But to her surprise, her agent put her arm around her and whispered, ‘It was perfect Vera! It was perfect!’
Vera smiled, held her hand under the table, and turned to look at her.
‘Thanks,’ she said with a massive sense of relief, and turned her head back to the departing crowd.
Most people were now ready to leave. Some were still sitting in their chairs, looking at her and Suzy. Others were turning the pages of their books. Someone in the back row waved at Vera. She raised her hand and waved back. Then the person got up and started walking towards her, and she suddenly realized that it wasn’t as she earlier presumed - a woman. The back of the bookshop was much darker than where she was sitting, but even in the absence of light, she knew that his face and body shape was familiar. As he kept walking towards her, smiling, it took just a couple more seconds for her to recognize him: it was Anthony.
CHAPTER 24
It was the evening before Bonfire Night, and a few early fireworks had exploded over Westminster Bridge as Vera and Anthony sat in the Japanese restaurant in the South Bank. As they were eating and chatting, Vera couldn’t help but discretely examine his handsome, slim face, the cute stubble, the prominent cheekbones and full lips, and small blonde curls that always seemed to fall across his forehead. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a loose-fitting workman-type checked shirt, and just like the other day in the coffee shop, he had his eyes focused on her for what seemed an eternity, and yet again was hanging on to her every word. His intense interest in her was flattering; she’d never experienced anything like that before, and even if she had - she certainly didn’t remember it.
Then he leaned forward with a smile and said, ‘I can’t believe that you wrote a bestseller after so many years of freelancing.’
The statement was true, yet it seemed odd coming from him; Vera had never told him that she used to freelance – both Suzy and her parents had told her that. Suzy wouldn’t have told Anthony, as she didn’t know him. Maybe he’d heard it from someone in the bookshop.
‘Actually, neither can I,’ she smiled. ‘It certainly feels odd to be praised and treated like a celebrity when you don’t even remember what you did to deserve it.’
‘So …’ He faltered for a moment. ‘What are the chances of you regaining your memory?’
As he asked the question, Vera looked at him with sadness etched across her face. Without any warning, a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. She hated herself for crying in front of him on their first proper date, and turned her face towards the window. Realizing she was upset, Anthony got up and took a step towards her, then knelt down next to her and gently touched her arm, pleading for her to look at him.
‘Vera, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please look at me.’
As she turned around he pulled her into a hug, and they sat like that, holding each other, for a few seconds. But suddenly Vera pulled away in embarrassment. She didn’t know what had come over her; she barely knew him.
‘I’m fine. I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Please sit down, and don’t worry about me.’
‘I don’t like to see you upset.’ He was acting as if he genuinely cared about her.
‘I’m fine, really, it’s nothing. Silly me, I’ll ruin my make-up. I probably already have .’
‘You haven’t, you look great, believe me.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, slightly embarrassed by the compliment.
As Vera felt obliged to lighten the mood, she decided to steer the conversation his way.
‘So, Anthony, did you always live in London?’
‘Well, yes and no,’ he answered. ‘I was born here, but shortly after that, my father was offered a post at a university in Sydney. He was a professor of physics. He wasn’t making a lot of money here in England, and since my older brother was born, my mum stayed at home looking after us. As a family of four, living on one income wasn’t easy, and the Aussies paid for our accommodation and offered him a generous package, so my parents were keen to make the best out of it and moved Down Under. Besides, it was a great place to bring up a family - great climate, reasonable cost of living, English language spoken.’
‘So when did you come back?’ Vera was intrigued.
Tony lowered his voice, and looked at her, chewing his bottom lip.
‘My granddad brought me back when I was five,’ he replied, very quietly.
‘Your granddad?’ she repeated after him. ‘What about your parents and your brother? Did they stay?’
‘Not exactly. The three of them were killed in a car crash, on a road just outside Sydney. I was involved in the accident too, but I survived with only minor scratches. My maternal granddad, Mike, was the only family I had left, and since I’ve returned to London, I’ve been living with him in Bromley.’
After he fell silent, Vera felt completely irrational and embarrassed by her previous behavior. Just minutes earlier she’d cried about losing a few years’ worth of memories, but not only was she fine and well, but also she had her family, her friends, colleagues, and a hope that one day, the memories would come back to her. Anthony’s loss was devastating and incomprehensible. He’d lost his parents and his young brother, and they were never coming back. It must have been awful, and probably still felt awful. She now felt that she had to say something, but she didn’t know what could possibly be said to address what she had just heard. Seeing her clearly struggling with her emotions, he put his hand on hers and spoke calmly.
‘Vera, I’ve upset you again, I’m sorry.’ He gently rubbed her hand with his.
Vera suddenly snapped out of her daze.
‘You’re apologizing to me?’ she asked in disbelief. ‘It’s me who should be saying how sorry I am, to hear what has happened to you. And I am. I am so sorry, Anthony.’
‘Thank you.’ His hand squeezed hers harder, and they looked at each other in silence across the table. He leaned forward and hovered above his chair, moving his face closer to hers. His free hand touched her hair, covering her right ear. He brushed her hair behind and touched her face with the back of his hand. It felt soft and delicate. She moved closer, with her heart racing, her lips almost touching his. He placed his mouth on hers and kissed her very slowly.
