Cognac, Campari, Cinnamon Sugar Syrup, Red Vermouth, Chocolate Bitters
Something had changed between us.
Gabriel took my hand and held my palm to his cheek before looking at me with a question in his eyes. There were things I could have said and things I could have thought but I didn’t remember any of them. All I knew was I wanted him just as much as he wanted me.
We went to his cabin then, walking up deserted corridors and stairwells. Somewhere there were people; hundreds of people. They were in the bars, the casino, in the theatre and on the dance floor. They were talking and laughing and arguing and getting drunk but we walked silently to his room and he closed the door behind us and took me in his arms and there was no one in the world but us.
This was different.
He sat down on the bed and pulled me towards him, his hands around my waist. He buried his face in my breasts and I felt his shoulders tremble under my fingertips.
‘Oh, Alexa,’ he said, ‘forgive me. I’ve been such a fool.’
‘Don’t say anything else,’ I said softly, looking into his eyes and pushing away the ever-present hope that he’d love me back. ‘We don’t need to talk.’
I took his face between my hands and bent to kiss him. Then somehow I was on the bed with him, astride him. I pulled the bow tie undone, unbuttoned his shirt, and ran my hands over his warm, smooth chest. I could feel his heart beating with the same steady rhythm as my own.
He gently pushed me over on to my back and pulled my dress off over my head. Then he kissed me again, his mouth moving down my throat. This time there was no hurry, no urgency, none of the frantic desperation of last time, just patient tenderness that lured us on towards the most intense pleasure. He watched me, his eyes glowing above me in the shadows as he coaxed me and took me beyond that to a place of absolute peace. A place where I was relaxed and safe, but suddenly, unexpectedly, I wept, shaking in his arms, the tears running down on to his pillow.
He held me, stroking my hair back from my face, and kissed me.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ he whispered. And I knew that in some ways it was. He might not love me, he might not really need me, but I would get over that, somehow. I wasn’t going back. I could take what he gave me, cherish it and stride forward without him. Not all experiences needed to be for ever.
He pulled the covers over me and we slept. I don’t think I could have moved if I’d wanted to. And fool that I was, I didn’t want to.
I woke and it was still night, the ship ploughing on towards England and the end of this adventure. There was a full moon gleaming through the windows. I looked across at Gabriel, seeing his profile dark against the paler light reflecting off the ocean. I lay awake, thinking, wondering about how much had changed since I boarded this ship. How twelve days, which had seemed such an agonising eternity to start with, had flown by. I couldn’t believe what a difference less than two weeks had made. I’d never felt different before, special. But somehow, right now, I really did. This wasn’t just a passing thing; I knew this new me was a better me. Sure, I was going to have to work at it, but wow, I felt wonderful. Maybe I was in control of my life at last.
I slid out of bed, collected my things as best I could and – thank God – found my evening bag and cabin key. Then I put on one of the towelling robes still hanging untouched in Gabriel’s bathroom and went back to my own bed next door.
I crept in, praying that India would be asleep and stay that way. I didn’t know if I wanted to talk about it all right now. In the morning I could brazen it out, maybe just put my disappearance down to a bit of confusion, alcohol, misunderstanding … oh, I don’t know. Hopefully something would occur to me. Not that she would buy it.
I climbed into bed as quietly as I could and pulled the duvet up under my chin. I lay very still, trying to guess from India’s breathing if she was awake, asleep, comatose or had been angrily waiting for me to turn up. I couldn’t tell. After a few minutes I began to relax and turned on my side as I always did, waiting for sleep to come and blot out the memories of Gabriel touching me, stroking my arms, kissing my toes and murmuring my name.
A little whisper came across the room from India’s bed. ‘Are you okay?’
I swallowed hard. Was I okay?
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ I said, hoping I could hold on to that feeling of strength.
‘Gabriel?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘India, I’m good,’ I said firmly, because I could tell she was worried. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’
I heard her turn over and the rustle of her bedclothes.
‘S’okay.’
After a few minutes I heard her familiar snore and knew I was alone with my thoughts.
It was like being a teenager again, remembering what he had said, how he had looked and the scent of him, which seemed to cling to me even now. He had touched me and pulled me hard against him, moving with me in the darkness as I cried out my wonder and pleasure.
He made you think you were different, didn’t he? Didn’t he?
What had I been doing? Using him? Having him? Shagging him? Fucking? Screwing? What did people call it?
I sighed, heavy with my thoughts; longing for the sleep that evaded me.
Damnation. Damn everything.
As the minutes ticked past, the warm, snuggly afterglow began to fade and a new uncertainty settled in my mind.
When he’s got what he wants, he loses interest.
I just hoped I was strong enough to deal with it. Perhaps the first thing I would have to do was declutter my mind of Gabriel Frost. Sweep all these memories into the equivalent of a locked trunk and leave them there.
