I felt my toes curl inside my shoes. How much abuse was I supposed to take? ‘And this is starting over and being professional, is it?’
‘I’m sorry, I’ve just never liked people in advertising,’ he said with a shrug. ‘They sell lies for a living. You can’t argue with that, can you?’
‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ I said, clutching my wine glass and waiting for something inside to break. ‘All I did was tell you a different name. Everything else I said was true. Everything that happened, happened. You know everything about me, Nick. Please don’t do this.’
He looked at me from across the table, his eyes running over every inch of me. I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. My dress covered me up from neck to knee but when he looked at me, I might as well have been sitting there in my pants. Not even my pants; I felt like I was wearing nothing but one of those awful candy thongs you saw in Ann Summers. It was worse than being naked. I grabbed a thick linen napkin from the table and laid it across my lap and one of the tea lights near me flickered as I remembered to breathe. The flame guttered for a second before going out.
Nick stood up, slowly this time, and walked around the table towards me.
‘Tess.’
He crouched down until he was bouncing on his toes at the side of my chair, his hands gripping the armrest so tightly, I could see his knuckles turning white.
‘It feels so wrong, calling you that.’
I pursed my lips and screwed my napkin up in my hands.
‘You’re right, I do know something about you,’ he said, his lips so close to my ear that I felt his words before I heard them. ‘I know I don’t trust you. And I could never be with someone I don’t trust.’
He stood up and walked away, grabbing a bottle of red wine from the table as he went.
I watched two big smoky tears drop into my lap, veins of mascara creeping along the fabric of the napkin.
Probably not the most successful date in history, I thought, wiping away my tears and picking up a huge chunk of cheese. But at least he hadn’t taken all of the wine with him.
CHAPTER TEN
I couldn’t face going back to my room. It was more or less impossible to navigate the hallways and staircases without bumping into someone and I knew that Amy would be waiting for me, either to get the gossip or catch Nick and me in the act. As much as I knew she had meant well with the dinner date set-up, I didn’t want to talk to anyone until I could open my mouth without crying. I felt so cold and heavy and broken.
Hauling myself to my feet, I tipped the bread and cheese from my plate into a napkin that I hadn’t ruined and picked up the bottle of white wine. What I wouldn’t give to be one of those girls who starved herself through upset. One Saturday, a few years ago, Charlie took me to look at engagement rings with him. Afterwards, I had gone straight back to the office, locked myself in the stationary cupboard and eaten an entire birthday cake. Ever since then, when I was having a bad day, I’d wonder whether or not I could make my millions by selling women a plain cake that came with ready-made icing letters so you could write your own message. Like, ‘Sorry the man you love is considering marrying a twenty-two-year-old stripper!’ or ‘Surprise! That bloke you shagged hates you!’
Who wouldn’t buy three of those a week?
My secret garden was all closed up for the night but that was nothing a good shove wouldn’t fix. With my heels and bottle under my bad arm, I gave the door a bash with my good shoulder and stumbled inside when it gave way too easily. I dropped my shoes and tiptoed onto the closest patch of grass, letting my legs sink underneath me. I’d never been much of a crier and now I knew why. It wasn’t a lot of fun. My eyes were sore and my nose felt raw and swollen. Of all the glitches in human design, crying had to be the worst. It served no physical purpose I could think of and I certainly didn’t feel any better for getting it all out, no matter what anyone’s nan might think.
I lay down and stared up at the stars for as long as I could stand to do nothing. The evening was still warm and the grass smelled delicious, sweet against the salty taste of tears in my mouth. Had things taken a different turn, it could have been such a romantic evening. If only Nick hadn’t decided to make it one of the most painful, upsetting experiences of my life, the little scamp, everything would have been great.
That and the fact that Charlie is still waiting to hear from you, the voice in my head reminded me. You know, Charlie? Tall, brown eyes, love of your life?
