The Vintage Cinema Club

by Jane Linfoot

  As he turned to go he paused. ‘It’s good to have cleared that up.’ He hesitated in the doorway, almost as if he were reluctant to leave. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, I really didn’t mean to mislead you.’ And a second later he was gone.

  37

  Monday Afternoon, 16th June

  IZZY

  At The Pink House

  No running in the corridors

  Izzy told herself it would be like a stealth raid.

  In. Hang the bunting. Get the hell out of there.

  And then it would all be over. Then she could get back to her life. Her proper life. Not the life where she stayed out all night, being shaken with orgasm after orgasm, that made Niagara Falls look like a very minor wonder of the world. The life she’d go back to would be the one where she concentrated on home and work, dreamed about being totally independent, and stayed awake at night worrying what the hell she was going to do for income if Vintage at the Cinema collapsed. Her life as it was, before that evening in the skip, before The Pink House and its huge shopping list, and definitely before some bad news guy had turned her life upside down, namely Xander.

  Today she’d been the one barking out the orders. She’d rung him, and told him. Told him to get the steps set up in the playroom, told him she’d let herself in, told him, in no uncertain terms, to keep out of her way. For goodness sake, if he didn’t put so much effort into being arrogant and up himself, he’d have had time to hang the blasted bunting himself. Something about being the one giving him the orders for a change made her feel wonderfully empowered. This was a feeling she could get used to.

  And now she was here in the house hanging the bunting herself, it seemed even more simple than she’d anticipated. There was a picture rail in the playroom. It was literally a matter of a few tacks, and at least it was good to catch up with Dobbin again. If Xander was anywhere around, he’d made himself scarce. Probably hiding in the summer house.

  She really wouldn’t be letting herself think about the mistake that was last Thursday night, or the way it made her feel like she had the entire London Philharmonic Orchestra playing symphonies in her chest. Not to mention other places too. The fact she’d thought of not much else since it happened was by the by. Right now she had her brain under very strict control. She wasn’t even going to think about it as she was passing the foot of the stairs, smelling the familiar smell of the house, catching unnerving whiffs of Xander, which seemed to hang randomly in the air.

  Even though she worked fast, after half an hour the job was still only half done.

  Meanwhile it was best to concentrate on the “worst bits”. The way he accused her of being home-obsessed. The sniping way he’d mocked her for her spots and flowers, for the bunting, and the cut-out letters. She was filled by a sudden need to take her cut-out letters back home with her. Leaving her six inch high letters saying LOVE on the chest of drawers, which he would sneer at whenever he visited, wasn’t an option she was comfortable with. It felt like she was leaving part of herself behind.

  On impulse, she made a mad dash, out of the playroom, and up the stairs to the guest room. She grabbed her letters from the chest, and rammed them into a bag.

  Much better.

  She careered downwards, two steps at a time, and was hurling herself back down the hall, when a familiar husky voice almost stopped her dead.

  ‘Someone’s in a hurry.’

  Xander stepped swiftly out from the drawing room, directly into her path. Only the fact that he put out his hands and caught hold of her bodily, prevented her from hurtling right into him.

  ‘No running in the corridors.’ His voice was stern, but then, as she beat her fist on his chest, his lips began to twitch.

  Damn that the full blown, close up scent of him had knocked the breath out of her, and holy shit to her collapsing knees.

  Her indignation that he hadn’t kept his side of the bargain arrived late on the scene, but it was enough to turn her shock into snappiness. ‘You aren’t even supposed to be here!’

  Xander let one nonchalant shoulder drop against the wall. ‘Your friend’s completely right about you. You fast forward to angry every time.’

  The prickles on Izzy’s neck turned to spikes. ‘Not that it’s anything to do with you.’ She glowered at him, and gritted her teeth.

  What was this anyway? Hurling accusations about “every time” made this sound like some old married couple argument.

  He gazed back at her steadily. ‘It might pay you to channel your inner goddess instead of your inner rhinoceros for once. Shouting your mouth off isn’t necessarily the way to get the best out of a situation.’

