by Rosie Blake
Luke took a while to get going, fumbling initially, bewildered by Arjun’s shouted instructions to ‘Stay out of your heels!’ and ‘No lazy toes!’
‘What does he mean when he keeps saying “Spaghetti Arms”?’ he whispered to me.
‘I think he thinks he’s Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing.’
‘I haven’t seen Dirty Dancing,’ Luke said, eyes rounded with panic.
I just shrugged uselessly. (You had made me watch it a second time, do you remember? After I had fallen asleep during the first.)
By the end of this evening, though, he seemed to look more relaxed, had learnt the first few steps and could lead me confidently across the floor. We exchanged a victorious look at the end – I had forgotten not to make eye contact – and we ended up laughing and clapping each other on the back. He’s a lovely boy. I left in such a good mood I even forgot to ask Arjun what his secret project was all about. We all seem to be involved in subterfuge nowadays.
Oh, Cora, I miss you on evenings like these. Dancing in that room, even with Luke treading on my toes and swearing under his breath, reminded me of evenings with you. We did love to dance. You made me feel much more strong and capable, and I used to love holding you gently, watching you turn, your hair and skirts swirling. I hope wherever you are, you are dancing.
I love you, my darling.
Teddy x
Chapter 20
Love is not wanting to hurt her because that would hurt you more
HARRY, 82
After leaving Amy I was at a total loss. Wiping at my face, biting my lip as another passer-by muttered something under their breath at me, I pressed myself up against a window display, taking my mobile out of my bag. I wanted to talk to someone, hear a friendly voice. The dull ache had spread and I felt utterly wretched.
My finger hovered automatically over Luke’s name. We’d been stepping round each other in the flat, barely talking since the night of charades. In fact, recently he’d been out more and more. Normally I would return to find him in the flat, evidence that he’d been there all evening (three beer bottles, saucepans soaking, empty pizza boxes) but I had often returned to an empty flat or he would appear moments later refusing to be drawn on where he’d been.
‘Work,’ he’d say.
Dark thoughts nudged at me briefly but I trusted Luke and I couldn’t say anything much. I was out all hours too. I pressed his name decisively: he would understand. He knew how much Amy meant to me. I heard the ringtone and already felt hope swell inside me.
‘Hello, Luke Winters’ phone.’
I frowned at the airy female voice, realising I had pressed his work number and not his mobile. In the next split second I realised I was on the line with Storm. Why was she always nearby or answering his phone? Did she have aspirations to work on a reception desk? Was she just loitering there being all sexy and red-headed in the hope I would phone and she could rub my nose in it?
‘Um, hello . . . Luke Winters’ phone. Can I help?’
‘Hi, Storm, isn’t it? It’s Lottie,’ I said, knowing I had ice in my voice, not pausing for a reply. ‘Could I speak to Luke please. It’s important,’ I added. Yeah, Storm, important.
‘Oh hey, Lottie,’ she said, as if we were Best Friends Forever. ‘He’s just popped to the loo actually, oh no, hold on, he’s heading back this way. Luuuuuke!’ I could hear a giggle and a sentence and Luke’s reply. ‘Here he is,’ she sing-songed so that I made a face at the phone. I could feel my knuckles tightening on my mobile.
‘Lottie,’ Luke said. ‘Is everything all right? Are you OK?’ I felt a swell of relief at the worry in his voice, and also the fact that Storm was probably close enough to hear it too. Ha, Storm. Then I heard a giggle again and I hoped that the next time she went to her wardrobe to look for her favourite heels they weren’t there, or that she could only locate the left one. ‘Lottie? Are you OK?’ Luke repeated, interrupting my latest Storm curse.
I couldn’t keep the recent hurt from my voice. ‘I just . . . ’ It felt strange and selfish now to launch into my story about Amy. ‘I just thought I’d call, see how your day is going—’
‘Look, I’m really sorry but we’re quite busy this end, can we speak later?’
The use of ‘we’ made me clench my jaw. ‘Sure,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Wouldn’t want to get in the way.’