*
When I woke up again it was nearly nine-thirty. India was still asleep in the other bed, one arm thrown up over her face. Soon we would start to sail up the English Channel towards Southampton. Soon we would be back on dry land with our luggage and our memories, waiting for Jerry to come and drive us home.
He doesn’t know your address; he doesn’t know your phone number.
No, and he didn’t bloody ask for them either, did he?
‘Bollocks,’ I said out loud.
‘Let me guess,’ India said. ‘Gabriel Frost?’
‘Yep.’
India turned over in bed and looked at me. ‘You twit,’ she said.
‘I know. I’m a bloody fool.’
‘Did you have fun?’
I sighed. ‘Oh my God, yes. That’s the trouble; he’s so frigging fantastic in bed. I don’t know what he does or how he does it but – wow.’
We were both silent for a few seconds. India picked up her phone and checked to see if Jerry had messaged her.
‘Oh well, just chalk it up to experience,’ she said. ‘You’ve never done something like that before – a no-strings-attached night?’
‘I suppose not.’ Had it really been as no-strings-attached as I’d wanted it to be?
‘And don’t do it again.’
‘No, I won’t.’
*
We decided to have a more formal breakfast in the Champs-Elysées restaurant to finish off our final day. I didn’t really fancy negotiating the scrum of the food court as the American contingent, sensing the approach of Southampton, were getting increasingly excited and noisy. As we passed the doors we could see some of them loading up their backpacks with bottles of water and muffins. I think some of them were expecting to see Land’s End or Stonehenge from the top deck of the ship. I wondered if Ike and Marty were still planning on going to Scotland for the day?
The Champs-Elysées restaurant was a haven of quiet and tranquillity in comparison. The maître d’ showed us to a lovely table where we could watch the sea slipping past. We stared out, wondering if we would be able to see the coast of Ireland, but in the distance there was a haze across the water.
I looked at the menu. ‘Fresh fruit and yogurt?’
India nodded thoughtfully. ‘Ye … no actually. I want a full English with two fried eggs, black pudding, sausages and then white toast and Marmite to follow.’
‘Good idea. I’ll have the same,’ I said.
‘I’m glad we kept up our healthy eating plan,’ India said, unfolding her napkin and grinning at me.
‘Have you had a good time?’ I asked, suddenly worried. It had been her hen holiday after all.
‘Of course I have,’ India replied. ‘To be honest I wasn’t sure I would. You know, cruises are something I usually think are just for old people who play shuffleboard, whatever that is. But it’s been great. And it’s certainly been much better than going to a rented house with a gaggle of other hens. At least you didn’t make me wear a pink sash or L plates. I mean we’ve got along okay – not that we don’t usually, but twelve days together is hard for anyone, right?’
‘India, I think we can admit that we’ve not been getting on as well as we used to.’ Wow, where did that come from? I was braver than I looked. ‘But I do think this trip has been good for us.’
She nodded. ‘But how are you?’
I shrugged, attempting to be dismissive. ‘I’ve been a twat, I know that, so we don’t need to talk about him any more, do we?’
‘Him? Gabriel Frost? Not unless you want to?’ she said, concern in her eyes, and I smiled falsely back, because I did – that was the trouble.
I was as bad as India wanting to talk about her wedding. I wanted to talk about Gabriel Frost all the time.
I wanted to sit in a comfortable chair with a blanket around my shoulders, a mug of hot chocolate and a new pack of chocolate digestives on a table next to me and think about him. I wanted to go over every conversation we had shared, contemplate how he had looked, remember how he had touched me and made love to me …
No, he hadn’t. I wasn’t going to think like that. It had been enjoyable but meaningless sex. We had been shagging. Bonking. Screwing. Fucking. Hadn’t we?
Suddenly I wanted to cry. I felt like covering my face with my stiff white napkin and howling. I could almost picture myself sobbing, inconsolable; the tears running down my face and leaving a damp patch on my black T-shirt. India would be worried. She’d pat my hand, then come and put an arm around me, and finally probably slap me about a bit to stop me from becoming hysterical. It would absolutely ruin her last day and her abiding memory of our trip would be taking me to the ship’s doctor to be sedated. So, I took a deep breath.
India fidgeted a bit with her napkin. ‘Today I’m going to work on my bestselling novel.’
‘I think that sounds like an excellent idea.’ It would give me plenty of time to think about Gabriel, in very specific detail … Oh, what was I even thinking!
Thankfully the waiter returned with our breakfast and some coffee, which I pounced on with relief. Perhaps I was just caffeine-light at the moment? That was why I couldn’t concentrate on anything.
