The Vintage Cinema Club

by Jane Linfoot

  He turned on her again. ‘It’s not complicated from where I’m standing. In fact it couldn’t be more simple.’

  Sleeping with the enemy. Although maybe that explained a lot. Thinking about it, no wonder she’d been holding off. She hadn’t meant to sleep with him at all. Hell, she’d kept him at bay for nine days, until she really couldn’t avoid it any longer. He’d pushed her that far? If he hadn’t been biting down his anger, he might have felt worse about that.

  ‘So?’ Even if it was going to twist the knife that was stabbing through his chest now, he had to push her. And knowing Ms Transparent here, she wouldn’t be able to lie. It would all come pouring out. ‘Did you do it, or didn’t you…’ He braced himself. ‘Keeping close to the enemy?’

  She closed her eyes, and her voice flattened to a whisper. ‘It was mentioned, yes.’

  And now he had her. ‘I knew it.’ As for where her fight had gone, that had to be a defeated whisper.

  She stared at the ground. ‘It came up really early on. If it was mentioned in relation to this trip, it was only to force my hand when I was trying not to come.’

  Worse and worse. Forcing her hand? That’s how reluctant she’d been?

  ‘I don’t know why it came up again. I promise it isn’t like that Xander, not any more. Luce and Dida are just being silly.’ Her bottom lip jutted and her voice was wobbling horribly. ‘You have to believe me…’

  If she thought tears were going to work…he shook himself to his senses…she was probably right. He needed to get out of here fast, before he fell for any more of those promises. That was the trouble, she sounded so damned sincere. Maybe that had been the trouble all along. He’d been so damned dysfunctional, and so damned needy, and he should have known better than to let her in.

  At least it was easy to know what he had to do now. The difficult choice about his priorities for today had been made.

  He steadied the swing seat, and pushed himself up to standing. ‘This fits right in with my plans. I just got an email saying I’m needed urgently in Paris.’

  Backing away towards the house, he tried to ignore that her crumpling face was ripping his heart out of his chest at the same time.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll arrange a taxi to take you to the airport tomorrow. But right now I need to pack.’

  If there was the smallest shadow of doubt in his head, that he was doing the right thing here, he needed to stamp on it. She’d backed right down when he’d turned on her. If he’d got any of this wrong, if what they had was of value to her, she’d have been out there fighting for what she wanted to keep. As it was it looked like she was able to let him go.

  66

  Early hours of Wednesday Morning, 23rd July

  XANDER

  Hotel Lancaster, Paris, France

  ‘Have a good flight’

  ‘Izzy…’

  Her voice was full of sleep. ‘Xander?’

  Bleary. He’d woken her up.

  ‘Xander? What time is it? Where are you?’

  Shit, three in the morning. Bad timing. ‘I’m up in Paris, the meeting just ended, I wanted to call.’

  He wanted to call so he could hear her say she wanted him, that he’d got her completely wrong. To hear her say come back. He paused, to let that sink in. Gave her the space to reply…but when she didn’t he carried on.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you, I’ll be flying straight out to the States from here…in the next few days.’ So much for dystopian vampire dinosaurs getting wings. He had to go and tie up that deal, which was so huge, and he really should be high fiving the whole of Paris for the way he tipped the balance on that one. But it also fitted in very conveniently with his own escape, because he couldn’t handle the possibility that Izzy had used him, and had only been with him because she’d been told to. And if that wasn’t the case, she’d have told him, clearly, because that’s how she was. Bolshy and ballsy. She’d have fought her corner.

  How the hell did he ever get around to convincing himself he was relationship material when there wasn’t even a relationship there?

  Silence.

  ‘So…have a good flight back.’

  More silence.

  ‘Goodbye Izzy.’ Was there anything more to add? ‘And thanks.’ Was that it? ‘For everything…and sorry I got you so wrong.’ He did mean that. More for him than for her perhaps. He clicked on “end the call”.

  All wrapped up. So that was that.

