Anything but Vanilla... (13 page)

‘That will be the pizza,’ he said.

‘If we don’t answer, maybe he’ll leave it on the step.’

‘And miss out on a tip?’

He leaned into a kiss, then flung his legs over the bed, pulled on his shorts and grabbed his wallet.

For a moment she lay back against the pillow, waiting for him to return. When he didn’t immediately return, she panicked. This was all new to her. He was probably waiting for her to come down.

She scrambled out of bed, grabbed a handful of clothes and ran for the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, scrambled into a T-shirt and jeans.

When she returned to the bedroom to drag a brush through her hair Alexander was lying back against the pillows. Shorts unbuttoned at the waist, ankles crossed, a pizza box unopened on his lap.

‘You’re overdressed,’ he said.

‘I get indigestion if I eat in bed,’ she said. Which was true. ‘And the dogs need walking.’ Also true.

‘And your family could come home any time.’

‘I hadn’t actually thought about that, but, yes, I don’t suppose Gran will want to stay out late.’

‘Okay.’ He was on his feet in one fluid movement. ‘We’ll eat, we’ll walk and then...’ he said, taking her hand and heading for the stairs.

‘And then?’

‘And then,’ he said, ‘I’ll kiss you goodnight and go home.’ He glanced at her. ‘We wouldn’t want the neighbours gossiping.’

‘Wouldn’t we?’

Disappointment rippled through Sorrel. Right now she didn’t care a hoot what the neighbours thought. Apparently she was a lot more like her mother than she’d realised.

She’d always thought she was strong, self-reliant, independent, but that wasn’t true. She was still leaning on Graeme instead of stepping out on her own; allowing him to dictate the pace at which her business grew instead of relying on her instincts. Playing safe with both her heart and her head.

Even now, when she’d momentarily broken out of her shell, she’d ducked straight back inside it like a snail the minute she wasn’t sure...

She should have been braver, waited until Alexander came back to her, and now he thought...

Actually, she didn’t know what he thought.

‘And we do have an early start in the morning,’ he said.

‘We do?’

‘If we’re going to Wales to hunt Ria down, we need to make an early start.’

‘You’re coming with me?’

‘No, you’re coming with me.’ They had reached the bottom of the stairs and he stopped as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Of course, if you came home with me tonight, it would save time in the morning.’

‘Stay with you?’ In his grace and favour apartment in the gothic mansion?

‘My fridge is better stocked and we won’t have to keep the noise down.’ He lifted his shoulders in one of those barely perceptible shrugs. They lived up to their billing and she wanted to run her hands along them, her cheek, her mouth...

‘What noise?’

‘You’re a bit of a screamer.’

‘I’m not!’

He rolled his eyes.

She’d screamed? She caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror and discovered that she was grinning.

‘Maybe your flat would be best,’ she said. ‘On the time front, I mean. You’re a lot closer to the motorway.’

‘Good point.’

‘And you’re right—if your car was parked outside all night it would be all over the village by breakfast time.’

‘I thought you didn’t care.’

‘I don’t,’ she said, but Graeme should hear it from her, not from his cleaner. ‘But then there’s the screaming.’

* * *

‘Why didn’t your grandmother just return the ring and send your grandfather packing?’

‘You know how it is,’ Sorrel said, concentrating on scooping a string of cheese into her mouth.

They’d taken the pizza into the garden and were lying on the grass. She was aching in new places, a little sore, but it was a pleasant ache and she was feeling a deep down confidence that was entirely new.

Now Alexander had asked about her grandmother, prodding at an old wound, wanting to know why she’d gone ahead with the wedding, when his Julia had not.

‘No, tell me.’

She stared up at the sky, following the movement of a small fluffy cloud, anything rather than look at him, knowing that he was thinking about another woman.

‘The dress is made, the marquee has been ordered, the caterers booked,’ she said. ‘There are presents piling up in the dining room, crates of champagne in the cellar.’ She turned to him then. ‘It takes courage to defy expectations and call it off.’

‘Would you have gone ahead with it?’

‘I hope not, but it’s a different world and Gran had defied her family to marry my grandfather.’

‘Had she? He’d have been something of catch, I’d have thought.’

‘Not for the granddaughter of the Earl of Melchester. She was a debutante, one of the “girls in pearls” destined for a title, or at least park gates. Great-grandpa Amery was trade.’

‘Ouch.’

