by Jane Linfoot
Xander went on. ‘When someone disintegrates in front of you, no matter how well you look after them, you’re left wishing you could have done it better. You can’t help thinking, if only you’d done a little bit more, they would have lasted longer, or they might have suffered a little bit less.’
Her chest ached for Xander. Izzy screwed up her face, kicking herself for how wrong she’d been. It was strange how you could jump to conclusions, and make instant judgements. Once you knew more, your first impressions were proved completely false. Izzy’s stomach was twisting into knots with guilt for how wrong she’d got Xander.
But he was still talking. Almost as if now he’d begun, he couldn’t stop.
‘Afterwards Astrid and I tried to pick up where we’d left off, but somehow there wasn’t anything there any more. I guess the partnership was pretty superficial, and when I put pressure on a relationship without any real depth, it simply crumbled.’
Izzy shook her head at how empty Xander sounded. How sad must that have been, to go through the agony of losing his mum like that, and then to find he’d lost his wife and marriage too?
He gave a sigh. ‘With nothing there, it was strangely easy to separate. Astrid simply took the houses in London, and the one here. My mum left me The Pink House, but I didn’t want to be there, so I closed it up. I only went back when there were so many holes in the roof this year, I couldn’t ignore it any more.’
There were so many reasons for him not wanting to be at that house, and Izzy had jumped in with both feet earlier, telling him that was where he belonged. She wasn’t to know, but at the same time, what she’d said couldn’t have been any more insensitive. Remembering how she’d forced her ideas on him made her want to bang her head against a wall with the shame of it. As for how he’d become homeless, almost by default, she could understand why he wouldn’t want the bother of making a proper home after everything he’d gone through. And somewhere down the line she’d sounded off at him about that too. Mortified didn’t begin to cover it.
He let out a long sigh. ‘I hope that explains.’
Not that he had anything to explain to her. Although maybe this was his way of putting a stop to her thoughtless interference. Perhaps he’d told her, hoping once he’d put her in the picture, she would back off. Izzy reached out to touch him, just to show him he wasn’t on his own. Just because she was another human. One who cared. A lot. Because she did. But even outstretched, her arm got nowhere near, and her hand was left flailing in the dark.
At least she could apologise. ‘I’m so sorry I was so opinionated about where you should live. I won’t be in future.’ She wanted to go on, to say sorry for his mum, sorry for his marriage, sorry for his whole life, but somehow that was too intrusive.
‘Sometimes it’s good to hear a different point of view.’ Xander cleared his throat. ‘As for Astrid, hopefully we won’t bump into her again.’
Izzy hoped that too, for lots of reasons, not all leading completely back to Astrid. Even though right now her heart was swollen with sadness for Xander, Izzy wasn’t sure she could survive another snog like that one. Maybe next time, if there was a next time, it would be easier for her to take the eat her own head option.
Xander stood up. ‘Well, thanks for listening. Sorry to be going, but it’s getting quite late and there are some scripts I need to look over before tomorrow.’
That had solved another immediate problem for her, of how they were going to get back to the house, without the inevitable awkwardness, and skirting around each other. ‘I’ll stay here a bit, if that’s okay.’
As he left, the light from the house lit up his face, and the deep lines of sadness she saw there made Izzy’s heart ache. She’d come here to style and buy furniture, but the man she was coming to know along the way couldn’t have been more different than she’d thought. He was turning every preconception she’d had about him on its head. And she wasn’t quite sure where that left her.
56
Sunday Morning, 13th July
XANDER & IZZY
In the kitchen at Christina’s, Les Cerisiers, France
Making flapjack
‘Are you cooking? At seven in the morning? Can I smell toffee?’
Xander arrived in the kitchen to find all the doors open, bright sunlight slanting across the stone flag floor, and Izzy in a dress the colour of buttercups, leaning over the stove. It had to be surprise that had his jaw dropping, and caused the ridiculous rhetorical questions.
‘Yes, yes and yes.’ The look Izzy sent him over her shoulder was a mix of impatience and pity, at a guess for him being so stupid.
