by Joss Wood
‘Singing’s not a crime, Red.’ Well, in Campbell’s case it was but that wasn’t the point right now. Nick placed his hand on her pale, freckled knee and wondered if Campbell had ever held her, understood her, listened to her. Probably not. After all, he hadn’t understood or listened to Terra.
Maybe he’d been too busy, or he’d subconsciously decided Terra didn’t need or want his comfort, this girl, at this moment, did. He had to—no, he needed to—listen, to dig, to try to understand whatever was going on in that head of hers. Comforting her, protecting her, making life a little easier for her seemed, at the moment, more important than guarding his emotions.
‘I forgot that it’s the anniversary of my mum’s death today.’
Oh, damn.
‘I was singing and thinking—’ Clem’s voice faltered ‘—about sex.’
‘That sounds pretty normal, sweetheart. To think about those things and to forget for a little while. So normal, Red.’
‘I’m so far away from her, Nick. For the last fifteen years, I’ve put pink roses on her grave. No matter what, it was always a priority. But I’m here and I can’t.’
‘Does it matter so much, Clem?’
He could see the answer in her eyes; it meant a great deal to her … a daughter’s tribute.
Well, he couldn’t fly her to London; that was obviously impossible. Did it really matter where she went to visit her mum? Graves were graves … In his mind, it was the thought, the idea that counted.
It might not work but he would do what he could.
Nick pulled her to her feet. ‘Wash your face and blow your nose. No, don’t ask, just trust me, OK?’
Nick pushed her towards the bathroom and, when she was out of earshot, immediately called Megan. ‘Megs, my turn to ask a favour. Are there any pink roses on the premises? I don’t care if you have to steal them from the arrangements …’
Clem didn’t want company but still found herself at the butt end of the world, hot and unhappy, on a game drive she had no interest in. At least Nick wasn’t talking; in fact he hadn’t said one word since he’d walked back into her room and led her out.
Why couldn’t he understand that she just wanted to be left alone? This one day out of three hundred and sixty-five …
Nick pulled to a stop and Clem lifted her head to look around. She could see it was a graveyard surrounded by an old wrought iron fence. An enormous baobab created shade for the area and a wooden bench rested at its base.
Nick reached behind him and picked up a loose bunch of pink roses from behind her seat and handed them to her.
‘It’s our family graveyard, Clem. I know it’s not where your mum is, but the ritual is the same.’ Nick ran a gentle hand from her shoulder to her hand. ‘Go mourn your mum, Red.’
Clem gripped the roses in her fist. After a long moment, she stepped out of the vehicle and walked to the graveyard and through the rusty gate. Feeling unsure, she walked over to the wooden bench and perched on the edge of the seat. She rested the roses across her lap and looked up into the branches of the baobab tree.
She waited for the despair, the guilt and the soul sucking pain to drop over her but none of them arrived. Instead, Gina’s words drifted past and Clem frowned as she reached out to try and clasp the swirling truth within them.
‘You are not your mother.’
‘It … was her failing and not yours.’
Could Gina possibly be right? Had she been chasing a mental phantom that she had no chance of catching or changing, all these years?
Her mum had been brilliant at so many things but not at being a mother … and maybe that was OK, maybe she could forgive her for that. Her childhood was over and she could either keep feeling resentful or she could accept that her mum had been a flawed human being who had done the best she could.
Just as she had to do the best she could with who and what she was.
Which raised the thought … who was she? If she didn’t have to be the daughter she thought her mother would be proud of, the ditsy society girl the press routinely portrayed or a rock star’s companion, then who was she?
Clem. You are Clem.
Her thoughts, as they jumped in and out of her head, became crystal clear.
She wasn’t afraid of hard work, Clem thought, or of getting her hands dirty. She really sucked at animal identification and she was getting better at being woken up before the sparrow’s yawn.
She loved this land—the heat, the animals and the happy people who worked it. If she went back to live in a city it might kill her or, at the very least, stifle her lust for life.
