by Jane Linfoot
Eventually he stopped at the deep end, surfaced, shook his head, and through the volley of falling water drops, he shot a wide, deep grin at Izzy.
Then he disappeared and began to swim again. Definitely a man with a lot of issues, as well as a demanding fitness regime. A body like that didn’t happen by accident.
Once he was safely underwater again, she swam off to the deep end, clambered onto the poolside, and slipped back into her sarong. Then she helped herself to a couple of pristine pistachio towels, went to sit on the edge of a pool lounger, and began to dry her hair.
‘I think you might be able to stop rubbing now.’
Izzy, looking down inside her towel, saw Xander’s feet facing hers on the stone flags, water puddling around them, as it ran off his ankles. His gravelly voice scattered shivers right through her.
‘Look at you, your legs are all sun-kissed.’ His voice was low, and horribly fluttery.
Izzy abandoned the hair drying, threw down her towel, and examined her shins. She gave a snort, as she saw the effect the sun was having on her skin. ‘Freckles, speckles, and more freckles. I know. It’s awful.’
‘They’re all over your nose too.’ He sounded like he liked them.
‘Yep, well they would be, wouldn’t they? A bit of sun and they’re everywhere.’ And shit to how flirty the word everywhere made that sound, because flirty was the last thing she meant to be.
‘How’s your foot anyway? After you stepped on broken glass by the skip? Let me have a look, whilst you’re sitting down.’
Déjà vu or what? Here she was, letting him boss her around, all over again.
He knelt in front of her, grasped her ankle firmly, and gently raised it upwards, until he could see the sole of her foot. Brushing away the dust and water with a broad thumb, he brought his face close in to examine the scar.
‘Nicely healed.’ He gave a satisfied nod, but he didn’t let go.
She gave an inward grimace at putting such a short and stubby leg in his hand. ‘So much for my cart horse ankles.’ Some days it seemed entirely unfair that she hadn’t she got slight and willowy genes. Not that she was making comparisons. Astrid was so far up the scale, she couldn’t realistically be used as a yardstick. It would be like weighing up a Ford Focus against a Formula One Ferrari.
Xander was biting his lip, apparently making a detailed assessment of her calf, and still hanging onto her heel. ‘Nope, you’re soft and curved, much more like a cherub, I’d say.’
She wasn’t sure if chubby, as in cherub, was a compliment or an insult. ‘I’d love to rock the waif look, but I like cake too much, and that’s before we get to the gene part.’
He sent her a wicked grin, and gave a laugh. ‘I know which I’d rather be in bed with.’
That comment had her gulping hard enough to choke, and luckily she caught her jaw before it dropped. Off limits. Below the belt. Out of line. All of the above. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
Still grinning, he added quickly, ‘Not that I should even be thinking about it, but just saying.’
However much of her sympathy his achingly vulnerable alter ego deserved, there were times when the version of the man who had popped up here, deserved to be hit over the head. And hard.
He took a deep breath, and refocused, with a subject change. ‘Sorry to cut this short, but people eat earlier here. If we’re going out for Pizza, you might want to whip off to get ready. Dress code is casual, it’s a relaxed kind of place. Not that I’m hurrying you, but now would be good.’
He was back into command mode then. And staring at her with a vague impatience, as if he were querying why she hadn’t already leapt into action. ‘Is there a problem?’
Izzy hung onto her lips, which were bursting to break into the broadest smile. Rookie mistake on Xander’s part, chasing her off, when he was still hanging onto her ankle.
The look she posted him was silky cool. ‘No problem at all.’ She was fighting to keep the irony out of her voice, and biting back her giggles. ‘The minute you give me my foot back, I’ll be on my way.’
54
Saturday Evening, 12th July
IZZY & XANDER
Pizzeria Le Gourmande
Checked cloths and total wimps
‘So, it’s not too smart here, but now you’ve tasted the desert, you can see why the ex pats’ all love it. The ice cream’s to die for too.’ The grin Xander sent Izzy across the table was teasing. ‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you to try it?’
