by Laura Wood
“I’m so glad we got the chance to throw a last, really big party before we leave,” Caitlin says, slipping her arm through mine and turning to wander back towards the crowds. “And that it is for such a good reason.”
Despite the balmy evening I feel a cold shiver rush through me at her words. Of course they’re leaving, I tell myself sternly. The summer is ending and you know that they will leave. You have always known. I hear Alice’s voice ringing in my head again: You’re not like them, Lou, no matter how much you want to be. Pushing the words away, I drain my drink in one go, feeling a rush of light-headedness.
“Easy, darling,” Caitlin says. “Those things will go straight to your head.”
“And why not?” I say, enjoying the reckless feeling that sings through my body. “It’s a party, isn’t it? My party.”
Caitlin’s eyes shine behind her mask. “Well, when you put it that way…” she says, emptying her own glass.
I laugh, delighted. If all of this is about to end, then tonight I want to believe in the fantasy. I want to be bright and young and impetuous. I am enjoying this world, in which all the sharp edges seem to have been rubbed off and I have only to think about what will make me feel good. We trip, giggling, across the lawn towards the bar. The band are set up now, and they are playing something sparkling. The lanterns tremble overhead in the light breeze that is rolling in from the sea and the sea stretches out in front of us, dark and unfathomable. It is as if we are on a boat, I think dreamily, one of those big ships all lit up and bobbing about on the inky water, headed for who knows where.
“Daaaaaaaarlings!” I hear a familiar voice cry, and there is Bernie, descending upon us with his arms outstretched. “Happy birthday, darling. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says, kissing me on both cheeks. “What a scrum,” he groans, turning his attention to Caitlin. “It’s already the party of the season. Too, too sick-making that you have such style you can pull this together in under a week.” He steps back, allowing me to admire his costume. Had it not been for his greeting I may not have been able to pick him out of the crowd. He is dressed as a matador, in a black coat with gold embroidery and a red cloak. A red domino mask gives him a rakish look.
“You’re not doing too badly on the style front yourself,” Caitlin says, eyeing his outfit.
“You’re too kind,” he says preeningly. “But how can I compete with you two beauties? And you, birthday girl.” He lifts my hand and spins me around, sending my silk skirt rippling around me. “What a revelation you are. You look like a beautiful nymph.”
“A sprite, actually.” I giggle.
Bernie lets out a low whistle then, and I glance over my shoulder to where he is looking. Laurie is walking towards us and her costume is turning every head as she passes. She is dressed as Scheherazade, in flowing blue silk pantaloons and a blue-and-silver top that exposes her smooth, golden midriff. Bangles and scarves adorn her wrists and a jewelled headband crowns her short, dark hair. The blue mask that she is wearing does nothing to disguise her … no one else could wear such a costume, no one else sways in such a sultry way, and she wears an anklet covered in tiny bells that jangle as she walks towards us.
Behind her is the prettiest boy I have ever seen, and it takes me a moment to place that mischievous grin. It is Elodie, in a top hat and tails, a neat white waistcoat nipping her in at the waist. Her dark hair is coiled at the nape of her neck, and her hat sits at a rakish angle. A black mask frames her expressive eyes, and a small, thin moustache has been etched on her top lip with charcoal.
“Bernie,” Laurie says, upon reaching us and dishing out lingering kisses. “You remember Elodie?”
“Of course.” Bernie’s eyes travel from the top of Elodie’s hat to her toes with a languid show of appreciation. “You both look ravishing.”
“Elodie is going to sing.” Laurie gestures to the stage. “Dance with me, will you?” she asks Bernie.
“Delighted,” Bernie purrs, taking her arm. As they move away I realize that Laurie is completely oblivious to the eyes that follow her every movement.
“Lou,” Caitlin says, touching my arm. “I have to go and take Elodie up to the stage and check on the food for later. Will you be OK? I shouldn’t be long.”
“Go, go.” I wave them both away. “I’m going to get another drink. I’ll be fine.”
I push my way through the crowd to the bar. “Champagne, please,” I say to the man mixing the drinks.
