Acts of Love

by Talulah Riley

  Once Eva Cassidy had ceased singing about barley, others were encouraged to join the party, and several couples started dancing. Elizabeth came to Bernadette, smiling, and taking both her hands led her on to the floor.

  ‘How are you doing?’ she asked, pulling Bernadette into a hug.

  ‘I’m just so sorry,’ Bernadette gasped, hugging her back, hard.

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. ‘Hey! Shit happens! You couldn’t have known he was going to be in the church. And you’d done so well up to that point.’

  The two women looked at each other for a long beat, and then both of them started laughing, Bernadette somewhat hysterically. ‘You knew?’ she gasped. ‘You knew all along that I was in love with him?’

  ‘I suspected that you thought you were in love with him,’ Elizabeth corrected her. ‘Which was pretty funny. There you were, lusting after poor old Tim – and I mean, I love the man, so I’m not blind to his attractions, but he’s so not the kind of guy that beautiful women usually run after; no wonder it turned his head – and all the time you had Radley, who’s so obviously perfect for you, just dying to be with you. I knew you’d figure it out.’

  Bernadette hadn’t thought it possible she could love Elizabeth any more, but she looked at the other woman with an overwhelming rush of feeling. ‘I just wish I’d figured it out before this morning.’

  ‘Tim told me it was his fault. He’s been stupid about this whole thing, but he’s an okay guy at heart. I’m not saying I’m letting him off the hook that easily, but we’re good. I couldn’t have forgiven his behaviour over anyone but you.’

  The two women hugged tightly, and Bernadette wanted to cry with relief at Elizabeth’s charity. Suddenly Radley appeared beside them and tapped Elizabeth on the shoulder.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said politely, ‘but may I cut in?’

  ‘Of course!’ giggled Elizabeth, standing on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Be my guest.’

  Radley took Bernadette in his arms and they danced away, moving well together. Her response to his closeness was devastating, her whole body quaking with love and fascination.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, staring up at him.

  ‘I didn’t do it for you,’ he said, not meeting her gaze. ‘I did it for Elizabeth. The last thing she needs to do on her wedding day is babysit you.’

  His words were shards of crystal, falling and breaking. It pained her to hear him, so different to the man she knew.

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Who are you sorry for, Bernadette?’

  ‘For Elizabeth. And – and you.’ As she said it, she realised that Elizabeth was not the only casualty of her morning’s activity. She had hurt Radley Blake, the gentle genius.

  He gave a curt laugh. ‘Please don’t be sorry on my account. You have been the cause of your own suffering, as I have been mine.’

  ‘Oh Radley!’ she cried. ‘Please, please don’t!’

  ‘Hush,’ he said, leading her from the dance floor as her anguish attracted the attention of the people around them. He walked her quickly towards the woods, and she was so grateful to be in his company that she practically skipped at his side. Once they were far enough away to be out of sight, she turned to him and tried to embrace him, but he would not be held, and firmly moved her arms away.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything, honestly. I don’t care for Tim at all.’

  ‘Just a kiss? You kissed my best friend’s husband. On their wedding day, in the church where they were to exchange their vows. You befriended her, whilst pursuing him. You knew exactly what you were doing, and were given every opportunity to rein back. And you made me believe, truly believe, that you could love me! That you could do the decent thing. Idiot that I am.’

  ‘It sounds bad when you put it like that,’ she gulped, desperately scrolling through possible paths for the conversation. He was angry, angrier than she had ever seen him, but it must be possible to win him round. She just had to communicate how much she loved him.

  ‘I don’t love Tim,’ she continued. ‘The kiss was a terrible mistake – but it was an act of closure!’

  ‘Closure?’ he repeated, incredulous, as if every thought in her head was an abomination. ‘You needed closure, did you? Well, tell me, how is Elizabeth ever to get closure from that act? How am I? Your behaviour affects more than just yourself.’

  ‘Oh don’t be hurt, my love! You can’t be hurt that badly. I love you! I love you, Radley.’

  He looked at her like she had slapped him in the face, and actually recoiled. ‘And again!’ he said. ‘Unbelievable, woman! You choose to tell me that now? You have no skill at modelling other people’s mindsets. You have no empathy.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know that I love you?’

  ‘I don’t want your sympathy, your cheap words. You think I can’t be hurt? You think I’m not as vulnerable as you, just because I’m a man? Does it weaken me, in your eyes? You’ve done more harm than you could ever fathom, Bernadette, but best for you that you don’t know it, if it will save you some of this pain.’

  She was too distraught to move; she just stared at him, shaking. It was cold out of the sun. ‘But … you said you loved me. Just last night, you said it. You can’t have changed your mind. You must love me still.’

  ‘My love is not unconditional, the love of a mother for a child,’ he said, glowering at her. ‘It’s a possessive hunger, the jealous love of a man for a woman.’

  ‘Well that doesn’t sound quite right,’ said Bernadette, scowling too. ‘You might want to work on that.’

  His eyes widened, like a horse about to shy, and she wasn’t sure if he was going to smack her, or laugh. He did neither, but there was a shift in his expression, and his posture relaxed a little. He gave a rueful smile. ‘Well, yes, we might both learn to love the way Elizabeth does. She has a refinement of feeling inaccessible to people like you and me.’

  Bernadette sensed hope in his manner, and tried to move to him, reaching out her arms, but he held her off.

  ‘I thought we could make each other happy,’ he said. ‘But perhaps we are too alike, too selfish, after all. You are not for me, and I won’t think on it any more.’