  67

  Wednesday Afternoon, 23rd July

  IZZY

  At home in Matlock

  Happy landings

  By two the next day, Izzy was home again, and trudging along Albert Street, past a mud splattered Chou-fleur. Not so many Corsas lined up along the kerb today either. Turning in at the gate, the path was damp, and the pink geranium blooms in the pot by the door were mostly brown and withered. She was already missing the sun. Not to mention everything else.

  As for Xander, she’d been half asleep when he’d phoned. At least he had phoned, even if it was the blurry middle of the night, but she’d got the gist. He was going to America. Like, deep down, at the very bottom of her heart, she always suspected he would, however much he’d been making his staying noises. She was kicking herself for that horrible last argument. How had it only been yesterday? It had spun out of control so fast, she hadn’t been able to pull it back. Because in the end, although Xander had got it so wrong, she couldn’t deny he was partly right. She was guilty. The words sleeping with the enemy, referring to him, were up on that screen in black and white. It might have been written tongue in cheek yesterday, but there was a time when that concept had been an integral part of their strategy. Even if things had moved on, she couldn’t argue with that.

  It was so like him to have phoned too. The Xander she’d come to know always did the decent thing. And this time he’d rung, to make sure she understood, to confirm it was over, make sure she knew he was going. She supposed he was saving her from hanging on, snuffing out the vague hope he might reconsider with a meticulous finality. That call was to underline, in bold, that this was his definitive position. i.e. Gone. Out of the picture as of now. And it was horribly, horribly sad that she wouldn’t see him again.

  So that was that.

  She presumed he’d be flying off with Astrid, but that was immaterial now. Izzy couldn’t begin to understand why she felt so numb, when she should have been completely prepared for this outcome. After all, he had never pretended he was offering anything more than seize the moment fun. She had fully accepted that, even welcomed it. But when he’d driven away from Les Cerisiers yesterday, she felt as though she’d lost a limb. Somewhere along the line, she’d got all entangled with that lovely man, and then completely failed to refute the allegation, and reassure him, when he assumed she’d been using him. But although she’d always said she didn’t want anything more herself, now it came down to it, she was aching to know someone she cared for so very deeply had slipped away.

  So now the fireworks were over, and she was as free as she had always wanted to be. Free to do all the things she needed to do, to be who she needed to be. Great. Not.

  She’d stalled all the offers of lifts back from the airport, because it was comforting to sit in a seat on her own, as the airport bus hurtled along the A52 into Derby, and then take the slow single carriage train back to Matlock. On her own was good. It was how she wanted to be. If, after two weeks of bumping into Xander at every turn, she was now feeling like she’d chopped off her leg, or even worse, hewn out her soul, that was too bad.

  A branch of the blowsy pink climbing rose had fallen down across the doorway, scattering petals across the door mat. She dipped underneath it and let herself into a hall that smelled less fresh than she expected. Stuffy even. A stack of mail in the hall, pushed up against the skirting board. She went down to the kitchen. Piles of pizza boxes. Beer cans. Guitars. Burned saucepans on the hob. Sauce up the wall. She was definitely regretting the home made spag bol suggestion now.
<
br />   Up in her room, she crept into her bed on the floor, and pulled the cabbage rose quilt tightly over her head. Something about the cabbage roses made her feel sick though. They were going to have to go. Then remembering, she leapt up, and dashed over to where the cut out wooden letters spelling LOVE stood on top of the chest of drawers. She swept them together, slammed them into her knicker drawer, then dived back into bed. She stuck a hand out and fumbled in her bag until her hand closed around the roughness of the small plaster cherub that had come out of the skip, and shuddering, she held him tight against her chest.

  A while later she heard the slam of the front door, footsteps on the stairs, voices. Then, minutes afterwards, she was assaulted with enough noise to break the sound barrier, as the twins launched into band practice.