He had to hold his hands up to that one.
She gave a rueful grin. ‘I had a sudden craving for flapjack, so I raided the cupboards. I hope that’s okay?’
He shook his head, because only Izzy would do something weird like this. Flapjack, at this time? ‘Fine.’ He was feeling so contrite after last night, he’d be going with everything she said this morning, if not all day.
The point was, he’d dreamed up this whole trip to make up for messing her about by sleeping with her. His most private self would possibly concede that he’d also done it because he wanted to prolong the contact. But whatever, jumping in to snog her senseless last night had been completely wrong of him, given he hadn’t changed his position on his overall availability, but also given her wishes for him to keep his distance, that both she and Luce had made abundantly clear to him. He had to admit he’d been aching to close the gap between them ever since Izzy had arrived, which made no sense at all, when the trip was to make amends for doing just that in the first place. But however unavailable she was, he knew she’d been in there, kissing him back, big time.
What was worse, he really hadn’t needed to take that course of evasive action in the first place. Looking back now, he had no idea why he hadn’t simply walked over to Astrid, and headed her off. Simple as. As for the way he’d come back and info dumped on Izzy later, well that had to be down to the fact he was totally wiped out after the unbelievable kiss.
Yet again, he’d wanted to put things right, and, yes, into context. But he never spilled like that, and why he’d done it so completely, and without holding back at all, he had no idea. Somehow, the way Izzy simply soaked up everything he had to say, and the way he knew she understood, even without her needing to say anything at all, was something he hadn’t ever come across before. Having her there beside him, calm and quiet in the dark, made him feel whole again, which was maybe why he’d carried on talking for quite so long.
How one small, shouty woman could make him feel better, and absorb his hurt too, was something he hadn’t worked out yet. As for how he was going to cope when they both moved back to their real lives again, that was something he hadn’t yet addressed. In fact he was trying to block out that it was going to happen at all.
Across the kitchen Izzy looked up from scooping the flapjack mixture into a baking tray. ‘I got a long email from Dida.’
News from home? He wasn’t sure he wanted to burst the bubble they were in. ‘Heard anything from the bank yet?’ It had been impossible to miss that this was one of Izzy’s preoccupations given she talked about it every day.
‘Nope.’
No surprise there then. From what he knew of banks and the vintage business, their chances of getting a loan were approximately zero, although he couldn’t bring himself to tell her this.
‘Dida and Luce are planning a fancy dress retro film night though. Sounds like a creative way to sell and raise the profile at the same time.’ She held out a sticky spoon to him. ‘Want a taste?’
He took the spoon, and was about to comment on how exciting it would be to have films back at the cinema, but there was no time for that, as she’d just given him the perfect opening for something more pressing he had to broach.
‘Talking of film, I got an email from Astrid.’ He wasn’t going to elaborate, that politely, Astrid hadn’t mentioned the kiss, although quite what she’d have
made of him making such an over enthusiastic public display of affection he had no idea. ‘Probably what she was coming to talk about last night, but there’s a proposal she wants me to look through, it’s going to keep me tied up for the whole of this morning.’
Izzy pushed the baking tray into the oven. ‘I’ve got lots to get on with anyway.’
At least she wasn’t reacting, or rather overreacting, to him working with Astrid. That was one piece of good news. He decided to drip feed a bit more information. ‘It’s a project she’s been trying to get off the ground for years. It’s potentially huge, dystopian, with vampire dinosaurs. Looks like now might be the time it’s going to fly.’
‘Vampire dinosaurs? How does that not surprise me?’
He ignored that Izzy’s breaking grin was overlaid with mischief, and licked the spoon instead. Unbelievably sweet and good. ‘Very moreish.’ He grinned at Izzy. A lot like her.
‘Too true.’ Her voice was thick with the sticky mixture she was eating from her own spoon. ‘You can have the pan too if you want.’
