The Vintage Cinema Club

by Jane Linfoot

  ‘Nothing much.’ Izzy didn’t have the energy to tell him off.

  ‘Don’t worry about the business side of me coming back home again.’ Ollie swung around on the bannister, as he started up the stairs two at a time. ‘I’m thinking of concentrating more on the metalwork side anyway, maybe we can look for a shared space in Chesterfield? You sound like you’ve found your niche doing interior styling. By the way, is there any cake to eat?’

  ‘Six thousand miles away, and you haven’t missed a thing.’ Izzy couldn’t quite believe how he’d kept up. ‘And sorry, we’re fresh out of baking.’ Because baking was beyond her too.

  * * * *

  ‘Izzy, someone’s at the front door.’ Ollie’s voice bellowed down, from two floors up.

  Izzy yelled back. ‘Will you get it?’ Worth a try at least, given they were both a floor away from the door.

  Ollie’s reply wafted down. ‘I’m supposed to be in Thailand, it won’t be for me.’ Good point well made.

  Izzy got up, securing her slipping dungaree strap, and idled upstairs to the front door. These days hurrying was beyond her. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she inched the door open. ‘Yes?’ As her eyes slid into focus, her heart gave a jump strong enough to propel her whole body half way up the street.

  ‘Xander? What are you doing here?’

  Leaning on her door frame, all faded denim, cheekbones, and choppy hair, with an anxious smile that still had enough sexy in it to give her tingles all over. Izzy grabbed her stomach with one hand, and the wall with the other. She looked beyond him, past the blur of the roses round the door, and saw his ancient blue convertible, parked outside the gate. For a moment she couldn’t decide whether to grab him, and give him the snog of the decade, or keep her distance. In the end she simply stood still, blinking.

  ‘And?’ Part of her wanted to see him so much her body was already thrumming – seeing being a euphemism for jumping on him and shagging the life out of him, obviously – and part of her was beating away the hurt of the last two weeks, since he’d driven out of her life, leaving her a taxi ride from the airport. It wasn’t even as if he’d dumped her, because they weren’t actually going out. But however responsible for the argument she’d felt, him buggering off to America had been pretty damn final. Final enough to leave her in bits she knew she had no right to be in.

  ‘I was wondering about that lunch we never had?’ Xander rubbed a thumb across the stubble of his chin and then gazed at her face intently. ‘You’ve got really dark circles under your eyes. Have you lost weight?’ If he expected a response to that, he didn’t give her time to say it. ‘Maybe dinner…or a drink?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Or have you gone all quiet on me again?’

  Quiet? That was rich. He was the one who’d decided to drop out of her life, acting like she’d pushed him. And he’d maintained radio silence for two weeks.

  Izzy scrunched up her face. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’ Total confusion didn’t begin to cover it. Two weeks down the road of getting on with life after Xander, she had no idea what to say.

  ‘Well how about you invite me in for juice and flapjacks whilst you mull it over?’

  ‘There isn’t any flapjack.’ She took in the softness of his eyelashes, the scar on his cheek, and her stomach went into freefall.

  ‘But you always have flapjack.’ How could he sound so miffed? ‘You even made it in France.’

  ‘Don’t you start.’ Everyone had been bemoaning the lack of flapjack since she’d been back. As if that was all they relied on her for. She gave a long sigh, and sidled towards the stairs, knowing she was heading in completely the wrong direction, given she should be going to work.

  So, he must have taken the fact she hadn’t slammed the door in his face as an invitation, because he was following her towards the stairs now, except he’d already veered off to peer in through the open door to the living room. Obviously still not found his manners then, and just as much at home as he had been that first day he came to see the bed. She gave a mental head shake to the different, carefree, shouty person she’d been that day. She so needed to reconnect with her shout again.

  ‘That chest looks great painted dark blue. I’m thinking of maybe getting a few more pieces.’ Xander’s words came down after her as she trudged down the stairs. He could only mean for The Pink House. Somehow she wasn’t sure she could face another shopping list, given where the last one had got her.

