Persuade Me

by Juliet Archer

  ‘When I met her, I was in a mess – and I was afraid that you wouldn’t like me any more.’

  Anna gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘And did you honestly think I’d still like you after you’d dumped my sister for a millionaire’s lifestyle and drug-fuelled sex – or whatever was on offer from Brandi Berette?’

  ‘Believe me, I’ve changed. Can’t you see I’m trying to redeem myself?’

  ‘Oh yes, fawning over Lisa, keeping your options open, while–’

  He cut in with, ‘I wouldn’t give her the time of day if I thought there was any chance with you!’ His voice trembled, as if with emotion. But wasn’t that just part of his act?

  ‘You’ve as much chance as a snowball in hell,’ she said, coolly. ‘Unlike you, I’d rather have no one at all than make do with second best.’ And she flicked the intercom switch firmly off.

  Now, at last, it was the day of the BRLSI talk and she was trying to relax in the hottest, bubbliest bath she’d had for a long time. No more calls from Rick as far as she could tell, thank God. Maybe, like her, he’d realised that there was no point talking on the phone. She hadn’t seen or heard from William since his attempted visit; and, unusually, Minty hadn’t been in touch either – which suggested that she’d heard William’s side of the story and wasn’t in a hurry to listen to Anna’s.

  Anna’s thoughts turned to Lisa, who she’d invited out for a coffee last Saturday morning. Lisa had reacted to the news about William and Cleo as negatively as Jenny had predicted, slamming her cup down on its saucer and accusing her sister of being insanely jealous and intent on sabotaging William’s relationships. Apparently, during his visit to Kellynch with Minty the previous Monday, he’d fallen in love with the place and was full of plans for ‘sweating the asset’. This would, of course, involve him moving into The Lodge – the ideal base for turning his plans into reality. As soon as Anna had wondered out loud whether, being at some distance from the main house, it would also be the ideal base for secret assignations with Cleo, Lisa had stormed out of the café.

  With only a couple of hours to Rick’s talk, however, it was time to forget family feuds and calm the butterflies in her stomach. Even if his new woman was with him at the talk, she thought as she slipped into her pale-grey wool dress, she’d behave with dignity and wish him well. She brushed her hair until it gleamed, sprayed Cool Water on her pulse points and pulled on her black suede boots. A glance in the mirror told her that she looked just as she had at the theatre.

  Oh God, if she closed her eyes, she could still hear him saying, ‘Nice dress’ …

  She wrapped herself in her heavy, dark-green coat, locked up the flat and set off on the short walk to Queen Square.

  Friday evening promised to be free of rain, and Dave didn’t need much persuading to have the night off. Rick took the umbrella with him, just in case – although, he reflected with a rueful smile, based on what had happened at his last talk in Bath it was hardly a lucky mascot.

  There was a spring in his step as he walked with Ben from their hotel to Queen Square. In a matter of hours, the Anna situation would be resolved; he’d then have a few days with Sophie and Ed to look forward to, before returning to Australia. He was determined to tackle his work with fresh enthusiasm and renewed focus; finding ways to make the marine world a better place would offer enough challenge to fill his life for the foreseeable future.

  In this positive frame of mind, he even welcomed Ben’s news that Charles would be joining them. Since Lyme Regis, Charles had been bombarding Ben with emails about fishing management; when Ben had mentioned coming to Bath to meet Rick, Charles – already in Bath for a business seminar – had leapt at the chance of continuing their discussions face to face. OK, so Rick would have preferred a night out where the conversation didn’t revolve around fish stock assessment methods and catch effort sampling strategies, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And, as far as Anna was concerned, weren’t he and Charles in more or less the same boat? He imagined a ridiculous scenario where, as the beer flowed, they shed their inhibitions and compared notes.

  Which reminded him, had he brought his notes with him for tonight? He slipped his hand inside his coat and felt in his jacket pocket. Yes, he had. By now, of course, they were a prop rather than a necessity; he’d got his talk – a longer version of the one he’d done at Molland’s – word perfect over the last twelve days.

