Staverton

by Caidan Trubel

  “Oh, Lucy, no. Don’t leave it like this. You’ve been Caroline’s friend for too long. We’ll work it out.”

  Angela left the room, and I shook my head in disbelief. I sat on the bed humiliated and furious. This was how Caroline got her way. She manipulated people.

  Michael couldn’t have been that interested in me in the first place if he happily dismissed our “summer romance,” as Angela called it. Some chance of that. He hadn’t even kissed me, and now it was over before it had begun.

  Chapter 20

  I went back to my own room and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t understand why Caroline hated the idea of me becoming involved with her brother.

  I stayed in the same position as the light outside faded. It was almost dark when I heard a soft knock at the door. It was Caroline. Her eyes were red and puffy.

  “I’m sorry,” Caroline said. “I thought you might have gone home.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No. I’d hate it. I don’t know why I was so mean to you, but I had such an awful day, and you came back all happy and smug after spending the day with Michael, and... I got so angry.”

  “I don’t see why,” I said. “Nothing happened between us.”

  Caroline sat on the bed next to me. “I invited you here because you’re my friend, not so you could get it on with my brother.”

  “And I came here because you’re my friend. I’m not using you to get close to Michael. You know that, don’t you?”

  I watched Caroline bite her nails, her forehead creased in concentration.

  “Don’t be angry with me anymore, Lucy. I have to play piano tonight, for my parents and their dinner guests. I have to pick something nice to wear. I can’t show them up, can I?” Caroline gave a twisted smile.

  Caroline was really nervous. I took a deep breath and felt my anger ebb away.

  “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we both get dressed up for tonight? Do our hair, makeup, wear something girly: the works.” I clasped Caroline’s hand and pulled her off the bed. “It’ll be fun. You must have something in your wardrobe.”

  I pulled Caroline down the hallway, into Caroline’s bedroom and looked down at the piles of clothes. “There has to be something. What about this?” I picked up a black silk dress with small roses embroidered on it.

  Caroline pulled a face.

  “This one?” I picked up a royal-blue body-con. “Hmm perhaps not appropriate for a family evening.” I grinned up at Caroline. “Pink?” My hands closed around a dusty-pink dress with a sweetheart neckline.

  Caroline moved forward and examined the dress. “It’s beautiful, but I shouldn’t have bought it. Pink is not my colour. Why don’t you wear it?”

  “Really, you don’t mind?”

  Caroline held the dress up and draped it across me, turning me to face a gilt, full-length mirror in the corner of the room. “The colour suits you.”

  We spent the next hour getting ready, finally deciding on a midnight-blue floor length dress in a heavy jersey material for Caroline. It skimmed her hips and swung around her legs as she spun in front of the mirror.

  “You look stunning,” I said, and used a diamanté hair slide to pin back Caroline’s curls.

  Giggling and whispering, we headed downstairs. Angela stood at the foot of the stairs issuing instructions to Magdalena. As we descended, Angela looked up at us and put a hand to the base of her throat.

  “Oh, Caroline. You look gorgeous.” She took her daughter’s hand and kissed her cheek. “You too, Lucy. Now, come into the parlour. Most of the guests have arrived. It’s only a small gathering tonight. Perhaps you could play something for us now, sweetheart?”

  Angela led us into the parlour and announced with some pride that her daughter would play, and all the guests turned to study Caroline.

  Caroline pulled up the stool to the piano, fumbled with the music sheets and began to play. I heard Caroline practice frequently, but every time I was blown away. Something shifted in Caroline when she sat in front of a piano, her fingers melted into the keys, and she became lost in the music.

  Tonight, although note perfect, she seemed to be missing something. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the notes.

  After a minute or two, the conversations in the room started up again. Magdalena passed me with a silver tray of champagne flutes, and I winked at her and moved forward to take one.