  She ignored that, reached the kitchen, slid a glass onto the table, and slopped juice into it from a carton. Thank you Ollie for leaving that out.

  There was something so confusing about Xander, and his on/off intentions.

  ‘I thought you were in America.’ She squared up to him across the corner of the table, and gave a mental curse to how edible he looked, now he was down here.

  ‘Obviously not, given that I’m here. I wanted to talk. About how maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusions…and overreacted.’ He tried to meet her eyes, but she looked away.

  ‘What about it? It’s in the past, I’m in a hurry, and I’ve got a shift at the cinema. I think I might be way past giving a damn anyway.’ That just about summed it up. Sulky wasn’t a good way to be, but she was wrung out. If he’d let her explain properly two weeks ago, she’d have been up for it, but at this stage she was bordering on past it.

  ‘I bolted to America, because I was annoyed and hurt when I thought you’d used me. It hit me in a sensitive place. The worst bit was thinking you didn’t care about me at all when I…’ He broke off. ‘I know running was the wrong thing to do, I’m sorry for that. I know I’ve messed you about.’

  ‘Fair enough. And so…?’ Izzy filled her lungs, not that oxygen would help, because this was impossible. Two people, neither of whom knew, or were able to express what they wanted, hedging around each other. She stared at the crumbs on the floorboards.

  Xander gave a grimace. ‘It was Astrid who finally kicked some sense into my butt.’

  Izzy couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘Astrid?’ That was one name she’d thought she’d heard the last of.

  He went on, hurrying past what should have been elephant in the room, not the second thing he mentioned. ‘If I hadn’t been so hung up and blinded with my own issues, I’d have worked it out a lot quicker. And if I hadn’t cared so much I’d have got there sooner, because caring made it so much harder to see straight.’ He gave a long sigh. ‘You weren’t faking that kiss at the pizza place, or any of the rest, I know that, and I shouldn’t have doubted you. I’m so sorry for stuffing up. And for the record, I’ve hated being without you.’

  He was waiting for a response, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Biting her lip filled the gap. Somewhere all tied up in the middle of that, did he say something about caring?

  He wrinkled his face, and stared at her, as if he was trying to peer deep inside her. ‘I was hoping we could talk. That’s if you’re still talking to me.’

  Moving towards her, he stretched his hand towards her chin, and tilted it, so she was forced to look at him. Take in the flecks in those grey brown eyes she’d missed so much. She could hear his voice, that familiar cross between gravel and chocolate, but somehow she couldn’t take in the words.

  ‘So what do you think?’

  Not sure what to say, she opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out. A rush of tears welled in her eyes, as her face crumpled. Damn. What a time to cry. She couldn’t help it, and she couldn’t stop. Why the hell was she crying?

  He reached out and clasped her to him, raking his hands through her hair, drawing her body to his, folding his arms around her as she shook. She buried her face in his chest, and he carried on holding her, as the tears seeped through his shirt to his skin. He held her for what seemed like forever, rubbing his face against the top of her head until her jerking sobs slowed.

  Even the smell of him was too much. This beautiful man, who’d wrung out her heart enough to make her completely debilitated, was here. Maybe not wanting her s
pecifically, but wanting to talk, and she had to decide if she could go there again. She had to give herself some space to consider. At least at work she could think. When she finally got it together to move her mouth, the croak that came out was pathetic.

  ‘Okay, I’ll come for a drink with you. Ring me later, we’ll sort it out.’

  79

  Friday Lunchtime, 8th August

  IZZY & OLLIE

  In Izzy’s hall

  Notes on an engine and ringing bells

  ‘What the hell was he doing here?’

  Izzy, hurrying along the hall five minutes later, collided with Ollie, who was barring her way, and staring down at her accusingly.

  ‘There’s no time for an inquisition Ollie, I should be at the cinema to take over from Dida…like now.’

  ‘I’m not moving until you tell me.’ Ollie put his hands on his hips, spreading himself across the hall. ‘What the hell was he doing here?’

