The switch in atmosphere was sudden and sharp. The banter, so sexually charged a few minutes before, had shifted to anger and resentment on Dirk’s part, and unease on hers.
‘I’m sorry that happened,’ she said, deciding that any defence of her former employer was useless. She wasn’t sure she could defend the intrusive nature of the press attention he’d received, anyway. It might have been a year ago, but he was clearly still hurting and definitely believed that the press, and specifically her own ex-employer, had had a hand in the break-up. His hostility towards her was now slightly more understandable. However, she hadn’t written the stories herself, so it was unfair of him to lay it at her door.
He toyed with his fork. ‘Believe me, I was so happy for her when she landed the role in the series. It was what she’d always worked for and she’d gone through hell with all the rejections and knock-backs for years. Even though I knew our lives would probably change a bit, I was thrilled. But I’d no idea how drastically our lives would alter, and I wasn’t prepared for the attention once she became so well-known.’
‘It must have come as a shock after leading a relatively quiet life,’ Tiff said. From their brief acquaintance, she knew he was a private man: taciturn, fiercely loyal to his mates and shunned the limelight. It must have been very hard to handle his partner gaining sudden fame, even if he loved her dearly.
‘I was astonished – and horrified – but I didn’t want to hold her back. I went to some of the parties, but it was difficult. She wanted me to give up being a mechanic at the Thames Lifeboat Station and she said she’d support me so I could attend more events with her and travel abroad when she had to for other roles.’
‘That must have been a tough decision,’ she offered.
‘I thought about it very carefully. I lost sleep over it, but I needed something in my own life too. I couldn’t bear the idea of just following her around, even though I loved her. We were struggling to maintain the relationship by then. I thought about doing it. I almost gave in my notice but then that story broke – about the problems we were having. I got home, we had a huge row and I walked out.’
Tiff knew what happened next but waited for him to tell his own side of things.
‘Amira went to the papers. She said stuff about us, about me. She later told me her publicist had made her talk to them. He’d told her it would keep her in the public eye and that she could convince me that the journalist had made it all up.’
Tiff pressed her lips together, picturing the conversation between the journalist and Amira’s publicist. She winced inwardly. Hearing Dirk’s point of view, she felt she was hearing a new perspective – or perhaps, a perspective she’d lost sight of and dismissed over the years.
‘The story blew over in days and our lives were fit for the recycling bins before the week was out, but the damage was done. I tried to talk to her and see a way forward but we both knew we’d grown too far apart. She’s living with one of the cast members now.’ He paused for a second, and Tiff could see the pain in his eyes. ‘The worst moment was when Amira was pictured with that actor for the first time. The press hunted me down to get my reaction. They were on the riverbank the night we pulled a young guy from the Thames. He’d been drunk, jumped in and drowned. It made the papers because it happened during the Cricket World Cup and he was in a New Zealand shirt. They used a photo of me after we’d got the poor lad ashore. It had nothing to do with Amira, and there were other pictures of me on the web they could have used.’ His voice rose in anger. ‘Yet they chose to use the photo at the scene after I’d dragged a dead person from the water! It was obscene.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Tiff meant it, horrified at the use of such an emotional photo to sell a tabloid break-up story.
‘I decided then that my private life was affecting my mates on the crew, and the casualties. Amira made it clear we were over so when I saw a vacancy here, I jumped at the chance to get away.’
Dirk’s voice faded. Perhaps he was embarrassed about revealing too much.
‘Porthmellow’s a long way from London …’ she prompted, eager to keep the words flowing, dreading that they’d dry up.
‘I was born in Cornwall,’ he said, frowning as if she should have known that already. ‘Up on the north coast. My parents still live up there so when I decided to move away, it was a no-brainer to come back here … Closer to them, and as far as possible from the city, as you say.’ He looked at Tiff. ‘More importantly, as far as possible from Amira and all the crap that surrounded her. It was your newspaper that ran the final story on her – on us. It was garbage, most of it, and they called me a tragic lifeboat hero.’
Tiff sucked in a small breath. Now the layers were peeling back. No wonder he’d shown her such animosity. ‘I didn’t write it, Dirk.’
‘Your mate did. Esther Francois.’
‘Esther was a colleague, definitely not a mate,’ she said, sharply. It was an understatement if anything: Esther Francois was so far from being a ‘mate’ that she’d urged the editor to sack Tiff.
‘You’d have done the story too, if you’d dug it up,’ Dirk said. ‘Not that there was much truth in the stuff that ended up in print. It was a pack of lies.’
