Lost Innocence

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I can’t just forget about it, you idiot. I was raped, OK? And if you don’t want your stupid friends to know, you shouldn’t have made me come here.’

  Sabrina regarded her in overwhelming despair. She knew she was handling this badly, and had been ever since they’d arrived, but short of taking Annabelle home again, she was at a complete loss as to what to do with her. Struggling to keep the emotion from her voice, she said, ‘I haven’t brought you up to be rude about people and hostile like this. I’ve always taught you the proper thing to do, the right way to be…’

  ‘Oh yeah, you always get it right and proper, don’t you? Nothing you do is ever wrong. I don’t expect you even think having an affair was out of order. And it wasn’t just any affair, because you had to really go for it and pick on your sister-in-law’s husband. That makes you a great role model, doesn’t it?’

  Sabrina’s face had turned white, her whole body was starting to shake. ‘What I did,’ she began, ‘the relationship between Craig and me …’ Suddenly she couldn’t go any further. The effort to hold everything back, the grief, the loss, the bewilderment and terrible sense of failure over Annabelle, came flooding so fast to the surface that she started to sob. ‘You have no idea what I’ve been through,’ she choked raggedly. ‘You seem to forget that I have feelings too, and the way you treat me …’ She grabbed a tissue from a box and blew her nose. ‘I’m trying to help you, don’t you realise that? I want us to be close again, but you keep attacking me – and to bring up the relationship I had with Craig, to throw it in my face like that … I loved him, Annabelle. It wasn’t just some sordid affair, the way you’re trying to make out. We meant everything to one another, and now we’ll never be together, so how do you think that makes me feel?’

  Annabelle’s face was strained and confused. ‘Why don’t you just go and join your friends?’ she said bitterly. ‘I’m staying here, and if you start arguing again, I swear I’m going to run out on to that balcony and jump off.’

  Sitting where he was, further along the same balcony, outside his and Sabrina’s room, Robert couldn’t hear everything that was being said, but enough was reaching him for him to get the gist. She and Annabelle had been struggling dreadfully with one another almost as soon as they’d arrived, so he’d more or less been expecting the showdown – however, he hadn’t considered how revelatory it might prove. Though he’d known Sabrina was grieving for Craig, he’d evidently been blinding himself to the extent of her grief, or he simply hadn’t wanted to see it. However, this time, instead of the old wounds opening up with the same bitter and dull pain of rejection and fear of losing her, the way they usually did at any mention of his brother-in-law, he was finding himself far more concerned about Annabelle and how the continuing strain of it all was starting to affect her now.

  Hearing Sabrina coming into the room, he gave it a few moments, then put his book down and went back inside. He wasn’t surprised to find her in the bathroom repairing her make-up. She’d need to hurry now to join the others for lunch.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked his reflection as he came to stand in the door.

  ‘You go,’ he said, ‘I’ll stay here with Annabelle.’

  Though her eyes showed a moment’s unease as she realised he must have overheard the row, she covered it quickly as she said, ‘She’s a teenager, everyone will understand if she doesn’t come, but if you don’t it’ll just look rude.’

  ‘You can tell them I have to make a phone call for work, or that I have a headache.’

  She turned round to face him, looking nervous and very unsure of herself. ‘Would that be the same headache as the one you’ve had several nights in a row?’ she asked hoarsely.

  Knowing she didn’t really want to get into his reluctance to make love to her now, he simply said, ‘Go and join the others.’

  ‘Robert, I …’ She was so close to breaking down again that her words were swallowed by a gulf of emotion, and she quickly pressed her fingers to her lips to try to stifle a sob.

  Reaching for her, he hugged her to him, and kissed the top of her head, trying to give her some reassurance, while knowing that he needed to sort out what was going on in his own mind before he could talk to her about what was, and wasn’t, starting to happen between them.

  ‘I’ll stay here, if you want me to,’ she whispered, looking up at him with misty eyes.

  He shook his head. ‘No, you go and enjoy yourself,’ he said, and kissing her briefly on the cheek he left her to return to reassembling her mask of total happiness and fulfilment, while he went in search of Annabelle.