  Izzy rolled her eyes that at the age of thirty he was using tactics this childish, but she knew she wasn’t going to get past without replying.

  ‘Nothing much.’ Now he’d gone she wasn’t even sure herself why Xander had come. What with the shock of him appearing, and the roundabout way he’d talked, he’d left her not quite knowing why he’d been there at all.

  Ollie choked in mock disbelief. ‘It didn’t look like nothing much when I walked into the kitchen.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t even see you.’

  He sounded triumphant. ‘My point exactly. You do know who he is, don’t you?’

  No need to admit she hadn’t always known his name. ‘Yep. I do know, I’ve been in France, working for his sister.’ If he wanted names, he could have them. ‘He’s Xander Blackman, is that a problem?’

  Ollie shook his head. ‘I never thought you’d be with anyone so loaded, not after what we went through with Dad.’

  She stared at Ollie.

  ‘First I’m definitely not with him, and second, he’s not loaded. He works in development – and most developers owe as much as they own.’ She tossed that nugget in. ‘Otherwise he works in film production and drives an old banger. Nothing too loaded with that is there?’

  He gave her an incredulous stare. ‘You are so wrong, how can you not know?’ And he was shaking his head, as if he really didn’t understand. ‘That’s Xander Blackman, of Colewell Blackman Morgan fame. Ring any bells? Private bankers, family seat not far from Ashbourne, they own half of Hong Kong, probably a good section of London, and more than one chateau in France? He just plays at the film thing. It was the car I recognised first, out in the street before – that old banger you talk about is a rare Aston, worth a cool half million, and he simply knocks about in it. You must have noticed the engine note?’

  She let out a long, low groan.

  He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice. ‘How did you not realise?’

  She stopped and thought, and tried to steady her voice. ‘I knew his sister had the most gorgeous place in France.’ Which someone had stumped up completely silly money for her to style. She gave a mental head shake to that. This was her own fault entirely. The signs had all been there, but she’d let her view be clouded. But now Ollie had been kind enough to point it out, she must have been bloody blind.

  ‘So how deep in are you?’ Ollie noted her flinch at that.

  She sighed. Did she even know that? Failing to function because she’d been so upset he’d gone, she’d practically swooned when she’d opened the door to him, as for the rest…

  Best to gloss over the gorier details, for Ollie. ‘I said I’d go for a drink with him. That’s all. It’s fine. I’ll sort it.’ Because if Xander was from serious money, even though he’d come back from America claiming to be missing her, however much she might think she cared about him, she was going to have to put the brakes on whatever this was or wasn’t. Ollie was right about that. She could never have a relationship with anyone who had the potential to treat her just as badly as her money-obsessed father had done.

  ‘Something else…’ Ollie was staring at her, waiting for her attention. ‘I’d like you to hear it from me first.’

  More news? Izzy leaned against the radiator for support, and prayed Dida wasn’t in a rush to get off. ‘Yes?’

  He started tentatively. ‘I’m not sure how you’re going to take this…’

  ‘But…? Izzy prompted.

  He gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve come back to be with Luce.’

  Izzy shook her head, and tried not to overreact. ‘You and Luce?’ That definitely came out as a screech. Talk about a morning of shocks. She hadn’t seen that one coming.

  Ollie nodded. ‘Yep. Me and Luce.’

  ‘Why, when, what, where, how the hell did that happen?’ Somewhere, a very long time ago, she remembered warning him to stay away from Luce. Very fiercely.

  But suddenly none of that mattered, because Izzy caught sight of his grin – it was a grin that stretched at least the width of the house. She pulled her brother into a huge hug.

  80

  Friday Lunchtime, 9th August

  XANDER & IZZY

  Amandine’s Patisserie and Coffee Shop

  Feathery hearts and favourite Ferraris

  ‘Two lattes.’ The waitress put them down in front of them and hesitated. ‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind about a cake or a tart?’ Two gloomy head shakes later, deciding she was onto a loser, she turned away to find more receptive customers.