“Make it two,” an unfamiliar voice says. It’s a man I don’t know, and he seems to be wearing some kind of toga. “I like your costume,” he says, running his eyes over me with a little too much interest.
“Thank you,” I say politely. “I like yours too.”
“My friend and I both came in togas.” He shrugs. “Afraid we had to rather throw things together to get down here from London in time. Bloody middle of nowhere, eh?”
“Oh, yes,” I say, gratefully accepting my drink from the bartender.
“Know the girl whose party it is, do you?” he asks, moving closer to me. “Lois?”
“No,” I say flatly.
“Oh, shame.” He leans in closer to me. “She’s a terrific girl. I’m quite good friends with the Cardews, actually,” he says.
“Is that so?” I murmur.
“Oh, yes.” He leers at me. “I’m here all the time. I could introduce you later if you want?”
“That would be nice,” I say, edging away from him. “Sorry, I think I see my friend over there … it’s been lovely talking to you.” I slip away through the crowd, lifting my glass of pink champagne to my lips.
Elodie is on the stage now, and her outfit seems to have given her an extra pinch of swagger. Still, she looks very small, surrounded by the band. She stands before the microphone, her fingers fluttering up to caress the stand. And then she starts to sing and the crowd go wild. I stand as if in a trance, listening to her beautiful voice. It is incredible that such a sound can come out of such a tiny person. I find that I am on the dance floor before I even know what has happened, and I am welcomed by everyone. I make my way to the front and Elodie spots me, winking behind her mask as the music pours from her, soaring through the air like stardust. I dance for a while, how long I’m not sure, just as I am not sure who with. Each masked face swirling around me wears the same grin. Finally, I need to take a break.
I walk across the lawn, the grass soft and cool under my feet. The floor seems to be moving around a little and I bump into someone. “So sorry,” I mutter. I keep on walking without really knowing where I am going. I am feeling a little light-headed. It is time to sit down, somewhere still, somewhere quiet … and suddenly I know where my feet are taking me.
“Hello, old friend,” I call as I reach my trusty oak tree. I press my palm against the rough bark, thinking that it feels like a long time since Robert caught me hiding in these branches. It is dark and quiet here, and I lean back against the tree, closing my eyes for a moment. I am haunted then by images of Robert from that first night. Of the look in his eyes when he turned to look up at me, of the sound of his laugh, of that first taste of champagne. I remember the way I felt about him then, the way I feel now, and I am almost knocked out by a sense of longing that overwhelms me. Panic begins to rise in my chest as I draw too near to something I have been trying desperately to ignore and conflicting emotions battle inside me.
“Lou?” I hear a muffled voice behind me, and I turn to see a powdered wig and a black frock coat in the dim light. With a happy sigh I realize that it is Charlie, come to check on me, and his uncomplicated presence is a relief. He is wearing a black domino mask now, and as he walks towards me I find myself thinking about Caitlin’s advice. Perhaps it is time I take control of the situation. Well, it is my party, and I am eighteen and the night is wonderful and soft music is playing in the background. What better time for a kiss with a handsome man? This handsome man.
I sway towards him, and the champagne coursing through my veins gives me
courage. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything I reach up with my hand and draw his face down to mine, brushing my lips softly against his.
He stands very still for a second, and I can feel the pulse racing at the base of his throat. In a dream I wind my other hand up behind his neck, and he begins kissing me back, softly at first, as though I have taken him by surprise, and then more urgently. We stumble until my back is pressed against the tree and he is pressed against me. Still, I pull him closer, closer, wrapping myself around him, wanting more of him. My fingers tug at his dark coat, and I feel his heart thumping in his chest, in time with my own. He raises one hand to my face and his fingertips brush softly against my neck, sending white flames of desire crackling through me. He trails light kisses along my jaw and I almost stop breathing. His mouth is on my mouth, his hands are on my hips, pulling me towards him, and I want more, more. I want everything.
It is like no kiss I have ever experienced, it is all I wanted it to be … and I find myself imagining it is with someone else.
As this one clear thought pushes its way into my brain, I pull away from Charlie’s kiss, my breathing ragged: I am thinking about kissing Robert.
I place my hands on Charlie’s chest.
