her.
Leo got up and walked out. He hated confrontation and ‘atmospheres’ and there was definitely an ‘atmosphere’ in the office today. Which was a shame because normally they all rubbed along so well. Grant and Lard were like brothers to him, partners in crime, The Three Musketeers – all for one and one for all, et cetera. Leo didn’t like to think that there were cracks forming in their cosy threesome. Perhaps Isobel could wave her wand over them and make them all good friends once more. Speaking of which, Leo wandered through to her office knowing that her soothing voice would ease his troubled mind. Plus she might wave her wand over Old Baldy too and they could clear off early for lunch.
However, in Old Baldy’s office, Isobel was nowhere in sight.
Mr Baldwin nodded at him. ‘Nice mover, Leo.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. Leo would never, ever live down his Saturday Night Fever performance at the office party. He could just see that he was going to be asked to do it year in, year out. ‘Where’s Isobel?’
‘Suffering from the company hangover, I think,’ Old Baldy told him. ‘Poor girl looked dreadful. She got steadily worse throughout the morning. Perhaps she ate something that didn’t agree with her too.’ He really did look quite concerned about her, which was not good as Old Baldy was normally concerned about nothing but departmental targets. ‘I thought it was best for her to lie down, so I sent her home for the day.’
‘Home?’ And she didn’t come to tell him?
‘Some time ago,’ his boss confirmed.
‘Cheers,’ Leo said, swinging out of the office.
He rushed back to his desk, logged off his computer – sod the foreign markets for today, it was only money – grabbed his jacket and dashed out.
‘Leo!’ He heard Lard shouting after him, but he didn’t stop. ‘Leo!’
Leo had to get home to Isobel. Nothing else mattered.
His palms were sweating as he pressed the button for the lift and it seemed like an interminable amount of time before it arrived. Leo even considered the stair option again, but dismissed that as too ridiculous. Instead he waited impatiently for the lift and then marked the time it took to travel to the ground floor. Isobel shouldn’t be ill – she was a fairy. Like Captain Scarlet, shouldn’t she be indestructible?
Leo hailed a cab and jumped in. The traffic everywhere was at a complete standstill. And the journey home was the longest Leo had ever had in his life.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Eventually the cab pulled up outside Leo’s flat – it would have been a darn sight quicker to walk – and he paid the driver and dived across the road, heedless of the traffic. It was at times like these when he could join the Green Party and vote for stopping everyone from having cars – everyone except taxi drivers and himself, of course.
Oh my word. The breath caught in Leo’s throat and his step faltered. All the magnificent purple trees outside the flat had drooped. Their beautiful leaves hung limply and the ground beneath them was covered with fallen leaves even though it was nowhere near autumn. And, even though Leo knew it in his gut, he hoped against hope that this wasn’t anything to do with Isobel.
He sprinted up the stairs and rushed into the flat, breathless. Must take up jogging. Again.
Isobel was in the lounge. She was lying on the sofa looking terribly pale and wan. Crikey – Leo could almost see the cushions through her.
‘Oh shit. Oh shit,’ he said in lieu of a greeting. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m weak, Leo.’ Isobel’s breathing was even heavier than his. It was high in her chest and didn�
�t seem anywhere near sufficient. She was gasping like a fish out of water. ‘Is this what human illness feels like?’
‘Is that what you think it is?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted and, for the first time, he saw what he thought might be fear in her eyes. Leo’s blood ran cold. He wanted her to be in control and naughty and not frightened. ‘Everyone at work was complaining about the after-effects of too much champagne. Do you think that’s what’s wrong with me?’
Leo chewed his lip nervously. ‘It might be.’
‘I have no idea why humans touch the stuff, if it is.’ Isobel coughed as if she’d suddenly contracted consumption and his heart lurched. ‘They were all complaining of tiredness and headaches – which is what I have. They seemed to bounce back to relative health after popping a few tablets and drinking a few cups of coffee. Is that right?’
‘It can help,’ Leo said, having been there many, many times before.
‘But I didn’t want to risk taking any,’ she continued. ‘I don’t know what they would do to my system. They seemed to think it was good to feel like that, but I’ve been getting weaker and weaker all day.’
