Kindred Hearts

by Grace Lowrie

  After a hot, reviving shower I stepped to the front of my wardrobe where, the night before, Celeste had hung a neatly pressed silky purple blouse and a dry-cleaned, tailored, fine-wool suit. Below them was a pair of smart, black ankle boots with a low heel and laid out on the dresser was a set of delicate, floral gold and amethyst earrings and a matching necklace. Celeste was my own personal stylist. I hadn’t asked her to be, but it seemed to make her happy and since she had impeccable taste I was happy to let her – it saved me time and effort every morning.

  The Cure’s ‘The Love Cats’ was blaring out of the radio as I joined the twins in the breakfast room. Celeste was singing along tunelessly as she darted about the kitchen making toast, while Sebastian sat quietly at the table stoically attempting to read his paper. The place beside him was set with a warm croissant and a steaming cafetière of caffeine ready for my arrival. They both smiled at me with enthusiasm as they bid me good morning and I faintly wondered whether they would always look so very pleased to see me.

  Once I’d eaten and was ready to leave Celeste kissed me goodbye – a full-on French kiss infused with love and longing and strawberry jam – and I felt lightheaded as I followed Sebastian out of the door.

  In the BMW Sebastian had to take a business call on his hands-free kit. The conversation was concerned with construction tolerances in compliance with building regulations and littered with technical terms that I didn’t really understand. I soon gave up trying to make sense of what was being said, and focused instead on the authoritative but patient tone of Sebastian’s smooth voice, the flexing of his muscles inside his suit as he changed gear, and the way his long tanned fingers held the steering wheel. I reflected on the past week. We were all adjusting to being back, trying to assimilate our new unorthodox relationship with real, day to day life. I had to admit that so far it had been a fairly smooth transition – it still felt natural, comfortable – especially when we were all at home together, but I realised it was still early days.

  A vibration in my handbag distracted me from my musings. It was a text message from Celeste. ‘Missing you already’. It made me smile. Each and every working day was punctuated with affectionate little messages and emails from Celeste, just letting me know she was thinking of me. I was able to send a quick reply, moments before Sebastian pulled up on a double yellow line outside the V&A.

  ‘Sorry, Cliff, I’ll call you back in two minutes,’ Sebastian interrupted the voice on the phone.

  ‘OK, no prob –’ Sebastian hung up on him and shifted in his seat to face me.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at six o’clock?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, only if it’s no trouble, I’m happy to get the Tube –’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ Sebastian said. ‘I’ll call if I’m going to be late.’

  ‘OK, thank you.’

  ‘Have a good day, angel,’ he murmured, gazing at me and stroking the side of my face. This was his pet name for me, although he used it sparingly and only when we were alone.

  ‘You too.’ I felt mesmerised by the ardour in his eyes as he leaned in and kissed me, his mouth firm and warm.

  As I disembarked from the car and cowered under my umbrella, I spotted Freya emerging from the crowded double-decker bus in front and waited for her. Once she’d joined me under my umbrella we scooted across the pavement together, dodging puddles. At the staff entrance I turned and waved as the BMW effortlessly pulled out into the rush hour traffic and I caught the envious look in Freya’s eyes as she smiled at me wryly without a word. Yet again I marvelled at just how lucky I was – truly cherished, and not just by one, but by two exceptional people. Maybe everything would be OK. I shook my head and grinned at Alan the security guard as I showed him my ID and he involuntarily returned my grin, despite the dismal January morning.

  Chapter Forty-four

  I stood back and surveyed the room with a critical eye. The walls were freshly painted in subtle grey shades to correspond with the various stages of the show and the bare timber-beamed structure of the building gave inherent warmth to the hollow space. Every photograph was hung with precision and in line with its neighbours, each one artfully lit from above with an individual spotlight and furnished with a discrete title card.