Xander reached for it. Too good to miss. Although eating flapjack mixture, out of a pan? How had he fast forwarded to this scene of domesticity, and more to the point, why the hell wasn’t he legging it as fast as he could? A larger part of him than he was comfortable with wanted to admit that he was actually enjoying it. Maybe a bit too much. He was just relieved that Christina couldn’t see him. Her smug grin and know-it-all look would just be too much.
57
Late Monday Afternoon, 13th July
IZZY & XANDER
Le Bac à Glaces, Brantome
The ice cream sundae scene
‘We’ve got to sit right out on the street, because being seen as you eat your ice cream is an important part of the experience.’ Xander steered Izzy through the pavement tables, and pulled out a chair for her when they reached a suitably prominent table. ‘And after the number of armoire’s I’ve looked at today, I’m claiming the most major sundae on offer.’
Izzy knew she’d tested Xander’s patience to the limit and beyond, with a vintage trawl that had expanded like elastic, with shopping time currently standing at seven hours. Plus, with the bigger pieces they’d been looking at today, she knew she’d been banging on about margins to the point of making them both want to scream. Her real problem was the Vintage Cinema Club money was running out a lot faster than she’d anticipated.
Xander pulled away from the pavement edge, as a 2CV chugged by a little too closely for comfort. ‘As for the cars going past our elbows, they’re only usually crawling by, although once an old French guy did lose it on his mobilette. He scattered the tables and crashed straight through the plate glass window.’
‘Wow, living dangerously or what?’ Izzy laughed at him ‘It’s the only way to do it. Shall we look at the menu?’
Their waitress was less than helpful. Stroppy enough, in fact, for Xander to ask if she could possibly be related to Izzy, which was witty enough to almost win him a slap. In the end, Izzy went for triple raspberry with strawberry sauce, and Xander settled on chocolate rum mocha, with extra cream. He was half way down his when he stopped.
‘My mum used to bring us here when we were kids.’ He had a faraway look in his eye as he rubbed a drip of chocolate off his chin. ‘You know, since we were in the attic at The Pink House that day, I’ve thought about my mum a lot. I think I actually shut her memory away when I locked up the house.’
Izzy sighed. ‘And how is it since you’ve let her out?’ She fixed her eyes on his stubble. It would be more comfortable if her heart didn’t pound so much, when he looked so grave and serious.
He rested his chin on his hand. ‘It’s good. The funny thing is, when I think about her now she isn’t ill any more. Now she’s come back she’s young again.’ He hesitated. ‘And happy.’ His mouth twisted downwards for a second, then finally made it towards a half smile.
Izzy blinked furiously, as her mouth filled with saliva, staring at the crisscross pattern on her ice cream wafer, trying to make her tears go away. There was no point both of them getting upset here. She dived into her bag, dragged out a tissue, and blew her nose, cringing at how loud it sounded, not quite sure if this was sad crying or happy crying.
Eventually she gave another loud sniff, and deciding her voice might not be too wobbly, she tried to talk. ‘So that’s good.’ Encouraged, she went on. ‘You look so like your mum you know.’
The grin he sent her was kind of rueful.
Izzy studied him over her melting ice cream. ‘Especially when you smile.’ It was something about their cheeks. A sudden thought flapped through her brain like a black crow. ‘This thing your mum had, it isn’t…?’ Realising she was bang out of line, she slammed the brakes on her mouth.
Too late.
Xander picked up where she’d left off. ‘Hereditary?’ His grimace was enough. He drew in a long breath. ‘There’s a fifty fifty chance it will be passed on, yes.’ He gave a shrug.
‘What?’ Izzy balked. Fifty fifty, that was one in two, like tossing a coin. Her stomach turned into an ice block, her heart came to a thudding halt, and all the colour seemed to drain out of the street. Xander couldn’t possibly have it. This amazing, muscular, beautiful, fabulous, energetic guy couldn’t end up like…It couldn’t happen. Not to her beautiful Xander. It simply wasn’t fair. He was too much alive.
‘At least we know Christina’s clear.’ His cheeks were suddenly very hollow.
Izzy’s voice was small. ‘That’s good then.’
