by Holly Ford
Lizzie emerged a couple of hours later, a sheaf of paper in her hand. ‘I’m just heading over to Blackpeak,’ she said. ‘I need to go over the production schedule with them.’
Shooting more ice chips into her water glass, Ella shook her head. ‘Are they even home yet?’
‘Of course. I just spoke to Charlie.’
‘Oh, that reminds me.’ Ella retrieved her handbag from the floor and rummaged inside. ‘Hannah gave me this last night. I think it’s a wedding invitation.’
‘Oh.’ Lizzie tore the envelope open. ‘That’s sweet of them to invite us. Here, darling — stick it up on the fridge, would you?’
Ella looked at it. ‘Lizzie and partner,’ she read. So they hadn’t exactly invited her, then.
‘Shall we go?’ her mother asked, distractedly, stuffing papers into her bag. Pausing suddenly, she searched Ella’s face. ‘I’m sorry, darling, would you rather not?’
‘You should go.’ Ella smiled. ‘They’re probably hoping you’ll bring Richard. Glam the place up a bit. Nothing like a celebrity at your wedding.’
‘Darling, I’m sure they mean you.’ Lizzie frowned. ‘And I don’t think Charlie does glam. They probably just did it like this so you didn’t feel you had to go if … well, if you didn’t want to.’
She didn’t want to — not at all. But …
‘Perhaps,’ her mother said, carefully, ‘Rob might have felt a little awkward.’
‘Did he say something to you?’ Ella was horrified.
‘No, of course not.’ Lizzie looked away.
But her stupid crush had been written all over her face for months, was that what her mother was saying?
Lizzie’s phone buzzed. She glanced down at it. ‘Oh, Luke’s on his way through. Are you okay to look after him until I get home?’
‘Sure.’ Turning her back on the wedding invitation, Ella shook off her self-pity and smiled. ‘I think I can probably manage.’
Lizzie shouldered her bag. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘No rush.’ Ella sipped her water as Lizzie hurried out to the car. It was exhausting just watching her mother, sometimes. Grabbing Lizzie’s newly arrived Vanity Fair, she walked onto the terrace and stretched out on a beanbag in the shade.
Ella removed the magazine from her face as the unmistakeable rumble of Luke’s Aston echoed up the drive.
‘Honey, I’m home.’ Grinning, Luke sauntered onto the terrace, a bottle of rosé in his hand.
‘How was your day at the office?’ Ella joked, feeling suddenly much less sleepy.
‘Hot. But then’ — raising his sunglasses, he looked down at her — ‘I’m less well-dressed for it than you.’
‘Drink?’ she offered.
‘Absolutely.’ He waved the bottle of wine. ‘I’ll just put this in the fridge.’
Following him inside, Ella opened the glasses cupboard. ‘What do you feel like?’ she asked. ‘Wine? Or something long and cool?’
Receiving no reply, she glanced back over her shoulder. Shit. She bit her lip. Luke had come to a halt in front of the fridge.
‘Folded A4,’ he said softly, picking the wedding invitation off the door. ‘Classy.’
Ella could think of nothing to say.
‘And Charlotte’s invited Lizzie,’ he went on, with a little half-smile. ‘She always did have a shortage of friends. Shame she didn’t ask you.’ He shot her a look. ‘I could have gone as your date.’
‘You’d want to go to Charlotte’s wedding?’ she said, gently.
Luke shrugged. ‘There was a time I thought I’d be there.’
Ella watched him in silence, trying to read his eyes.
‘Why didn’t she ask you, anyway?’ Luke returned her gaze. ‘What did you do wrong?’
She blushed.
‘Oh, that’s right.’ The green eyes flashed. ‘You’re more of a friend of the groom. You never did tell me how your fencing excursion went.’
Ella looked away.
‘Did he ravish you in a haystack? I bet he wanted to.’
‘Stop it. You’re not funny.’ Closing the cupboard, she walked out of the kitchen.
Behind her, she heard Luke let out a long sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, after a while. Walking over, he put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Really, I am.’