  Izzy reeled. Could he get any more patronising? She decided to ignore that he might have a point. ‘You’re the one who went back on your word.’

  He sighed, and looked up at the cornice. ‘I’m aware of that, but I came in to tell you something important.’

  Izzy managed what she hoped was a face saving mumble. ‘Right…And?’ This better be good.

  Xander gave an “at last” kind of sigh. ‘I came to tell you I’ve registered an interest in the cinema building, that way I get to know what’s happening with the sale.’ He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. ‘I thought you’d like to know. It could be useful for you.’

  Izzy opened and closed her mouth, but nothing immediately came out. She needed to pull herself together here, this was an opportunity she shouldn’t stuff up. Xander was handing her something here on a proverbial plate, and she needed to concentrate, and grab it with both hands.

  ‘So are you going to buy the cinema?’ The words tumbled out. ‘Have you even got that kind of cash lying around?’ Suddenly she didn’t care how rude she sounded.

  Xander rolled on his heels, and she took a step backwards. No need to be standing so close. She had a fleeting flashback to how his stubble prickled her hands, as she’d rubbed his cheekbones between her palms, then melted her mouth onto his. She clenched her thighs to get rid of the sudden gaping ache between her legs, and closed that thought down fast. Ideally she needed to put several miles between them, not just a couple of feet, but this would have to do for now.

  He cleared his throat to answer her questions. ‘With equity and a good track record, as far as the bank’s concerned, I’m a good bet.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘Though I don’t have cash coming out of my ears.’ He went on. ‘Most developers owe a lot more than they own.’

  Izzy chewed her thumb. Talk about poker faced. One economics lecture later, and he still hadn’t told her if he was intending to buy.

  Xander narrowed his eyes. ‘So where are you planning to move to?’ A note of concern cut into his voice. ‘You do have a plan?’

  Something about the way he asked that sent Izzy’s stomach into free fall. Put into stark words, on a warm Monday afternoon, it made the whole awful situation horribly, scarily real. Suddenly The Vintage Cinema Club, and all their drives and initiatives seemed completely inadequate.

  ‘We’ve applied for a business loan to buy the building…’ Even as she spoke, Izzy’s voice was faltering, because it suddenly sounded like such a long shot. ‘Or possibly just the lease, if we could persuade whoever owns the building to sell us that.’

  ‘Right. Yes…Great ideas.’ Xander’s deepening frown lines told a different story.

  Izzy rushed in, her heart sinking lower by the second. ‘You don’t think we can do it, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Xander sighed and rubbed a thumb across his chin. ‘But it’s damned tough out there.’

  Tough meaning Vintage Cinema Club didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of saving themselves. Izzy got the message loud and clear, and her chest was contracting so hard, she could be having palpitations.

  ‘The thing is, Luce is a single mum, she’ll find it tough but at least she can apply for benefits. Dida has a well off husband, even if he is a devil to live with. But I’m on my own, I’m self-employed, and if I lose my income I have no
thing to live on at all.’ Izzy knew she was almost wailing now, but she couldn’t help it. ‘I’ve worked really hard, and I have to make the business work. Failing simply isn’t an option.’ She wondered how the hell, and when exactly, failing had started to sound like a dead cert.

  ‘I’m sure it will all work out.’ Xander hooked his thumbs through his belt hooks.

  Izzy could tell from the way he puffed out his lips that he didn’t think anything of the sort.

  Shit. What the hell was she going to do? She had to look like she was doing something constructive. She was going to stick her metaphorical neck out here. What was that thing, look like you mean it, and people will believe you?

  She wrenched out a smile. ‘I’m going to France for stock soon anyway, that trip should be enough to tide me over.’ Lying through her teeth here. Going to France without Ollie to drive and navigate and be her sounding board was almost more scary than not having an income.

