by Cat Hogan
The sound of boots at the back door made both of them turn around in fright. The French door opened and Andy walked in.
Jens face lit up. ‘Oh, hey there! I wasn’t expecting you back until Sunday.’
‘I wasn’t expecting to be back either – trouble with the cold storage meant we had to come back in early to unload. Hi, Sal.’
‘There’s some leftover dinner there if you’re hungry – I can reheat it for you. Help yourself to a glass of wine.’ Jen stood up and cleared the empty plates to make herself busy, doing anything to avoid that gaze of his.
‘Brilliant, I’m starving. Will just have a quick shower if that’s OK.’
‘Em, yeah, fine. Enjoy.’
Both he and Sal looked at her a little oddly and he disappeared through the door.
‘Jen Harper, you are full of shit!’ Sal couldn’t stop laughing. ‘You went bright red the minute he mentioned going to the shower!’
‘Feck off, Sal.’ She was mortified, as he had copped on to it as well. She was a blusher, an affliction which had always haunted her.
‘On that note, my dear, I’m going home. Behave yourself now!’ Sal kissed her on the cheek and was gone in a flash.
‘Come on, Dan!’ Jen called to the door of the sitting room, ‘Time for bed!’
He didn’t argue, even when she made him brush his teeth and wash his face. By the time she had read one page of his favourite story, he was fast asleep. She pulled the blankets up around him and quietly closed his bedroom door behind her.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment and just listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen. She smiled to herself before casually sauntering in.
‘How’s the pasta?’
He was sitting at the table with a steaming bowl of food in front of him. She was really bad at portion control and had made way too much as usual.
‘Just as well I’m here,’ he said. ‘You cooked for ten instead of three again.’
She sat down at the table with him. She just couldn’t help herself. He was barefoot and in shorts, his hair still damp, and he smelled clean. He was so handsome.
Her glass was still on the table. She shared out the last of the red between them. He was enjoying the meal too much to speak, and she sat there very aware of the silence. All conversational skills had left her, and she suddenly felt very awkward compared to him with his relaxed body language.
‘So,’ he said at last.
‘So,’ she replied, feeling like a complete fool.
‘How are things, Jen? You must have had an early night on Saturday night?’
‘Andy, I was in bed by nine. Shameful really – one night out and I’m broken for days. Why do you ask? Did you come back here that night? I thought you were out?’
‘I was out all right, just for a couple with Scott. When he left I came back here – around eleven, I think. Gone again then, at five.’
‘Jesus, I never heard a thing.’ She heard Sal’s voice ringing in her ears, and she decided to act on her advice. ‘Did Scott enjoy himself here on Friday? He seemed to anyway. Sal thinks he’s great.’
‘He did indeed, Jen. He’s looking forward to the next one. Yeah, he was really impressed with Sal’s sheer talent. He’s going to make a couple of calls for her – he knows everyone like.’
‘He has an interview lined up already!’
‘Brilliant – I’m delighted for her, Tess. Scott knows everyone.’ He put his glass on the table and looked at her. ‘Jen, I know you’re a bit wary of him. He is a snob, but he’s a good guy underneath it.’
‘I’m sorry, Andy, if I appeared rude to him on Friday, but I have a real thing about snobbery. Anyway, once he had fun and got on well with everyone, that’s the main thing.’
The conversation was ridiculously polite and stilted between them, and well she knew it. The big elephant from the other night was in the room, and she knew for sure he felt it too.
‘Will I put on some music, Jen? It won’t wake Danny, will it?’
‘Not at all – he would sleep through a hurricane. Stick on whatever you like.’
She stood up to clear the dishes, but he insisted on doing it. Sit down and chill out, he told her, he would wash up. She sat sideways on the couch, and sipped on her wine as he washed.
‘Did you talk to Tess after, Jen? What are you going to do?’
‘Andy, I have no idea how I’m going to tell her. Maybe I should speak to him instead? It’s a real mess.’
He shook his head. He was pretty disgusted by Doc’s behaviour, but didn’t know what she should do. He eventually spoke.
‘I don’t know, Jen, it’s a tricky one. Should you just keep out of it altogether, pretend you know nothing?’
‘I couldn’t do that, even though I want to. I’ll think about it for a day or two and see what happens. What a complete asshole though – why is he doing this to her? Hey, leave the drying-up, Andy – I’ll do it later.’
She curled her legs up under her as he took a seat on the couch beside her. They chatted for a while about music and books. Nice easy conversation. When he suggested they open the last bottle of wine, she nodded her agreement. She shouldn’t be drinking on a school night, but tomorrow was Friday. She rooted around in her bag until she found the pack of cigarettes. She had cursed herself going into the shop on Sunday to buy them, but the old addiction was back, as strong as ever. Danny didn’t know and she would keep it that way. Wrapping herself in a blanket, she went and sat down on a pile of cushions outside, and Andy joined her with the bottle and their glasses.