‘As I said, it was a different world, but kicking over the traces is a bit of a family failing.’ Was... Her generation had fought it. ‘The choice was going home, admitting she was wrong and settling down with some chinless wonder, or going through with the wedding. Having made her stand, she chose to live with the consequences. There’s no doubt he was as unhappy as she was.’

‘With more reason. He had to live with his conscience. After what he’d done to Basil.’

‘I imagine we were his penance. He lived with my mother’s lifestyle choice, kept us under his roof, safe and cared for if not loved.’

He took another piece of pizza. ‘Tell me about your mother.’

It was her turn to be silent for a while as she sifted through the jumble of memories, both good and bad. ‘She refused to conform to anyone’s rules but her own. She was pregnant at seventeen—the result of a fling with a showman from the fair that comes to the village on the first weekend in June. It set a pattern.’ She glanced at him. ‘We all have birthdays within ten days of each other.’

The corner of his smile lifted in a wry smile. ‘She must have looked forward to summer.’

‘Oh, she didn’t lack interest during the rest of the year. She dyed her hair in brilliant streaks, wore amazing clothes and jewellery that she made herself and turned heads wherever she went.’ The men looking hopeful, the women disapproving.

He glanced at her. ‘But?’

She shook her head. The local women had no need to worry. ‘When she wanted another baby, she chose someone who was just passing through.’

‘A sperm donation? Only more fun than going to a clinic.’

‘She was big on fun,’ she said, then blushed.

He touched her cheek with his knuckles. ‘There’s nothing wrong with fun, Sorrel.’

‘No...’ She leaned against his hand for a moment. This wasn’t just fun, but that was for her to know... ‘She used to take us puddle-splashing in the rain,’ she said, ‘and when it snowed she’d take us up Badgers Hill and we’d all slide down on bin bags until we were worn out. Then we’d have tomato soup from a flask.’ Her eyes filled with tears even as she was smiling at the memory.

‘If if was so much fun, why are you crying?’ he said, wiping a thumb over her cheekbone, cradling her cheek.

‘Because I didn’t tell her.’ She looked up into those amazing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. ‘I should have told her...’

‘You think she didn’t know?’

‘She sucked up every experience almost as if she knew she didn’t have much time.’ She swallowed down the lump in her throat. ‘She loved life, lived every minute of it, seized every moment and didn’t give a fig what anyone thought.’

‘I envy you, Sorrel.’

‘Well, that’s new. No one has ever envied me for being the daughter of Lavender Amery before. There were times, when I was old enough to realise how different she was, that I waited until everyone had gone before I’d come out of school. When I hated her for being so different...’ The words tumbled out. ‘I wanted a mother who didn’t stand out, who was part of the group at the school gate.’ Who wasn’t standing on her own. ‘Just an ordinary mum.’

It was the first time she’d ever admitted that. Even to herself.

Alexander took her into his arms, then, held her. ‘That’s natural, Sorrel. Part of growing up. She’d understand.’

‘I know she would. That only makes it worse.’

‘We all feel a lingering guilt when someone dies. It’s part of living.’

‘It’s hard to live down that kind of start in a small place like Longbourne.’

‘No doubt, but it’s not about your mother, is it?’ The remains of the pizza were congealing in the box. ‘It’s about all the men in your life abandoning you.’

‘No...’ She swallowed. Yes... ‘Maybe. I’d never thought of it like that.’

‘So was the plan to become the Virgin Queen of ice cream?’ he asked, lightly enough, but it felt as if her life, her future, her choices were suddenly being questioned.

‘No. Of course not,’ she protested. ‘I was simply waiting for the perfect man to come along.’

‘Oh, right.’ He grinned. ‘Well, I can see why it’s been six years.’

‘No...’ She had to tell him. ‘I found him a long time ago. Graeme ticked all the boxes.’

‘Graeme Laing?’ He didn’t look particularly surprised.

‘He’s been my mentor since he gave a lecture at college and I stalked him for advice.’

‘Classic. I bet he didn’t know what had hit him.’

‘Maybe not, but he was kind.’ Flattered, amused even. ‘We go to parties, business dinners, I get to mix with high-fliers...’ Not that they ever treated her ‘little’ business as anything more than something amusing to keep the wife or girlfriend of someone as important as Graeme occupied when he had better things to do. But she watched them, listened to them, learned...

‘Does he know that he’s the chosen one?’

‘We have—had—a kind of unspoken agreement that we’ll get married eventually.’

‘When you’re grown up.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she demanded, defending her choice.

‘He’s very nearly old enough to be your father, Sorrel, which is no doubt why he spoke to you as if you were a child.’