  68

  Text from Izzy to Dida and Luce:

  Back in town, fab loads to follow shortly, missed you all like crazy, off to sleep now, will catch up tomoz, big love xx

  *

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  Can’t wait 2 c u, missed you 2 XXXXXXX

  *

  Text from Dida to Izzy:

  You are going to save the cinema, you are SO AWESOME. Vive Le Vintage Cinema Club xx

  *

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  Shall we do breakfast, or I cd come at 11? Hugs til tomorrow xx

  *

  Text from Izzy to Luce:

  Let’s do 11 :) xx

  69

  Thursday Morning, 24th July

  IZZY & LUCE

  On Izzy’s doorstep

  Not cracking open the champagne

  The clang of the doorbell jangled Izzy out of a deep, yet uncomfortable, doze. Despite being knackered, she’d slept fitfully, but it had to be late, because she never usually got to see the shadows of the slatted blinds on the floor. They were faint, but at least they showed there was a bit of sun outside, not like yesterday’s grey drizzle. Prizing herself out from under the quilt, she crawled to the window, dipped behind the blind, and pushed up the sash.

  ‘Luce…?’ How had eleven o’clock happened already?

  It was Luce, but she was out in the road, talking to a guy with an Interflora van. As the driver slammed the back door, Luce turned and grinned up at Izzy, clutching at least half a flower shop in her arms.

  ‘Izzy, lovely to see you, get your bum down here and let me in.’ Luce staggered towards the gate.

  Izzy dragging on a sweatshirt and joggers, catapulted down the stairs. First thought: Ibuprofen. Her head was banging. Second: Who knew she’d love bright pink flowers? She had to rule Xander out on that one, but her heart had got there ahead of her, and had already started to race. Bloody hell. As she flung open the door, the scent of lilies and roses wafted straight up her nose, and there was Luce, warm and smiling, and wonderfully familiar, giving Izzy a big lump in her throat.

  ‘Come here.’ Luce dropped the huge arrangement onto the seat of a wide chair, and dragged Izzy into a huge hug. ‘Look at you, all sun tanned and pretty.’

  Izzy, catching a glimpse in the hall mirror, of her hair sticking out in a hundred different horizontal directions, couldn’t go with the pretty. She squinted at her arm critically. ‘This tan took a lot of work.’ Even if the rest had been a disaster, she could live with skin the colour of pale honey.

  ‘As for the flowers, my sister’s bunch wasn’t even that huge when she got Topshop Face Of 2004.’ Luce sniffed them. ‘Your favourite colour too, do you want the card?’

  Izzy wasn’t sure she did, but nor did she want to take Luce down to witness the wreckage in the slum-dog kitchen either.

  ‘Here.’ Luce handed it to her anyway.

  Izzy scratched it open, hoping her friend didn’t notice she’d stopped breathing. ‘Ahhhh…’ Izzy skimmed the superlatives. Stupendous…amazing…talented…then, as she saw the name, she exhaled, and her body deflated under her sweatshirt. She dragged her lips into a smile, and made her voice as bright as she could. ‘Christina, saying thanks. She loved the pics I sent. They’re down there next week.’ Izzy gave another tight lipped beam, to emphasise how “over the moon” she was. In what world might she have imagined that Xander would have sent flowers?

  ‘That’s lovely of her.’ Luce gave Izzy another squeeze. ‘You are such a star for going, tell me all about it over coffee, and I’ll bring you up to speed on Vintage Cinema Club developments.’

  Izzy swallowed hard, and hung onto her mouth to stop it stretching to the odd place it went when she was about to cry. Then, bracing herself for Armageddon, she followed Luce down to the kitchen.

  70

  Friday Afternoon, 25th July

  LUCE & DIDA

  At St Nic’s end of term Fun Run

  The Healthy Drinks Stall

  ‘We have so screwed up here.’ Luce, standing behind the drinks table, was almost wailing. ‘Izzy is heartbroken, Xander’s across the Atlantic, and all because of our desperation to save things here. I should so not have persuaded her to go to France.’ Luce had never seen Izzy in pieces like this before. Awful Alastair had left her spitting tacks, but this time Izzy wasn’t angry. Izzy now, anguished and hopeless, had Luce shivering with worry, and beating herself up.

  ‘And I so regret that “enemy” email.’ Dida pursed her bright red lips, and shook her head hard. ‘This is a right royal Vintage Cinema Club stuff up.’

  Luce scoured the sky for signs of rain clouds. ‘Izzy wasn’t even enthusiastic about the paintings being checked out, but she’s probably right there, I’m sure it’s a false alarm.’

