by Susan Lewis
‘I really like you too,’ she said. ‘You kiss much better than anyone else I know.’
He stared at her in amazement.
‘Don’t look like that,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve had lots of boyfriends. Well, two, anyway, that I’ve kissed. Actually, I was practising on them for when I kissed you, because I always thought we would. Did you?’
Flustered, he said, ‘Yeah, I suppose so. Look, wait there, OK? I’ll be back.’
‘Shall I set up the draughts board, in case anyone comes in?’ she asked.
‘Uh, yeah, do that,’ he told her, and closing the bathroom door behind him, he leaned against it, taking a deep shuddering breath. She really, really turned him on, and she was so up for it, he wasn’t sure what to do next. In some weirdly unbalanced part of his head he wanted to go and ask his dad, but that was a definite no go, and anyway, it wasn’t as if he’d never felt a girl up before. Thinking of doing it to Annabelle his eyes closed and he almost whimpered at the renewed tightening in his groin.
The best thing for him to do now, he decided, was to go back downstairs where everyone else was watching a DVD. If she wanted to do something again next time he came here, or when she was at his place in London, he would, but they’d been up here long enough now. The last thing he wanted was anyone suspecting, when even the thought of it burned him up inside and out with total, all-out, toe-curling, brain-numbing embarrassment.
It was late afternoon by the time Alicia finally left the shop to return to the Coach House, tired, dirty and in sore need of a long soak in the bath. She’d had so many visitors during the day, locals offering sympathy for her loss, or advice for her future, or wanting to find out what she was up to, or in some cases to help with the hard work, that she hadn’t achieved quite as much as she’d hoped. However, the place had now mostly been cleared of rubbish, the sink and loo were more or less approachable, and her precious sculptures, though still temporarily stored in their packing cases, were at least in the right venue.
As she let herself into the house the sound of Radiohead blaring from Nat’s iPod speakers caused her to groan and want to retreat. However, instead of going upstairs to ask him to turn it down, she wove a path through the boxes in the hall to the kitchen, tugged open the fridge and took out a bottle of cold beer. After pouring it into a glass, she played back two messages on the answerphone, both from friends in London asking how she was settling in and telling her to give them a call when she had time, then wandered outside to sit down in the garden. She still had a mountain of unpacking to get through, but she had all summer for that and right now she just wanted to close her eyes, enjoy her drink, and try not to think of why she was here. For a while she drifted dreamily, seeming to float in an open, empty world, where nothing was pushing her on or holding her back. She was free of her own thoughts, unleashed from the pain, detached from the memories. Everything was light and white, unspoiled and perfect in a way that had no substance or meaning, or weight to pull her down. How long was it before she landed? Seconds, minutes? She had no idea. She only knew she was back in London and feeling excited and happy as she heard Craig’s key in the door.
Saying a quick goodbye to her mother on the phone she hung up and dashed across the kitchen. ‘I’ve got it!’ she cried, as he stepped into the hall. ‘I passed. I’m now a fully qualified welder.’
Dropping his briefcase he laughed delightedly as he swung her round with pride. ‘My wife, the blowtorch babe,’ he teased. ‘All that hard work and now you can repair the car, put our pipes back together and solder cheese graters to brass knockers to make modern art.’
She gurgled with laughter and threw back her head for him to kiss her hard.
Now, sitting in her mother’s garden, she was smiling through her tears as she recalled those moments, long before the affair, when she’d become so used to their happiness and so sure of his love that it had never even crossed her mind that anything would happen to spoil it.
They’d celebrated at home that night, with Nat and Darcie, aged seven and twelve, who didn’t really understand why their mother wanted to be a welder, or even, in Darcie’s case, what a welder actually did. To them it only mattered that their parents were in playful moods and that their mother, according to their father, was going to become a world-famous artist, making sculptures out of stainless steel.
‘I thought you made them in bronze,’ Nat said, confused.
‘No, plasticine,’ Darcie corrected. ‘I make the moulds in plasticine,’ Alicia explained, ‘that are then cast in bronze. But now I can make sculptures in steel as well.’