Izzy beamed back. ‘Fabulous deserts, I pushed the boat out with two, but even I can’t handle three.’ As well as the deserts, she was enjoying that the restaurant terrace, in a large cobbled courtyard off the market square, was so full and bustling, that it had been easy to keep the conversation light, and keep her eyes on everything but Xander. Two feet of checked table cloth between them wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.
Xander, gazing into the distance, leaned back on his chair. ‘So much for being popular with ex pats, Astrid’s just come in.’ He drew in a breath. ‘On her own.’
Remembering her skinny silhouette from the other day, Izzy doubted Astrid was here for the ice cream. She followed Xander’s stare, past the relaxed family groups spilling around the tables, towards the bar. Even from behind, Astrid looked like she’d walked straight out of French Vogue. Izzy wondered how it was possible for a person’s back to be so classy.
Xander’s comment was loaded enough to beg the question from Izzy. ‘Does she have a partner then?’ Not that it was anything to do with anything.
‘She has done in the past, but as far as I know, she doesn’t at the moment.’
Izzy watched Astrid’s perfectly regular features light up as she shared a joke with the waiter, and turned from the bar. There was no mistaking those long supple limbs, or the hair that fell in glossy waves, without the slightest blur of frizz, as she threaded her way between the diners. From across the restaurant she had made Izzy feel small and scrubby and invisible, but now she was coming closer, Izzy had the overwhelming sensation that she, herself, was about to shrivel up, like a slug in salt.
‘Okay, I’d say she’s definitely coming over.’ It sounded like Xander was talking her in to land.
Despite Izzy having devoured a medium Pizza Provençale and a side order of fries, not to mention the double desert, as Astrid picked her way, delicately, yet deliberately, towards their table her stomach began to wither.
Xander’s expression relaxed. ‘She’s probably coming over to have a word about the project we’re working on, apparently it’s all coming together faster than we anticipated.’
So this would be the fabulous working relationship Xander had talked about, when he was so determinedly putting her into context. More fool Izzy for not getting that it was quite this live and ongoing. And so many “we”s in one sentence too. She tried to ignore the way that brought her heart to a total standstill, with one huge jolt. Not that she could be jealous logically, because seeing Astrid only underlined to Izzy yet again, how far out of her reach Xander was. But there was something in the implied closeness that made Izzy wish she could be someone else entirely, and, at this moment, somewhere else entirely too.
‘This is great, I can introduce you.’ Xander was getting more enthusiastic by the second. ‘You’ll really get on.’
Izzy cringed, and slipped as low down in her seat as she could. Only another couple of feet, and she’d disappear right under the table.
He hesitated, narrowing his eyes. ‘You are okay with meeting her, aren’t you?’
And why the hell would Izzy not be okay with it? What possible reason could she give for not being okay? Apart from the Ford Ferrari comparison, which was going to make Izzy come out of any meeting with Astrid, looking only slightly more upmarket than a tramp, and the fact she felt completely inferior on every level, there was no rational explanation for her reluctance.
‘She looks…well…a bit intimidating.’ Understateme
nt of the decade, and the best Izzy could come up with at short notice. Seeing the ochre shot silk of Astrid’s dress, a mere three tables away, Izzy’s throat was clenching up. ‘In fact, actually, I’d rather not.’ Rising panic had morphed her voice into a strangled shriek. ‘If you don’t mind.’
Xander’s eyebrows rose. ‘So you’re really not happy about it?’ He assessed the situation.
‘I’d rather eat my own head.’ Izzy sent him a wide eyed plea, hoping he might understand. ‘If my legs hadn’t totally frozen I’d run.’ As Izzy watched Astrid’s hips wiggling as she twisted between the chairs, her body went rigid too.
His frown was perplexed. ‘I haven’t made eye contact yet.’
‘I’m sorry if I’m being a total wimp about this…’ Izzy cringed. She hadn’t meant to make this a big deal.