‘I love the peace out here,’ she said as she lit her cigarette. ‘The sound of the sea relaxes me.’
In the distance, they could hear the lapping waves on the shore. The lighthouse, the sea’s constant companion, lit up the horizon. Nothing else could be heard, it was clear and still. The waning moon competed with the lighthouse, kissing the surface of the water, giving the landscape a silvery glow.
‘We are so lucky to live here, Jen,’ he said, looking off into the distance. ‘Can you imagine being stuck in the middle of a city right now?’
‘I think I would lose the plot, Andy. I would be out on the rooftops howling at the moon before they carted me off in a straitjacket.’
They both laughed at that image. She excused herself, and went to check on Danny. Fast asleep. By now she was feeling the effects of the heavy red wine – tipsy. But she was enjoying herself and didn’t care. When she came back out to the decking, he had brought out a few cushions and a blanket for himself. She turned back and grabbed a couple of candles from the kitchen and put them down beside the ashtray. Andy was smoking when she sat down.
‘What are you doing, Andy? I thought the other night was a one-off?’
‘Ah I just fancied one, that’s all – sure why not?’
Her first thought was that now if he kissed her he wouldn’t notice she tasted like an ashtray, then she immediately reddened at the idea. She would have to stop this.
He leaned over and kissed her. Just like that. She was startled, but that didn’t stop her kissing him back. She sure as hell didn’t want him to stop but she was shaking. Chemistry indeed. His hands were around her waist and he pulled her over beside him.
‘I have wanted to do that all week,’ he whispered to her. ‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since Friday.’
She didn’t know what to say back to that, so she kissed him instead. The chemistry between them was insane. She had never felt this kind of intensity towards another human being – ever. His hands were all over her, and hers were locked behind his head. He smelled of citrus fruits, and shower gel.
She stopped, and looked at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled. She felt exposed under his gaze, and when he picked her up and lay her down on the cushions, she shook. His weight was on top of her and she didn’t want him to stop. The glass got kicked over, and neither of them took any notice – they were too busy, kissing, biting and exploring ea
ch other. Before she could stop herself, she had his shirt off, and his gorgeous body felt so perfect to her touch. He was totally ripped, the body of a man who works hard for a living. He was stunning. He gasped when she ran her nails up along his back. They were impatient and hungry with each other. He kissed her again, and his hand tugged at her top.
She froze, and he could feel her tense up under him. As quickly as the passion had flamed, it turned cold. She wriggled out from underneath him, and wrapped the blanket around her.
‘Jen, what’s wrong?’ He sat back and looked at her.
She felt like shit, but she couldn’t let him see or feel the scars. She wasn’t ready to tell him that story yet.
‘I’m sorry, Andy. I just think what we’re doing is inappropriate with Danny in the house.’
He couldn’t argue with that.
‘Fair enough, Jen. I obviously just read the signals wrong.’ He put on his shirt in a hurry, and bent over to pick up the broken glass.
Jen took this as a cue to escape, and went through the French doors. While she searched under the stove for the dustpan, she absolutely cursed herself. It was always the same, and she needed to get over it, but she was repulsed by her scars, and they belonged to her. If he saw them, he would run a mile. His hand on her shoulder made her jump – she hadn’t heard him come in. He turned her around to face him. She didn’t know what to do – she couldn’t take a step back as the stove was in her way.
‘Jen, I’m really sorry if I was too forward, and it was stupid of me to forget about Danny being in the house. I just don’t want things to be awkward.’ He spoke to the top of her head.
‘It’s fine, Andy, don’t worry about it.’ She was taken aback by his candid approach, and felt all the worse for making him feel as though he had done something out of line. She was such an idiot. The purple nail polish on her toes was chipped. She couldn’t look at him, so she concentrated on that instead. He was waiting for her to say something to ease his torment, but her mind was blank. She was so uncomfortable she felt the urge to giggle. If I laugh now, she thought, he is going to think I’m totally crazy, but the more she tried to stop herself, the harder it became. He saw her shoulders shaking and took a step back, really alarmed.
‘Oh Jen, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ He was in a complete spin.
When she tried to speak, a snort escaped from the back of her nose. ‘Andy –’ She tried to compose herself, but the look of astonishment on his face made it all the more hilarious.
Then he started. A chuckle at first, which quickly turned to an absolute booming belly laugh. They gasped for air and tried to talk but the words wouldn’t come.
How strange a person can go through the whole spectrum of emotions in such a short space of time, she thought.
The wave of giggles finally eased, and he was the first to speak.
‘You are a strange little woman, Jen Harper. I think that’s why I like you.’
They were so close she could smell the shower gel from his skin. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she stopped herself. ‘I just have a lot going on at the moment, Andy. I don’t want things to get messy between us. I do like you, I’m not going to lie, but it’s not fair on any of us, especially Danny, and you are leaving in a while anyway.’ There was no point in beating about the bush here. He had set the bar for straight talking, and she owed him that much. Dammit, she liked him, but it was true – there was no point.