Luke paused a moment. I could almost see him turning inwards as his voice dropped a tone. ‘Everything all right, Lottie?’
‘Bad day,’ I mumbled. ‘I was going to head to ChoccyDee.’
‘Well, that might cheer you up, you love that place,’ Luke said quickly and loudly, clearly wanting to leave the call.
‘Oh yes,’ I snapped, losing my patience, the phone call not going as I’d intended, ‘a cup of hot chocolate should definitely compensate for the potential loss of my best friend.’
Nothing on the end of the line. I thought I might have lost connection. Then a weary sigh. ‘I didn’t mean . . . look, I am sorry, Lottie. I’ll talk to you later, OK? I’ve got to go—’
‘I understand,’ I interrupted dramatically. ‘You are obviously far too busy. I just wanted to hear your voice, more fool me,’ I said, firing the words down the phone.
Luke lowered his voice. ‘Hey, I get that you’ve had a bad day’ – I felt the tears start up again; why did I have to be such a Super Bitch? – ‘but, look, I can’t help you from here and I don’t want to fall out with you, OK?’
I should have agreed. He was right. I was always barking at him; he was the first person to feel the full force of any bad mood of mine. I felt chastened as I stood there. Then a stupid woman’s voice and a little laugh distracted me. ‘Well, you must get back to Storm and all the important work,’ and with a quick swipe at my phone I hung up on him.
Glowering at passers-by I set off down the road, elbows sharp today, just wanting to get out of there, sit down, order a large hot chocolate and lose myself in a Pity Party for One. Storm with her stupid thundery name and her stupid red hair. Luke with his ‘I’m too busy’.
Then I had another idea and pulled out my phone, sending a casual text. I just wanted to be somewhere to forget, be with someone I could talk work with, who didn’t know my friends, who didn’t have opinions about my recent behaviour, who, I admitted begrudgingly, made me feel better about myself. Startled at the returning beep I swallowed as he named a nearby restaurant and time.
I moved down the high street, through a narrow cobbled alley leading towards a sunlit square. London was a maze of tiny areas like this that you could walk past and never stumble on if you didn’t know they were there. People were sitting on low stone walls in their coats, chatting. The air smelt of garlic and I felt a momentary thrill for being somewhere so anonymous.
Loitering nervously by the menu out front, time ticking on, I felt a creeping panic that I shouldn’t be there, that I should be heading back to find Amy, fixing things with her, speaking to Luke, but I knew this was easier: I was in a square of Autumn sunshine, about to enjoy a glass of wine with someone who wouldn’t judge me for an hour. And it was work, helpful for work, I was convincing myself as I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see a tailored grey suit, Ralph Lauren sunglasses and straight white teeth.
‘You found it.’ Toby kissed me on both cheeks and I felt myself flush. Had he always been this tall? This good-looking? I remember Amy once saying that everyone looked better in sunglasses and realised that must be it.
I also realised I hadn’t responded. ‘I did!’ I said, a little too loudly.
Toby had commandeered a passing waiter and guided me to a small table in the corner, the waiter frantically clearing and wiping at the surface before we sat down. Toby seemed to have that impact on people. He had requested the wine menu and pulled out a chair for me.
‘I’m glad you got in touch. I was about to send some work your way. A new case.’
I knew I should have asked about it – we always talked about work. Toby had sent me
numerous cases and I had always been flattered that he asked for me, the clerks smirking sometimes as they handed it over. I didn’t want to talk about the case, though, not in this quiet haven, wine soon on its way and an urgent desire to remove myself from everything that reminded me of my normal life.
Without much thought I launched into new territory. ‘Did you watch the BBC documentary on last night about sea life? I never knew hermit crabs weren’t, you know, hermits. They really like company!’
If Toby was surprised he hid it well, maybe a fractional lift of one neatly clipped eyebrow but that was it. Did he think I had summoned him here to discuss the social life of crustaceans? Did he wonder why I had texted at all? I was wondering myself as I sat there, trying to think of something else to say. (How does one follow up facts about hermit crabs?)