  Xander’s face crumpled into a grimace, and his eyes went horribly soft. For a moment she had that same feeling she’d had so often – that he was a nano second away from throwing his arms around her, and crashing his mouth onto hers, and yet again, despite every logical argument, she was disgustingly up for it. What the hell did he do to her that made her desperate to stick her tongue down his throat, within seconds of meeting him, despite knowing every logical argument to the contrary? Being snogged senseless would be the perfect antidote to take the fear and pain away. She gave in, took a deep breath, and let her eyelids drop closed. Whatever she’d said on Friday afternoon, right now she would not resist.

  Seconds passed, as she trembled, waiting, aching for that delicious mouth to slide onto hers, anticipating the heat of it. Still nothing. Her work here was almost finished, and unless Xander dreamed up a whole new shopping list, which frankly was unlikely, this might be the last time she ever saw him. Not a good feeling. If this was her last ever chance, maybe she needed to take the bull by the horns herself, and make a grab for him herself. Time for a look. When she opened her eyes, instead of finding him a breath away, staring at her, ready for grabbing, Xander was already three strides down the hallway. If she hadn’t known better, he might have looked like he was legging it. Another blink and he was diving for the kitchen, leaving her clamping her fist to her lips, with an empty hole the size of Tarmac quarry in her gut.

  ‘Brilliant. I’ll let you get on then.’ He gave a breezy wave from the doorway.

  A minute later she heard the door to the garden slam closed, and she knew she was on her own again.

  38

  Monday Afternoon, 16th June

  XANDER

  At The Pink House

  It’s a bird

  Xander hared across the grass, and threw himself down on the steps of the summer house. Simply being close to Izzy again had made him smile, and he knew his sudden, impulsive ambush had been well founded. And he’d extricated himself just in time, although how the hell he’d resisted that pout of hers, he had no idea. It was true, his sense of guilt at sleeping with her when he wasn’t willing or able to follow through was well honed. But letting her know he had the cinema covered had been an inspirational excuse to chat to her, and he was congratulating himself on that, whilst doing her a good turn at the same time. He knew she’d want to get her hands on any information she could, and this was a good a reason as any for her to stay in touch, once her work here was over. Not that he had anything to give her in the long term, but the more he saw her, the more he knew he couldn’t let her disappear from his life completely.

  He hoped he’d avoided giving the impression of coming from old money, where anyone in the family could find any amount, given that the right strings were pulled, regardless of whether it was for a Grand Cru Domaine, a central London development, or a multi-million pound film. Instinctively he knew that cash strapped developer was a better face to show Izzy.

  The trouble was, when he saw how eager, and optimistic, and hard-working Izzy was, it turned his gut into knots to know the bank would barely be considering their loan application, let alone releasing the money. Izzy came across so vulnerable and upset back there, that he was kicking himself for raising the subject at all. And when all he’d wanted to do was wrap his arms around her, he’d had to make the swiftest of exits.

  It was doubly important that he kept his distance today, however much his gut, or rather the part below his gut, was telling him otherwise. When he’d gone crashing round to her house earlier, he’d be kidding if he told himself it was only out of concern for her. In reality he knew it was also his own self-preservation instinct, which had told him, that if he was going to have sex with anyone, it needed to be with someone he didn’t feel anything for, someone who left him cold, detached, and above all safe. And Izzy didn’t fall into that category. She fell so far out of it, it wasn’t true. Further out than anyone he’d ever met, in fact. And spending the night with her only served to confirm that. There was no way he should have done that. It was completely unfair of him. But somehow, without even trying, she’d caught him, and he hadn’t been able to walk away. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, in fact he intended to make it up to Izzy in every way he could. No way did he want to mess her around. He knew she was way too good for that.