‘I can see that it must look as I was searching for a father figure. Maybe I was. But he’s not a man to kiss and run.’

‘Not a man to do more than kiss, apparently. And he let me walk away with you without lifting a finger to stop me.’

‘He didn’t know—’ She broke off. Of course he did. The sexual tension had been coming off them in waves when he’d turned up this afternoon. Jane had been embarrassed it was so obvious, and, while Graeme’s emotional antenna was at half mast, he wasn’t stupid.

If there had been a flicker of the heat that had consumed her from the moment she’d set eyes on Alexander, they would have fallen into bed a long time ago. She’d pushed him yesterday and he had grabbed Basil’s interruption with both hands.

‘You’re right,’ she admitted. ‘He ticks all the boxes but one. There is no chemistry between us. No fizz.’ It was as if he wanted her as his wife, but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the commitment. Step over a line that he’d drawn when she was a new graduate and he was her mentor. And now it was too late. ‘The moment I set eyes on you...’ She tried to think of some way to describe how she’d felt. ‘Did you ever have popping candy?’

‘The stuff that explodes on your tongue?’

‘Well, that’s how I felt when I saw you. As if I had popping candy under my skin.’

THIRTEEN

A little ice cream is like a love affair—an occasional sweet release that lightens the spirit.

—from Rosie’s ‘Little Book of Ice Cream’

Sorrel heard the words leaving her mouth and was aware that she was totally exposed. Emotionally naked. She’d told Alexander that she had her perfect man picked out, her life sorted, but, overwhelmed by some primitive rush, the kind of atavistic need that had driven women to destruction throughout the centuries, she’d thrown all that away because of him.

His hand was still on her cheek, his expression intense, searching. ‘I can’t be your perfect man, Sorrel.’

‘I know.’ She lay back on the grass, looking up at a clear sky that was more pink than blue. ‘You don’t tick a single box on the perfect-man chart, especially not the big one.’ She glanced across at him. ‘You’re a wanderer. You’ll leave in a few days but I always knew that. I put myself in a straightjacket when I was seventeen years old and thanks to you I’ve broken free.’

‘That’s a heck of a responsibility to lay on me.’

‘No!’ She put out her hand, reaching blindly for his. He mustn’t think that. He must never think that. ‘I’m not Ria, Alexander. You don’t ever have to feel responsible for me.’ She rolled onto her side to look at him, so that he could see her face as she drew a cross over her heart and said, ‘I promise I will never call you across the world to rescue me. You’ve already done that.’ She looked at him, golden and beautiful, propped on his elbow, a ripple of concern creasing his forehead, and she reached up to smooth it away. ‘It’s as if some great weight has been lifted from me and I feel light-headed, dizzy...’

He caught her hand.

‘I want you to know that I don’t do this. Get involved. I tried to walk away yesterday.’

‘I know. We’ve both been caught up in something beyond our control. Don’t analyse the life out of it. Just enjoy the moment.’

Then she laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing... It’s just that my mother used to say that all the time. Enjoy the moment. This must have been how she felt.’

‘And how does that make you feel?’

‘Glad,’ she said. ‘I’m glad that she had moments like this.’ She leaned into him, kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘Thank you.’ Then, because it was suddenly much too intense, ‘I hope you’re not still hungry, because the dogs have taken the rest of the pizza.’

‘No problem.’ He returned her kiss and this time he took his time about it. ‘I’ll cook something later.’

‘Later’. Her new favourite word...

‘What are we going to do now?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to get changed,’ he said, standing up, pulling her with him, ‘and we’re going to take these unruly creatures for a walk.’

‘Changed?’

‘I didn’t leave home like this. My jeans are in the car.’

By the time she’d picked up the chewed remains of the pizza box, thrown a few things into an overnight bag, Alexander was waiting for her in the kitchen. He was wearing worn-soft denims that clung to a taut backside, thighs that she now owned, but his T-shirt was black and holding together at the seams. A matter for regret rather than congratulation.

He took her bag, tossed it in the back of the car and then they set off across the common.

‘Does it make you feel closer to him?’ she asked. ‘Your father’s car.’

‘Nothing would do that.’

‘So why did you keep it?’

‘You have got to be kidding. It’s a classic. It appreciates in value.’

Maybe... ‘It must have cost a fortune to insure for a seventeen-year-old to drive.’

‘I couldn’t get insurance until I was twenty-one,’ he said, ‘but let’s face it, my father expected to be taking it out for the occasional spin himself until I was fifty. He had to make a new will when he remarried and I imagine the legacy was simply a response to a prompt from his solicitor regarding the disposal of his property.’