I groaned out loud, rolling onto my front because it was too hard to drink wine on my back, and pulled my phone out of my tiny black shoulder bag. I jabbed my finger at the screen and brought up Charlie’s last email, about the Perito’s pitch. It was warm and funny and there were kisses at the end of it. Of course, he’d sent that before he gave me a camera, said I should follow my dreams and then told me he loved me. Before I gave him a double thumbs up, said thanks and then ran away to Milan to jump into bed with another man.
That’s what anyone would do under the circumstances, wasn’t it?
It was all very confusing, I thought, drinking more wine directly out of the bottle. It’s all too much.
No it isn’t, the voice piped up again. Nick doesn’t want you. Charlie does. You’ve wanted Charlie forever, Nick is a flash-in-the-pan fling who’s only bothering you because your pride is hurt. This is easy; this is obvious. There’s nothing complicated about it.
Gnawing on a piece of bread, I considered my subconscious. Maybe it was right. Maybe the Nick thing really was just all ego. After all, it was Charlie I called when I was in trouble, wasn’t it? And all Nick’s bullshit, it went both ways. He kept saying he didn’t know me but really, it was me who didn’t know him. I was hurt at the way he was reacting but maybe this was the real him, at last. Why should I be so upset about someone who could treat me so badly? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t about to let him bring me down. I tried to remember what had happened the last time I’d lost a pitch, hitting myself in the mouth with the wine bottle. It was hard to concentrate on two things at once sometimes.
It was two years ago, Sparkle paper towels, and what happened then? They gave the account to Eskum so I went after Squiggle and now Squiggle outsells Sparkle three to one. Because you don’t give up, I told myself, if you lose something, you go after something better.
And this time, I already have something better, I realized, dropping the almost empty wine bottle and watching it trickle away into the lawn. I have Charlie and Charlie was worth a million Millers.
Pressing the home button over and over until my phone finally woke up, I opened my texts and carefully tapped out a new message before pressing send. Smiling, I stuffed the last handful of cheese into my chipmunk cheeks and staggered to my feet, feeling impossibly pleased with myself.
Give me a problem, I thought, dropping my phone into my clutch bag as I headed back into the house, and I will give you a solution. I was a genius. Tess Brookes, problem solver.
Tuesday morning shot through my unclosed curtains like a knife, slicing across my room, my bed and eventually my face. No matter how many times I tossed and turned, I could not escape the sunshine. I was awake. And I was hung over. I inched across the bed, feeling for the edge and hoping I found it before I threw up in the covers but I was not going to be that lucky. This wasn’t a puke-it-all-better hangover, this was a constant-thud-in-the-side-of-your-brain-because-you-downed-a-bottle-of-wine-and-didn’t-even-attempt-to-drink-any-water-before-you-crawled-into-bed hangover.
Tess Brooke, problem drinker.
I vaguely remembered finding Amy asleep on the sofa in the living room that linked our bedrooms and vaguely remembered putting on my new pyjamas even though apparently I hadn’t bothered to remove the price tag before I got into bed. Or bothered to put them on the right way round.
This was why I didn’t drink. I could not be trusted.
A knock at the door made me look up altogether too quickly. Holding my head, I stuck my furry tongue out as far as it would go, opening
and closing my mouth a few times until felt like it might start working again.
‘Yes?’ I called, staring at the dirt under my fingernails. Where had that come from?
‘Good morning.’ Al poked his white, fluffy head around my bedroom door and smiled. ‘You’re indisposed. I’ll come back later.’
Oh shit.
‘No!’ I flapped my arms around like a confused Muppet. The back-to-front pyjamas probably weren’t helping me look more composed. ‘I’m sorry, it’s fine, come in. What time is it? My alarm didn’t go off.’
I left off the ‘because I didn’t set it’ part of that sentence.
‘Almost ten,’ he said, entering the room with a pair of black patent shoes in his hands. Why did they look so familiar? ‘I believe these are yours.’
Oh shit. Times two.
‘It’s ten?’ I asked, accepting the shoes before Al disappeared into the living room and came back with a large silver tray. He had brought me coffee. He was literally the best man alive. And I hated people who misused the word ‘literally’ almost as much as Amy hated it when I used air quotes. ‘We missed you at breakfast.’