The waiter returned and Toby ordered a bottle of Chablis and I nodded my appreciation. I knew nothing about wine. For a moment I was distracted by the memory of Luke and I on a wine-tasting event my grandparents had bought us as a Christmas present a few years ago, lots of swilling and spitting. Luke had pretended to be quite the connoisseur, but had messed up his French accent so badly and forgot to spit out most of his wine that by the end he was just a burbling wreck in a taxi muddling the words for Sancerre and Sauvignon and slipping lower and lower down the seat.
The waiter reappeared, bottle in his hand, label covered by a crisp white napkin, waiting as Toby swilled it expertly around his mouth before swallowing and motioning for him to fill my glass, the sharp coolness a relief. I closed my eyes and sat back in the chair. ‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It’s a 2014 bottle and I find the fact it is unoaked compared to other white wines in the Burgundy region appealing.’
I nodded rather than reveal my stupidity and hoped he wouldn’t think I had anything to add. I just stopped myself saying, ‘Tastes fruity’ and took another sip. I was starting to feel a little nervous. It was all very well bumping into Toby outside court: normally I was high from an appearance, buzzing from the adrenalin of it, dressed in my professional best, on familiar turf. It suddenly seemed more intimate, to be here by design and not luck. He had removed his sunglasses and his eyes crinkled as he lifted his own glass to his lips.
I found myself stuttering over simple sentences, wrong-footed and red-faced. Was it getting hotter?
‘London is warm for this time of year.’ I cringed inside. I was choosing to discuss weather. And not even in an interesting or unique way. I was like a two-year-old who had just learnt some words. London warm. Woman silly. Man bored.
‘Global warming, I suppose,’ I rattled on. ‘Probably bad for hermit crabs.’
Fortunately Toby rescued me from my own terrible chat. ‘Did you hear about Clive Henbridge?’
I sat forward in my chair. Clive was a notoriously excellent barrister in a rival chambers, brutal but sharp-witted and charming. He had always been friendly, but I had been glad not to come up against him. The last time I had seen him he was leaving court after reducing his opposition to actual tears after he had used an obscure law from 1854 to prove precedent and got his client off all charges. Clive was known to be an absolutely ruthless opponent. If I ever made silk I would have to go up against the likes of him and I felt wobbly just thinking about the prospect. ‘What about him?’
‘Apparently he broke down in court the other day. Lost his cool with Judge Reynolds.’
‘Really?’ It didn’t sound like the Clive I recognised. I felt a small moment of interest and then a larger sense that it was information I perhaps shouldn’t know. I wondered who else was discussing it.
‘Rumour is his wife found out he’s been out for one too many dinners with one of the clerks from his chambers and she left him.’
‘Well, I suppose we can’t know all the facts,’ I said, trying to be tactful, and then attempting to change the subject: ‘Are you off on holiday anywhere soon?’
Toby wasn’t to be deterred so easily, however. ‘Someone said he was crying in the robing room. Can you imagine their surprise? He is always such a cool customer.’
‘No, ha.’ I sipped my wine and tried to look neutral. It felt wrong to be gossiping like this.
Toby read my silence. ‘Ever the barrister, waiting for the evidence.’ When he smiled I could see sharp incisors, like a sexy vampire.
He had kept my glass topped up and I had drunk to fill silences, or when listening to him, barely noticing him reaching across with the bottle. We were on safer ground when we discussed work but I realised that beyond that we were struggling. Although I hadn’t yet needed to mention more sea life, I was worried that I would need something else in my arsenal. My head was swimming a little, woolly with drink, as I thought about making my excuses and leaving.
‘Well, thank you for this, I think I better get back, a lot to read through for tomorrow,’ I lied.
Toby stared at me over his glass, then, as if deciding something, signalled to a nearby waiter that he wanted to pay the bill by making a wiggly hand gesture in the air.
I leant to take out my purse from my bag and he stilled me with a hand on my arm. ‘I’ll get this.’
I swallowed, squeaking a thank you and clutching my handbag to me as I sat in my chair.
We walked together towards an alley that led back to the high street. Toby paused as we moved into the shadow of it, stilled my arm once again.