She hesitated. ‘Without knowing the circumstances, I don’t know what I’d have done presented with the information. Tragic hero is a cliché. I’d probably have tried to dig deeper.’
He breathed out his contempt.
‘Look, Dirk, I can’t apologise for a story I didn’t write. Why don’t you tell me more about the true version of events?’
‘So you can print it?’ he shot back.
‘No, so I can understand you better.’
His eyes narrowed briefly, he looked at her as if she’d turned into a frog, then he shook his head. ‘Now why the hell would you want to do that?’
‘Why not? We’ve got the rest of the day.’
He snatched up his empty plate and put it in the sink. Tiff flinched, certain she’d blown the moment. She was damned by association, but she refused to feel guilty for someone else’s article and certainly not Esther bloody Francois’ actions. Nor would she apologise for her job, per se.
She took her own plate to where Dirk was standing gripping the edge of the sink. She left the plate on the worktop next to him.
‘Tell me more about your side of things, please.’
‘Are you really interested in my side?’ he said. ‘Your friend clearly wasn’t interested in it.’
Tiff chose her words carefully, afraid to shatter the moment again.
‘Dirk, I am sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that you split up with Amira, and I’m sorry you think the story in the Herald helped to tip her over the edge. Esther is definitely not … my friend. I don’t like her methods and I like to think I’d have handled it more sensitively, but I am not going to lie to you. I can’t say I wouldn’t have followed it up myself. Journalism is my job, same as fixing the boat is yours. Yours is just noble, that’s all.’
‘Noble?’ He laughed. ‘I got a transfer here to get away from London, not for noble reasons. I ran away.’
‘Then at least we have something in common,’ Tiff said lightly. ‘Along with let’s say … a compulsion to be honest.’
He laughed. ‘Honest? Us … yeah …’ He turned to look at her, an intensity burning in his eyes. ‘Well, if we’re being honest – totally honest – I’d tell you, in spite of everything, how much I want to take you to bed … but you must already know that?’
‘Oh … No. I … didn’t know that.’ Her voice was suddenly throaty. ‘My God, I absolutely didn’t know that.’
Even though she was irritated by his accusations, he’d stopped her dead in her tracks with his blunt declaration. She shivered, partly in surprise and partly in lust.
‘Are you shocked?’ he said.
‘Erm … shocked isn’t quite the word.’
‘So … I’ve made a mistake?’
‘No … I wouldn’t call it a mistake either …’ She floundered; floored by a directness that had hit her like a missile out of a clear blue sky and made her whole body grow hot and cold with desire.
‘Of course, it would be a bloody terrible idea,’ he went on, cutting the ground from under her yet again. ‘I do respect you being honest, but I just don’t trust you.’
Or can’t, she thought. ‘Wow. What a fantastic basis for a relationship,’ she said coolly. ‘You want to take me to bed but you don’t like me and you don’t trust me. How could I possibly resist?’
‘Easily. I’m a grumpy, rude, anti-social bloke who’s now insulted you.’
Tiff seethed with indignant anger and at his comments, but a part of her also wanted to rip his clothes off, and she couldn’t decide which of those feelings was winning. ‘Anyone would think you were deliberately trying to keep me away from you,’ she said, putting her finger on his lips. His eyes widened in shock at her touch. His mouth was warm under her fingertips and sent a thrill through her.
‘I think you’re doing a very good job of being Mr Darcy. Without the gigantic mansion and millions, of course.’
Reluctantly, she lowered her hand, furious with him but dying to feel her lips on his.
‘I always thought Darcy was an arse,’ Dirk said, holding her gaze. ‘Arrogantly jumping to conclusions about people when he didn’t know the facts.’
Was he even aware of the irony of his comment? ‘There you go, then,’ Tiff said sweetly, yet inwardly fuming and glad she hadn’t acted on her impulse to kiss him. ‘None of us is perfect. Thank you for the lunch and the most absolutely fecking terrifying experience of my life. I’ll write up the feature about the crew. Should be in the next month’s issue.’
‘Wait, Tiff. I didn’t mean—’
‘Oh, I think you did. I can find my own way out.’
Snatching up her bag, she stormed into the hall. He followed but she flung open the door and marched out. She was pretty sure he was on the doorstep, but she absolutely was not going to look back to check.
What a day. Rarely had she left someone’s house so shaken, so unsure of their feelings – or her own. Dirk ’n’ Stormy was a very fitting nickname. Not because of his changing moods but because of the turbulence he stirred up in others. Or perhaps, she realised as she reached Marina’s place, only in her.