Ella nodded. ‘Okay.’ She watched him walk to the windows and back.
‘Look.’ He flexed his neck. ‘How about we get out of here for a bit?’
‘You just arrived.’
‘I know.’ His usual grin returned. ‘Come on, it’s a beautiful day — let’s go for a walk or something.’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Anywhere. Lead the way.’
Ella considered. ‘Okay.’ She held out her hand. ‘Come on.’
Hoping to catch a breeze, she set a course for the rocks above the house. It tended to be cooler up there. She picked her usual way up the tussock slope to the base of the formation and, circling the rocks, scrambled up the route she’d found to the top. Sure enough, a pleasant breeze was blowing up there. She sat and waited for Luke to catch up, enjoying the flow of cool air against her hot skin.
‘I remember this place.’ Luke sat down beside her. Ella watched him take in the view of Black Peak in the distance.
‘Are you okay?’ Feeling for him, she leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘We can go somewhere else.’
‘No.’ He pulled her ponytail gently. ‘I like it here.’
Coiling her hair around his wrist, he pulled a little harder, raising her face to his.
‘Hey,’ she smiled. ‘Come on, stop kidding around. We’re friends, remember?’
Luke kissed her. The intensity of it flowed through her body in a slow wave, wiping all argument from her mind. Jesus. Ella felt his hands, then stone, against her skin.
‘I don’t do friends.’ He kissed her again. ‘That is, I haven’t, before today.’
God, she wanted him to go on … she almost cried out as his mouth came down on hers. Finding herself between the rock and a very hard place indeed, Ella fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. An unpleasant thought occurred. ‘Um, I don’t have a condom, do you?’
‘Such impatience.’ Luke’s green eyes glinted down at her wickedly as he removed her hand. ‘I do, as a matter of fact. But all in good time. I want to watch you come.’
Ella gasped as his lips moved over her naked skin. How had he even …? What the hell had happened to her dress? She felt the lichen bite into her back as she arched under his hands.
Well, she thought, sometime later, looking up at the sky as the earth slowly tilted back to rest on its regular axis, it was safe to say that their friendship was over.
Luke kissed the hollow of her throat. ‘We should be getting back,’ he grinned, ‘before your mother gets home.’ Producing her dress from somewhere, he helped her back into it.
With a pang, Ella watched him stand and re-button his jeans. He held down his hand to her. Getting none too steadily to her feet, she hunted around the rock. Luke watched her.
‘Lost something?’
Ella looked at him. ‘My underwear.’
Luke withdrew them from his back pocket.
‘Thanks,’ she told him.
‘Any time.’
She laughed. ‘Come on, Mum will be back soon.’
‘You know, it’s a very long time since a girl last said that to me.’ Luke took her hand. ‘Okay, let’s see if we can sneak you back into your room.’
‘Made it.’ In her bedroom doorway, Ella slipped her hands behind his neck and looked up into his eyes. Luke wrapped his arms around her. Holding her gently, he buried his face in her hair as she leaned her head against his shoulder.
She kissed his neck. ‘I’m going to have a shower. Don’t go anywhere.’ Ah — there it was. She touched his face. That smile. The real one.
‘Ella …’ He stroked her hair.
‘I’ll be right back,’ she told him.
When she got out o
f the shower, Luke had left her room. Had Lizzie come home? Ella breathed a sigh of relief as she looked out the window; Luke’s was still the only car in the drive. They had some time to talk. Or something. Pulling some clothes on, she walked through to the living room.
Luke was sitting at the bench. Coming up behind him, she slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and leaned over his shoulder. ‘Hey.’
He jumped. Ella glanced down. The wedding invitation was lying on the bench in front of him.
‘Hey.’ Luke looked away as she searched his face.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘You don’t look okay.’
He ran a hand over his face. ‘I think I should probably go.’
‘Go?’ Ella frowned. ‘But you’re staying the night.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t. I just … I need some time.’
Time? Uh-oh.
‘I shouldn’t have done that. Up there.’