  This was a million miles away from what Xander had in mind when he’d first mentioned dinner. Across the table, despite her tan, Izzy was ashen, and flatter and tenser than yesterday, if that was possible. He’d been hoping for a chat to find out where they both were, where they might go from here.

  In a way he was glad he’d gone away. If he hadn’t he might not have realised how much he had to be with Izzy. Quite how bad he’d felt when he was without her had come as a shock, but he was back, and he was determined to make things right. It was only when he’d seen Izzy again yesterday that he’d realised that he wanted much more than just carrying on from where they left off. And wanting more changed everything.

  Today the blank stare on Izzy’s face was very different from yesterday’s wounded reticence, and thinking he was responsible for her downward spiral, made the tourniquet he’d had around his chest since France, tighten another twist. As for feathery hearts in the coffee froth, he couldn’t help his toes curling at those.

  He tried for a jokey opener. ‘Did you know you’ve got paint in your hair?’

  If he hadn’t known before, the way she chewed her lip, and closed her eyes was a final giveaway that something had changed. A second later she launched.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were loaded, Xander?’

  He reeled. Overnight he’d mentally talked himself through a lot of scenarios and awkward questions, but this one hadn’t come up. Her chin wasn’t jutting, and her eyes weren’t flashing, but her dead stare and cold words struck harder for that.

  ‘So how has this come up now?’ Only fair he should ask, but knowing about her issues with her father sent his pulse into instant, thumping overdrive.

  ‘My brother Ollie came back from travelling. He recognised you yesterday.’

  Xander sighed. Talk about bad timing. Just his luck. ‘Well you knew I wasn’t poor, Izzy.’ That much was true.

  Leaning forward slightly, she was straight back at him, hissing. ‘How exactly does the largest private bank in London, half of Hong Kong, a large swathe of Derbyshire, not to mention a castle or two, fit in with “not poor”?’

  ‘Okay, I hold my hands up, you’ve got me there.’ His dry throat made his voice grate. There really was no place to hide. ‘I never tell anyone about my money, and there’s a good reason for that. If they know I’m rich it stops them seeing me, because most people can’t see past the cash.’ That was one of the things in life he hated most about being wealthy. It shifted the balance time and time again. ‘When we talke
d in France, you were right in there saying how important it is to see people for who they are, not what they are.’ She couldn’t deny that.

  Her voice was level, and strangely stark, as she came back at him. ‘Maybe so, but we both know there’s been an element of deception here.’ Not actually accusing him straight out, but she was right.

  ‘Deceived is a bit strong.’ It was his only defence. ‘Once I knew you had issues with rich guys, I didn’t deliberately lie, but I admit I didn’t want you to find out, because I knew you’d run.’

  For the first time, she smiled, a very small bunched up smile. It could only be in triumph. ‘There you go. Proves I’m right. Rich guys are bad news every time, because they don’t know the meaning of playing straight.’

  Small and so awesome he couldn’t bear to be without her, yet she still had the ability to drive him around the bend every time, with her full on bloody mindedness.

  ‘It’s ridiculous to write off a whole section of society like that Izzy, anyway you should know me better than that. You’ve spent time with me, you’ve seen my integrity, and as you get to know me more, you’ll learn you can trust me.’ Even as he said it he could see the catch.

  He’d pretty much admitted he’d lied to her. Maybe it was time to go on the offensive. The way this was going, he had nothing to lose.

  ‘If we’re pointing fingers here, you’re hardly squeaky clean yourself are you?’ He rounded on her, and watched her mouth drop open.

  ‘What?’ Her voice rose to a shriek.

  ‘Coming to France to keep tabs on “the enemy” wasn’t exactly honest.’ It still needled him, even though he’d rationalised it. ‘So you can drop the self-righteous act.’

  ‘That was completely different.’ She recovered fast, scowling across the table. ‘And you know it.’

  ‘Doing one thing while implying you’re doing something else doesn’t count as deception, so long as you’re the one doing it?’ His tone was scathing.