Dry Gin, Green Chartreuse, Maraschino Liqueur, Lime Juice
I took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. I had almost been over him anyway. Hadn’t I? I didn’t care that he had turned up again with his smooth lies, throwing me into a hormonal spin like this. Did I? No. I could deal with this in a sensible and adult way. Who cared if he was gorgeous and sexy and at that moment touching my hand with his to attract my attention?
‘What do you think?’ he said.
I had no idea what he had been talking about so I took a sip of my water and shrugged.
‘So?’ He looked confused.
‘Sorry, what did you say? I wasn’t really listening,’ I said.
He laughed and my heart did a funny little flip at the way his eyes sparkled.
‘No, I didn’t think you were. I asked if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow.’
‘Oh well, yes, no, yes, actually I’m not – you know how it is after a wedding. There’s always a lot to do. Things to clear up and stuff.’
I was feeling rather hot and bothered by this point and growing intensely aware of his hand on mine. He’d left it there and was now very gently stroking the backs of my fingers with his. I gave a tiny whimper and pulled my hand away, pretending I needed to top up my full water glass.
A waiter took my plate away. I think it was a smoked salmon thing for the starter and a moment later he brought me a lamb thing. It really did look rather splendid, with all sorts of jus spots and tiny gel cubes on the plate. It reminded me of the meals we had enjoyed on the Reine de France and I felt suddenly very nostalgic for those few days when I had been so confused and yet so happy at the same time. I don’t think I had slept properly or felt quite normal since.
‘So, what do you do, Gabriel?’ Angie said.
‘I’m a lawyer.’
‘Goodness, how thrilling. Do you do trials and send people to prison?’
‘Well, not often. I specialise in divorce.’
‘I say, I couldn’t have your card, could I?’ Mr VSM said smoothly. ‘Ow!’
I think his wife kicked him under the table at this point.
‘And have you done any famous people’s divorces?’ Angie asked.
‘No, not really. Most of them are pretty run of the mill. Anyway, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you about them, client confidentiality being what it is,’ Gabriel said, winking at them. ‘But tell me about you, Angie. What do you do?’
‘She pretends she’s my PA,’ Buzz said, ‘but in fact she’s a personal shopper with one client. Herself.’
‘Oooh, someone’s grumpy,’ Angie said, not at all offended. ‘I do have the house to look after and the children. Three of them,’ she said, reaching for her phone and flicking to her photos. ‘There, aren’t they absolutely divine? Mila is ten, Winifred is eight and Ena is four. My girls are so amazing.’
I looked at a photograph of three fairly ordinary-looking girls covered in chocolate, pulling faces at the camera.
‘Wonderful,’ I said, ‘and unusual names.’
Angie smiled while Buzz rolled his eyes and said Ena, honest to God … why not just call her Old Lady and be done with it? under his breath.
They then proceeded to have a tense and very quiet argument about their children’s names, which resulted in Angie stalking off to the ladies’ loo, her mouth in a grim line of fury.
Mrs VSM threw her napkin down on the table.
‘Honest to God, Buzz, can’t you let it drop?’
She went off after Angie with a martyred expression, wobbling slightly on her stilettos.
‘You’re right not to rush into getting remarried, Gabriel,’ Mr VSM said, watching her go. ‘They promise you the earth to get you to marry them and then they turn into their mothers. Women are a frigging nightmare.’
‘Not all women,’ I said, indignant.
‘Oh, present company excepted,’ Mr VSM said with a vague wave of his hand.
‘Some men can be a nightmare too, especially the ones who lie.’
There was a moment’s silence around the table.
‘That was mistaken identity,’ Mr VSM said rather heatedly. ‘I explained that at the time. That woman was absolutely barking. It wasn’t me and it couldn’t have been because I was away in Nottingham at the time. For fuck’s sake, is she still banging on about that?’
He got up and stamped out of the reception, fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes. That just left the three of us and after a moment Buzz went off to the loo.
Gabriel and I looked at each other.
‘What was all that about?’ he asked.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ I said. ‘Evidently I touched a nerve.’
‘Evidently! More wine? We seem to have plenty between us.’ He topped up my glass. It was jolly nice wine too, very cold and dry Pinot Grigio; I took a sip, enjoying the iciness.
‘But you knew he’d been cheating?’ Gabriel said.
‘I had no idea!’
‘So the comment about men lying?’
‘I meant you,’ I said, draining my glass and reaching for the bottle. If we were going to have an argument I might as well do it pissed.
‘Me?’
‘All that never met the right girl business. It’s not true, is it? I know about Elsa and the nasty divorce.’
I looked at him, waiting for him to explain, crumble, or at least look a bit guilty. He did none of those things.
‘Sorry?’
‘Yes, all that pretence, all that smooth talking so you could get me into bed. I know all about the divorce and how you’re never going to get over her.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The nasty divorce. And the children having to go into therapy.’