  Which was why, he was hiding out in the garden, watching the seconds tick by on his watch. An hour and a half since he came out, she should be long gone, and he should be safe to go back in. Making his way back into the kitchen, he let out a curse as he saw Izzy’s van through the front window. Another plan gone belly up. What was taking her so long? Could she have fallen off the step ladders? His heart did a ricochet and bounced off his chest. Shit. He launched himself into the playroom, and when she wasn’t there, he whizzed through the rest of the downstairs rooms, and finding them empty, he dashed up the stairs. He whipped around the first floor, and still hadn’t found her. That only left the attic. Bounding up to the top floor, he saw that a door that should be closed was open.

  ‘What the hell are you doing up here?’ Xander’s chest tightened as he approached the doorway, and he made no attempt to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  This floor was where all his mother’s things were stored, no way did he want anyone wandering into here. Not only was Izzy still here when she should have left, she was also in a part of the house, which she had no reason to be in, and which was entirely off limits for everyone except himself and Christina.

  He burst into the room, and immediately caught sight of Izzy, crouching under the sloping roof by the far wall, concentrating intently on something on the floor.

  As she turned to look at him, her neck muscles flexed and he caught sight of the pale exposed crescent of skin, where her T-shirt and jeans had parted.

  Her voice was low with concern. ‘It’s a bird. He must have come in through the open skylight.’ She stretched a finger to stroke a crumpled pile of brown feathers on the floor in front of her. ‘I heard him banging on the window just as I was finishing upstairs, but by the time I came up here, he’d stunned himself. I thought he was dead at first, but I think he’s coming round now.’

  ‘Bionic Vet meets Country File.’ Xander gave a mental eye roll and the snarkiest comment he could, but only to fight back the lump in his throat, as he watched Izzy scoop up the bird, cup it gently in her hands, and walk towards him.

  As she held the bird up for him to see, he took in a minute beak, quivering eyelids, and fine, wiry claws.

  ‘He’s so light.’ Her lips curved into a smile, for the bird, not for Xander, then she nodded at Xander to open the window wider. ‘I think he’s ready to fly.’ She stretched her arm out through the open casement, and flattened her palm, and a moment later, the bird spread its wings and blew away on the breeze.

  She sent Xander a grin over her shoulder. ‘All done.’

  He told himself to look away.

  ‘You weren’t scared of holding it then?’ He found her confidence puzzling. Didn’t girls freak out at st
uff like this? Not that he was comparing, but Astrid would have run the length of the village sooner than touch a bird.

  He gave a sigh as he saw Izzy rubbing her hands on the bum of her jeans. Some people couldn’t help themselves. They cared for, and helped, and looked after anything and everything. It wasn’t Astrid’s fault she wasn’t wired like that. She’d come to see his mum once in those last months, and that had been enough. She hadn’t come back again. As for Izzy, despite her shouting, she had so much heart, and her softness went right through her. Scrunched up over one injured bird. He was definitely not comparing, but if Astrid had had a tenth of Izzy’s compassion and warmth, things might have turned out differently. As for Izzy, he was aching to press all that delicious softness and warmth against him, just one more time.

  ‘Why would I be scared of holding a bird?’ The incredulous look Izzy bowled him suggested she thought she was dealing with an imbecile. She gazed around the space with a grin. ‘You’ve got some lovely things here, it’s like a display from the cinema.’

  Xander dragged in a slow breath. ‘It’s all my mum’s stuff.’ Eight years since she died and he still found it hurt too much to look at some of her things.

  Izzy frowned. ‘It seems a shame to hide them up here. Don’t you want to take them downstairs?’

  He scrunched up his face. ‘They’re loaded with the past somehow…kind of heavy with the angst and pain of her dying.’ He rarely talked to anyone about his mum, let alone her things, so no idea why he was opening up now.

  ‘Is it still painful to think about her?’ Izzy had moved right into his personal space now, almost close enough for her hair to be catching in his stubble.

  Xander gave a grunt. ‘I’m not sure.’ He’d always preferred not to think about his mum, not to come here, not to face going through her things. Until the house had deteriorated so much he’d had to do repairs, he’d had it locked up. Blocking his mum out, closing everything away, had been the only way he could protect himself, after the slow and undignified agony of her dying.