I stirred some demerara sugar into my cup as a sort of brave, self-medicating gesture, while convincing myself it was healthier than white, and sipped my coffee. Where was Gabriel having his breakfast? Had he ordered room service perhaps? Or gone to the Louis Quinze restaurant for rich people and enjoyed caviar on toast or something equally ridiculous? Did he like coffee or tea in the morning? Or something weird like rooibos with liquorice?
Did he have any hobbies? Did he follow baseball or American football? Did he like his steak rare or well done?
I didn’t really know anything about him at all. What a fool I was. I mean I hadn’t even asked him any of those questions. Just spent my time staring at him …
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Jerry again,’ India said. She paused to give me chance to roll my eyes at her as I usually did when she mentioned Jerry or the wedding. This time I didn’t. ‘I’ve really missed him.’
‘Good. You’re marrying him in December so it’s just as well,’ I said jokingly and she threw a sugar packet at me.
‘I’ll have to get back on to the wedding as soon as we’re back. Sort out those flaming flower girls. And you too I suppose. I mean did we ever decide what you were going to wear?’
I topped up my coffee and added more sugar. ‘Nope.’
‘Blue or pink? Or peach?’
‘I’ve no idea. You kept changing your mind,’ I reminded her.
‘I did, didn’t I? Well, what do you want? I’ll let you decide. No, I won’t. You’d turn up in jeans and a Zara T-shirt knowing you. How about lilac?’
‘Over my dead body.’ I grinned.
‘Green? No, green is supposed to be unlucky …’
She was on a roll here and, knowing my sister as I did, I could zone out a bit and not miss anything. Plus my brain still wanted to talk to me about Gabriel Frost.
There were so many things about him that I didn’t know. I mean basic things like what sort of car did he drive? Did he work from home or did he go to some glass and steel offices filled with clever women in sharp suits who watched him through narrowed eyes, waiting to pounce?
‘… terrific in orange with orange gerberas. Or even purple? That would be unusual, wouldn’t it? Sort of Christmassy too. Oooh, I know … a dark forest green? And the little flower girls in crimson …’
Did he like baths or showers? Did he use moisturiser? What side of the bed did he sleep on?
‘… brown, a sort of plain chocolate colour, you know?’
Perhaps he liked extreme sports? Did he like Marmite?
‘Alexa, are you listening?’
‘Hmm? Oh yes, of course. You want me to wear Marmite.’
‘What? No, I didn’t say that,’ she said, looking at me like I was mad. ‘I was just thinking about darker colours. We’ll have to go shopping. I mean as a matter of extreme urgency.’
I know what India on an urgent shopping trip meant. Flat shoes and a double-shot espresso for starters. Then a determined route march through every shop in town with bridesmaids dresses. We would have lunch at a wine bar where if you bought two glasses you got the rest of the bottle free. So the afternoon would go a bit blurry and we would end up buying something monumentally unsuitable that would need to be returned the following day.
‘Yes, great,’ I said with an enthusiasm I didn’t feel.
The waiter brought us more toast and some annoying little sachets of Marmite that needed the Incredible Hulk to rip them open. If I ever went on another cruise, which was unlikely considering the cost, I’d be sure to take my own pot with me. But I’d probably be stopped at customs where they would impound it and throw me off the ship.
‘And then we’d better see if Mum has sorted her outfit. Perhaps she could come with us?’
It was going to be bad enough going urgent shopping with my sister. The prospect of also taking Mum along was very worrying. The last time we went shopping with her was when she needed a smart outfit to go to Ascot. We ended up buying some champagne flutes, a pair of wellingtons with pictures of spaniels on and a new padded gilet for gardening. She’s easily distracted is our mother.
‘Yes, let’s do that,’ I said.
India looked at me. ‘Are you okay, Al? I mean you don’t seem quite with it.’
‘I’m fine. Just a bit, you know …’
‘It’s that bloody man, isn’t it? He’s really upset you. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when I see him. Messing with my sister and upsetting her like this!’
I looked at her startled.
‘No, please don’t, I’m fine. I’ve been thinking about Marnie’s talk – spring-cleaning my life sounds exactly what I need to do.’
‘Well, okay, but if I see Gabriel bloody Frost …’
‘Forget about him. I’m going to,’ I said.
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. I’m going to just chalk it up to experience, like you said. It was just a bit of fun after all. We were both consenting adults.’
India snorted. ‘Well, you were both consenting. I’m not sure I’d always describe you as an adult.’
‘Oh, thanks. Always have to have the last word, don’t you? What time is it?’ I said, distracting her.
‘Ten-twenty. Why?’
Because I could do with a drink. A double brandy. Or a stiff gin? No, I didn’t need a stiff anything.
‘We should be going soon,’ I said chirpily, ‘if you want to get a good place in the library.’
We finished our breakfast and left the restaurant past a few bowing and smiling waiters. They probably wouldn’t be quite so cheerful when they saw how much butter I had managed to smear on the tablecloth.