  I wasn’t an architect and didn’t presume to know enough about the subject to arrange Sebastian’s photographs by architectural style. Neither had I organised them in to the chronological order in which they’d been taken over the past twelve years. Instead I’d grouped them by location – London, Brighton, Paris, Milan, and New York – with each section opening with the early light of dawn and passing through day and twilight, before closing with captivating night-time shots. In this way, sleek contemporary steel and glass structures were juxtaposed against ancient buildings shrouded in history, and iconic monuments to power and wealth contrasted with the faded glamour of abandoned dwellings – all of it made beautiful through Sebastian’s lens.

  Behind a desk in the corner Ryan and Priti, the winning team I’d hired for the evening, were armed with catalogues, promotional material and an optimistic sheath of small red ‘sold’ stickers. Gabby, a short, smart, sociable photography student, had been shadowing me all day. She and her friends would be staffing the exhibition for the next four weeks for a modest fee. Near the door, long white-clothed trestle tables, set with neat rows of glasses, sparkled with promise as three waiters filled them with champagne. My stomach flipped again with anticipation as I gazed across the vast cleanly swept floor, like a ballroom waiting for dancers. This was a showcase of Sebastian Walker’s talent as an artist and it was vital that I got it right. Of course Sebastian had been laid back about the whole thing – leaving all the decisions to me and assuring me that everything would be fine. His faith in me was both flattering and frightening in equal measure.

  A glance at my watch confirmed it was 5.25 – just five minutes until the preview party officially opened. Shadowy figures in winter coats were starting to gather outside on the pavement in the darkening February air. But where was Celeste? She had promised she would be here. I needed her moral support, but I also wanted her to work her usual magic and sweet talk the guests. Most of the people on the guest list were friends or acquaintances of hers and she had been amazing in helping me to set everything up. But more recently, in the last couple of weeks, Celeste had been less enthusiastic about the show. Admittedly I’d talked of little else, stressing over it like a broken record, and Celeste had been working long hours on Fable Grace’s much anticipated Autumn/Winter collection for London Fashion Week. But still, this was Sebastian’s first public show and somehow Celeste’s heart just wasn’t in it. Had I been neglecting her? Should I be worried?

  At that moment Celeste sailed through the doors in her scarlet, Dior-inspired winter coat and matching heels, sweeping my doubts away. Her subtle perfume pervaded the air, complementing her smile and instantly calming me.

  ‘I’m here, Tasha, darling!’ she declared, swiftly stowing her handbag in a cupboard behind the desk and flashing her sweet smile at my assistants who looked momentarily dazzled.

  ‘Thank you so much, Celeste,’ I said as she embraced me with air kisses.

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling. Oh, don’t mind if I do …’ she added spying the champagne. She grabbed two full flutes and passed one to me. ‘Cheers!’ she said grinning and chinking my glass.

  ‘Cheers,’ I echoed, but I could only manage a tiny sip.

  ‘God, relax, darling! Look at this place, it’s fabulous! Everything is perfect and even if it isn’t, it’s too late to change anything now, so you might as well just enjoy yourself!’

  I smiled nervously. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Of course I’m right. Shall we open the door? It’s freezing out there.’

  With that the show opened and assorted well-to-do guests from far and wide piled into the gallery, quickly filling the space with lively conversation, laughter, and warmth. I recognised several people from various other functions. Sylvie and
Camille had come over especially on the Eurostar from Paris and even Fabio was in attendance although, thankfully, his sister Mariella was not. As secure as I was in Sebastian’s feelings for me, I still wasn’t able to make a public claim on him and watching her paw all over him would have been distracting.

  ‘Tasha! Bella! How wonderful to see you!’ Fabio greeted me loudly, kissing me extravagantly on both cheeks. ‘This is magnifico, no?’ he gestured broadly. ‘I always knew he was talented, but this? You are very clever to do this, I think.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I blushed, oddly moved by Fabio’s compliment. Coming from Sebastian’s best friend it meant so much. ‘Yes, they are wonderful aren’t they?’

  ‘So, where is the man of the hour?’ Fabio demanded.

  I checked my watch; it was now 6.45. ‘He should be here any moment now.’ I laughed nervously, noticing he was fifteen minutes late.

