A Question of Love (16 page)

‘About what?’

‘Oh everything,’ he replied. ‘Just…everything. Anyway—this is where you live.’ He’d walked me home on Friday, but hadn’t come in, so I gave him the guided tour. ‘All your Classics books,’ he said as he looked at the shelves. He ran his finger along the spines. ‘I remember them,’ he sighed. I wondered where Horace was, I hadn’t been able to find him.

‘The flat’s a good size,’ he added as we went down the stairs. I unwrapped the flowers—candy-striped tulips with exuberantly frilled petals. ‘I know red roses are traditional,’ he said. ‘But I remembered how much you liked tulips.’

‘I do. I love them—there are so many gorgeous ones, and these are wonderful. They’re called “Burgundy Lace”.’ They were so frilly they looked as though they were doing the can-can.

‘Your neighbour seems friendly,’ he observed. ‘She thought I was her seven o’clock
what
, though? It sounded rather dubious.’

I handed him one of the flyers she leaves in little piles in the hall.

‘“Let Psychic Cynthia solve all your problems,”‘ he read. ‘“This gifted lady will tell you your past, present and future.”‘ He smiled. ‘What a laugh.’

As I arranged the flowers in two vases I thought again of what she’d said about Nick. ‘It is—it’s utter bunkum. There—how gorgeous. Now…drink?’

‘No thanks—we should be on our way.’

I picked up my bag. ‘So where are we going?

‘To the flicks.’

‘To see…?’

‘Well, do you remember that Valentine’s Day when we saw
Casablanca
at the Arts Cinema?’

‘Yes,’ I said wistfully. ‘We sat through it twice.’

‘Well…’ he said, smiling at me in a way that made my knees turn to jelly.

‘Is that what we’re going to see?
Casablanca
? I’d love that.’

‘Nope. We’re going to see
The Satanic Rites of Dracula
. They’ve got a Hammer Horror season at the Electric.’

‘How…lovely.’ I put on my coat. ‘You always did like scary films. You were a connoisseur of horror.’

‘That’s right. I’m a regular shockaholic,’ he quipped.

As we walked up Portobello, Luke gave me an exposition on the unique blend of blood and eroticism that had made Hammer films so successful.

‘They veered towards self-parody in the end,’ he said, ‘but these early ones are wonderful. They’re camp, and over-the-top gruesome in the manner of
Grand Guignol
, of course…’

‘Of course,’ I said happily as we went in.

‘Plus they’re really
rather
sexy
,
‘ he explained as we had a snack at the bar and a glass of champagne.

It was a clever choice of date. The warm, velvety darkness of the cinema—together with the scariness of the film—invited physical touch. As we sank into the leather armchairs Luke helped me out of my coat, and as his arm went round my shoulder, I felt the hairs on my neck rise up. As the film got underway our forearms brushed against each other, tentatively at first, then more boldly. As Christopher Lee sank his fangs into Joanna Lumley’s neck, Luke placed his hand over mine, interlocking our fingers. I was aware of his smell—a familiar blend of lime and vetiver. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

‘That was terrific,’ he said, as the lights went up. ‘I love a good scare. It’s so…
refreshing
. Now…’ he looked at his watch. ‘It’s five past eleven. How about some more champagne and some Belgian double chocolate ice cream?’

‘Where? It’s rather late.’

‘Thirty-eight Lonsdale Road.’ My heart did a swallow dive. ‘Is that okay, Laura?’ he said softly now. He leaned towards me and held his mouth to my ear. ‘Would you like to come home with me?’ I didn’t reply. ‘I’ve got a new toothbrush you can have. It’s hard,’ he murmured. My face was aflame. ‘You always liked a hard bristle didn’t you?’ he whispered, with fake innocence. ‘And you never wore pyjamas so that shouldn’t be a problem?’ I shook my head. ‘So is that okay then?’ I nodded again, the erotic charge between us so intense now as to have bereft me of speech.

‘If we’d only just met, I suppose we’d have to be more…proper,’ he said quietly as we left the cinema. ‘We’d have to go on at least—what?—four chaste dates before we…you know…’ he lifted an eyebrow and I felt my skin tingle. ‘But because we already
know
each other we can fast forward right through all that…bashful restraint can’t we?’

‘Hmm,’ I concurred dreamily as he took my hand in his.

‘In
our
situation, two dates is perfectly acceptable—don’t you think?’

‘Perfectly,’ I agreed. My body was humming with anticipation.