And she loved seeing Nick’s face first thing in the morning and last thing at night.
Clem picked her feet up and put her heels on the bench. It was time to show the world, show yourself, she decided, that she could use her heart and her brains to do something that made a difference.
It was time to be Clem.
Clem felt resolve stiffen her spine. It was time to start a new life. And Nick—where in this exciting puzzle of her new life did he fit? She knew that she was three-quarters of the way to being in love with him, and that she could see herself living with him, here on his land. But she knew that she couldn’t make him love her, she could only be a person who was worthy of love. He would never leave Two-B and it was up to him to decide whether he wanted her there or not.
And she’d be OK. She had to be OK. But she could protect herself a little better, pull back a bit, keep a lid on the pot of emotional and sexual tension that was bubbling away.
She had to look after herself; if she didn’t, nobody else would.
Clem felt the tension seep out of her shoulders and, after wiping her face with her fingertips, she sniffed. She noticed the newest grave, knew that it was Nick’s grandfather’s. She gently placed the roses on his grave and picked up a stone and placed it on top of his headstone. Taking a minute to just be, she stood there with her head bowed, listening to the breeze dancing through the big tree. Many long minutes later, she walked back to the Landy and sent Nick a tremulous smile.
‘Thanks.’
‘Yeah.’ Nick placed his forearms on the steering wheel and looked at her. ‘Normally, I’d pour a huge glass of wine down your throat but, since you don’t drink, I figured chocolate was the next best thing. There’s a choc nut sundae being prepared at the Lodge with your name on it. Interested?’
Clem dropped her head and stared at her hands. He offered comfort so easily, she thought, innate kindness in a steady, strong, unsentimental way. What a stunningly perfect gesture. Which made him so much more dangerous …
It was a good time to put her theory of distancing herself into practice.
‘Thank you, but I won’t. I’d like to go back to the house and have a long, long bath, if that’s OK with you.’
‘No problem.’
She had to say it, had to apologise. ‘Sorry if I was a brat today.’
Nick flashed her a quick grin. ‘And there’s the reason why you are still sitting on a broken seat.’
CHAPTER TEN
LUELLA DAWSON’S BLOG:
Cai and Kiki have broken up!
Of course, none of us could ever have predicted that and we’re all utterly shocked. Not. Bored and irritated maybe, but not surprised.
We all know that Cai has the attention span of a two-year-old.
HE WAS going to kill them both, Nick decided, pulling into the driveway of his childhood home in Johannesburg and pressing the button on the intercom. Clem and Jess were blackmailing him into dealing with his parents and he didn’t appreciate it.
The gates swung open and Nick, from an old habit, long forgotten, parked his car under the oak tree to the side of the garage and looked at his old home. Nothing had changed, he thought; the garden was as wild, there was a new metal sculpture by the fish pond, his mother’s car was still haphazardly parked as close to the flamingo-pink front door as she could get it.
God, would this day never end? He and Clem had fl
own in from Two-B late this morning with minimal conversation and Jess had met them at the airport and whipped Clem away—she’d booked appointments for Clem at a spa, followed by a consultation with a hairdresser and stylist. Jess was supposed to call him and tell him where he could collect Clem and it wasn’t supposed to be at his parents’ house.
The nosy, interfering witch.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough on his plate, he thought; he didn’t need the stress of dealing with his family issues as well. He had a million things to do back home and he had to get through the ball tomorrow night.
Right now he felt that he’d rather be gored by a black rhino.
Nick tipped his head back against the headrest. With Clem’s arrival, his calm, ordered world had been turned upside down and inside out; he didn’t like it and, worse, he didn’t know how to deal with it. She yanked emotions to the surface that he had no clue how to deal with, that he didn’t want to deal with.
Terra issues, family issues, love issues … all those issues he’d so studiously avoided.
And something was definitely up with Clem. Since yesterday afternoon, after visiting the graveyard, she had been quiet and reticent and introspective. She wasn’t sulking—he knew her well enough to know the difference—but he couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong. It was as if she’d put up a wall between them and he didn’t like it … He was the one who built walls, not her.