‘Children? Therapy?’
‘Will you please stop repeating everything I say? It’s very annoying,’ I snapped.
The waiter was back and he cleared our plates away. When he left Gabriel leaned towards me.
‘I have absolutely no idea where you’ve got these ideas from,’ he whispered.
‘No, well, you would say that.’
The waiter brought us bowls of profiteroles and at the same time the four others returned to the table looking rather shamefaced.
‘Sorry about that,’ Buzz said with a hearty chuckle. ‘Mmm, this looks scrummy. My favourite.’
‘I think you and I need to talk,’ Gabriel said quietly, but in a tone that I didn’t think meant I had an option.
‘Yes,’ I said, pushing my profiteroles around the plate with a careless spoon. There was no way I could eat them. Inside I was all sort of clenched and excited in a really odd way. What emotions was this reawakening in me? What had I started?
Then of course there were speeches. Dad, very brusque and a bit weepy, describing India and how she had been a joy and delight all her life.
At this India snorted with laughter. ‘You’re thinking of someone else, Dad.’
And everyone chuckled in that sort of good-natured way they do when they’re happy and slightly drunk.
Then Jerry, overexcited and emotional. Introducing ‘my wife and I’ and grinning at the huge cheer from everyone. Proposing a toast to the bridesmaid and flower girls. By now two of the flower girls were making a den under a table, their silk dresses crushed and grubby. The youngest – clutching a blue rabbit in one hand and a bread roll in the other – was asleep in a buggy next to her mother. Which of course meant everyone turned and stared at me. I could feel myself blushing.
India’s sister.
Who is that with her?
Very nice – why isn’t she married yet?
I could feel my cheeks burning. I wished I could have slid under the table with Poppy and Scarlett. Next to me, Gabriel was joining in the applause with a broad grin on his face as though he could imagine my embarrassment, our tense exchange seemingly on hold for now.
Then it was the turn of Jerry’s best man, Mark – tall, dapper and excruciatingly funny. Everyone turned in their seats to watch him as he asked for the lights to be dimmed, brought out a laptop and proceeded to give a very professional PowerPoint presentation on Jerry’s character, behaviour in chambers and stag weekend in Wolverhampton. I still couldn’t understand why they had chosen to go there when they could have gone to Vegas or Monaco or anywhere for that matter.
I felt Gabriel reach for my hand. I turned to see him watching me. His eyes were bright in the shadowy light.
Mark’s speech went down brilliantly. I think he must have been really funny because everyone was laughing. Angie was wiping away tears of laughter at one point and Buzz Aldrin was slapping his palm down on to the table and rocking back and forth.
Then there was the cake cutting and bouquet throwing to be done, and then there was a blessed pause when Jerry and India went to their room in the hotel, apparently to get ready for the evening party, but there seemed to be a lot of giggling going on.
*
With a sigh of relief I went to my room, kicked off my shoes and lay down on the bed. I just wasn’t in the mood to finish that conversation yet. Too much champagne and wine – I couldn’t be trusted to say things clearly. I needed time to think.
I think I stayed there for about half an hour until I could hear people rushing about in the corridor outside my room like a load of kids playing tag.
The party was due to start at seven-thirty; maybe there was time for a shower?
There was a thump on the door and when I opened it India was there, still wearing her wedding dress, a glass of champagne in one hand and a slice of wedding cake in the other.
‘This is for you,’ she said, putting it on the dressing table. ‘It’s really scrummy.’ She flopped down on my bed and gave a happy sigh. ‘I’m looking forward to the party, aren’t you? Are you going to be long?’
‘No, just going to freshen up, and then I’ll come down. Had a good day?’
‘The absolute bestest day ever,’ she said. She stood up, came over and gave me a hug, rocking slightly. ‘I’m a bit pissed but who cares? I’d better get back to my husband.’ She giggled. ‘How weird is that? My husband. This is my husband, Jerry. This is Jeremy St John Cholmondley Sinclair, my husband.’
I laughed. ‘Did you know his name was Cholmondley?’
‘I had no idea before we started organising the wedding. He told me about the St John bit but Cholmondley? I mean really! I think there was an uncle somewhere. I’m going to put some flatter shoes on. These stilettos are killing me, and this dress is so heavy – that doesn’t help.’
She tottered out and I closed the door behind her.
I freshened up my make-up and went back downstairs. The rooms that so recently had been filled with chattering people were nearly deserted and eerily quiet after the excitement. There were just a couple of people sitting at a table in the corner finishing their drinks. Then a couple of young men came in through the doors from the car park, wheeling heavy disco equipment on a couple of trolleys. They started to set up their kit ready for the evening party and some of the hotel staff came in to move the tables off the dance floor area.
I walked out of the room and into the deserted conservatory nearby where there was a large table filled with lovely-looking presents for India and Jerry.
We had done it; India was married and, by the look of her, blissfully happy. You couldn’t ask for more than that for your sister.