After a few seconds, Vera pulled away.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, straightening up in her chair, wanting to distract him. Her cheeks were red and her body filled with excitement.
Anthony eased backed down on to his chair. He brushed his lips with his hand, wiping away the lipstick and smiled.
‘It’s 9.00pm’ he said, with the facial expression of a cat that had got the cream.
‘So, tell me more about your work.’ Vera lowered her eyes back to the plate, and pretended not to notice or care about the way he was looking at her.
‘What would you like to know?’ he asked, looking for eye contact.
‘What you do?’ She plucked up the courage to look him straight in the eyes.
He held her stare, and then said, ‘I’m a sculptor, and work with different types of wood.’
‘So, you’re an artist?’
‘You could say that. But I don’t like to call myself that anymore. It’s a vastly overused word, and because of that, it has become irrelevant.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Vera was intrigued again.
‘What I mean is that nowadays, everyone thinks they are artists; people take a photo of their dirty socks and call it ‘art’. And maybe it is art, but if that’s the case, I don’t want to be thought of in the same category. Back in the day, you had to have a special skill to call yourself an artist, be a painter, or someone who was good at drawing, for example. But nowadays, it’s irrelevant. That’s why I say I’m a sculptor, because that’s what I am.’
‘So what is it that you make?’
‘At work, I make what I am currently commissioned to do. At my own leisure, whatever comes to my mind.’
Vera listened eagerly, and
suddenly realized that apart from being handsome, he was also a really interesting person. She felt herself even more drawn to him.
‘And what inspires you?’ she asked.
Anthony looked around the restaurant.
‘My inspiration is always visual. I observe things and people. The things I work on are mostly born out of a fleeting feeling generated from the world around me - a moment caught on a tube, a distant, half-remembered memory from my childhood, anything from what the weather is like today to the way myself and others live and function in domestic settings. Should I give you some examples?’ he asked, conscious of not boring her.
‘Yes, please.’ she replied eagerly.
‘A vase, a bench, a doorstopper, even a plant. Everything can be carved out of wood.’
‘A wooden plant?’ Vera started laughing ‘I could do with one at home. Maybe you could start selling them to flower shops or garden centers. People could buy them and never worry about looking after them again.’
She laughed harder. Anthony sat back shaking his head; he enjoyed seeing her happy.
‘See, now you think I’m a joke.’ He tried to wind her up by keeping a straight face, but couldn’t and laughed with her.
‘And how did you get into it? The sculpting?’ she asked when they’d both calmed down.
‘It was my granddad’s passion. He’d make things every evening after tea. I used to watch him as a kid, and eventually followed in his footsteps. He taught me how to work with wood, and showed me how any sculpture could be made from variety of materials.’
‘Is that what he does for a living?’ asked Vera.
‘No, he owns a foundry. But he’s retired now. I suppose he always wanted to give into his hobby, but there was no money in it, and he had a wife and two kids - my mum being one of them - and had to put food on the table. That’s why he supports me so much now. He wants me to do the thing I love, because he never had that chance himself. He pretty much founded my studio, and without his constant financial support, my business partner and I would have had to pack up a long time ago.’
Suddenly they heard the noise of a ringing phone and Anthony stopped talking. Vera kept looking at him dreamily, listening to the story, and only when he said, ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ did she snap out of her daze and reach for her bag. Getting the phone out, she excused herself and answered the call. There was no name on the handset, only a number, and she had no idea who it was.
‘Is this Miss Smith?’ asked a voice with a foreign accent when she picked up.
‘Speaking,’ she replied, as Anthony silently left the table for the bathroom.
‘This is Joao de Fereitas, your landlord.’
Vera’s heart jumped. She’d almost forgotten that she’d contacted him about the apartment. Was he about to deliver life-changing news?
She swallowed and said, ‘Good evening Mr. De Fereitas, thanks for getting back to me.’
‘Is it convenient for you to talk now?’ he asked.
‘I can talk briefly, she said. ‘You can certainly tell me now if you are interested in the sale.’
‘As it happens, I am,’ he said. ‘My wife and I have decided to go back to Madeira and we decided to put the apartment up for sale. We were about to visit an estate agent when we received your letter. So, yes, it would be good to meet and discuss the details.’
Anthony had returned to the table. Vera leaned towards him and whispered, ‘It’s my landlord.’
‘How about tomorrow afternoon?’ she asked. ‘You could come to the apartment or I could meet you in town?’
At that point the landlord took the phone away from his ear and after a short consultation with his wife in his native Portuguese, he said, ‘We could come to see you tomorrow at 3.00pm. Would that be okay?’ he asked.
‘Perfect!’ Vera said excitedly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Not having any other option, Anthony had been listening in to the call. Vera noticed that his facial expression had changed and that he looked anxious.
‘Are you moving away?’ he asked, with concern etched all over his face.
Vera laughed and in an attempt to tease him said playfully, ‘And what if I was? Would you miss me already?’