  They reached the square and Rick glanced round appreciatively; it was a jewel of Georgian architecture, discreetly floodlit, with a slim stone obelisk in the centre. The BRLSI building was on the west side and, as they approached the main entrance, Ben asked about the timings for the rest of the evening so that he could text Charles.

  ‘I’ll be talking for exactly thirty-eight minutes,’ Rick said. ‘Say forty, by the time you top and tail it with a few words from the bookshop manager.’ He walked swiftly through the outer and inner doors, into a large reception area intersected by free-standing display boards – some sort of art exhibition, by the look of it. ‘Probably best if Charles meets you here at about quarter-past eight,’ he went on. ‘Then you two can go to the pub and I’ll come along later.’ He recognised the tall blonde girl from Molland’s standing by the front desk, and flashed a smile. ‘The book signing will take a good hour, depending on numbers, of course. Then, as I said before, there’s someone I need to–’

  His voice sheared off into silence. The blonde had moved away to reveal a woman sitting at the desk. A woman in a silver-grey dress that drew his eyes to the pale satin skin of her shoulders and throat. A woman who blushed and gave him one brief, conscious look that pierced his soul and sent wild, wonderful hopes soaring …

  ‘Hey – it’s Anna, isn’t it?’ Ben said cheerfully, walking up to her. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be here.’

  Her colour deepened. ‘I’m one of BRLSI’s regular volunteers, they were desperate for help tonight.’

  Was that the only reason she was here? Just as abruptly, Rick’s wild, wonderful hopes plummeted to earth.

  ‘So you’re the same as me – giving up your Friday evening to see Rick’s fan club in action?’ Ben chuckled. ‘I hope – for all our sakes – that the talk’s worth listening to.’

  ‘Anna’s already heard it,’ Rick put in. He stood right beside the desk – so close that he could have captured her small, slim hand in his – and heard himself say, with a ragged intake of breath, ‘You told me it wasn’t what you’d expected, remember?’

  He willed her eyes to meet his; but she lowered her gaze to the neatly typed page of A4 in front of her and said gravely, ‘At least I know what to expect tonight.’ Then she jumped to her feet, all brisk and business-like. ‘I need to show you where you’re giving your talk. It’s the Elwin room, on the first floor.’ She called across to the blonde who was studying one of the display boards. ‘Amanda, would you cover the desk for me, please?’

  As they followed Anna out of the room, Ben said, ‘Is there anywhere to leave our coats?’

  She nodded. ‘You can use the Lonsdale room, which is also upstairs. In fact, you might be better staying there until it’s time for the talk to start.’ She turned to Rick and added gently, ‘It’ll be more private, if you need to collect your thoughts.’ He flushed; did she know that they’d scattered far and wide as soon as he’d seen her?

  Climbing the stairs behind her, he couldn’t help reflecting that her dress really was like a second skin … And then he had to get his brain in gear as they entered a large, rectangular, high-ceilinged room, with row upon row of chairs facing a long table and a lectern at one end.

  ‘Elwin seats a hundred, but we’ve also opened up Murch – through here.’ She walked towards the speaker’s table and gestured to her right, where folded-back partition doors gave access to a little ante-room. Rick did a quick count of the chairs set out in Murch, then went to stand at the lectern.

  ‘So, there’ll be about twenty people to my left,’ he said, frowning in concentration. ‘Which mean
s I need to remember to make eye contact with them, as well as everyone else.’

  ‘Exactly. Your books are here–’ she indicated neat piles of Sex in the Sea on a smaller table in the corner – ‘and I’ll make sure you have a carafe of water. I’ll take you to Lonsdale now, if you like.’

  They followed her back through Elwin and into a smaller room, with chairs around a large table and the skeleton of a massive reptile-like creature sprawling across one of its cream-coloured walls.

  Rick looked at the skeleton and gave a long, low whistle. ‘A plesiosaur!’

  Anna smiled. ‘Probably the most famous item in the BRLSI’s collection. A nineteenth-century plaster cast, rather than the original fossil – but impressive, all the same.’