  It was two thirty on Tuesday. Rachel’s husband, David, had come to collect Nat and Darcie half an hour ago, only minutes before Cameron had turned up with Jasper. Alicia was now playing with the dog at the front of the shop, unable to bear witness to Cameron’s scrutiny of her work in the back.

  Between them Nat and Darcie had made a great job of turning the studio into a trendy-looking mini gallery, covering everything with crisp white bed sheets, and borrowing a black filigree three-fold screen from Mimi to mask the boiler and sink. Mimi had also provided some trailing greenery to help with the decor, and to Alicia’s amazement, Nat and Darcie had managed to dig out some old photos of her in the process of creating her pieces to scatter around the place (though in truth, in her welding helmet, flame-resistant coat and heatproof gloves, the artist at work could have been anyone). Shots of her moulding plasticine to form the bronze element of the pieces, however, were much more obviously her, but not particularly flattering, if the truth be told.

  The sculptures themselves had each been allocated a stand of some sort, anything from a packing case to an upturned flower pot to a pile of bricks that might topple at any moment, all carefully disguised by the minimalist robing of white cotton sheets. The order of viewing Nat had provided in the brochure he’d printed off that morning was 1) Alligator Shoes; 2) Darcie Dreaming; 3) Bird in the Hand; 4) Ballerina Blues; 5) Snail Mail; 6) Wedding Night.

  Keeping her back turned and hands busy with Jasper’s insatiable appetite for tummy rubs, Alicia waited in silence till she could bear it no more.

  ‘OK, I’m a big girl,’ she said, going to stand in the arch between the two spaces, ‘you can give it to me straight. They’re really amateur, aren’t they? Or maybe even that’s flattering myself.’

  Cameron’s attention was focused on the ballerina as he regarded it from all angles, a deep furrow between his eyebrows, a loose fist in front of his mouth.

  ‘I know they’re not really your thing,’ she gabbled on, ‘but some people have liked them. Actually, I’ve sold quite a few…Well, four, but I only started…’

  ‘This skirt is made entirely of steel,’ he said, as though not quite believing it. ‘It’s so fine…I thought it was fabric when I first saw it. You have all the folds, the shadows, the movement… And her stance is almost fluid. This position is called arabesque?’

  Alicia nodded.

  He went on absorbing every detail, from the carefully shaped fronds of the dancer’s hair, to the willowy grace of her neck, to the leaf-like form of her bodice, right down to the sharply pointed tips of her toes. ‘This is so exquisitely executed,’ he said finally, ‘that whether or not it’s a piece you’d want to own, you could never tire of looking at it.’

  ‘Which means you don’t like it, but…’

  His hand went up. ‘Will you please stop trying to put words in my mouth,’ he barked.

  Alicia looked down at Jasper and pulled a naughty face.

  ‘You’ve chosen an unusual medium,’ Cameron went on, moving along to Snail Mail. ‘I’m enjoying the wit as well as the tendresse. This works,’ he said with feeling, as he smoothed his fingers over the snail’s steel shell. ‘A Fibonacci sequence.’

  Impressed that he knew that, until she remembered who he was, she found herself daring to hope that her little show wasn’t an all-out flop.

  Pointing back to the alligator, he said, ‘Putting him in shoes made
of the same skin is an effective statement. The scales are very lifelike, so’s his expression.’ Taking a moment to assess his judgement, he said, ‘I get the feeling you’re more comfortable with steel than with bronze, which isn’t to say that Darcie’s head doesn’t work, because it’s actually probably one of the more saleable pieces.’

  Holding her breath now, Alicia continued to watch him, and felt so much elation struggling to rise up inside her that it was hard to keep it down. It wasn’t only, she realised, that he was seeming to like her work, it was also the wonderful feeling she was experiencing of being an artist for a few minutes, a woman even, a person other than a grieving widow, or an anxious mother.