  Dida put her fists on her hips, determinedly. ‘We need to make this up to Izzy. I’m not sure how, but I’m damned sure we will.’ She staggered, as her wedge heeled trainer toppled down a divot. ‘Shit, where did all the customers come from?’ A circle of kids around their stall were soaking up the juicy bits of their conversation, as only seven year olds can. Treating them to a withering smile, she waved a hand across the jugs. ‘Carrot juice, apple and elderflower, or homemade lemonade, which isn’t actually fizzy.’

  The kids let out a plaintive collective groan. ‘Haven’t you got any pop?’

  ‘Sorry, this is it.’ Luce mouthed at Dida over their heads. ‘So much for the PTA getting politically correct with the drinks.’

  Dida laughed. ‘I’d rather be here though, than standing on the finish line, as a spotter.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Fun and run are words that shouldn’t appear in the same sentence.’ She looked up from her muttering, and saw that the children were still there. ‘If you’d rather have a smoothie, there’s a man with a pedal-powered smoothie maker across the field. He’s gasping, with a purple face, you can’t miss him.’

  The kids wandered off, still clasping their money.

  ‘At least Aidie turned up.’ Luce gazed at the little crowd across the field gathered around Aidie’s machine.

  Dida gave a dismissive snort. ‘Apparently it’s a man thing, he’s doing a favour to the Chair of Governors, who’s a big gun at the Chamber of Commerce. It must be ten years since I last saw my husband home on Friday afternoon.’

  ‘He’s certainly looking slimmer.’ Luce wasn’t sure where Dida stood on this, but Aidie was like a shadow of his former self.

  ‘The weight has dropped off him.’ Dida gave another sniff and dropped her voice. ‘He’s still obsessed.’

  Luce raised a querying eyebrow. ‘With his personal trainer?

  ‘That’s the one.’ Dida shook her head, and gave a shrug. ‘It’s worrying. He’s never restricted himself to one at a time before, and he’s lost all interest in the kids and home. I can’t help wondering if it’s why he’s put the cinema up for sale.’

  ‘You mean he’s on his way out?’ Luce frowned. This was huge.

  ‘Possibly. Men like him move on to have second and even third families.’ Dida shrugged. ‘So long as I overlooked his infidelity this far, the kids and Alport towers have been enough of a pull to keep him coming home. Basically I always knew I c
ould manage Aidie’s lust, but if he ever falls in love, that’s another ball game.’

  Luce crumpled her face. ‘You think Aidie might be…?’ In love? Highly unlikely, given all the signs indicated that Aidie didn’t have a heart.

  ‘Who knows?’ Dida simply shut her eyes and shuddered, as she leaned in to Luce. ‘Put it this way, this last week I have been trying to mentally rehearse living somewhere other than Alport Towers.’

  Shit, this was serious, given that Dida was welded to that house. ‘Did you make any progress?’ Luce wondered where the hell Dida might go.

  Dida sniffed, and hugged her arms around her. ‘The kids and I could possibly manage in one of those penthouses overlooking the park. Thank heavens I didn’t give way on Lolly’s falabella demands. We couldn’t possibly keep one there, even if the balconies are big.’

  The penthouses were lovely, and a lifetime away from where Luce could ever imagine getting to, but they were a quantum leap downwards for Dida.

  Luce wasn’t used to seeing her friend at such a loss. ‘So have you heard from the guy from the holiday?’

  ‘No.’ Dida tossed her head. ‘I didn’t expect to.’ She ran her fingers through her hair and tugged hard. ‘It’s not important.’

  Luce knew the hair pulling was a dead giveaway. Dida cared a lot more than she was letting on.

  ‘Does he have your number?’ Stupid question from Luce, but kind of crucial.

  ‘We swapped mobile numbers when we went to Assisi.’ Dida shrugged again.

  Luce pursed her lips. ‘He won’t contact you, if he doesn’t know you’re thinking about him.’

  Dida blew out a long sigh. ‘He was just a nice guy, nothing more. Sane and uncomplicated, easy to be with.’