  ‘Some sort of marine super-predator, wasn’t it?’ Ben said, scanning the information panel just below the skull.

  Rick nodded slowly, still stunned. ‘Otherwise known as a 200-million-year-old sea dragon.’ He glanced across at Anna and then wished he hadn’t; her face was alive with the look of someone who’d just seen their thoughtfulness rewarded – a look of pure, unguarded delight. And it took him back to their time together on the boat, moment after moment of pure, unguarded delight … He cleared his throat. ‘No wonder you suggested this would be a good place to collect my thoughts – thank you. And now I’d better start reading through my notes.’

  ‘That’s what I do, too, before all my lectures.’ She hesitated, then became brisk and business-like again. ‘Can I get either of you a drink?’

  ‘Not for me, thanks.’ Rick went to the table and pulled out a chair, while Ben explained, ‘We’ll be having plenty of liquid refreshment later – what you might call a boys’ night out.’ He turned his attention back to the information panel.

  She frowned, as though puzzled by his answer; but all she said was, ‘I’d better go and see what’s happening downstairs.’

  She didn’t go immediately, however; and, when Rick propped his umbrella on the chair next to him and took off his coat, she stared at his black jacket, blue jumper and jeans so intently that he wanted to ask, Do you like these as much as you said you did at the theatre? Because that’s why I’m wearing them – at least you’ll remember me at my best when we say goodbye.

  And then, as he dropped his coat over the chair, she darted forward and retrieved the umbrella, clutching it to her as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

  ‘You might forget this later.’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  ‘How could I?’ he said, just as quietly. ‘Some things are unforgettable.’

  A long pause, her big grey eyes soft and searching. ‘But still unforgivable?’

  He held her gaze, took a deep breath and was about to reply when Ben called over, ‘Anna, I think I will have a drink after all. Coffee, white, one sugar – if that’s OK?’

  ‘Coffee. Yes. Of course.’ Anna gave Rick one last, lingering look, laid the umbrella carefully on the table and left the room.

  And, once again, those wild, wonderful hopes took wing.

  ‘Some things are unforgettable.’ Did she dare believe that he was talking about her rather than the umbrella? Could it be that, like her, he was deliberately wearing the clothes he’d had on when they last met? And had she heard Ben right when he said they were having a boys’ night out?

  The questions circled in her head, but the answers were back in the Lonsdale room; and, when she returned there with Ben’s coffee, her heart was pounding at the prospect of discovering them. She needn’t have worried, however; Rick was sitting reading at the table, and he kept his head down as she came in.

  Ben was still studying the plesiosaur. ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the coffee from her. As she turned to go, he added, ‘By the way, I’ve spotted the deliberate mistake.’

  She gave him a quizzical look. ‘You mean with the plesiosaur?’

  ‘That’s right.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The forelimbs and the hindlimbs are the wrong way round. Let’s ask the expert over there if he’s noticed anything.’

  ‘He seems absorbed in his notes, it would be a shame to disturb him.’

  ‘True. Maybe his talk isn’t as slick as he’d like.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘He said you’d heard it – what did you think?’

  The question caught her by surprise. She heard herself say softly, ‘I loved it. I’d been expecting just a rehash of his book, but he made it much more personal. He spoke about monogamy – how rare it is under the sea, but how relevant it still is to the human race, despite the barriers of sexual liberation and increased longevity. So what if, for many of us, “a mate for life” is no longer possible? It’s believing in “a mate for the rest of your life” that matters.’

  Ben chuckled. ‘Sounds like a good chat-up line.’

  She gave a faint smile. ‘No, I think he really believes it.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he does. So does James, with Lou – and he certainly did before, with Julie.’ He pursed his lips. ‘That’s what I can’t understand – how could James switch his loyalties that soon?’

  And Anna, recalling Rick getting together with Lou on that awful walk just after his break-up with Shelley, said more loudly than she’d intended, ‘Because men are realists. When the woman they love is no longer available, they move on.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rick’s head lift, as though he was listening. She felt her face grow hot and turned away.