Tears filled Isobel’s eyes and he pulled her to him. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘I got a cab home,’ Isobel said shakily. ‘And when I got out, all the trees . . .’ She choked back a sob.
‘Ssh.’ He held her close.
‘All the trees wilted, Leo.’ His beautiful fairy friend started to cry. ‘I feel as if I’m fading away.’ She took his hand. ‘I think my time here might be coming to an end.’
‘No,’ he put a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘What can I get you? Do you need a hot-water bottle? Aspirin? Brandy?’ Leo jumped up and rushed over to the stash of bottles he kept on his sideboard and poured a huge glass of brandy.
Isobel shook her head. ‘Not brandy.’
‘This is for me.’ He downed half of it quickly. ‘I’ll take you to the hospital.’
‘No. No. I can’t have anyone examine me. I’m not the same as you are. They’d know,’ she said sadly. ‘They’d know. And then what would happen to me?’
That didn’t bear thinking about. Look what they tried to do to ET. ‘What can I do? Just tell me.’
She merged into the pillow behind her. It looked as if she was slipping away from him. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Think,’ Leo said sharply. ‘Think, I’ll do anything. Anything. We can get married. I’ll have your babies. Just don’t leave me.’
She closed her eyes and he went back to holding her again.
‘Please don’t leave me.’ Leo had no idea who to pray to at times like this – he’d never before had a time like this – but he offered silent supplications to whoever out there in the universe might be listening. He didn’t want Isobel to go. He didn’t want her to leave him. What would he do?
When Leo was six years old his grandma gave him a red cape for his birthday. She’d hand-stitched it herself, even though her eyesight wasn’t what it might be and her fingers were misshapen with arthritis. He’d truly believed he was Superman in that cape and that he could go around the world, righting wrongs, ridding the place of evil, making the universe a better place. Leo wished he still had that cape now. My God, he needed a cape like that now.
After a moment Isobel opened her eyes and there was a slight spark there, faint but still there. ‘I need to be beneath an oak tree.’
‘An oak tree?’
Isobel nodded. She pulled him to her and spoke softly. ‘We don’t have much time.’
‘Right.’ Leo could feel a gulp travel down his throat. ‘What exactly does an oak tree look like?’
Chapter Fifty-Four
I sit at my desk in Art For Art’s Sake, chin resting on my hands, sniffing back tears. I have a box of tissues at my fingertips and am pulling them out one at a time. After blowing my nose, I drop each sodden tissue into the wastepaper bin. ‘He loves me.’
‘Emma,’ Caron begs. ‘Don’t do this.’
I pull out another tissue. ‘I’m desperate.’ I’ve spent the afternoon imagining being held in Leo’s arms, twined together like Francesca and Paulo. When I could have spent time cuddling with Leo, I hadn’t wanted to be bothered. Life really isn’t fair. I sniffle into the tissue again and then throw it away. ‘He loves me not.’
‘What did the psychiatrist say?’
‘She said I have an unhealthy attraction to bad boys.’
‘And how much did she charge you for that pearl of wisdom?’
‘Too much,’ I snort. Then, shame-faced I say, ‘A hundred and fifty quid.’
Caron nearly chokes on her coffee.
‘But then I did knock her out of bed at some ungodly hour,’ I admit.
‘A hundred and fifty quid for her to tell you something we both already know?’
‘She also said I need to move on.’
Caron nods sagely. ‘That’s very good advice.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘She just didn’t tell me how.’ Pulling another tissue from the box, I blow again. ‘He loves me.’ The tissue goes in the bin.
‘Oh, Em,’ Caron says. ‘Don’t torture yourself. Mark it down to bad luck and a bit of mismanagement. Learn from your mistakes. One day you’ll meet another man who’ll blow you away and you’ll forget Leo ever existed.’
‘Never!’
‘What about Grant? He seems to like you. Dating his best friend is a very good revenge policy.’