‘Why do you want to do that?’ Nat asked, pulling a face.
Alicia glanced helplessly at Craig and threw out her hands. ‘Because it’s how the mood takes me,’ she answered with a laugh.
‘Your mother’s an artist who follows her whims,’ Craig informed them, putting a steaming hot bowl of noodles on the table. ‘And a good thing too, because they’re as beautiful as she is.’
‘Did you meet any murderers today?’ Darcie asked, dismissing all this nonsense talk and returning to the macabre interest she’d recently developed in her father’s world.
‘No, but I had lunch with Father Christmas who told me what he’s bringing you this year,’ Craig answered.
‘But I haven’t sent a note yet,’ Darcie protested.
‘That’s what he said, so I think you’d better get round to it.’
‘We can get Mum a welder’s helmet,’ Nat suggested.
‘I already have all the gear,’ she told him. ‘It’s a place to work I need now I’ve finished college. A little studio all of my own would be lovely, if you can manage it.’
‘Whooosh, went the genie,’ Craig responded, ‘your wish is my command. We’ll find you somewhere by the end of the week.’
He had as well, a small workshop in Fulham with a vast rent, that she’d had to give up long before she’d let go of the house. Anyway, after Craig died she’d lost the heart to create.
Taking a sip of her beer, she wrested her mind away from her memories, finding them too difficult to deal with when she was so tired and feeling anxious about ever being able to create anything again. Her thoughts returned to the new studio she was trying to set up, and then she was thinking about Annabelle’s impromptu visit earlier. Seeing the child looking so grown-up and flirting so brazenly had been an unsettling experience. Not that Annabelle hadn’t always had a knowing sort of way with her, seeming to understand how powerful her looks made her, but there had been a sweetness and innocence to her before which had been totally absent today. And if the way she’d carried on with Nat was typical of how she behaved with the opposite sex then Robert was right, it wouldn’t be a good idea for an impressionable young Darcie to spend much time with her. In fact, all things considered, Alicia would rather Darcie didn’t see her at all.
‘Hey, you’re back,’ Nat said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘I wonder why,’ she smiled, realising the music had been turned down. ‘Where’s Summer?’
‘Taking a bath. Like another?’ he offered, nodding towards her glass.
‘Yes, why not?’ She was trying not to be annoyed that Summer was where she wanted to be, reminding herself that this was how it was going to be from now on, with only one bathroom in the house, so she’d better start getting used to it.
After fetching two more bottles, Nat topped up her glass and pulled up a chair for himself. ‘So is everything OK at the shop?’ he asked. ‘I was about to come and find out how you were getting on.’
‘There’s still a lot to do, but we’ll get round to it. How’s your unpacking coming along?’
‘Not bad. My desk is a bit small for the computer, but it’s no big deal.’
‘We’ll have to get someone in to mount the TVs on the walls in your and Darcie’s rooms,’ she said, feeling suddenly very weary at the thought of how much needed doing that she’d have to pay for. ‘And we should order a new s
atellite dish for the Sky boxes.’
‘I’ll do it,’ he said, ‘but there’s no rush. There’s never anything on worth watching at this time of year anyway. Apart from cricket.’
Smiling at the way he was trying to make her feel better, she put a hand on his arm and squeezed.
‘You’ve got dirt on your face and a cobweb in your hair,’ he told her.
‘Does it suit me?’
He laughed, and tilted his beer to drink.
A few minutes ticked quietly by. The music had finished altogether now, so all they could hear was the faraway drone of a plane going over, and the pleasing squawk of crickets. A dog began barking somewhere nearby, followed by a voice calling it in. Then a car started up across the street, and whoever it was drove away.
She was so enjoying sitting there, just the two of them, that she almost didn’t hear when Nat said, very quietly, ‘Do you miss him?’
As his words wrenched at her heart she could feel his loss tugging at her as though it were her own. What she wouldn’t give to be able to turn his world back into the safe and happy place it used to be. ‘Yes, I miss him a lot,’ she answered.
He nodded. His face was paling, and his mouth showed his tension.