  ‘Do you know what I think?’ he said, standing back to get an overall view. ‘I think if you were to reproduce the steel sculptures at ten times the size they are now, turning them into installation art, you could find a lot of interest coming your way from the billionaire set. They’re perfect garden or entry-hall pieces for large homes, which doesn’t mean they won’t sell as they are now, because I think they will, but I’m getting the sense that they need to be bigger.’ He glanced at her and grimaced when he saw her look of shock. ‘Not what you wanted to hear?’ he said.

  ‘No, yes, I mean, I’ve always wanted to do something huge,’ she admitted, ‘but I’ve never had the courage, or the space.’

  Turning back to Wedding Night, he said, ‘The embrace here draws you around the figures, and around again, kind of like a waltz, so it would have to be displayed on a three-sixty or you’d lose the flow. At ten times the size, it might even make you dance.’

  Alicia was smiling as her heart tripped with so much pleasure that she was close to dancing anyway. It was Craig’s favourite, and she’d modelled it on the way he used to embrace her. ‘I don’t think I’ll hang up my welding torch just yet,’ she murmured to Jasper.

  Clearly delighted to be spoken to, Jasper leaned against her and nudged her with his head.

  ‘Stop flirting,’ Cameron scolded.

  ‘I can’t help it, he’s irresistible,’ she apologised.

  Laughing, he returned to his perusal of her works, starting at the beginning again and taking another ten excruciating minutes to reach the end. ‘OK,’ he said finally, ruffling Jasper’s ears as the dog came to stand next to him. ‘I confess you’ve surprised me, Alicia. I really wasn’t expecting to be this impressed, which probably isn’t very flattering, but I’m afraid I’m far more frequently disappointed by what I see than I am the reverse. I’m not going to try telling you that what you’ve created is perfect, but I think that’s because you’re not giving them full expression. You could do that by letting rip with the size. Just go for it. A ten-foot alligator in matching shoes in the garden at a cost of a hundred thousand pounds or more could be just what Mr and Mrs Moscow are looking for. A ballerina of that subtlety and beauty will be a must for anyone with a discerning eye and unlimited budget. However, as I said, the sculptures also work very well as they are, and you could probably sell them for upwards of three thousand pounds a piece, but I’d love to see the drama and power you could get into them if you magnified their size.’

  Too overwhelmed to say very much, Alicia threw out her hands in an apologetic sort of delight. ‘This is where I work,’ she told him, ‘or in the space at home, which isn’t much bigger.’

  ‘That’s fine. There’ll be plenty of barns, or established workshops, around that you could rent at a reasonable price, and once you start selling the smaller pieces you’ll have the funds to do it.’

  Feeling like a child who’d been visited by three Santas in one go, only to find they’d forgotten to leave gifts, she said, ‘And therein lies the rub, selling anything, when I can’t open the shop yet, and getting noticed on the Internet is like asking a grain of sand to make itself stand out on a mile-long beach.’

  ‘Ah, but if the grain of sand is displayed in the right window, to the right sort of clientele,’ he countered, ‘it’ll stand a much greater chance of achieving its allotted fifteen minutes. And so we come to my idea for your shop. Now I’ve seen your work I have no problem at all about putting this to you: why don’t you let me exhibit these pieces in my gallery in London until you can open for business? I have staff running it six days a week with access to collectors and dealers all over the world, so if nothing else, you’ll certainly get noticed. Meanwhile, you and I will go on a double hunt around Somerset, you for local talent assisted by me, me for the right house assisted by you, and with any luck we’ll both end up with what we’re looking for at the end of the day. Or summer. Or year, however long it takes.’

  Alicia was sure there must have been stars in her eyes as she looked at him, or bats in her belfry, because this was simply too good to be true. As far as she could make out she had everything to gain and nothing to lose, so why wouldn’t she take him up on the offer? ‘I don’t understand why you’re doing this,’ she said in the end. ‘You hardly know me, and it’s not as though I have an exceptional talent …’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I think you do,’ he interrupted. ‘And as for knowing you, let’s just say if you’ve got the thumbs up from Jasper, which you seem to have, then you’ve got it from me.’