‘What about the yacht? Did he leave that to you, as well?’ Then, realising that probably wasn’t the most tactful of questions, she added, ‘All his best toys?’

His laughter shattered the intensity of the moment. ‘No. It was too new to have been listed in his will so the widow got that, thank God.’

* * *

They walked the river bank until the bats were skimming the water, sharing confidences, talking about the things that mattered to them.

Sorrel shivered a little as he related some of his hairier adventures, and she came into the circle of his arm for comfort, afraid for him and the unknown dangers he faced. Animals, insects, poisonous plants and the guerrillas who’d held him hostage for nine months in the Darien Gap.

To distract her, he prompted her to tell him the ‘long story’ about Rosie and the Amery sisters’ first adventures in the ice-cream business. Her ambitions, her ideas for Knickerbocker Gloria. The plan she’d wanted Graeme to listen to.

It was one of those perfect evenings that he’d take out and relive on the days when he was up to his neck in some muddy swamp.

It wasn’t about the sex, although that had been a revelation. She had given herself totally, held nothing back, and neither had he. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that open, that trusting...

He had no illusions. When he came back in six months or a year, or whenever, she wouldn’t be sitting at home waiting for him. He wouldn’t ask her to. He wanted her to have the life she deserved with a man who would be there for her. But for a couple of weeks she was his.

When they arrived back at the house everyone was home. He’d met Basil and Lally and they didn’t seem surprised to see him with her, or that they were going to Wales to look for Ria.

Basil asked him how the Cranbrook Park event had gone. Her grandmother took his hand and smiled. Geli, her younger sister, gave him a very hard look, but since the dogs accepted him she was, apparently, prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘You seem to have achieved universal approval,’ Sorrel said as they drove across town.

‘They were easier to impress than you.’

‘I’m a tough businesswoman. You can’t twist me around your little finger with your charm.’

‘What did it take?’

‘That would be telling,’ she said, laughing. ‘Your way with chilli powder, perhaps.’

The phone was ringing as they reached the door of his flat and by the time he unlocked the door, the beep was sounding. ‘Alexander? I’ve been ringing...’

He snatched up the receiver. ‘Ria!’

‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. Have you changed your mobile?’

‘I told you I’d lost my old one months ago,’ he said, ‘but I left you messages. Sorrel left you messages.’

‘Oh... Sorry. I’m in the States and I disconnected my phone when I realised how expensive it was and bought a cheap model here.’

‘In the States?’ He switched the phone onto speaker, held out his hand to draw Sorrel closer. ‘What on earth are you doing there?’

‘I told you when I called you.’

‘No, you didn’t...’ Or maybe she had. ‘There was a hurricane, all that came through was that you needed me home immediately.’

‘No, not home. I wanted you to meet me at San Francisco. When you didn’t arrive I called again but your assistant said you’d already left. I’ve been worried—’

‘What about the taxman?’ he interrupted. ‘The unpaid bills?’

‘It’s not important. I’ll sort that out when I get home—’

‘Not important? What about Sorrel?’ he demanded, suddenly furious with her. ‘Don’t you ever think? She had a big event today and you left her high and dry to go swanning off to the States.’

‘Today? No... That’s next week... Isn’t it?’

‘Ria! What are you doing in America?’

‘I... It’s Michael,’ she said. ‘Michael’s here. I’ve found my son, Alex. Your brother...’ And then she burst into tears.

She’d found Michael? For a moment he couldn’t speak and Sorrel took the phone from him, talked quietly to Ria, made some notes, took a number.

‘He’ll call you back with his flight number, Ria.’ There was a pause. ‘No... It’s fine, we managed. Really. But can you email me your recipe for the chocolate chilli ice cream...? That would be brilliant... No, take all the time you need. We’ll talk when you get back.’

He heard her replace the receiver. Then she put her arms around him and held him while the tears poured down his cheeks, soaking into her shoulder.

She was smiling when he raised his head.

‘I’m sorry...’

‘No.’ She put her fingers over his lips when he would have tried to explain. Kissed him. ‘Ria has found your brother.’

‘Look at me. I’m trembling. Suppose he doesn’t want to know me?’

‘He must have been looking for his family, Alexander.’

‘Yes...’

She handed him the phone. ‘Book your flight.’ He held it for a moment, not wanting to leave her. ‘Go on,’ she urged.

He dialled the airline, then looked across at her. ‘Seven forty-five tomorrow morning. You could come with me.’