‘Do you?’ she asked.
He looked down at his beer. ‘I try not to think about it,’ he said.
Wanting desperately to put her hand on his, but sensing he wouldn’t welcome it, she said, ‘There’s nothing wrong in missing him.’
‘I know, I’m just saying …’ He shifted uncomfortably, and put the bottle to his mouth to drink. ‘We went over to the Copse this afternoon,’ he said gruffly. ‘It hasn’t changed.’
Saddened by the change of subject, but daring to hope it might be a roundabout route back to something he wanted to say, she waited for him to go on.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ he said, after a while, ‘I mean, if it’s OK with you…Would it be all right if Summer and I shared a room?’
Smiling past the ache inside her, for she knew this was a question he’d have found far easier to ask Craig, she said, ‘It’s fine, but you only have a single bed. It won’t be very comfortable.’
‘We’ll manage.’ He looked at her quickly. A moment later his eyes came back to her, and as he started to smile she did too. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
She sipped her drink, then let her head fall forward.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
‘Just tired. We need to think about what we’re going to eat tonight. The Friary’s closed on Mondays, or we could have had fish and chips. Are you hungry?’
‘Famished. I could drive over to Bruton and pick up some pizzas.’
He’d passed his test a week before Craig died, but had hardly driven since, so she wasn’t sure about letting him take a car he didn’t know without her being next to him, at least for the first trip out. ‘We could go together,’ she suggested.
‘I can do it,’ he insisted. Then, ‘Mum, you have to stop worrying about me all the time. I drove Dad’s Mercedes…’
‘Once, and he was with you – and my Renault has a long way to go before it can make that class.’
To her surprise he laughed. ‘You’re right about that,’ he told her. ‘It’s a heap, but if I did any damage at least it wouldn’t cost as much as if I pranged the Merc.’
‘It’s you I’m concerned about, not the car, but OK, to demonstrate my faith in you, you can take it. I’ll have a bath while you’re gone. Presumably Summer will go with you.’
‘Yeah. We want to make the most of our time together, before she leaves on Wednesday.’ He took another sip of his drink. ‘Did I tell you her parents have invited me to join them in Italy?’
Alicia’s insides churned. ‘Darcie mentioned something about it,’ she said, having to push aside a sudden urge to cling on to him. ‘That’s very kind of them.’ Then, forcing the next words out, ‘Do you want to go? It’s fine with me, if you do. It wouldn’t be fair if only Darcie had a holiday. You need one too.’
‘No, I’m good,’ he said.
‘If you’re thinking about me, then don’t. I’ve got so much to be getting on with the time’ll just fly.’
‘It’s OK, I’m happy to stay here. I’m going to paint the shop and help design a flyer for you, and I can catch up with some friends before I start the new school.’
‘Nat, you don’t have to take care of me,’ she told him softly. ‘I want you to do whatever makes you happy, and if going to Italy is what you want…’
‘It’s not, honest. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was just that Summer didn’t want you to think that they hadn’t invited me.’
Alicia smiled. ‘That’s sweet of her.’ Then, remembering his parting words when he’d left the shop earlier, ‘Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Or no, I guess it was the sleeping arrangements.’
He took a breath and stared out across the garden. ‘Actually, it was neither,’ he replied. ‘I mean, it was, because obviously I wanted to…Well, what I wanted to ask you, actually, was why you and Sabrina don’t speak? I mean, it makes no odds to me,’ he went on hurriedly, ‘I’ve never really liked her anyway, but if it causes a problem between you and Uncle Robert, that’s not good, especially now we’re living here.’
Touched by his concern for her, and obvious desire to understand a situation that had probably never made any sense to him, she managed to sidestep the question, saying, ‘Uncle Robert and I can work things out, don’t you worry about that. He knows Sabrina and I have never really got along, and rather than pretend to like one another, we’ve decided it’s probably best if we don’t actually see one another.’
Nat nodded, and seeming more or less satisfied with that, he got up from the table. ‘Half each of a Four Seasons and a Chorizo?’ he said.
Alicia looked up at him. ‘Summer might want to swap and share,’ she reminded him tactfully.