‘Alexa.’
I turned to see Gabriel had followed me, watching me from the doorway with an unfathomable expression. Suddenly I couldn’t meet his gaze and I turned to straighten up a couple of the presents, tucking a gift tag in under the ribbon.
‘We need to talk,’ he said.
He closed the door behind him and the noise of the chattering guests milling around in the hotel faded. It was just him and me alone.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘I came back to find you.’ Slowly he crossed the room, his footsteps behind me getting closer with every moment.
‘I want to tell you the truth. I told you; I’m divorced, reasonably civilly. It wasn’t my wish but Elsa wanted more than I could give her.’
I remembered my thoughts: what more could any woman want but him? And yet there was that lingering doubt. It was so long since I’d taken those memories out of their dark bag that I couldn’t quite remember them properly.
I wasn’t cold but I shivered.
‘I met Elsa at university. She was bright, ambitious; we were married for seven years. At first we made a good couple. I thought we wanted the same things. Then somehow things drove us apart. My work, travelling, the pressures of trying to keep everything together. And then she found someone else. Someone she thought could give her what she needed. So she had an affair. It went on for a long time – I don’t quite know how long, but long enough to make me understand I wasn’t what she wanted any more. I think I could have forgiven her but she didn’t want my forgiveness; she wanted him.’
‘Really?’ I so wanted to believe it was this straightforward.
There was a long silence. I could hear my heart beating, thumping in my chest. It was getting warm in the conservatory. Gabriel took off his jacket and looped it over the back of a chair. Then he loosened his tie.
‘Are you all right?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
He ran one hand through his hair and came to stand in front of me.
‘You’re not making this very easy,’ he said.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’
‘Alexa, I thought there was something very special between us,’ he said at last, ‘something I’ve never felt.’
‘What do you think it was?’
He laughed and turned away, standing with his hands in his pockets. God, he had a fantastic bum. Stop it, stop looking.
‘I came here to see you,’ he said. ‘I mean it was lovely to see India getting married too – weddings are great occasions.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in marriage,’ I said.
He turned round. ‘There, that’s what I’m talking about. This business with marriage and men lying. What do you think I’ve done?’
‘Lied to me about things. About your terrible divorce, about your children. The ones who had to go into therapy after your divorce.’
‘What? Where did you hear this nonsense?’
‘Marnie Miller.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! And you believed her?’
‘I didn’t know what to believe! Why wouldn’t I believe someone who was a friend of yours? She said you had a history of seducing women, that you took what you wanted and then –’
‘Look, Alexa, firstly I’m not a friend of Marnie Miller, and I never have been. I’m her lawyer. Well, I was. I think it’s time she and I parted company on any level if this is the sort of nonsense she’s going to spout. My daughters are well-rounded, happy little girls. I thought I explained …’
‘Beatrice and Amelie,’ I said.
‘You’ve got a good memory,’ he said. He was beside me now, just a touch away from me.
‘I remember a lot of things,’ I said.
‘So do I,’ he said, his voice very low. ‘My divorce was as amicable as these things can be. Elsa has remarried and has the life she wanted. My daughters spend their holidays with me and are not in therapy. I swear on my mother’s life.’
‘Is your mother even still alive?’ I asked stubbornly.
He fought a smile. ‘She is alive and well and living in the house I told you about. Her name is Lynnette Mary-Beth Frost, she’s sixty-seven, although she wouldn’t thank me for telling you that, and she’s been happily married to my father, Victor, for over forty years. She nags me to visit more than I do and worries that I’m still unmarried.’
‘No significant other?’
‘No significant other,’ he said, trying hard not to laugh.
‘It’s not funny!’ I said.
‘No, I know it’s not funny.’
He came towards me and ducked his head to look at me.
‘So why would Marnie say such things about you if they weren’t true?’ I asked, feeling my heart start to race again.
He reached out and traced my collarbone with the tips of his fingers, making me shiver.
‘Why do you think?’ he said.
I shook my head, not knowing what to say.
‘Because she could tell that I was attracted to you, that you were attracted to me.’
I looked up at him. His face was so wonderful, his expression so kind, that I almost wanted to cry. He pushed my hair off my face and took another step towards me so that we were almost touching.
‘Because she knew I looked at you in a way I would never look at her. That I wanted you in a way I would never want her.’
His voice had dropped to a whisper.
‘Oh,’ I said, looking up at him.
He ran his thumb over my lower lip and I licked it with the tip of my tongue. He gasped. Then he held my head between his hands and kissed me.
‘Perhaps that’s why,’ he said. ‘I’ve found someone wonderful. Someone I never thought to find. Someone I couldn’t forget. A beautiful, funny, sexy, sweet girl I could love.’
‘Oh, and who’s that?’ I said, wondering how my legs were still holding me up.
‘You, you daft thing,’ he said and then he kissed me again.
And after that we nearly missed the party altogether.