And that was when it all came flooding back. Oh, bollocks.
‘I’m sorry.’ I took the cup of coffee he held out and watched as he poured his own before taking a chair beside the bed. ‘Last night was a bit strange and I must have forgotten to set my alarm and I can sleep through anything and I’m really sorry, I’ll be ready to go in, like, ten minutes.’
‘We’re not going anywhere today, so please don’t apologize,’ he said, dismissing my concerns like the big-bearded wonderman that he was. ‘A little bird told me they organized a surprise dinner for you and Mr Miller last night. Two little birds actually.’
‘A little English bird and a slightly bigger Hawaiian bird, both of whom should know better?’ I asked.
‘Quite,’ he nodded. ‘Mr Miller appeared to be in quite the black mood this morning.’
‘He was?’ Oddly, the news of his bad mood brightened mine somewhat.
‘Oh, terrible,’ Al said. ‘Not that I would want to interfere but can I assume dinner wasn’t quite the romantic occasion the little birds had planned?’
‘It was not,’ I confirmed, gulping the coffee altogether too quickly. ‘He shouted at me, walked out, came back in and shouted at me again and then told me he would try to be professional. Oh, and he dropped a glass but he didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t think. And then I ate some cheese in one of the gardens.’
‘Jane’s favourite garden,’ he said, passing me a plate of buttery toast. Literally the best man. ‘When we bought this place, there was a painting of it in one of the bedrooms and she became obsessed with restoring it to its former glory. The previous owners had been using it for storage. My Janey spent hours in there, sketching, reading. She did her fair share of cheese eating in there too.’
I wondered how much drinking she’d done in there, shying away from the sunlight as it shifted across my bed again. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘You must stop apologizing,’ Al insisted. ‘It does an old man good to see some young people running around, living. Kekipi and I have been holed up in Hawaii for so long, I’d forgotten all the fun of watching other people’s stories unfold until you came along.’
‘You could just watch EastEnders,’ I suggested. ‘Or Hollyoaks if you really hated yourself.’
‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ he replied, dusting off his hands before topping up our cups. I didn’t know if it was because we were in Italy or because I was so hung over I made Lindsay Lohan look like someone who made good choices, but the coffee really was amazing. ‘Relationships will always be complicated, I suppose.’
‘Sometimes I wonder how the human race still exists,’ I said, allowing myself a moment of grumpy self-pity. ‘How does anyone even get together in the first place?’
Al frowned. ‘I hear the internet has a lot to do with it these days. The internet and alcopops. Is Cilla Black still on the scene?’
I shook my head and frowned. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Great pair of legs, Cilla,’ he said. ‘Janey was always going on about Cilla’s legs whenever she came over.’
‘But how do you know if you’re making the right decision?’ I asked, bypassing the Cilla conversation – one inconceivable thing at a time. ‘It seems like my mum can barely stand the sight of Brian sometimes but they’re still together. Kekipi told me what happened with him, how he thought he was making the sensible decision and he ended up with no one. Amy left her fiancé because it was too sensible and now she’s on her own.’
‘And I spent fifty years with my soulmate and I’m on my own as well,’ Al added. ‘How does that fit into your equation?’
‘But that’s different,’ I said, trying to work out the sensitive way to say ‘she died’. There wasn’t one. I stayed quiet.
‘What I’m trying to explain is that you never know how things will work out,’ he said. Al was so wise. I attributed it all to his beard. ‘I wouldn’t trade a hundred years with anyone else for the time I had with Jane. You should never give your life to someone if you can’t give them your heart.’
‘What if they don’t want my heart?’ I asked.
‘Then they don’t deserve it,’ he said sagely. ‘But that doesn’t mean you should give it to the first person who asks for it. You’re a special girl, Tess. You’re bright, you’re talented, you’re ambitious. You remind me so much of Janey sometimes. You know, she always wanted a daughter and I think the two of you would have got along very well.’