‘I couldn’t.’ I shake my head. ‘I’d have to socialise with Leo and I couldn’t stand that. He looks so damn happy these days.’ Now he hasn’t got me to nag him, I think bitterly. ‘Besides, Grant is Grant. He’s nice as a friend, but anything more . . .’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘He’s too close to home.’
‘You can’t mope around for ever.’
I pull the final tissue out of the box. My face crumples. I wave the tissue at my friend like a flag of surrender. ‘He loves me not.’
‘Oh, sweetie.’ Caron puts her arm round me and I start to cry.
The gallery door opens and an extraordinarily handsome man pops his head inside. ‘Is this a bad time?’ he says with a disarming smile.
I stop crying abruptly. ‘Absolutely not.’ I throw my tissue into the bin.
The man edges further into the gallery. Somehow, even though I’m sure I’ve never seen him before, he looks vaguely familiar. He’s tall with a dark mop of curly hair, a bit like the cute one from Lord of the Rings. And he has intelligent fingers – long, slender ones. He seems sophisticated, well-read and urbane. This looks like the sort of man who is a stranger to wearing road traffic cones on his head.
‘My friend here is having a terrible time with her relationship,’ I say, pointing at Caron. ‘I was sympathising.’
Caron stares at me open-mouthed.
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ I offer, sliding out from behind my desk.
The man grins at me. ‘Perhaps we could discuss that over dinner,’ he says.
I laugh in my best coquettish manner. Flirting, I find, is very good for a broken heart.
‘Corny,’ Caron mouths silently to me over his shoulder.
‘Smooth,’ I mouth back when he turns to admire the wire-mesh men.
‘Perhaps you could show me round the gallery for now,’ he says.
‘Absolutely.’ I start to lead him towards the other rooms of the gallery. ‘My name’s Emma.’
He shakes my hand. Letting it linger rather too long, I think. His touch is strong and warm. Of course. ‘Alec,’ he says.
‘Well, Alec, what sort of art are you interested in?’
‘I have a small private collection,’ he tells me. ‘I’m looking to add a few more pieces to it . . .’
As he rambles on, I turn back towards Caron with a self-satisfied smirk and mouth, ‘Leo? Leo who?’
Chapter Fifty-Five
Grant shifted uncomfortably on his chair. He hadn’t plann
ed to interrogate Emma’s friend as to the possibility of her having any sort of affection for him, but when he’d casually dropped into the gallery he was disappointed to learn that Emma had already left for the day. He should have phoned. That was the sensible thing to do. No. The sensible thing to do was stop chasing Leo’s ex-girlfriend.
‘I think Emma’s probably a lost cause as far as Leo is concerned,’ Caron said.
If Grant had realised that she’d just left with the rather suave-looking guy called Alec for the evening, he would have been even more disappointed. Caron, however, had made him a cup of coffee and they’d sat and chatted amid the naked torsos.
Caron smiled at him sympathetically. ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings.’
Grant shrugged. ‘I’d managed to work it out for myself,’ he admitted. ‘It’s interesting to have a second opinion though.’
‘We ought to hatch a plan to get them back together,’ Caron suggested, while wondering whether Emma’s impromptu date tonight would prove a suitable cure for her broken heart. ‘I hate to see my friend suffering like this.’
‘Leo is such a lucky bastard,’ Grant said. ‘Two women in love with him. What I wouldn’t give . . .’ He stopped suddenly, realising what he was about to say.
‘You seem like a great guy,’ Caron said, blushing. ‘Emma says you’re lovely.’
‘But not quite lovely enough.’
‘Not for Emma,’ Caron said sadly. ‘But there are plenty of other available women.’ She flushed a deeper shade of red and lowered her eyelashes. ‘I’d like to say that she’d get over him, eventually. But it may not be true. You could hang around waiting for her for years.’
It was a depressing thought and Grant wondered whether Emma was worth it – whether any woman was worth it. ‘It’s nothing more than a delayed schoolboy crush,’ Grant said. ‘I’ll get over it quick enough.’ And he hoped that was true. Caron was right. Emma and Leo were meant to be together. Isobel was all very well, but Leo had been acting very strangely since they’d been together. Even more strangely than normal.
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