  I sipped the champagne, enjoying the feeling of bubbles bursting on my tongue, and looked around the parlour. Gwen and Malcolm were here again. Gwen wore a thin, low cut black evening dress, and Malcolm wore a suit, but his jacket had been discarded, and sweat patches spread around his arm pits. They were talking to Jake and another man I hadn’t met before.

  Michael stood next to the buffet table talking to a petite brunette. I took a gulp of champagne as the woman laid a hand on Michael’s arm.

  I turned to walk away, and I almost walked into Lawrence. “Oh, sorry,” I said.

  He looked down at me, animosity rolling off him. Surely that couldn’t be my imagination. Lawrence opened his mouth to speak just as Jake called to him from across the room.

  Jake strode across the parlour and grinned at his father. “Sold it,” he said.

  “The necklace?”

  Jake nodded.

  Lawrence slapped him on the back. “Well done. That deserves a toast.”

  Lawrence called everyone’s attention by tapping the side of his glass. Caroline stopped playing, and Lawrence launched into a speech telling everyone how proud he was of Jake.

  I picked up another glass of champagne as Lawrence droned on. I couldn’t resist looking over at Michael, and felt a stab of anger at Lawrence when I saw the hurt in Michael’s eyes.

  I had the distinct impression this toast was less about praising Jake and more about Lawrence making sure everyone was aware of how his son’s achievements reflected on him.

  I felt a tug on my arm, and I turned, surprised. The man I had seen with Jake earlier stood at my elbow. “Christ, he’s going on a bit, isn’t he?”

  That made me giggle, and I tried to hide it behind my champagne glass.

  He grinned at me, showing dimples in his tanned face. His hair was fluffy, light-brown, highlighted by the sun. When he smiled, he looked like a naughty schoolboy. He gave an exaggerated yawn as Lawrence finally wound up his speech.

  “Thank God. I thought he’d never stop talking.”

  I smiled, but I wasn’t brave enough to agree with him out loud.

  “I’m Dean. I went to school with Jake,” he said and offered me his hand.

  I shook his hand, introduced myself, and only half listened as he chatted away. I was more interested in what was happening on the opposite side of the parlour. Michael was still deep in conversation with the petite brunette, their heads close as they talked.

  “Do you know who that is?” I asked, nodding towards Michael’s companion.

  Dean looked across and then gave a cheeky grin. “Mmm that’s Jake’s new assistant, works at his antiques shop. Lucky old Jake, eh?” He passed me a fresh glass of champagne.

  I took it, surprised to notice the glass I’d been holding was empty already. “So tell me, are you in antiques, too?”

  “God, no. I work in investments. I’m a banker.” He pulled a face. “But don’t hold it against me!”

  We were interrupted by Malcolm. “Ah, it’s good to see you looking so much better, my dear. You’re fully recovered now I hope?” Malcolm inserted himself between the two of us and turned his back on Dean.

  I noticed a flash of irritation pass over Dean’s face, but he took a step back.

  “I’m completely recovered. I hope I didn’t ruin your entire trip.”

  “Goodness, no. We all had a splendid day, only disappointed you weren’t able to share it. I know what sea sickness feels like, but I hope you don’t give up on sailing. You might turn out to be like me.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I used to get terribly sick
when I was young, but now I adore it. Perhaps you’ll venture out again one day?”

  “Perhaps,” I said, determined that I would never willingly step foot on a boat again. Malcolm had been so sweet, so I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “You never know.”

  “What a horrid little man,” Dean said after Malcolm wandered back to his wife.

  I frowned. “No, he isn’t. He’s actually very nice.”

  Dean raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

  I looked over to where Michael was sitting with his pretty little companion. “I think I’m going to sit down for a while.” I started to walk across the room, and Dean followed.

  “Hello,” I said, keeping my voice bright.

  Michael looked up and introduced the woman sitting next to him as Trixie.

  “Nice to meet you, Trixie,” I said and sat down next to Michael. Dean sat on my other side.

  Michael shifted slightly in his seat and continued his conversation with Trixie. He made no attempt to include Dean or me in the conversation.

