The Scent of You

by Maggie Alderson

  As the kiss went on, slowly, then faster, Polly felt something inside her start up like the roar of a jet engine and she pulled herself up, kissing him hard, her hand round the back of his head, keeping him close, pressing her breasts against his chest. Until, like someone in the distance, she heard herself moan.

  She pulled away, surprised at herself. Where had that come from? Well, she hadn’t had sex for a long time; even before David had gone away it had been a while . . .

  But as soon as that thought came into her head, she pushed it away. Not that, not him. Not now.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, feeling embarrassed. ‘I got a bit overtaken . . .’

  ‘Don’t apologise, Hippolyta,’ he said. ‘You can overtake me any time you like.’

  He pulled her onto his lap, her legs stretched out along the sofa, so she was lying in his arms and he was gazing down at her, tracing the lines of her face with his fingers.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said. ‘You were always the most beautiful woman I ever kissed, and now I’m going to kiss you again.’

  He did and then he put some more logs on the fire and lay down on the sofa next to her and they stayed like that, kissing and talking, reminiscing about all the times at St Andrews when they’d nearly kissed again, logging all the missed chances and misunderstandings, relishing the delicious nonsense. Then they’d kiss again, or just lie there gazing into each other’s eyes.

  This is what bliss feels like, thought Polly – and in that state, she didn’t notice until Chum got up to tend the fire again, that it was completely dark outside.

  ‘Oops,’ said Chum, clocking the black windows at the same moment. ‘We rather forgot the time.’

  ‘What shall we do?’ said Polly.

  ‘We can’t really walk back in the dark,’ said Chum, going over to the windows and closing the curtains. He bit his lip, thinking.

  ‘We could call a taxi to pick us up at the lodge at the end of the back drive,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have it come to the house, or up the main drive. I do have to be a bit careful. That’s only a couple of miles. We can use our phones as torches.’

  ‘Or?’ said Polly.

  ‘Or we could stay here,’ said Chum. He started to chuckle. ‘It’s not like there aren’t plenty of bedrooms. Unless you have to get back to Digger, of course. Artie’s fine, she’s with one my stable girls. I can text her and say I’ll be back too late to pick Artie up.’

  Polly thought for a moment. Digger was fine – he was at home with Clemmie and Lucas. It was them she was thinking about.

  She’d already lied to be there that day, telling them she was going to see a friend she’d met through the blog who lived in the country. If she stayed, she’d have to lie to them again, saying she’d decided to spend the night at the friend’s house rather than drive back in the dark – which would be kind of true, but it would feel like a lie, because she had rather implied that the friend was female. She’d also have to lie to Shirlee, asking her to cancel the next morning’s yoga class.

  She couldn’t do it.

  ‘I think I’ll have to go home,’ she said.

  Seeing the disappointment on his face, she got up and hurried over to where he was standing by the window, putting her hands up onto his shoulders and looking up at him.

  ‘It’s not because I don’t want to stay with you,’ she said. ‘I’d love to stay more than anything, but I just can’t lie to my kids. They’re at home for the Easter holidays, and I’d have to make up some lame excuse why I didn’t come home. I’d find it hard to do anyway, but with what their father’s done to them, I just have to be the reliable one.’

  Chum nodded and put his arms round her.

  ‘I understand,’ he said, ‘and you’re absolutely right. I’ll call that taxi – but first, look at this.’

  He turned her round and gently pushed her towards the window, pulling the curtain back. Polly looked out into the night, right up at the moon. It was just a crescent, but very bright in the clear sky, hanging above the dark outlines of the oak trees in the park, its light reflected in a lake.

  ‘Oh, that’s so beautiful,’ she said, remembering how desolate she’d felt looking at the moon alone on New Year’s Eve.

  How good it felt to be gazing up at it now, with Chum’s strong arms around her.

  Sunday, 27 March

  Three days later, Polly was in Shirlee’s car on their way to have Easter Sunday lunch with Daphne. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Lucas and Clemmie were still behind them in her car. Lucas saw her looking and flashed the headlights.