Well, that was what every girl liked to hear.
‘You didn’t do it alone,’ she reminded him. ‘I was there, too.’
Luke was silent. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, after a while.
‘Could you stop saying that?’ Ella frowned. ‘It’s kind of offensive.’
She sat down beside him. ‘Look, I might be staying with my mother’ — temporarily, she added to herself — ‘but I’m not a child.’
‘I don’t think you’re a child.’
‘But you think you know what’s best for me.’
He shot her a look of desperation. ‘I know money. That’s it. And sometimes I don’t know shit about that.’ Luke rubbed his face again. ‘Ella, I like you.’
‘I can handle this.’ Ella sought out his eyes. Gosh — well, that was a real-person look all right. But this time he wasn’t smiling.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘if I can.’
She stared at him. ‘Is this about Charlotte?’
‘No. Maybe …’ He shook his head. ‘It could be. Yes.’ Luke got up. ‘I’m—’ He stopped himself. ‘I have to go.’
‘What am I supposed to tell Lizzie?’
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Say I had to get back for an early meeting tomorrow. That I just called in on my way through.’ He gave a little shake of his head. ‘Tell her I’m sorry I missed her.’
‘Should I tell her,’ Ella asked, carefully, ‘that you’ll see her next week?’
‘No.’ He picked up his bag. ‘I might not be around for a while. That phase of the project’s over.’
O-kay, then … That phase of the project — was that what they were calling it now? She watched Luke walk to the door.
He paused there for a second, his hand on the frame. ‘Look, I’ll call you, okay?’
Ella said nothing. It wasn’t until he’d driven away that she realised he didn’t even have her cellphone number.
She looked down at the wedding invitation again. Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what he’d been doing with her this afternoon: trying to forget Charlotte. At least — Ella winced — she hoped he’d been forgetting, rather than pretending. Ugh. And now he felt so guilty he couldn’t stand to be near her. That, or … or maybe he just felt miserable. Because whichever it was Luke had wanted — Charlotte out of his head or back in — it was embarrassingly clear that hooking up with her had failed to provide it.
Ella tried to summon up a sense of outrage. He’d used her. Betrayed their friendship. She should be furious. And anger would be so much simpler to feel. Unfortunately, she could only get halfway there before reminding herself that she was in no position to throw stones: an image of Vito’s handsome face refused to leave her mind. She sighed. How easy life would be if you could always feel what you should for the people who deserved it.
It hurt. Of course it did. And she did feel betrayed. Betrayed, humiliated — stupid. Getting up, Ella stuck the wedding invitation back up on the fridge and opened the door. A lump rose in her throat as she looked at Luke’s unopened bottle of wine. What she felt most was … disappointed. And overwhelmingly sad. She’d got used to Luke being around. She was really going to miss him.
After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the bottle and poured a glass. It was lovely — of course. Carrying it out to the terrace, Ella sat and watched the dusk settle over the vines. She looked at the unlit fire. Then, fetching her laptop out of the living room, she fired off the email to Amy she should have sent weeks ago. Suddenly, staying at the vineyard to finish her photo essay didn’t seem nearly so important.
When Ella got up the next morning, Amy’s reply was already waiting in her inbox. She read through it twice on her phone, then again on her laptop, just to make sure.
‘Mum!’ Brandishing the laptop, she dashed into the living room. ‘I’ve got a job in Mauritius!’
Lizzie looked up from her coffee. ‘You’ve what?’
‘For Vogue,’ Ella grinned. ‘Amy’s broken her arm and Quentin wants me to be his assistant.’
‘God, poor Amy. What happened?’
‘She fell down the escalator at Heathrow.’
Lizzie winced. ‘We should send her some flowers.’
‘Yes …’ Ella managed a sympathetic pause. ‘… but, Mum, the thing is I have to be there on Wednesday.’
‘But darling, that means you’ll have to leave here—’
‘This afternoon.’ Ella bit her lip. ‘Yes.’