He coloured slightly. ‘Of course. Hell, we can all swap and share,’ he declared. ‘I’ll go and find her. And try to clean yourself up by the time I get back, there’s a good girl. The witchy look really doesn’t do it for me.’
Chapter Seven
‘Catrina, you are so outrageous,’ Annabelle squealed, falling back on her bed and kicking her legs in the air with excitement.
‘What?’ Catrina replied, looking at Georgie, all innocence. ‘I reckon it’s a great idea.’
‘Who’s going?’ Georgie wanted to know.
‘Everyone. Theo, Kennedy, Melody, Carl, all the usual gang and anyone else we want to invite. It’ll be a scream. Theo’s getting some E from his cousin, who might come too, and Petra says she can probably get some weed from her uncle, you know, the one in East Lydford, who grows it. We have to go. We can’t not.’
‘Too right,’ Annabelle agreed, sitting up and raking back her hair. ‘And do you know what’s really great about it,’ she added mischievously, ‘we won’t have a problem deciding what to wear.’
As they burst out laughing there was a knock on the door, silencing them abruptly.
‘Who is it?’ Annabelle demanded frostily.
‘Who do you think?’ Sabrina replied from the landing. ‘I’m off now. Robert’s in his study, but he’ll be going out in about an hour if you want a lift into Wells.’
‘Cool,’ Annabelle shouted back. Then under her breath, ‘Get lost now. We don’t need any more of you.’
When she didn’t hear her mother walking away Annabelle crept over to the door, turned the key and peered out on to the landing. Finding no eavesdroppers she stepped back inside, and signalled to Georgie to put on some music as she relocked the door.
‘OK, so where were we?’ she said, sinking cross-legged on to a downy floor cushion next to Catrina. ‘OMG, a topless pool party. It is going to be soooo wild.’
‘So you’re definitely up for it?’ Catrina said. ‘Good, cos I’ve already told Theo we’ll be there.’
‘Actually, I reckon he should make it a nudie party,’ Annabelle
stated recklessly. ‘Once we’ve all had a drink and some E and start swimming it’ll all come off anyway.’
‘Is that your phone?’ Georgie said to Catrina, recognising the ringtone.
Reaching behind her to where she’d left it on the bed, Catrina saw who was calling and clicked on straight away. ‘Hey Archie,’ she said, beaming at the others, ‘how’re things?’
Georgie looked at Annabelle. ‘Bet you she agrees to see him,’ she murmured.
Not appearing particularly interested, Annabelle said, ‘Of course she will, she always does.’
Georgie shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t let anyone mess me around like that,’ she commented.
‘That’s because you’re not in love.’
‘I so am, well kind of, anyway. I was thinking, why don’t you invite your cousin to the party? It would be amazing if he came, wouldn’t it?’
Annabelle’s eyes narrowed, and catching the wickedest of wicked gleams, Georgie started to grin.
‘I have to meet him outside the Shell garage at three,’ Catrina stated, dropping her phone on the floor.
‘You know he’s just going to shag you and take you home again,’ Georgie told her.
‘You’re just jealous,’ Catrina retorted. ‘So what’s going on?’ she asked Annabelle.
‘Georgie has had the most brilliant idea,’ Annabelle informed her. ‘We’re going to ask my cousin, Nat, to the party.’
Catrina looked distinctly unimpressed. ‘Big deal,’ she said, rummaging through her make-up. ‘Do you think he’ll come?’
‘We won’t know unless we ask.’
‘If he does, then he’s mine first,’ Georgie piped up.
Annabelle’s eyes flashed. ‘You know what you can do,’ she told her hotly.
Georgie laughed, showing she’d been teasing. ‘Question is, how do we get rid of the ginger one?’ she said. ‘We don’t want her dragging along, and I, for one, definitely don’t want to see her in the nud, snooty bitch.’
‘Oh, yuk, rusty pubes,’ Catrina commented, applying mascara.
Annabelle giggled. ‘Who cares about her? All we’ve got to do is find out his mobile number so we can invite him.’