  It was pouring with rain and she hoped he would take extra care driving. Something else to be anxious about on a day when she was beginning to feel her head might start spinning round on her neck she was so nervous.

  ‘It was real nice of you to ask me today,’ Shirlee was saying. ‘It’ll be very interesting for me to see how a Christian family kill each other at a religious celebration meal, as opposed to the Jewish tradition, with which I’m already very familiar.’

  She laughed heartily.

  ‘But really,’ she continued, ‘I don’t know when I last went to any kind of family thing, so it means a lot.’

  ‘Well, you’re kind of part of our family now,’ said Polly, ‘so I thought you should meet the grande dame. I’m so glad you could come.’

  As she said it, she hoped she really meant it. She’d invited Shirlee on a crazy impulse while they were having breakfast after yoga a couple of days before, not thinking too clearly in the euphoric state she’d been floating around in since her time with Chum at Hanley Hall.

  She hadn’t seen him since – only three days, which felt like an eternity – but they’d spoken or FaceTimed several times a day since and arranged to meet ‘casually’ at Rockham Park for Easter Sunday lunch. They would both have been going there anyway, but now it felt like a thing.

  Polly’s stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing him, and she seriously hoped she’d be able to keep it together in front of her family and Bill. That was going to be hard enough, but she had to face up to it. Shirlee was another situation altogether, and she couldn’t help wishing she hadn’t been quite so hasty with the invitation.

  ‘It’s great I’m getting to meet your mom before the Paris trip,’ said Shirlee.

  Polly looked at her, confused.

  ‘For the ad campaign,’ Shirlee added, glancing at Polly, then turning back to the road.

  ‘How do you know about that?’ asked Polly. ‘I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘I booked all the travel today,’ said Shirlee, ‘and I had to have this long conversation with the guest relations manager at the Paris Ritz about what to have in your mom’s room for her on arrival. White flowers, champagne, a bowl of blue M&Ms – just kidding about that last one.’

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ said Polly.

  ‘I’m Guy’s new assistant.’ said Shirlee. ‘And I’m coming with you on that trip, so that should be a riot.’

  ‘Well,’ said Polly, ‘I don’t think anything can surprise me any more, but I’m thrilled for you both. You’ll be brilliant at it and you’ll have so much fun, but I do hope you’ll still be able to come to yoga and stay for brekkie. I’d miss that so much now.’

  ‘On it,’ said Shirlee. ‘I’ll still be at yoga every day, and I’ll stay for breakfast whenever I can. It was a condition of my employment by the Great Eastern Fragrance Company that I have a late start at least twice a week, and he’s coming to classes regularly now too, so some days you’ll have both of us for brekkie. Be careful what you wish for.’ She chuckled.

  ‘Thanks, Shirl,’ said Polly. ‘I would miss you so much now.’

  ‘Likewise, Polls, likewise,’ said Shirlee, glancing in the rear-view mirror. ‘Got some macho trucker moron tailgating me now, right up my butt, and I can’t see if the kids are still with us.’

  She slowed down and shook her fist in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Back off, asshole!’ she shouted, low
ering the window as the lorry overtook them, honking its horn. ‘Yeah, drive in the fast lane, big guy, go kill yourself, but don’t take us with you.’

  Polly let her get on with it. Colourful interaction with other drivers was always a feature of being in the car with Shirlee – and she’d just had an idea.

  ‘Now you’re working for Guy,’ she said, ‘can you do something for me?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Shirlee. ‘I owe you one for the intro. What do you want?’

  ‘I want to know where the money for the business comes from and who his family are. He’s so evasive about it all and he’s fed me so much bullshit. He had me believing he was half-Iranian, with an exotic grandmother who was a great influence on him. The first time I met him he was smoking a bloody hookah. Told me it was his grandfather’s and I totally believed him. He’s so nosy about everyone else’s life – he virtually stalked me to get to my mum – but then he’s totally secretive about his own background, and I’ve had enough. So will you be my mole?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ said Shirlee. ‘Why do you think I took the job? Not really, but I do want to know all that stuff too – and his love life. That’s what I really want to know. I can usually work it out about people and it’s bugging me. I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘What? I’ve tried and tried to find out what the story is and he wouldn’t give anything away.’