‘Well.’ Lizzie put her coffee down. ‘We’d better book you a flight.’
Ella had no idea it was possible to pack so fast.
‘Have you got your passport?’ Lizzie demanded, car keys in hand.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Right — come on, then. Everything else you can buy.’
As they raced out the door, the phone started to ring.
‘Don’t even think about it!’ Ella looked at her mother aghast as Lizzie hesitated.
‘I’ll leave it for the machine,’ Lizzie laughed. She locked the door behind them.
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Lizzie came home to find the message light flashing on the phone again. She hit play. Another hang-up. Why did people do that? Get all the way through the greeting and then hang up? It was damn rude. Nevertheless, she’d been getting them all week, ever since she dropped Ella off at the airport.
Could it be Carr? No, he was grown-up enough to leave a message, surely. If not quite grown-up enough to return them. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since the night of the woolshed party. Briefly, she rested her forehead against the fridge door. She didn’t understand what had gone wrong.
Lizzie had left what little remained of the party to put a slightly squiffy Ella to bed. Then, feeling like a player in some period farce, she’d turned the key in her bedroom door, checked that the verandah was unlocked, and waited for Carr to join her. When she’d woken up at dawn, she was still alone in the bed. Thinking he must have been too polite to wake her, she’d slipped on a robe and padded along the verandah to his room. It was empty. The curtains were drawn and the bed was made. She’d even tapped on the bathroom door, but if Carr was in there, he hadn’t answered.
As hints went, it wasn’t subtle. Taking it, Lizzie had fled the house. Later, it had occurred to her that something — something other than a sudden and overwhelming loss of interest in her — might have happened to keep him away. A Mountain Rescue call-out? Of course not: he’d been drinking all night, he couldn’t fly. His phone having rung unanswered all morning, she’d ended up calling Charlotte just to check that he was alive. Which he was. Just not taking her calls.
After three days, it had become obvious that their affair, for want of a better word, was well and truly over. The sixteen-year-old in her still wanted to drive over there and demand an explanation. But Carr was clearly determined to avoid her at all costs, and there was a lot of Glencairn in which to hide. And anyway, what would be the point? Would hearing the specific reasons he didn’t want to be with her mak
e her feel less hurt? Lizzie thought not. Only schoolgirls thought they could make boys love them again. That if they only saw them, they could make them change their minds.
Raising her chin, Lizzie unscrewed the top on a very good bottle of pinot. Love. What a silly word to use. She loved Ella. She loved Jules and Seb and Richard and Tom. She did not love some muscular guy in a checked shirt whom she’d only known for two months and liked for less than half of them.
So what if she hadn’t felt this bad since … Lizzie shook her head at herself. Which particular affair — which marriage — of Richard’s should she name? She was being pathetic. She swirled the wine in her glass. It should probably breathe. She took a sip. Since before Ella was born, an unwelcome voice whispered in the back of her brain: you haven’t felt this bad since then.
God, was that true? Maybe it was. After she had a daughter to think about, stupid things like this had seemed a lot less consequential. Certainly, after Ella — after a life with Tom — nothing Richard had done had ever stung quite as much. Having a child had been enough.
She looked around her empty house. Oh, for God’s sake, it was still enough. It made no difference that Ella was no longer a child, that her daughter had her own life, any more than it mattered that Ella wasn’t here. Lizzie didn’t want her to be here, not all the time. Of course not. That would be selfish.
Her phone beeped. Lizzie opened the email. Ella. They’d finished the shoot in Mauritius. Oh, good. Now they were off to Manila for Harper’s Bazaar, then Sri Lanka to shoot for GQ. She wouldn’t be back for nearly three weeks. Ella hoped she wasn’t going to miss the harvest.
If the sun kept shining like it had today, Lizzie thought, she just might. And Richard was due in a week — he was coming out a couple of days ahead of Jules and the crew to see her.
Lizzie tapped out a reply.
Splendid, darling. Have a good time.
Lizzie opened the fridge again. She really didn’t feel like eating. Could she be bothered making an omelette?