  Ben was saying good-naturedly, ‘And women aren’t? What about the archetypal gold digger? You couldn’t get more of a realist than that.’

  Another faint smile. ‘You’re right, of course. But that’s financial realism and, until comparatively recently, wasn’t it driven by the fact that most women weren’t financially independent?’ She watched him drink his coffee, enjoying the unexpected debate – but fully aware that it was the other man in the room who was shaping her thoughts. ‘I’m talking about a different sort of realism – emotional, for want of a better word. My theory is that a man needs the woman he loves to be part of his everyday life. If she can’t be, he finds someone who can.’

  ‘So women are more emotionally independent? Some men would take that one step further and call them heartless. Not me, of course, I’m far too happily married.’ Ben gave a shout of laughter. ‘In the natural world, though, the female of almost every species is deadlier than the male. And then there’s the literary world – where good old James can give you all the examples of heartless women you could ever wish for!’

  All this time, Rick hadn’t made a sound. Now she heard him shuffle some papers, his seat creak slightly as he shifted about, coins clink as he felt in his jacket pocket. He must be locating a pen, she thought, to make a few changes to his talk.

  She kept her voice low, anxious not to distract him. ‘Hardly surprising – has James ever read anything written by a woman? Whereas I have, of course, and I can retaliate with plenty of examples of heartless men! Yes, biology and literature have a lot to answer for.’ She hesitated, fumbling to give expression to something that she’d left unspoken for ten years. ‘It’s just that … oh, I know this is a sweeping generalisation … and, don’t worry, it doesn’t make us any happier, quite the reverse … but I think women are different from men because – because we can keep on loving someone who’s no longer part of our life.’

  Ben nodded thoughtfully; before he could say anything in response, however, Amanda burst into the room.

  ‘Anna, can you come and help?’ she gasped, eyes wide with alarm. ‘There’s a horrible man downstairs, with a funny little woman, and he says they don’t need tickets for Rick’s talk because he’s Baron Lynch and she’s Lady Drimple. But I’ve never heard of them – have you?’

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  As Anna left the room, Rick put down his pen and stared after her. Was he doing the right thing? He shook his head impatiently; he was doing the only thing possible, and if this didn’t work–

  ‘Nearly done?’ Ben eased himself on to the chair next to
Rick’s and finished his coffee in one gulp.

  ‘Just a couple more minutes.’ Rick placed his hand casually over the page; what he’d written was intended to be read by one person only – and it certainly wasn’t Ben. He added the last few lines, signed his name, slipped the page in with his other notes and dropped his pen back in his pocket. Then – deep breath – ‘Can you do me a favour?’

  Ben grinned. ‘Only if you tell me what’s wrong with that plesiosaur.’

  ‘The forelimbs and the hindlimbs are the wrong way round,’ Rick said, without looking at the skeleton.

  ‘Those were my words exactly! Were you listening in on my conversation with Anna?’

  Rick ignored the question and went on, ‘And there’s something else – the two forelimbs are identical copies of each other.’

  Ben looked across the room for confirmation, then laughed. ‘OK, OK, you win! What’s the favour?’

  ‘Go and tell Anna that Baron Lynch and Lady Drimple can be my guests–’

  ‘So you know them?’ Ben put in. ‘I thought they must be a couple of characters from the local pantomime.’

  ‘You’re not far wrong.’ A grim smile. ‘Sit them at the speaker’s table – my publicist can’t make it tonight, so no one else will be sitting there apart from you and the bookshop guy. Just make sure they’re at the other end from me.’

  ‘And here’s me thinking you’re choosy about your guests,’ Ben grumbled. ‘Ah well, I’d better go and tell Anna the good news.’ With an exaggerated sigh, he got to his feet and went out of the room.

  Once he was alone, Rick let his shoulders slump and his eyes close. ‘At least it’ll soon be over, one way or another,’ he muttered.

  And he wasn’t referring to the talk.

  For the third time, teeth clenched in exasperation, Anna said to her father, ‘If you haven’t got a ticket, there’s nothing I can do.’