  As if on cue Sebastian stepped through the door and the room erupted into spontaneous applause, led by Fabio who surged forward and bellowed ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ at the top of his voice before enveloping him in a crushing hug. Sebastian deployed his usual laid-back charm and confidence as he thanked everyone for their support and began to work the room, but I could tell that beneath it all he was slightly taken aback by the rapturous reception he had received. I watched through the throng of people as Sebastian focused his attention on each individual that spoke to him, whilst trying to absorb the exhibition around him – this was the first time he had seen it and I was dying to know what he thought. He surreptitiously scanned the faces in the crowd around him and I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach – was he was looking for me? But before his eyes found mine, my attention was diverted.

  ‘Tasha, darling, I want to introduce you to Neil Bosworth, he’s a writer for Observer magazine and he’d like to interview you for an article about the show,’ Celeste purred.

  I automatically shook the hand of the guy in front of me as her words sank in. ‘Me? Don’t you want to interview Sebastian?’ I asked surprised.

  Neil had retro, square-rimmed glasses, a shock of bleached hair, and a small, portable microphone in his hand. ‘Yes, I’ll be interviewing him next, but he’s occupied at the moment and Celeste mentioned that this is your debut as an independent curator, is that right?’

  Celeste was beaming at me, her eyes alight with satisfaction.

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, it is,’ I smiled in an attempt to appear relaxed and professional. ‘Fire away.’

  By ten o’clock, as the crowds finally began to dissipate, I’d met a whole host of interesting people, taken down several useful contact numbers, and given two interviews. I was exhausted. My feet ached, my voice was hoarse, and my face felt almost frozen into a permanent smile. But, nearly every print had been sold and my two capable assistants had taken orders for more. The evening had been a great success and I felt wearily elated.

  ‘Natasha,’ a deep familiar voice murmured next to me. I turned and Sebastian discreetly took my hand in his and squeezed it tight as he stood close. ‘Thank you so much.’

  His eyes made me flush with their intensity. ‘It was my pleasure.’

  ‘No, I mean it,’ he said adamantly. ‘I knew you were good, but I wasn’t expecting anything quite like this … Everybody has been so enthusiastic.’

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

  ‘God, I so want to kiss you right now …’ he muttered his voice low, making me smile.

  ‘Let’s say goodbye to these last few people and then we can go home.’

  Sebastian released my hand and I stepped away from his scorching gaze and resumed my hostess duties until the last guest had gone.

  Celeste was inebriated and amorous on the way home, insisting on sitting in the back seat of Sebastian’s car with me and leaving the front seat empty. I felt uncomfortable about the arrangement – I didn’t want Sebastian to feel like a chauffeur, alone in the front, especially as this was his night, but Sebastian assured me he wasn’t bothered.

  Once Celeste was in bed I retreated to her bathroom to clean my teeth, still buzzing with the unexpected success of the exhibition and amazed by how much I had changed in the past seven months. I returned to the bedroom quietly, so as not to wake Celeste if she was already asleep, but instead I found her crouched over my handbag, flicking through my mobile phone. She looked up startled and guilty when she noticed me.

  ‘Oh, I thought I heard it ring!’ she offered by way of explanation, dropping it into my bag and hastily climbing back into bed.

  I decided not comment; I was tired and there was nothing on my phone that I wouldn’t show Celeste if she had asked. I had nothing to hide. I climbed into bed beside her, curled up against her back, and wrapped my arm around her waist, adopting our usual position. Celeste quietly chattered away about the evening – how well everything went, how admiring everybody was, not only of Sebastian’s work, but also mine. I made sounds of agreement every now and then, but I was only half listening. What had she been looking for? Was she just curious to see what I had on there or was it more than that? Was she suspicious? Paranoid? Surely not, Celeste wasn’t that insecure … and I’d not given her any reason to distrust me. She was clearly drunk so I decided to push the subject from my mind. Eventually Celeste talked herself out and there was a long pause in which I assumed she had fallen asleep.

  ‘Tasha?’ she murmured drowsily.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Will you stay with me tonight?’

  I paused. ‘What about Sebastian?’ I asked softly.