He missed her chatter, her questions, her enthusiasm … If he felt like this while she was around, then how would he cope when she left? And it was becoming more and more difficult to contemplate her leaving.
He felt like a spring about to snap.
Why hadn’t he shot himself in the foot when he’d first met her? At the time he’d thought it would be less hassle than having her around … Hell, he should’ve just shot himself in the heart and done it properly.
Clem knocked on the frame of the door and he jumped. He scowled at her and rested his arm on the window.
‘Whose idea was this?’ he growled.
‘Jess needed to pick something up from her mum and I got invited in. Then they invited me, and you, to stay for dinner. If you don’t want to go inside, then Jess will run me back to the hotel later.’
Nick pushed his fingers into his hair. ‘Why are you doing this, Clem? Whose side are you on?’
Clem sent him a sad smile. ‘Yours, Nick. But I really like your sister and I think she might like me. We had such fun today. Your father wants to show me his art and your mum wants me to taste her apple pie—’
‘She’s a really bad baker,’ Nick grumbled.
‘And she wants me to tell her whether her gown is suitable for the ball tomorrow night.’
Nick’s eyebrows flew up. ‘What?’
‘They have all bought—parents and brothers and wives—full price tickets for the ball—’
‘They can’t afford that! What the hell do they think they are doing?’ Nick bellowed. ‘Are they freaking insane?’
Clem lifted a bare shoulder. ‘Maybe they just want to show their support for you and what you do in the only way they could. In the only way you’d let them.’
Ouch. Nick put his forehead on the steering wheel. He cursed. ‘Damn it, Red. I’m just not ready to face them yet.’
Clem briefly touched his hair. ‘That’s fine, Nick. Nobody is holding a gun to your head, least of all them. I’ll get Jess to drop me off at the hotel after supper. I won’t be too late.’
Nick shook his head. ‘There’s a pub we used to hang out at down the road. I’ll wait there until you’re done. Call me and I’ll come and pick you up.’
Clem nodded and turned away.
‘Clem?’ Nick waited until she turned around before he spoke again. ‘Tell them that … no, don’t worry.’
‘What, Nick?’
Nick shook his head and started the car. How did he explain that he missed them, that he was trying to find his way back without sounding like a complete wimp? He caught Clem’s soft eyes and small smile and thought that maybe he didn’t need to say the words, that she already knew what he was trying to say.
Although the ball was being held in the hotel they were staying in, they did still have to do the red carpet thing, Jess told them, and so Clem found herself being ushered out of the back entrance of the hotel and into a limousine. The driver took her, Nick, Mdu and his camera around the block and pulled up in front of the hotel, where a ten-deep hedge of photographers and paparazzi stood behind a velvet rope, cameras flashing.
It was déjà vu, Clem thought, hearing the roar outside, the incessant flashes of a hundred cameras. Her stomach clenched and she closed her eyes. If her epiphany in the graveyard hadn’t been enough, this situation would’ve made her realize how far she’d travelled recently. Mentally and physically. The thought of cameras in her face, the incessant, demanding questions made her feel ill.
She didn’t want to do it; she wasn’t that person any more.
Clem sneaked a glance at Nick, looking so gorgeous in his tailored tuxedo. What would he say if she told him that she’d bought her ticket home, that she’d be leaving Africa a week today? Would he be sad? Relieved? Upset?
You have to leave, she told herself. But oh, how she wished he’d ask her to stay.
Head and heart, she thought. The argument raged on.
Nick looked across at Clem when she heaved a huge sigh. ‘You OK?’ he asked.
Clem shrugged before dredging up a smile. ‘I was just wishing I was on your deck watching the kudu buck coming in to drink.’
Nick’s mouth twitched. ‘Do you mean the water buck or the kudu?’
‘Either. Both. What’s the difference?’