‘Jen, we all have scars and baggage. You know about mine, and I know about yours. I’m not one to enter into something on a whim. It was never in my nature, especially after what happened to me. If you think I’m the type of guy who just wants to get laid, you are wrong. The end of the year is a long time away.’
So, he knew about her scars. But of course he did – everyone knew. It had been the talk of the village all those years ago, and everyone had been so good to her and her mother. She hated it, and she sure as hell didn’t want to get into a conversation about it here and now.
‘I never said you were that type of guy, Andy – you misunderstood me. I know what you have been through. Scars and baggage eh, what a pair we are.’
The last statement hung in the air like fog.
His body language had changed, and the moment was gone.
‘That’s fair enough. Let’s just leave it as is. It’s fine.’ He took the dustpan from her hand and disappeared out to the decking.
They cleaned up the mess in silence, each lost in their own thoughts of shit and baggage and hurt. But there was no denying the chemistry, it was electric.
‘I’ll be heading back out in the morning, Jen, and if the weather holds I’ll be out for a few days. Maybe we can go for a beer when I get back in? We can have a talk then?’
He was leaning on the kitchen door just looking at her, as she frantically tried to do anything to keep herself busy. She didn’t want to look at him, afraid she might throw caution to the wind, and the boundaries just established would fly out the window. But then, they would be back to square one, her mental block about her body issues rearing its ugly head again. Ugly, that’s exactly how she felt, and one look at her and he would think the same. It wasn’t worth the hassle. He didn’t wait too long for a response.
‘Night, Jen.’
‘Night, sleep well, Andy.’
Eventually, she climbed the stairs. She stood on the landing and looked at the door in front of her. The light was still on, and she heard the rustle of a newspaper. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she lifted her hand to knock. She dropped her hand back to her side, and headed into her own room instead. Sleep would not come tonight, of that she was sure.
Chapter 15
Sal knew from the feedback that the deal with the NMAG was in the bag. The best trip she had ever made to Dublin. She knew that Scott was delighted as well – he had been really excited earlier about the meeting in the gallery. He remained impassive when shaking hands with the panel before they left, and advised them he would be in touch to discuss further details. Sal thought she was going to pass out with excitement. She had a good head for business, but Scott was a master negotiator. He had been right when he’d told her to keep quiet, and let him do the talking.
They came out on the pavement and he grabbed her arm. ‘Come on, quick – we’re going for a drink.’
As soon as they were out of view of the floor-to-ceiling windows he jumped in the air and clicked his heels together à la Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. He was genuinely delighted. He hadn’t told Sal that these things rarely got past the panel meeting, choosing instead to remain positive. But he had been confident enough when it came to her portfolio as she had an astounding talent. He took her by the hand and led her into the lobby of the Westbury Hotel.
‘Very swanky, Scott. I could get used to this life of luxury.’
She didn’t really mind how she stood out amidst a sea of power suits with her bright clothes and her portfolio under her arm. Scott nodded in recognition at a number of the suits. The beautiful high ceilings, polished marble and stunning paintings dotted around the lobby appealed to Sal’s love of grandeur.
Scott had already reserved a table for afternoon tea, in the aptly named Gallery. She took a seat in the antique chair, upholstered in the most vivid blue fabric she had ever seen. They resisted the urge to have champagne with the selection of sandwiches and pastries, and opted for strong Assam tea instead. She turned her chair to face the window and the hustle and bustle of Grafton Street. From here, there was no sound from the sea of humans outside.
The silverware arrived, as did the china. The finger sandwiches and selection of pastries were presented to them like little works of art all in their own right. She had never tasted anything as delicious as the home-made jam, which accompanied scones and clotted cream. Pure indulgence.
‘Scott, I can’t thank you enough for setting this up for me. It really is a dream come true.’ The reality had begun to sink in with her, and sh
e was feeling excited and terrified in equal measure. Her eyes began to well with tears. ‘I know my work is really good, and it’s the only thing in my life I get really excited about, so to have had the chance for them to consider my work for that gallery is amazing.’
Scott was smiling as he listened to her. He was genuinely delighted to have helped. He had grown up with a love of art, passed on to him from his father. In Weybridge, they had a serious collection of acquisitions from over the years. She deserved a chance.
‘Have no doubt, Sal, my little artistic protégé, it’s a certainty that your work will be exhibited, hopefully for longer than the norm, and because my father was always a patron of the arts they will look upon you favourably for funding etc. I will also get in touch with the Oscar Gallery – just as a courtesy to square things off with them.’
He picked up another sandwich, and looked out the window as he chewed. This was the beginning of something big, but if she didn’t get the funding it would be difficult for her. He would offer her a loan, if that was to happen, as he had no doubt he would make good returns on the investment. He had told her he didn’t want her to worry about the finer details – he knew how these things worked, and would sort it out for her. All she needed to do was concentrate on her painting and getting herself ready for a launch. He would also try and get her a residency with them if she was available for the opportunity.