  ‘I am for you!’ she sobbed, as he turned away and she realised he was beyond her. But he gave no answer to her cries, stalking back the way they had come through the dappled forest glow, the light and shade allowing him camouflage, so that he eventually disappeared from view in an organic haze, as if the memory of the man lingered a moment after his body was gone.

  Epilogue

  Bernadette resettled herself comfortably in the hard-backed chair, preparing for another few hours of meet-and-greet. It was arduous, but also fascinating, to meet the women who had been affected by her work. They always had their own stories to tell.

  She sat in front of the large board that advertised her newly published novel, A House of One’s Own. Across the table, a queue of women stretched back towards the entrance to the bookstore.

  Looking up quickly, she thought she had seen him – a tall hulk of a man, dark and brooding. A figure that haunted her, day and night. She hadn’t seen him since he had left her in the woods nearly two years ago. And not a single day passed when she didn’t think of him. If love was to be proved by constancy, it was now quite evident that Bernadette was truly in love.

  She knew that he was well, that he was working just as hard. Elizabeth was patient with her regular questioning when they met once a week for dinner, lingering over a home-cooked meal, Tim pouring them both drinks and entertaining them with stupid jokes but making himself scarce once they had eaten.

  ‘How is he?’ Bernadette would ask, immediately.

  ‘He looks the same. He came round the other night and we played Cards Against Humanity. Clarion is kicking butt; they’ve just been awarded some huge military contract.’

  ‘And is he …?’

  ‘No. He’s not d
ating anyone.’

  Bernadette felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, and glanced up again. The line of women was growing longer. She tried to stop thinking about him and focus on the task in hand. Elizabeth and Tim had encouraged her to reach out to him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know what to say.

  She finished scrawling her name across a copy of her book and the reader left, satisfied. Her pen was running out of ink, and she bent down to her bag to find a new one. The next copy of her novel was banged down on the table impatiently.

  ‘One moment,’ she muttered, her head in her bag.

  An unmistakable male voice, with that inimitable overconfident drawl, replied, ‘Please make this one out to Radley, the love of my life, who I wronged most terribly.’

  When she looked up, she found herself face to face with him. Elizabeth had been right: he looked no different. But she had forgotten how extreme his energy was, how it felt to be in his presence, to bask in his overpowering allure.

  ‘Radley,’ she breathed – and it was the most exciting sound to ever pass over her tongue.

  ‘Bernadette. I read your book. It was quite readable, I thought, even though I’m not the target demographic.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He smiled at her, and she was undone.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked, solicitously, as if they had no history, as if they were strangers meeting for the first time.

  ‘I’m … okay. I’m trying not to think about myself too much right now. I’ve retired the Man Whisperer, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’ve been following your work. And Elizabeth has kept me up to date on all the rest.’

  ‘Yes. She has for me too. About you, I mean.’

  ‘Then you know already that I enjoyed your book.’ He picked it up, measured and thoughtful. ‘How autobiographical is it?’

  ‘Well, I, um …’

  ‘Because I must say, I quite liked the genius botanist chap … what’s his name?’

  ‘Rodger Bentley.’

  ‘Rodger. Right.’

  ‘Right. He’s the hero,’ she said, feeling a little faint. ‘Obviously.’ She had forgotten how arousing it was to maintain eye contact with him, his dark gaze so completely overwhelming.

  ‘I never saw you as a racy seductress, as you know,’ he said, quietly. ‘I saw a confused and lonely girl, far away from home and her mother’s love.’

  Bernadette gulped, and it was a moment before she could answer. ‘Yes. I know.’ She paused. ‘The novel, it’s really a sort of … love letter. An apology.’

  He stared at her, deeply, as though looking for some sign of the old cynicism or coquetry, and she smiled at him, plainly, as a friend would.

  ‘Well I thought it was about time I stopped by and offered my congratulations.’ He kissed her hand theatrically, looking down at her with twinkling eyes, with that suppressed mirth that characterised him. Bernadette was so engrossed, she didn’t even stop to complain to the woman behind Radley in the line, who was surreptitiously filming them both on her iPhone.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said again, at a loss for words. She had wanted this moment for so long.

  He nodded and turned away, leaving her ravenous.

  ‘Radley!’ she called after him. ‘Radley – will I see you again?’

  He glanced back. ‘Perhaps,’ he said with a smile. ‘If you’re good …’

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the team at United Agents: Dallas Smith for kicking things off and sending my unfinished manuscript to the literary folks downstairs. Millie Hoskins for reading and believing and encouraging Jon to take a look. Jon Elek for being the very best agent a person could possibly hope for, and much more besides. And a big thank you to Celine Kelly for all her help and encouragement.

  Thank you to everyone at Hodder and Stoughton for making the process feel actually romantic. Carolyn Mays for being my champion. Emily Kitchin for being so lovely, clever and patient. Jane Selley for making the thing actually readable. Louise Swannell for filling my diary with exciting events, and Auriol Bishop for all of her incomparable magic touches – not just the roses and ribbons and cinnamon buns!

  I would also like to thank Paulina Sandler, my best friend, who happens to be some kind of closet literary genius, the world’s most prolific reader, and an incredible critic. Thank you for being the appraising eye, Paul. Ali Sudol, my dearest artistic inspiration and beautiful sister. DA Wallach and Liz Brinson Wallach, my family, thank you for letting me read you bits out loud, celebrating with me, and taking constant care of me. Stacey Ferreira for supporting my career as a novelist, and being a great girl-boss and an amazing friend. Raiyah Bint Al-Hussein, my brain twin and most beloved voice of the universe. Always love for Elon, Damian, Griffin, Kai, Saxon and Xavier.

  And unending gratitude to my parents, for everything. You are my greatest blessing, and I love you more than …