‘They can do genetic tests, and she tested negative, before she had the kids.’
Izzy couldn’t believe he sounded so matter of fact about it, when her own heart was suddenly banging but this time with the adrenalin of anxiety.
‘What about you?’ Her voice was a croak.
Xander narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s the rub. I’ve had all the counselling, but they suggest you only take the test if there’s a really important reason to know. So long as you don’t test, there’s half a chance you’re clear, whereas if you test for no reason and get a positive result, people find that hard to live with.’ He gave a low laugh, and tapped his fingers on the table top. ‘Everyone presents differently with this disease, the age of onset varies tremendously, and so do the symptoms. Until you get it, it really is a case of the less you know the better.’
‘I don’t know what to say…’ The fact she said it so quietly, meant she might as well not have said it at all.
He was bashing on. ‘I’ve had no reason to test. I’m a natural optimist, and I’ve got my money on my coin falling on the good side too.’
Izzy hugged her chest. Locking her eyes on the back of Xander’s hand, and focussing on that tanned skin, and the dark hairs, she was filled with a sudden sense of desperation at the thought that she might lose him. She knew she couldn’t bear to lose him. She fought the instinct that was driving her to grab hold of him, fling her arms around him, and never let go, ever again. One horrible thought passed through her mind. Love. She swallowed it back, along with the huge lump in her throat. Love didn’t have anything to do with how she was feeling now. The sooner she kicked that thought into touch the better. It didn’t explain this at all. This wasn’t her Xander. Her first thought, and this one wouldn’t go away. Except he definitely wasn’t hers to lose. And if the wrenching in her gut was anything, it was simply concern for another human, who was up against it. End of story.
‘But how do you…?’ Her question dwindled to a halt. She wasn’t quite sure what she was even meaning.
He was straight back at her, shrugging it off. ‘When you’ve known about it for a long time, like I have, you just put it out of your mind, and get on with your life.’
‘I see.’ She didn’t at all. She had no idea how he could be so calm and cool and collected and casual about something so monumental and huge. I mean, she was feeling devastated, and shocked, and ill, and it wasn’t even her it was happening to.
‘So, moving
on…’ He eyed her squarely, but he was still biting his lip.
Moving on? How could he? Except he’d already picked up his spoon, and now he was slipping a dribbling spoonful of mocha ice cream into his mouth.
He pushed on. ‘Moving on, and more to the point, much more important – what about your immediate cash flow problems?’ Complete change of subject there, and the way Xander was looking at her through his thatch of dark eyelashes turned her frozen tummy to hot raspberry sauce, in one slow blink.
He was waggling his spoon at her now, as he swallowed. ‘I thought we might try the Moulin de Roc restaurant. I booked for Friday, I was hoping the food will be spectacular enough for us to come up with some amazing solutions to your problems over dinner.’
‘What?’ If she was opening and closing her mouth here, it was only because she didn’t know how he’d skipped from a devastating genetic outlook, to dinner, all in the course of three seconds.
‘Look at your wrinkled nose.’ His voice rose in mock indignation. ‘I might as well be suggesting four courses of poison, not dinner at some place with enough Michelin stars to light up the night sky.’
Izzy found she was shaking her head again, not in response to the question, just in reaction to the man. She forced herself to drag herself together, and tried not to feel quite so faint and floppy.
‘I thought making it work related would sway you.’ His eyes were fixed on her face now, and damn that he was so bloody determined. She knew he wasn’t going to back off. And damn too, to the way she was going to feel so scared of losing him, that she was going to agree to everything he suggested from now on, until forever. She was going to have to get to grips with that one, or she was going to be in all kinds of trouble here.
‘Okay, just the once, I’ll be swayed.’ She gazed at him, and narrowed her eyes, and tried to sound gracious. ‘Thank you.’ She drew in a long breath. ‘Dinner on Friday, to discuss work, would be lovely.’ She tried to ignore the rivers of perspiration running down her back, and posted him a smile. ‘But don’t think I’m going to give in so easily every time.’ Because if she did, the next ten days were going to be hell.