It was hard to know what to say to that. I smiled and drank my coffee, hoping I looked appropriately moved.
‘I can only tell you what I told Kekipi a very long time ago. A life is too long to live with regrets.’ He patted my shoulder and finished off a bite of toast. ‘What you want today might not be what you want tomorrow but only you know what you really need. And that might not be what’s on offer right now, but that doesn’t mean you should take what is.’
‘Well, that makes sense,’ I assured him. And not just about Charlie and Nick. Beginning to feel a little closer to human with several gulps of coffee running through my veins, I cleared my throat and smiled as brightly as possible. ‘What’s on the agenda for today?’
‘I have another meeting with Edward,’ Al said, pulling on his lapels like a particularly proud barrow boy. ‘And I thought you and Amy might like to take some photos of Jane’s studio. All the original sketches are in there, along with a lot of her clothes, all the pieces she designed herself with her seamstress. I’d like to make sure everyone knows where the inspiration for the line came from.’
‘I think it’s really amazing.’ I looked across at my camera, waiting patiently on the desk. ‘It’s so great that you’re going to actually have clothes in shops from her designs. Artie must be so excited to carry his mother’s line in the store.’
‘Artie doesn’t get excited about anything I do unless it involves signing something over to him.’ Al’s mouth disappeared into a thin line inside his beard. ‘But he’s agreed to consider carrying the line at least.’
‘Consider?’ I asked. ‘He’s not going to just take them?’
‘Artie feels that he has spent a long time proving himself to me,’ Al said, standing up and straightening his suit. ‘I believe this is retribution of sorts. Now I must prove myself to him.’
‘That is messed up,’ I said, growling. ‘Is it wrong that I sort of want to punch him?’
‘It probably wouldn’t make matters any easier,’ he laughed. ‘But regardless, I’m hoping the party on Friday night will improve his mood.’
‘Party?’ I asked, ears perking up. ‘There’s a party?’
‘I knew I’d forgotten something,’ Al muttered, hands deep in his pockets. ‘I am getting on. We’re having a party on Friday night to announce the line. Big do, lots of razzmatazz, get the industry excited – drunk and excited. Kekipi will tell you all
about it – he and Domenico are taking care of the arrangements as we speak.’
‘A match made in heaven,’ I said. ‘I’m sure they’ll love the opportunity to work so closely together.’
‘Won’t they just?’ he agreed with his own brand of chuckle. ‘Oh, and tonight I’ve got a box at the opera. I was very much hoping you and Miss Smith would join me. You’re such a civilizing influence on Kekipi.’
‘Really?’ If I was a civilizing influence on Kekipi, I hated to think what he was like when I wasn’t around. ‘Of course, we’d love to go to the opera. Thank you for asking.’
In reality, I was not sure we would love to go to the opera at all. Or at least, I was not sure that either Amy or myself could be trusted at the opera. Apparently, I couldn’t even be trusted to get myself back to my room after dinner and I always tried to avoid taking Amy anywhere that she needed to be still and silent for more than fifteen minutes. We hadn’t been to the cinema together since Titanic.
‘Domenico will show you to the studio, just call him when you’re ready.’ Al filled up my coffee cup one more time before he made for the door. ‘And I took the liberty of asking Kekipi to borrow some dresses for you ladies this evening. I’m assuming you didn’t bring an awful lot of formal wear with you for a week taking photos.’
Formal wear? I’d assumed a nice frock and proper shoes. This was a formal wear occasion?
‘Arrivederci,’ Al bowed at the door. ‘Remember, the easy path is rarely the right one.’
‘Right,’ I muttered, dropping back against the pillows as I heard the door click shut. ‘Which means I probably shouldn’t just go back to sleep.’
Sometimes, life was a real challenge.
‘Look at you two.’ Kekipi clapped both hands to his face as Amy and I appeared at the top of the staircase in all our opera-going finery. ‘Goddesses. Beautifully dressed and expertly styled goddesses.’
‘Shall I tell him that you’ve already fallen over twice?’ Amy whispered.