‘It’s fine, there’s one way I can think of to divert her, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.’ He gave her a doubtful look.
Izzy shook her head. ‘I’m desperate, do whatever you have to.’ Anything would be better than dying in front of Astrid.
Xander was up on his feet, and swooping towards Izzy now. ‘Sorry, but it’s the only way I can think of…’
Izzy snatched in a breath as he zoomed towards her. Shit, he couldn’t be. Her eyes widened to saucers, and her pulse started to bang as she saw he was heading straight for her. If she might have died meeting Astrid, this was ten times worse.
One growled excuse as his stubble grazed her cheek, then his mouth landed on hers. She tasted him, light and sweet as the crème caramel they’d just eaten, as he brushed her lips for a lingering moment and felt her heart banging hard enough to leap out of her body.
When he finally did pull away, he left her dizzy and quaking.
She sat there, stunned, rubbing her lips with the back of her hand. What she must look like? But as she dared to raise her eyes and meet the stares, she realised that no-one at all was looking at her, because everyone’s eyes were on Astrid, in that sheath of a silk dress, as, with long strides only a five ten woman could make, she hurried out of the restaurant.
Occasionally, it was definitely an advantage to be small and ordinary, and “Yay” to being invisible this time, with no help from a Harry Potter cloak.
Xander leaned back on his chair, ran his thumb over his jaw, as a satisfied smile curled across his face. ‘Thanks for that Izzy. I’d say that did the trick. Wouldn’t you say so?’
Alongside her great goldfish imitation, for once Izzy had no words to add. All she could do was slump in her chair, as her torso had apparently collapsed, when she’d finally exhaled. And even though Xander was doing a good impression of a waiter with OCD, intent on tidying the table, she couldn’t help noticing his beam was slightly blurred with smoulder.
Those smoky eyes almost popped out of his head as he sat back down, then returned to normal as he shuffled, and readjusted his jeans. ‘Well, now that’s sorted, how about we move on to coffee?’
55
Saturday Evening, 12th July
IZZY & XANDER
In the garden at Christina’s, Les Cerisiers, France
Flailing in the dark
‘Shall I light the lanterns?’ Izzy, padding barefoot across the grass following Xander, could just make out the shadows of the loungers. Behind them in the barn, the windows glowed yellow against the stone, from the glow of the lights Xander had turned on as he got the drinks.
‘Sometimes it’s nice to sit in the dark, and listen to the noise of the crickets.’ Xander let her take the first lounger, handed her a beer, then settled onto the second himself.
Izzy noted the exclusion zone. Still a meticulous three feet, and her sane self knew she was all the better for that, however much, after yet another taste of Xander, the need to grab him for a complete replay was distractingly strong. She hugged her arms around her middle, to lessen what Luce called the post snog washing machine effect, which this time had the spin set to very fast. Add in Xander’s scent in the car, all the way home, and she was pretty much wrung out.
Izzy settled back onto her lounger, looked at the tree canopy above, and searched for a neutral observation to make. ‘I love the way the leaves are all inky against the sky.’ That seemed to do the job.
Xander gave a laugh. ‘It’s a walnut tree, if we were here in October we’d have walnuts dropping on our heads. Whereas the cherry tree the house gets its name from is on the other side of the barn.’ He paused, and his voice dropped as his tone became graver. ‘For the record, I’m sorry for pouncing on you earlier.’
‘No need to apologise.’ She shut up the part of her that almost added “anytime” and jumped on whichever bit of her said that, squashed a pillow over it, and held it there.
Xander took a swig of beer. ‘Astrid isn’t really that scary, either…’
Izzy finished his sentence in her head. “We’re committed friends with a great deal of admiration for each other.” He’d made that clear on two previous occasions as well as tonight.
She forced out a light laugh. ‘Rocking the divorced friends thing, just like Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin?’ If he gushed any more about Astrid, Izzy thought she might just have to be sick. ‘I’ve never seen anyone that much like a super model in real life. Talk about golden couples.’