  Celeste sighed heavily. ‘He won’t mind,’ she said. ‘You’ll see him tomorrow.’ I didn’t reply and she turned her head to face me. ‘Please, Tasha, just for tonight?’ she said, her eyes wide.

  ‘Why? What’s wrong, Celeste?’ I asked, stroking tendrils of hair away from her face.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said turning away from me again. ‘It would just be nice to wake up with you for once, that’s all,’ she said sulkily. I sometimes forgot how childlike Celeste could be when she’d been drinking.

  ‘OK,’ I said quietly, ‘I’ll stay.’ Celeste didn’t reply and I gave up trying to figure out what was wrong. I surrendered to my fatigue and allowed myself to drift off.

  The next day was Saturday and Celeste rose early to go to work.

  ‘Thank you for staying last night, darling. I’m sorry I go a bit crazy sometimes.’ She bit her lip and gazed at me apologetically, her pale blue eyes framed with long dark lashes, a soft pink glow in her cheeks.

  ‘That’s OK.’ I smiled sleepily, dazzled by her early morning radiance.

  ‘I’ve laid out a set of clothes for you on your bed upstairs.’

  ‘Celeste, it’s the weekend,’ I mumbled bemused. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I wanted to,’ she said lightly, but I sensed hurt behind her words. ‘It’s only a pair of jeans and a jumper,’ she shrugged. ‘I thought you’d like them.’

  ‘I’m sure I will, thank you,’ I assured her, squeezing her fingers.

  ‘OK, I have to go but I’ll see you later, darling.’ She leaned over to kiss me and I could taste alcohol on her breath, but I told myself it must be from the night before.

  ‘Bye, darling!’ she called as she hurried out the door.

  Once I heard the front door slam shut, I used the bathroom and then headed up to the third floor. It was warm and cosy and the blind was drawn so that the landing was bathed in a muted light. I knocked gently on Sebastian’s bedroom door and when I heard a mumbled sound I entered. Unusually for him at nine in the morning he was still in bed. I tiptoed across the rug towards him and he raised his head drowsily, lifted the duvet, and drew me close as I climbed in. He was warm and welcoming and smelled divine. He began to kiss me affectionately, wordlessly, starting at my face and gradually moving down, his stubble lightly grazing my skin. It was all the encouragement I needed; I surrendered my worries and concerns and melted under Sebastian’s devoted touch.

  Chapter Forty-fiver />
  Entering the breakfast room on Tuesday morning I was met by a fabulously fragrant bouquet of pink roses and a decadently gift-wrapped box of handmade Belgian chocolates. This was despite the fact that we had previously all agreed that Valentine’s Day was a cheesy sales gimmick and that we would therefore not be celebrating it. The twins, both impeccably and professionally dressed for work, smiled sheepishly at me like children.

  ‘We couldn’t resist,’ they said in unison, making each other laugh as I rolled my eyes in mock disgust.

  I buried my nose in the flowers luxuriating in the sweet, heady scent. ‘They’re beautiful – thank you. But I’m afraid I honoured our agreement and didn’t get you guys anything.’

  ‘No, of course …’ Celeste batted her hand.

  ‘We don’t want anything,’ Sebastian added.

  ‘But I thought we could all have dinner together this evening – I’d like to cook? I added.

  ‘That would be wonderful, darling!’ Celeste pecked me on the cheek.

  ‘Yes, it’s a great idea,’ Sebastian agreed, taking my hand and kissing my other cheek. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ he murmured in my ear and Celeste rolled her eyes at me as she drained her coffee cup.

  By 8 p.m. Celeste and I had finished our dinner and lay sprawled across my four poster bed. Celeste had missed a London Fashion Week party to spend the evening with her brother and I, but Sebastian had been held up at a meeting in Brussels. She drank large quantities of champagne and fed me chocolates as we gazed into the fire, the flickering flames mesmerising as they moved, causing shadows to leap around the walls. As I stifled a yawn I realised I’d have to take action if I was to salvage the evening.

  ‘Take your top off and lie on your front,’ I said to Celeste.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want to pamper you,’ I said.