  ‘I’ll get him drunk,’ said Shirlee. ‘Old-school martinis.’

  ‘I’ve been drunk with Guy,’ said Polly, ‘well, pretty tipsy anyway, and he still never told me about his family.’

  ‘Ah, but that’s the thing – you were drunk too. I’ll get him drunk, but I’ll stay cold-ass sober and pretend to be drunk. That’s how you do it. But I should tell you there’s another thing I already tried to get out of him and couldn’t.’

  ‘What?’ asked Polly.

  ‘Whether you two are getting it on,’ Shirlee said. Polly burst out laughing.

  ‘You are kidding, aren’t you?’ she said.

  Her laughter was genuine, but she felt her cheeks turning pink anyway, because while she wasn’t getting it on with Guy, she most definitely was with Chum. Well, not fully on, but well on the way to on. Semi-on.

  Had Shirlee noticed a change in her? Was the rosy glow she felt inside clearly visible on her face?

  ‘There’s no way I’m getting on anything of Guy’s, apart from his wonderful perfume,’ Polly continued. ‘We’re friends. He’s hilarious and a brilliant perfumer, but he’s much younger than me and he’s a dingbat. I definitely don’t have any romantic designs on him.’

  ‘And with you being a married woman and all that . . .’ Shirlee turned to give her a sly glance. ‘Or not. You’ve got virtual single status now, Polly. You’ve been through so much recently I think you should just enjoy it. Get something for yourself out of the situation that’s been thrust – pardon the pun – on you. Your husband has thrown the rule book out, so why should you follow it any more?’

  Polly looked quickly out of the window, needing a moment to think through what Shirlee had said. As she’d told Chum at Hanley Hall, she’d made her decision about David. Whether it was that awful time at King’s or kissing Chum that had convinced her didn’t matter. Her mind was made up. She was going to tell him she wanted to make the separation he’d created – without consulting her first – official. The Big D.

  She was sure about that – just as she was certain she wanted to move things on to the next stage with Chum, to having a relationship with him. And to going to bed with him in the first instance.

  So she knew what she wanted from both men. It was just the combination of the two momentous things that overwhelmed her. She could think calmly and clearly about both of them individually, but as soon as she put them together it became terrifying, especially with the thought of telling the kids.

  What would she say? I’m divorcing your father – and here’s my new boyfriend, he’s staying over?

  How could she do that to them? Lucas had been very badly affected by his father’s behaviour, taking up that binge drinking. With support from her and Clemmie – and the fright about not being able to play the guitar any more – he’d got on top of it really impressively and seemed to have found a new strength in himself as a result, but if she started acting out of character as well, she didn’t know how he’d cope.

  And then there was Clemmie’s relationship with her father to consider. She was furious with him and very hurt, but she was still fundamentally that little daddy’s girl – still the chosen one who got the texts . . . So while she might castigate her father herself, being told Polly wanted a divorce would doubtless make Clemmie feel very conflicted.

  And now Shirlee was definitely on to her. She could tell Polly had something going on her life. Something male. Oh, taking her to this lunch was such a mistake.

  The minute Shirlee met Chum she’d be watching them both like a surveillance camera and asking him inappropriate questions. Each one loaded with uncomfortable complications. Are you married? Do you have kids? What do you do? Where do you live?

  Polly got her phone out, pretending to be looking something up to give herself time to think.

  She did urgently want Chum to meet her kids, she reminded herself. That was very important; she needed to see how they got on together. If it wasn’t comfortable she would have to think very hard about what happened next. Everything hung on that – so why the hell had she been so stupid as to invite Shirlee along to this crucial first meeting?

  Polly realised she had to try to defuse this ridiculous situation she’d created before it happened. She tapped out a quick text:

  Hello Mr Equipage. I forgot to tell you I’m bringing my friend Shirlee today – the one who helps me out with the yoga classes. She’s great, but she can be very full-on and will probably ask you lots of intrusive questions. Just to warn you! Can’t wait to see you. xxx

  A reply came back immediately:

  Don’t worry, I won’t notice anyone else. I’m already here. Hurry up. xxxx

  She smiled at her phone and then flicked a glance at Shirlee.