We walked in silence through Westbourne Grove. Luke’s house was at the scruffier end of Lonsdale Road, close to the Colville Estate. He unlocked the front door and turned off the alarm. The answerphone on the hall table was flashing angrily, but he ignored it. He put on the light. Every inch of wall space was filled with abstract art.

‘Most of them are my clients’ paintings,’ he explained as he took my jacket. ‘I’d rather have them on the walls here than locked away in my stock room.’ I looked at a large, swirly oil over the fireplace.

‘That’s a Craig Davie. We’re doing a major retrospective on him at the end of March. I love his work.’

‘And I love this one,’ I said. ‘It’s a Luke North.’

It was an ink and wash portrait of Jessica—strong and unsentimental; and even though she was so young, and so innocent, it imbued her with charisma, and
power.
Her presence was evident throughout the house. In her tiny pink trainers by the door, and her blue coat on the rack; in her books and her Barbie dolls in the sitting room, and in the glitter pictures that festooned the walls. There were also dozens of photos of her in large clip frames. As Luke opened the champagne I looked at the ones in the kitchen. There she was, aged eighteen months or so, beaming happily into the camera; as a newborn, cradled in Luke’s arms; in her paddling pool with just a sun-hat on; riding her little pink bike. There were a couple of her feeding the goats, and one of her at Disneyland, standing between her parents. As I looked at this one, I felt myself tense…

There was Magda. She was exactly as Luke had described her. Petite, and very pretty. I felt a dart of jealousy. She had a skein of long, enviably smooth blonde hair piled into a topknot, a style which, with her floral vintage frock, gave her a curiously old-fashioned air. There was an oddly defiant glint in her large blue eyes, as though she was spoiling for a fight.

‘Do you really want some ice-cream?’ I heard Luke ask.

I turned away from the photo, and felt my face suffuse with warmth.

‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t.’ Desire had robbed me of my appetite. I felt a physical longing for Luke that made my bones ache. He took my hand, and led me upstairs. At the top of the first flight, I paused. For there, on a small mahogany table, was a large silver frame containing a black and white portrait of Luke, Jessica and Magda. Seeing further evidence of their family life made me feel uneasy, as though I were intruding, so I reminded myself—as I would often come to do—that Magda had left Luke and lived elsewhere.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked quietly.

‘No,’ I lied. I noticed, again, the same pugilistic gleam in Magda’s big blue eyes.

‘I keep it there for Jess,’ he explained as we went into the master bedroom. ‘As I say, the separation’s been hard for her, so I tend to downplay it.’

‘I understand.’

He shut the door behind us, and held my gaze for a moment. Then he stepped forward and kissed me, then unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders; then he gently pulled down the zip on my skirt. If he was someone new, I would have been scared of exposing my flaws—my
self
—for the first time
;
but Luke knew me, and I knew him.

‘Laura,’ he breathed. His mouth was on my ear. ‘My lovely Laura…I can’t believe you’re
here
.’ There was no shyness. The twelve years fell away as naturally and easily as our clothes slipped to the floor. Our bodies remembered each other as we moved together in the darkness, then lay, limbs entangled, and slept.

I woke at six, with Luke’s arm around my waist, pulling me close, his hands cupping my breasts, his legs warm against my own.

‘It’s so lovely to hold you again,’ he sighed, as he ran his hand over my hip. ‘I never, ever forgot you, Laura.’ I turned towards him and buried my face in his neck, speechless with contentment. I felt reconnected not just to Luke, but to a time of my life when everything looked positive, and full of promise, and good.

Luke stroked my hair, tucking it behind my ears, then held my face in his hands, caressing my cheekbones with his thumbs.

‘I’ll never let you go again,’ he murmured. He kissed me again.

‘No,’ I whispered, as I closed my eyes. ‘Don’t…’ Luke had drawn me back to him, ineluctably. He was my magnetic North…

From outside now came the gentle whine of a milk float, then birdsong. A triangle of opalescence was visible through the curtains. We lay there as the room filled with a gauzy light.

‘I guess we’d better get up,’ he said dreamily. ‘What time do you have to be at work?’

‘Not till ten.’

‘Let’s have a shower together then.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Like we used to, remember?’

‘I do.’

‘Then we’ll have breakfast in bed—I’ll go and get some Florentines.’

‘My absolute favourites.’

‘I remember that too. I remember so many things about you,’ he murmured.

‘Like what?’