  Stung, I laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “That’s a lovely jacket. Where did you get it?”

  Dean seemed amused, but answered, “Oh, I can’t remember. London, somewhere.”

  He leaned closer and ran his finger along the thin shoulder strap of my dress.

  “Now this is a gorgeous dress.”

  I smiled and leaned closer. I tried to remember the things I’d seen Gwen do, touching her hair, laughing at everything he said and sitting unnecessarily close to him. But Michael didn’t seem to notice at all.

  Dean passed me another glass of champagne and squeezed my knee. I looked down to see my dress had ridden mid-way up my thighs. I pulled it back down to cover my knees.

  Caroline was playing a tune I didn’t recognize, but it seemed so sad and mournful. I took another sip of champagne, closed my eyes and listened to the haunting notes. Dean carried on chatting away beside me, but I wasn’t listening.

  Malcolm wandered over to us again and offered me his hand. “I think our hostess would like us to dance. What do you say? Could you bear to dance with an old fogey like me? I promise not to step on your toes.”

  I stood up. “I’m not sure I can make the same promise.”

  Malcolm smiled indulgently at me and led me to the dance floor, then said, “You should be careful of that one.”

  “Who? Dean?” I said, looking at him over my shoulder.

  “Yes. He seems to be quite the ladies’ man.”

  I giggled. “I think you’re probably right.”

  “You should set your sights higher. On a good man who’ll treat you right,” Malcolm said, whirling me around. “Like that one.” He nodded at Michael.

  I looked back at Michael, tanned and handsome in his suit but still deep in conversation with Trixie. “I don’t think he’s interested in me.”

  The haunting melody ended, and we stopped dancing to applaud Caroline.

  “Thank you, Lucy. I think I’ll try to persuade my wife to dance with me now,” Malcolm said.

  Gwen stood next to Lawrence, swaying gently, even though the music had stopped.

  As Malcolm walked over to his wife, and Caroline started another song, I felt arms encircle my waist. “I think it’s my turn now,” Dean said, his breath hot on my neck.

  He pulled me round to face him and put one arm around my waist, drawing me toward him, much closer than Malcolm had done. He was a good dancer. I followed his lead, but tried to get a little more space between us, but he held me too firmly.

  I looked over and saw with some satisfaction that Michael wasn’t talking to Trixie anymore. He was looking at me.

  He didn’t look happy.

  I smiled and relaxed into Dean’s arms. Perhaps now Michael might pay me some attention.

  When the song came to an end, Caroline stood up to take a break. I joined her.

  “You were terrific,” I said.

  “Absolutely, splendid,” Malcolm said, nodding so hard his jowls bounced.

  “Thanks,” Caroline said and took a long sip of champagne, then groaned. “Oh, God. Dad’s getting ready to give another speech.”

  Lawrence got to his feet. A little unsteady, he raised his glass and tapped it with a small spoon he’d picked up from the buffet table.

  He cleared his throat and gave a small laugh. “Ladies and gentleman, please, raise a glass to my son, Jake.” He raised his own glass high in the air at a perilous angle, champagne spilled on the floor.

  Angela sighed.

  Jake nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, thanks again, Dad.”

  Lawrence looked around the room, beaming. “Michael. You don’t have a glass. Get a glass of champagne.”

  Michael stood in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall. He shot his father a dark look. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Lawrence frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a celebration. Come on boy, take a glass.”

  Silence, then one guest cleared his throat, another gave a nervous titter of a laugh. Michael and his father stared at each other. I looked from one to the other. Lawrence looked furious, his bushy eyebrows bunched together and his cheeks flushed.

  He took a step towards Michael, but Jake intervened. “Here, take this glass, Michael. It’s red wine, I know you don’t like champagne.” He smiled around at the guests in his easy, relaxed way.

  Michael took the red wine and raised the glass. I sensed the tension in the room melt away, but I could see from the set of Michael’s jaw he was still angry. His fingers clutched the glass so tightly, I expected it to shatter.