  ‘We might join up with some friends of Mum’s and mine for lunch,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘It’s a lovely man called Bill, who lives there, and his stepson Edward, who was at St Andrews with me. It’s just the two of them, they don’t have any other family, so we thought it would be nice if they joined us, make it a bit of a party for everyone.’

  ‘Is he single?’ asked Shirlee.

  Polly groaned inwardly. Shirlee coming on to Chum was an even worse prospect than the inevitable third degree she would put him through. She also felt a pang of something she had to admit to herself was jealousy. Hands off, he’s mine.

  ‘I think his wife died in tragic circumstances,’ said Polly.

  ‘Single, then,’ said Shirlee. ‘Excellent.’

  ‘But I think he’s seeing someone,’ said Polly quickly. ‘Not living with her or anything, but you know, a sort of girlfriend thing.’

  ‘She sounds dispensable,’ said Shirlee, ‘but if you were at uni together he’s probably a bit young for me. Is he cute?’

  Chum’s wide-smile, eyebrows-up, faux-innocent amused expression flashed into Polly’s mind and she realised she was grinning like a fool. Luckily, Shirlee was concentrating on the road, overtaking another huge truck that was spraying up great arcs of water from the wet road.

  ‘I wouldn’t say cute,’ said Polly, ‘but handsome in a horsey kind of a way.’

  ‘He looks like a horse?’ said Shirlee.

  Polly laughed.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘but he works with them. He’s one of those posh country English blokes. Tweed jacket, corduroy trousers, wellies, you know . . .’

  ‘Oh,’ said Shirlee, ‘a stiff. Glad you told me, I was getting my hopes up.’

  Polly had to bite her lip to stop herself from saying something she would regret. About Chum’s long legs and lean body, all muscle and sinew. His hands and forearms so s
trong from reining in big horses.

  She felt a spasm of desire thinking about it, remembering his legs entwined with hers on that sofa, the hardness of his bicep and shoulder under her hand when it had strayed inside his shirt. How she longed to touch and see and smell all of him, beneath his clothes.

  She shut her eyes for a moment and pictured his thighs tensing inside his jeans whenever he stood up from a chair. Then she remembered his slow kisses, with those exquisite pauses, and sighed deeply.

  Relising what she’d done, she snapped her eyes open and sat up straight.

  ‘Nearly nodded off there,’ she said, trying to cover up. She hoped she hadn’t moaned. ‘Better stay awake so we don’t miss the turn-off, it’s not that far away. At least the rain’s stopped, it’s supposed to be nice for the rest of the day . . .’

  Keeping the conversation to small talk was the safest way to get through the rest of the journey, she decided. She cast around in her head for things to say.

  ‘Do you know why Maxine hasn’t been coming to class?’ she asked. ‘I miss her.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Shirlee, ‘she texted me, said she’s really busy at the moment, might not be able to make it for a while. She asked me to give you her apologies – sorry, I forgot to tell you. I said we’d hold over the classes she’s paid for, is that cool?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Polly, ‘she’s one of the inner circle. I hope she’ll come back soon.’

  Talking more about the yoga regulars and the trip to Paris for the photo shoot, Polly managed the rest of the journey without any mishap.

  As they turned into the gates of Rockham Park, she glanced round to check on Lucas and Clemmie again, and could see Digger running backwards and forwards frantically on the back seat. No doubt he was already picking up the pungent smell of Chum’s Land Rover, with the traces of Artie all over it.

  ‘Well, hello,’ said Shirlee, pulling up right in front of the entrance. ‘Check out Mr Hottie here.’

  ‘Oh, that’s Chum,’ said Polly, before she could stop herself. She was completely taken off guard by seeing him standing just outside the sliding glass doors, looking much smarter than usual in a white shirt and navy jacket. And absolutely gorgeous.