‘I remember that your grandmother was French, and that you had a hamster called Percy…I remember that you locked yourself in a loo on Euston station when you were seven and the fire brigade had to be called out.’ I smiled.

‘I remember you were afraid of the dark…’

‘I still am.’

‘…and that Felicity accidentally broke your nose showing you how to play hockey when you were nine, hence its slightly odd, but fetching shape.’ He kissed me. ‘How am I doing? Am I through to the next round?’

‘You are. Plus you’ve picked up some bonus points.’

‘And are there any other contestants?’

‘No. They’ve been eliminated.’

I went into the
en suite
bathroom and turned on the shower. As I did so I thought of how with Luke I could have the best of both worlds—the delicious tension of a new relationship, with the comforting familiarity of an old one. I could have novelty and history, new experiences and shared memories. With him I could have Now—and Then. As I tested the warmth of the water, I suddenly heard the phone, sharp and insistent, drilling into our mellow mood, like a Black and Decker.

‘Yes…’ I heard Luke say, his voice cracking with fatigue. ‘What? No I
haven’t
listened to your messages—I came back late. No. I was at the cinema. With a friend, if you
must
know, now what
is
it Magda—it’s very early…Are you sure it’s a crisis?…I’m
not
being callous—it just doesn’t sound that serious…Have you given her Calpol?…No—I
don’t
want her missing school unless it’s absolutely
necessary…’

As Luke spoke to Magda, his voice rising with frustration and stress, I opened the medicine cabinet to see if I could find the promised toothbrush. There were Luke’s shaving things and his bottle of Penhaligon’s Vetiver. There was a tube of Colgate and some floss, and some Calpol and a tiny pink hairband and a box of
Little Mermaid
sticking plasters. And, on the shelf below, I now saw, there was a bottle of Lancôme foundation, an atomiser of Guerlain, two lipsticks and a wand of mascara, a bottle of Decleor moisturiser, some No. 7 cleansing lotion and an open packet of Tampax. I felt as though my veins had been flooded with fire.

‘All right, Magda, all right. Driving over to Chiswick in the rush hour is
not
ideal, and I don’t think it
is
an emergency, and I’ve got a very busy morning at the gallery, but if you can’t cope…’

She’d left him ten months ago. Why were her things still here? I was so tense I could hear myself breathe.

‘No, no—of
course
I’m not saying that you’re an incompetent mother…far
from
it, Magda…’ Realizing that this conversation was not going to be brief, I turned off the shower. The sudden silence seemed to resonate, as though I’d just banged a large gong.

‘What?’ I heard Luke say. ‘No-one. No. I’m on my own. That’s because I was about to have a shower but now I’ve turned it off—okay,
okay
, you win; I’ll come over
straight
away and I won’t shower first. Satisfied? Good. Now will you let me get off the phone?’ He sighed as he replaced the handset. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said as he came into the bathroom and ran the cold tap. ‘She constantly stresses me out, as you must have noticed.’

‘Why did you say you were alone?’

He splashed water on his face then grabbed a towel. ‘Because I don’t want to razz her up. If she thought I’d had a woman here she’d have gone
crazy
.’

I flinched, as though I’d been slapped. ‘Even though
she
left
you
?’

‘Yes.’

‘And even though she’s got a boyfriend?’

‘Yes.’ He began to pull on his clothes.

‘Don’t you think that’s rather
unfair
?’

‘Yes. But Magda
isn’t
fair—plus she’s very erratic, if not slightly insane.’ He stepped into his boxer shorts, then pulled on his jeans. ‘If I annoy her she’ll reduce my time with Jessica—that’s what she constantly threatens me with.’ He pulled on last night’s shirt. ‘Or she’ll try and turn Jess against me…’

‘Would she do that?’

‘If she was angry enough with me, yes. She’s
very
volatile, so I do whatever I can to keep her sweet.’

‘Her things are still in the bathroom cabinet,’ I said quietly, my heart still pounding from the shock of seeing them there.

‘Are they?’ He finger-combed his hair. ‘I can truthfully say that I hadn’t even noticed—I’ve got so many other things on my mind.’ He slipped on his shoes. ‘She either forgot them, or couldn’t be bothered to take them all when she left. Anyway, I’ve got to go
right
now.’ He kissed me, then wrapped his arms round me for a moment. ‘I’m sorry about breakfast.’ I felt a pang of disappointment—eating Florentines in bed with Luke would have been heaven. ‘Help yourself to anything in the kitchen and just lock the front door with this spare key, then post it back. We’ll speak later.’ He kissed me again, then left.