Nick shook his head. ‘Only two different animals.’ He looked out of the window. ‘But I agree with you. A beer and a sunset …’
The limousine driver opened the passenger door and Mdu climbed out.
Clem looked across at Nick as he started to leave the vehicle. ‘Nick?’
The crowd, recognizing him, roared as he looked back at her. ‘Don’t leave me, OK?’ she asked. ‘Whatever they ask, just keep smiling or, at the very least, don’t give them a reaction. But please don’t leave my side.’
Nick nodded. ‘You’ve got it, Red.’
He held out his hand for her and felt the fine tremors buzz through her fingers as her foot met the pavement. The crowd screamed and the cameras flashed as Clem stood next to Nick on the red carpet. Nick, seeing her flash of panic, tucked her icy hand into his and turned his head to speak in her ear. ‘You look good, Red, but I still think nothing beats Stinky Clem in scarlet underwear or Muddy Clem or Grumpy-in-the morning Clem.’
Clem flashed him a huge, genuine smile that banished the nerves from her eyes and replaced the fear with laughter. ‘Well, I’m going to try and channel Charming Clem.’
‘Impossible,’ Nick teased. ‘No such thing.’
But there was, Nick realized, two minutes later. While nobody knew that her hand was gripping his with the strength of a twenty-foot African Python, she charmed and flirted with the press, posing for the cameras with ease and confidence.
In amongst the barrage of camera flashes, she deflected the shouted questions flung at her head. She answered with non-answers and Nick, deciding that five minutes was more than enough time for them to be bombarded, placed his hand on her back and steered her towards the entrance.
‘I need a drink,’ he muttered as he approached Jess and the other members of his foundation’s board.
‘I need a bath,’ Clem retorted. ‘I’d forgotten how sleazy they are.’
An hour later, Nick looked across the ballroom and saw Clem surrounded by his entire family, laughing at something his father was saying. He wanted to be with her, Nick realized, wanted to be with them. This was his fault, he admitted; he’d created this rift between them and it was up to him to fix it. In another universe, Clem would be his filter to his family; she would be happy to be involved in the chaos and the emo
tion and would shield him from their drama. She’d create the space for him to enjoy them.
But he and Clem wouldn’t be together so he had to find a way to deal with them. But first he had to try and heal what he had broken.
Clem responded to something his brother Patrick said and caught his eye. He saw the encouragement in the slight tilt of her head, the support in her eyes. Nick took a sip of his whisky, placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter and excused himself from his companion. He walked towards Clem and his family, feeling as if his heart were about to beat out of his chest.
Clem’s smile was like a guiding light and he didn’t realize that he automatically reached out for her hand when he reached the now silent, wary group.
He kept his eyes on his mother’s face—full of loving forgiveness, eyes brimming—and bent down to kiss her cheek. ‘Hi, Ma.’
His mum put her hand on his cheek as he tightened his grip on Clem’s hand. ‘Welcome back, baby.’
Jess walked up to Nick and wrapped her arm around her mother’s waist. He’d picked up an entourage, Nick smiled to himself, his parents were now glued to his side and his brothers and their wives floated up and away from them. Strangely, and surprisingly, he was … OK with that. It was almost as if they thought he might vanish again and they weren’t prepared to let him out of their sight. Nick placed his hand on his sister’s back and looked down at her. ‘Problem, Shrimp?’
Jess fiddled with her gold chain and flashed him a mock-irritated look at the use of his old nickname for her.
‘I’ve been trying to keep up with Clem, trying to keep track of the pledges that she’s wiggling out of all and sundry and I’ve lost track.’ Jess sighed. ‘It’s like magic—she smiles at someone and they open their wallet. I’m worried that I haven’t captured them all.’
Nick looked across at Clem, her hair a beacon across the room. She looked elegant in a simple yet dazzling floor-length gown of graduated shades of green, the lightest shade echoing her eyes and moving subtly down to the hem, where the green was so dark it almost looked black. She stood, tall and slim, with an easy smile on her face. Her bald companion looked besotted.