  Angela muttered a few words to Caroline, and Caroline’s shoulders slumped as she made her way back to the piano.

  I looked around the room for Michael. He had left the corner, and I caught a glimpse of him heading through the French doors, to the terrace and into the darkness.

  I started to follow, but Dean blocked my path. I tried to hide my exasperation. “Dean, I’m feeling a bit dizzy, would you mind getting me a glass of water?”

  Dean left my side, and I sat in a hard-backed chair by the buffet table. It probably wasn’t a good idea to follow Michael now anyway, he would need time by himself to cool off.

  Dean returned with two glasses of champagne.

  “Not more champagne.” I shook my head. “I need water.”

  “You can’t possibly drink water tonight. It’s a celebration. Maybe you need a little fresh air.”

  I pushed past him and headed to the kitchen. The last thing I needed was to go outside with that sleazebag. I poured myself a glass of water from the kitchen tap and sat down at the kitchen table to drink it. Magdalena was still serving drinks so I had the room to myself.

  I took a couple of mouthfuls of the cold water and leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting my chin in my hands. I shouldn’t have drunk so much champagne. Now, I felt miserable. With alcohol in my system, it was harder to suppress the memories, the thoughts of my parents. Maybe one day I’d think of them, tell stories to my own children and not want to lock myself away and cry, but now I blinked the tears back.

  Perhaps fresh air would be a good idea, but I decided to exit through the kitchen door, to the herb-garden, that way I wouldn’t be bothered by the other guests.

  The night air was soft and rich with the delicious scent of mint. I stood still for a moment, breathing it in. Then, as I took a deep breath, I caught another scent I recognized. Jasmine.

  It brought back memories of my father. In the summer, we would lie on our backs, on a blanket in the garden, looking up at the stars. He would point out constellations, or we would just lie there in silence, taking in the awe-inspiring night sky.

  It took me a minute or two to spot the Jasmine flowering around the tool shed. I wandered over, and with every step, the smell got stronger and so did the memory. I was tempted to lie on the grass and look up at the stars, but I had Caroline’s pink dress on and didn’t want to ruin it.

  Instead, I sat on the stone bench and leane
d right back, breathing in the lush, sweet scent of jasmine and gazing up at the sky. I thought about my parents and wondered if they’d be proud of me for getting a place at university. I felt a tear roll down my cheek but didn’t wipe it away.

  My head shot up when I heard a noise. A rustling, then a snap.

  Dean walked around the side of the house.

  “There you are. I wondered where you got to. You haven’t been hiding from me, have you?” He gave a stupid little giggle and stumbled up to the bench.

  I didn’t answer. I wiped my damp cheeks with the back of my hand.

  “If I didn’t know better,” he said. “I might think you were avoiding me.”

  I wanted to get up and go back inside, but I knew my eyes would be red and puffy from crying. At least out here, I could hide my face.

  “I wanted to get some fresh air,” I said.

  He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his trouser pocket and sat down next to me on the bench.

  “Don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” he asked and thumbed the flint on the lighter without waiting for my answer.

  The flame caught, and the yellow light flickered across his face.

  I shifted on the cold stone bench, to keep some distance between us.

  “Have you known Jake for long?” I asked.

  It was so dark I couldn’t see his features clearly, just the glowing end of his cigarette, but I sensed he smiled.

  “Interested in Jake, are you? Got a little crush on him?” He laughed.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Well you won’t get very far with Jake, sweetheart. Me, on the other hand...”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and ran his fingers down the length of my arm.

  I snatched my arm away and stood up. “I’m going back inside.”

  “Hey, why the rush?” He caught my hand gently and kissed my palm.

  I shuddered and tried to pull my hand away, but he tightened his grip. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

  “Get off.”

  “Now, don’t suddenly start playing hard to get. You’ve been rubbing yourself up against me all night like a bitch on heat,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

  I tried harder to pull away, but he held my arm, twisted it behind me. He was drunk but still stronger than me.