But the look on his face told her he was less than amused. She didn’t want to torture him and quickly continued, ‘No, quite the opposite,’ she smiled. ‘I want to buy the apartment I’ve been renting.’
‘That’s great news!’ he said, visibly relieved. ‘When I heard that it was your landlord, I just presumed that you were ending the contract and moving out.’
Vera looked at him carefully. If she’d wanted to know how much he liked her, his reaction to this phone call was proof enough. And then she realized how much she enjoyed the fact that he liked her so much.
‘Anthony, it’s been lovely, but I have to go. I have to meet my landlord tomorrow, as you know, and it’s rather late already,’ she said, taking the napkin off her knees. She got up.
‘I’m starting early tomorrow too, but Vera, it’s been a pleasure.’ He got up and they stood face to face, in silence. It was clear that both wanted to say something meaningful to one another, but neither wanted to sound too keen. So they continued to stand in silence. Yet there was no awkwardness; it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. When the waitress put the bill on their table, Vera reached for the blue leather holder it was in, but he stopped her right there.
‘No, I’ve got this,’ he said. She protested, but he wasn’t having it. ‘I’m not letting you pay on the first date,’ he said.
The waitress swiped his card, handed him the terminal, and when the transaction was completed, they walked away.
As they stepped outside into the chilly November night, Vera was glad that she had her blazer with her. As she stopped to put it on, he seized the moment, walked behind her, put his arms around her, and whispered in her ear, ‘You look spectacular tonight.’
Vera closed her eyes and gasped. She lay her head back on his chest. It felt so good being close to him, feeling him breathe on her neck, and hold her. They stared into the clear sky and watched the hundreds of stars shining above their heads.
‘You know,’ he said, slowly caressing her, ‘one of these stars is called ‘’Anthony. Someone called it after me.’
‘Really?’ Vera asked quietly. But she couldn’t concentrate on anything he was saying right now. He was covering her hair with tiny kisses, and it felt great, so good that she didn’t want him to stop.
‘Yeah,’ he whispered. ‘Sadly, I don’t quite know which one it is.’ They both laughed. Then Vera decided to turn around. When she stood in front him in her skin-tight dress and tightly-fitting blazer, she saw his eyes wondering all over her body - her small waist, firm breasts, perfect legs and beautiful face. He took a step towards her and kissed her mouth. She kissed him right back. And there they stood, at Westminster Pier, late at night, not being able to separate their lips.
Vera finally pulled away and said, ‘I really have to run. Will you walk me to the station?’
Although it was only minutes away, he happily obliged, and before they got there they fell into each other’s arms and kissed passionately three more times.
CHAPTER 25
After the reading and the press conference, Vera woke up the next morning to a headline in one of the national papers that said: “An amnesia-ridden woman bags a fortune for the book she doesn’t remember writing”.
When she looked at her phone there was already an email from Suzy that said: ‘Ed is ecstatic about the publicity. The book sales are rocketing as we speak!’
Indeed it seemed that the story of Meredith, Arnaud and Liam, had gripped the nation. For the second week running Vera’s book was Amazon’s number one, beating titles from the established chick-lit writers, and the sales in other outlets were also phenomenal. Or, as Suzy would put it – fucking amazing.
In the late afternoon of that day, after Vera’s landlord accepted her offer on the apartment, and
the only thing left to do was to organize a solicitor to get the ball rolling. As Vera was already living in the place, there was no need to arrange for a surveyor to visit the property, so she called her dad to instruct a family solicitor to act on her behalf and prepare the contract. Three days after meeting with the landlord in her apartment, she was down in Clapham, signing a document legally committing her to the purchase and agreeing a date to transfer the money and complete the sale. A week later, the property was hers.
Since the date at Westminster Pier, Anthony had called and texted Vera every day. He couldn’t always meet her, as he would often be busy with his work, and he had strict deadlines, very little time, and a demanding business partner who seemed to be rushing him off the phone every time they spoke. Either way, she appreciated the effort Anthony was going to, spending every minute of his break to talk to her. This lunchtime was no different.
‘Hey, beautiful. What you’re up to?’ he fired out in one breath into the handset.
‘Just lazing around, and you?’
‘Totally knackered to be honest, I’ve hardly slept in the last three days. We have this important commission we’re working on and it has to be finished in five days. It’s for a window in a department store, their Christmas window display, so it has to get there on time. And we’re well behind.’
‘Poor you,’ sighed Vera. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked.
‘Yes, there is actually,’ he answered straight back.
‘What is it?’ she asked him carefully.
‘You can meet me in town tonight. I want to take you somewhere first. And then we could have dinner.’
‘But I thought you were busy and had no time.’
‘That’s true, but I need to get away from the studio - if only for one night. Everyone’s doing my head in. More importantly, I want to see you.’
Vera smiled to herself. She knew that she’d got under his skin, and the feeling was mutual. She wasn’t planning on leaving the house that night, but she also wasn’t able to refuse. She wanted to see him, and wondered where he was going to take her.
Before We Met: What Happens When You Fall For The Same Man Twice But Don't Even Know It Page 12