“Charlie,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, and I feel him stiffen and take a step back. “I can’t…” I trail off. “I’m sorry.” And with that I slip away from him and stumble back to the party as quickly as my trembling legs will take me. I almost run straight into Laurie.
“Laurie,” I gasp, raising a hand to my lips.
“What have you been up to?” she asks, smirking as she takes in my dishevelled state, my rumpled hair.
“N-nothing,” I stutter.
“Oh, really?” She raises an eyebrow. “Because it looks as though someone has kissed all your lipstick clean off.” She smiles, that slow feline smile. “Come on, honey, let’s fix you up. Everyone’s going to the orchard for Caitlin’s midnight feast and you want to look your best.”
Numbly, I let her guide me to the bathroom, where she fixes my smudged make-up and I try to stop thinking about how much I want to kiss the man she is going to marry. As Laurie chatters away, I am struggling simply to remain upright. It is as though a dam has burst inside me. With that one admission – that I wished I was kissing Robert – I have opened a box that I was keeping so firmly closed I had denied that it was there at all. Am I in love with Robert? Is that what this pain means, the one that feels like it is cracking me in two? Tears smart in my eyes. Over the summer we have fought and laughed and teased each other and I have loved it. The thought of not seeing him any more is physically painful.
“Have you been having a good time?” Laurie asks, brushing powder from a golden compact across my cheeks.
I nod, but my movements are jerky.
“So, the summer is coming to a close.” Laurie sighs and stretches. “Tell me, little Lou, did you find your something more?”
“W-what?” I ask, dazed.
“Your passion, your next adventure?” The warmth in her voice slices through me. My feelings for Robert are a betrayal of our friendship. I feel sick.
“No, no,” I say quickly. “No passion.” I try to make my voice sound as firm as possible. I have to keep a lid on this. I need to put my feelings away, locked up somewhere tight.
“Oh?” Laurie quirks an eyebrow and looks pointedly at my smudged lipstick. Before I can say anything else she begins repainting my lips with her own crimson lipstick.
“Good as new,” Laurie says then, standing behind me in the mirror. She turns me around and leans forward, taking me by surprise as she plants a full, warm kiss on my mouth. “And completely kiss-proof. Now, let’s go.” She pulls my arm through hers and we saunter through the front door and around to the orchard. All the time my brain is running wild. Now, here is Caitlin waiting by the entrance and clearly on the lookout for me.
“Lou!” she cries. “Thank goodness, there you are. I thought you’d disappeared! Now close your eyes,” she says. I know there is no use protesting so, in a daze, I do as I am told. Between them Laurie and Caitlin guide me through to the orchard. It is very quiet, but I can hear some giggling and whispering that is making me feel nervous.
“Now,” Caitlin says. “Open them!”
I open my eyes and hundreds of people start singing “Happy Birthday” while several members of the band join in on horns and trumpets. I am standing at the top of one of the long tables and in front of me is an enormous, four-tiered birthday cake covered in candles. I see Charlie standing further up and though I can barely bring myself to look at him, he is singing and smiling so I think that perhaps, at least, I haven’t embarrassed him too much. I find my eyes drifting from face to face, searching for Robert, but I can’t see him anywhere.
“Happy birthdayyyy toooooo youuuuuuuuu.” The raucous singing draws to a close and the orchard erupts into cheers.
“Happy birthday, Lou.” Caitlin squeezes my shoulders. “Now, make a wish.”
I blow out the candles.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
The rest of the evening is a blur. I sit with Caitlin and eat birthday cake, I chat and I laugh, and I dance. And all the time, in spite of myself, I know that my traitorous eyes are searching for Robert.
Now that I have looked my feelings squarely in the face, can I go back to hiding them, even from myself? Can’t I make myself want something else, someone else? Can’t I make my own heart see sense? I did just kiss Charlie, after all … and what a kiss it was. Truly, the knee-trembling, swoon-inducing stuff of great romance novels. It was a kiss so full of promise and yearning and something else, something deeper. It was perfect. So why did I have to start thinking about Robert? I try to examine my feelings but they are so swirling and confused that I don’t even know where to start.