‘Well, thank you,’ I gibbered, my eyes flashing across and past him, fixing somewhere to his right. I thought I recognised a face in the square, a glimpse of Luke’s best friend Adam, and found myself shrinking back against the wall. Had he seen me?
Toby took a step forward, joining me in the shade. I blinked at the closeness, feeling a rush of panic as I wondered if he was going to try to kiss me. He bent down, a hand on my shoulder as he went to say goodbye, kissing me on the cheek. I turned my face so that our cheeks clashed awkwardly, misjudging the space.
‘Any time,’ he said, his voice low, his eyes focused on me.
‘Good, great, excellent,’ I said, feeling ridiculous. Why was I jeopardising a professional relationship in this way? Why had I rung him in the first place?
As I walked away I felt him watching me, a gnawing sense of unease building in me, as if I had started something and I wasn’t even sure what.
Oh Cora.
Tonight was the big night we had been working towards with Luke. He had really started to improve after his fourth dance session. Arjun had stopped yelling quite so hard, and I had completely forgotten to be embarrassed and positively enjoyed being swept around the floor by this new, confident gentleman. And you really are right about his hands. I do understand now. Never too dry, never moist: they gripped me with assuredness and I thought, here’s a man any woman would be lucky to dance with.
He was lighter on his feet, relaxed and passionate. He had a determined glint in his eye, and we had toasted our session at Arjun’s apartment, cheering and getting very tiddly on a bottle of gin – this one had treacle in it! I’m fairly sure Arjun shouldn’t be drinking with his medication but there was no stopping him that evening. He had taken Luke’s progress as a personal aim and it has been wonderful to see him so cheered by things. I have been so worried about him; so frightened. And I hate keeping secrets.
We were set to make the great unveiling tonight. Margaret had been persuaded to shift things around a little and the band that normally only ever come on the third Thursday of the month had agreed to do an extra session in the hall that Friday night. Luke had told Lottie that he had signed her up for a beginner’s lesson and she had agreed to come along. Then he would wow her with his new moves. How excited we all felt when the week passed and Friday crept up.
I bought Luke a buttonhole and handed it over with a gruff ‘Good luck’. He had hugged me then, a brief, quick, one-armed hug, and I was reminded that he was someone who needed family around him. The thought made me rather emotional and I wished I had held him a little longer. Honestly, Cora, I am a
changed man. It is like you dying has forced me to take over where you left off. The other day I was crying over a car insurance advert and when Geoffrey appeared to take me to golf I had to pretend I had chilli in my eye.
We had arrived early, Arjun issuing a last-minute pep talk, forcing Luke to sit opposite him as he walked him through the steps. He made the poor lad so nervous that he poured the first part of his beer down his newly washed shirt. Still, the band arrived and other couples from the club appeared. Paula was there in something feathery and startling in lime green and Margaret looked lovely in a pale pink dress that fell flatteringly below her knees. I believe you would have loved it and I told her so and then I had tears in my eyes and I had to pretend I had still got chilli on my hands when Geoffrey asked what was the matter. How did you ever get anything done with all these emotions? It is quite exhausting.
The first songs started and Luke was looking over at the clock, his newly polished shoes tapping in time to the waltz the band were playing. We had discussed things with them beforehand so they knew to hold off until Lottie arrived. Luke was clutching his mobile in his hand, the screen blank as the time ticked on. I got him another beer and we sat and watched the couples dance past us. I could tell he wasn’t really concentrating, just glancing at the door and then his phone before fixing a smile on his face for my benefit.
A whole hour passed, Cora: it was excruciating. The band took a break and Luke looked rumpled and sad, his eyes dulling as Arjun and I both crowded round him trying to ask him pointless questions about work that he fielded in monosyllables.
Where was our granddaughter?
The band returned and Luke’s face was stricken and I felt a new crack form in my heart for him. All those evenings we had spent. Now the buttonhole was wilting and his face was pale, his voice lacklustre. He seemed defeated as the clock ticked on and on. It was completely dark outside now, street lamps glowing, headlights moving past every now and again, a spattering of stars outside.