  Laughing, and refraining from pointing out that this was the first time the dog had ever clapped eyes on her, she said, ‘So I guess I should take a look at your property details to get that part of the show on the road. But first I need to know your budget, so we don’t waste any time.’

  ‘Not a penny over a million,’ he told her.

  Trying not to reel, she said, ‘Are we looking for a stately home?’

  He chuckled. ‘I’d need considerably more than a million for that,’ he replied, going to fish in his bag for the brochures. ‘What I’d like is something with character, but not too old; elegant in an understated way, with a huge sitting room and fireplace – a must for the girls – a kitchen/dining room, we’re not too big on formal, and at least four bedrooms so we can all have one each when they come to stay. Oh yes, and a minimum of three bathrooms.’

  ‘Tennis courts? Swimming pool?’

  ‘If we can squeeze them into the price,’ he answered seriously. ‘And it must have a view.’

  ‘I see,’ she said dubiously. ‘I’m starting to think you might have the easier task, but I’m definitely up for the challenge,’ and suddenly realising she was on the brink of crying with pure relief that something seemed to be going right for once, she stooped quickly to Jasper to bury her face in his fur.

  To Robert’s surprise, and delight, Annabelle had sought him out this morning, asking if she could take him up on the offer he’d made yesterday, which she’d turned down, to drive her into the old town of Antibes for lunch. He had no idea what had happened to change her mind, nor did he much care, he was simply glad that she had, and after informing Sabrina that she’d need to make his excuses to the rest of the party again today, he went to make sure that his car was brought round to the front of the house by midday.

  Now, as he and Annabelle journeyed along the Cap, with the stunning blue Mediterranean sparkling like polished diamonds alongside them, their progress was made tediously slow thanks to all the tourist traffic. However, since he was amongst their number he couldn’t really complain, unlike Annabelle, who grumbled ceaselessly the entire way round to the port, and she was still going strong when they finally sat down outside a red-painted café in the heart of the old town.

  After deciding on one of her favourites, moules marinière with frites, Annabelle smiled charmingly at the extremely attractive young waiter and asked for a beer.

  ‘Make that two panachés,’ Robert said to the waiter who, to his relief, seemed not to notice Annabelle’s interest.

  ‘But I don’t want shandy,’ Annabelle protested.

  Robert nodded to the young man, confirming the order, and said, ‘When the food comes I’ll order a pichet of rosé wine, and you can have some of that.’

  Appearing satisfied with the compro
mise, she looked around the square, taking in the centuries-old buildings with their various-coloured shutters and ground-floor shops which included fashion boutiques, jewellery stores and typical Provençal marts. Her survey complete, she promptly launched into another negative diatribe about sailing, France, stuck-up people, her life in general and her mother in particular.

  Robert said very little, merely listened, or nodded, or asked a question in the appropriate places. The food and wine arrived. She ate everything, and tried to talk him into ordering another pichet when theirs was empty. He refused and suggested they take a walk along the ramparts, and maybe drop into the Picasso museum to have a look round. Though she screwed up her nose as though unable to think of anything more boring, she ended up agreeing to go, making it sound as though it was only as a favour to him, certainly not something she’d ever consider were something more exciting on offer.

  By the time they returned to the villa in the late afternoon Annabelle had long since run out of complaints, and was now chattering on and even laughing about a holiday they’d had five years ago in Spain when she was ten. Though he was impressed by her memory, he was sure she had a few facts wrong, and they fell into a good-natured tussle about who was right, and who was making things up to suit themselves.

  Since the others were still on the yacht, Robert and Annabelle were the only ones for tea, which they took in the summer house, down by the beach. Still Annabelle ran on with whatever came to mind, but as repetitive and, it had to be said, boring, as she was, Robert couldn’t help being amused by how adept she was at keeping up the flow. He guessed this was probably the first time in far too long that she’d had the undivided attention of an adult, and though he’d have liked to try and draw her on more serious matters, he didn’t even attempt it. It was doing her the world of good to let go the way she had today, and hopefully it was helping her to rebuild her confidence in him in a way that might, eventually, enable him to broach the subject of Nathan and the upcoming trial.