Except, perhaps, with the fact that Robert is getting married to someone else. And that the person he is marrying is my friend. That small wrinkle. So why am I even thinking about kissing him? Why does the thought of being near him and spending time with him fill me with a kind of happiness so big and brilliant that I can’t bear to look directly at it?
I don’t know what time it is when I find myself sitting in one of the plush black chairs in the sitting room, listening to the pianist play something melancholy and nursing a glass of something alcoholic. Two o’clock? Perhaps three? I have no idea. The key, I realize, is to keep myself occupied, just enough so that I don’t have to think about the trouble I am in. So that thoughts of Robert and Caitlin and Alice and the rest of my messy, unresolved life are kept to a gentle whisper, rather than a deafening roar.
I lost track of Caitlin and the others a while ago, I can’t quite remember when. I know that they are around somewhere, and that I should go and find them, but for now I am feeling languid and I am enjoying the feel of the music washing over me. My mind is pleasantly empty, as if it is full of the kind of static you hear on the wireless, or the sound of champagne bubbles fizzing. Another girl is sitting at the table with me, but I have no idea who she is. She keeps calling me Cynthia, and I have accepted that it is easier just to let her do so. She is speaking now.
“The thing is,” she mutters, her eyes trying to focus on mine. “The thing is, Cynthia,” she tries again. I wait. “The thing is, I told him, you know?”
I nod. I have also discovered that it is easier to nod than to question her pronouncements.
“Knew you would,” she mumbles, pulling out a cigarette case. “Want one?” she asks.
“Why not?” I say, taking the cigarette and leaning forward for her to light it. Either she is swaying around a bit, or I am, or we both are, because the operation takes some time. I inhale and choke a little. I have smoked before, but I don’t really care for it. I feel light-headed and I lean back in my chair, waiting for the world to steady itself.
My new friend has gone back to muttering darkly into her glass. “I told him,” I hear her hiss once more. It is then that I s
pot Caitlin. She is running in from the garden, her hair dishevelled and one shoe in her hand. The other is nowhere to be seen. She is laughing. I recognize that laugh, her too-bright laugh, her high-as-a-kite laugh.
Stumbling after her is Charlie, his powdered wig askew, showing his tousled blond hair underneath. He is wearing a white domino mask. No, I frown. That is wrong. His mask is black, isn’t it? I shake my head, trying to remember. He is laughing too, catching at Caitlin’s arm as she dances away from him. I stand unsteadily, and begin making my way towards them. Perhaps we can dance some more, I think. It would be nice to dance.
They have disappeared through the door, into the hallway, and I follow after them, dodging through the crowd.
“Wait,” I call, but my voice gets lost in the noise. They are turning down the corridor towards the library now. Caitlin has put luxurious red love seats into all the alcoves along the hallway, where various busts and artworks usually sit, and there are plenty of amorous couples making the most of them. I hurry along, trailing behind Caitlin and Charlie. I can still hear them laughing together. Finally, they come to a stop outside the library door, and instead of calling after them again, I too grind to a halt.
Caitlin is standing with her back against the door frame, and Charlie has his arm resting on the wall above her head. He leans over her until their faces are only a few centimetres apart. I feel my breath catch in my chest. Caitlin reaches up and runs her finger along the side of his cheek, and the space between them closes until they are kissing.
I am still frozen to the spot, unable to look away as their kiss deepens. When they finally break apart, Charlie mutters something in her ear and Caitlin giggles. Then, with a knowing look at him, she reaches one hand behind her back and opens the door. Her other hand is grabbing on to his jacket, pulling him towards her, and Charlie is kissing her again as they fall into the library. The door swings shut. My head is buzzing, my heart pounding.
What does this mean? Caitlin and Charlie. How long has this been going on? Does she know that he kissed me only a couple of hours ago? Is this something else she’s been holding back from me? More secrets? And what about Lucky? What about all the love that they feel for each other? My stomach lurches as I think about Lucky’s face when he left the house in London. I realize that my sense of outrage is all for him. I have no claim on Charlie, have never felt anything more than friendship for him… But what Lucky and Caitlin had … that was something real. I saw the depth of their feelings so clearly – even when both of them were in pain. How could Caitlin just turn her back on that?