‘No. This is for you and Ria. And I’ve got things I have to do here. Chocolate ice cream to make. A franchise to launch if I’m going to be a millionaire by the time I’m twenty-five.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Let’s just make the most of tonight.’

* * *

Alexander eased himself out of bed just before five the following morning, dressed quickly and picked up his overnight bag pausing only for one last look at Sorrel.

It was a mistake. Her dark chestnut hair was spread across the pillow, her lips slightly parted in what looked like a smile and he wanted to crawl back in bed with her. Be there when she woke...

She stirred as the driver of the taxi tooted from below. Her eyelids fluttered up and she said, ‘Go or you’ll miss your plane.’

‘Sorrel...’ He was across the room in a stride and he held her for a long moment, imprinting the feel of her arms around him, the taste of her lips, the scent of her hair in his memory.

There was a second, impatient, toot and she leaned back. ‘Your brother is waiting for you.’

‘Yes...’ There was nothing else he could say. They both knew that he wouldn’t ‘see her soon’. He was going to fly west from San Francisco to Pantabalik, not because it made sense, but because if he returned he would have to say goodbye again.

* * *

Sorrel waited until the door closed, then she reached across to the empty side of the bed and pulled Alexander’s pillow towards her, hugging it, breathing in his scent, reliving in her head the night they’d spent together.

They’d hardly slept. They’d talked, made love, got up to scramble eggs in the middle of the night before going back to bed just to hold one another. Be close.

She finally drifted off, waking with the sun streaming in at the window.

Alexander would be in the air by now, on his way to San Francisco to meet a brother he had never known before returning to the life he’d chosen. The life he loved.

She wanted to linger, stay in Alexander’s apartment for a while, but that would be self-indulgent, foolish. She had seized the moment and now it was time to get on with her life, too.

She took clean underwear from the overnight bag she’d packed, had a quick shower and wrapped her hair in a towel while she got dressed. She found her jeans under the bed. Her T-shirt had vanished without trace and instead of wearing the spare she’d packed, she picked up the one that Alexander had been wearing. Then she called a taxi and, torn between a smile and a tear, went home to get on with her life.

A new life. One without a prop.

She stopped the taxi outside the rectory and paid off the driver. Graeme saw her coming and was waiting at the door.

‘Late night?’ he asked, sarcastically.

‘No,’ she said. ‘An early one.’ And he was the one who blushed.

‘Do you want to come in? I’ve just made coffee.’

‘No...I have things to do. I just wanted you to know...’ She swallowed. She didn’t have to tell him. It was written all over her. She was wearing a man’s T-shirt, for heaven’s sake, coming home in a taxi in the middle of the morning. ‘I hate opera.’

‘You could just have said no,’ he said.

‘Yes, I could. I should have done that a long time ago. You’ve been a good friend, Graeme, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I need to move on with my life. And so do you.’

He sighed. ‘You would have made the perfect wife. You’re elegant, charming, intelligent...’

She put her hand on his arm to stop him. ‘Perfect isn’t the answer, Graeme.’

‘No? What is?’

‘If I knew the formula for love, Graeme, I would rule the world. All I can tell you is that it’s kind of magic.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks for everything.’ She was on the bottom step when she turned and looked back up at him. ‘Did you know that Ria loves opera?’

‘Ria? I’d have thought she was into happy-clappy folk music.’

‘People never fail to surprise you. She’s in San Francisco right now, with her son, but she’ll be home next week. It would be a shame to waste the ticket.’

* * *

There was a long queue in the arrivals hall to get through immigration and Alexander used the time to send Sorrel a text. ‘Flight endless, queue at Immigration endless. I’d rather be making ice cream.’

* * *

Sorrel read his message and hugged the phone to her for a moment. She’d spoken to Ria that afternoon, explained her plans and said hello to a very emotional Michael.

He’d be waiting at the gate to meet his brother. Would they be alike? she wondered. Would they recognise one another on sight?

She took a deep breath then texted back, ‘No, you wouldn’t.’

He came right back with, ‘I’m nervous.’

‘He’ll love you.’ Who wouldn’t? ‘Now stop bothering me while I’m busy building an empire. I have ice cream to make. You have family to meet.’ She resisted adding an x.

‘Are you okay?’ Basil asked, turning from the fridge where he was putting away the ices.

She sniffed. ‘Fine. Bit of hay fever, that’s all. How was business today?’ she asked, before he could argue.

‘Very good. Young Jane is a great find.’

‘I know. I was thinking of asking her if she’d like to manage this place when her course is finished.’