‘Not quite.’ Another low laugh from Xander. ‘Although we were quite a starry double act in film production when we got together. Maybe that was the problem. We were young, and talented, and ambitious, and our best chance of making it in a competitive profession was together, rather than singly.’
‘Right.’ Izzy supposed this was Xander putting in more of the context he was so keen on. He’d obviously missed the bit about not talking about your ex when you went on dates. Except, shit to that, and a big mental kicking too, because what was happening now, between her and Xander, wasn’t a date, was it? And she’d do well to remember that. She needed to put a damn big sign reminding her about that, right at the front of her brain. Huge letters, bold font, caps, underlined. That might do it. Although at the same time, part of her – and she had an idea it might be the masochistic part – was dying to hear every last detail about him and Astrid. And there was something about talking in the dark that made it so much easier to spill secrets. And so much easier to devour them hungrily.
Izzy braced herself with a shudder, as he carried on.
‘I guess we ticked each other’s boxes.’ He held his beer up to the light from the house, and looked through it. It was almost as if he were talking to himself here. ‘She was clever and successful, I got her access to contacts she wouldn’t ever have had otherwise. It should have been win win.’ He’d neatly side stepped the bit about them both being stunning.
He took a deep swig of beer. ‘I’m not sure love had anything to do with it either. Maybe if it had, we’d have survived me taking time out to look after my mum.’
Izzy’s eyes widened in the dusk, and the question was out before she could stop herself. ‘You looked after your mum?’ It came out as a horrible shrill shriek, as if the surprise had pushed her voice up an octave. Mentally kicking herself again now for that. She’d been so determined not to blurt stuff out, and this question was just plain rude, not to mention intrusive. ‘Sorry, you don’t need to answer that, I really shouldn’t have asked.’ She hoped that second blurt would make the first one right.
‘It was only for the last six months of her life.’ Ignoring her, he carried on anyway. ‘Christina was in Hong King, my mum and dad didn’t live together any more, and as there wasn’t anyone else, it made sense it was me. I’d seen it coming, so I took time out from the film sets, went to stay with my mum at The Pink House, and did whatever work I could from home.’
So that was why The Pink House held so many memories for him, much more than just being where his mum lived, and died. All the hell of watching her suffer, day in, day out, was there too. That explained how jumpy he’d been in the attic that day.
‘With work, Astrid and I were
often in different places anyway. The idea was she could come up to my mum’s between projects. She came a couple of times, but she couldn’t wait to get away, she hated the illness. It wasn’t her fault, caring just isn’t her thing. I should have known better, I shouldn’t have put her though it.’
It wasn’t Astrid’s thing, but it had obviously been Xander’s. ‘I didn’t realise you had been looking after your mum. That’s an amazing thing to have done.’ Izzy was still doing a mental double take.
‘Not really, I didn’t do it all on my own. We had nurses who came in to help too.’ And Xander was making it seem like it was nothing.
‘But caring is so difficult, for so many reasons.’ She knew that from her grandmother dying from cancer.
Xander’s voice was low, and husky. ‘It’s tiring, it’s relentless, but knowing you are making a difference helps. The toughest part was having to watch my mum go through the hell and indignity, not to mention the pain.’ He swallowed hard. ‘That illness strikes everyone slightly differently. As the muscles fail people lose their facial expressions, so it’s very hard to tell how they’re feeling. My mum could barely move, or speak, but we were lucky because she could still swallow. In the end she died of pneumonia. Apparently that’s a good way to go.’
Lucky because she could swallow? A good way to die? The phrases echoed in Izzy’s ears. The sheer bleakness of Xander’s words in the shadows had tears pricking her eyes. Everything she thought of to say seemed inadequate, as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. ‘I’ve never been there, but it must be dreadful.’ As for Xander raging around the building site, the harsh aloofness she’d read as arrogance might have been something else entirely. Detachment, maybe a sheer disillusion with life? There was no room for arrogance when you’d been to hell and back looking after someone sick, who’d died of such a degenerative disease.