Playing by the Rules (17 page)

‘What?’ He was talking gibberish.

‘Kate, don’t you remember when we had Jean-Luc and Michelle and the baby around to visit last month? Don’t you remember how we were talking about children, and you were saying how you loved France, but that when you were ready for kids, you planned to go back to Australia? You went into some detail, Kate. You said that you wanted your kids to grow up Australian. You said you wanted their heritage to be gum trees and kookaburras and the cricket on Boxing Day and the footy grand final in September. You wanted them to have Christmas at the beach and insane magpies in the spring and to not know the meaning of real cold.’

Kate was silent. She did remember.

‘You said that, Kate. That, and a whole lot more. And that wasn’t the only time you said it, either. Whenever kids have come up, you’ve said much the same thing.’

Kate was still sitting, motionless, in her chair, trying to come to terms with what he was saying to her. Alain had stood up as he spoke but now he crouched on the floor next to her and looked up into her face.

‘Kate, my family has lived in Paris for seven generations. You know that. You’ve always known that. You know how important that place is to me. It’s more than a place. It runs in my veins the way Australia obviously runs in yours. I loved you. I still do, in many ways. But I couldn’t give up Paris for you. And if we had stayed together and had a family, that’s what I would have had to do. Well, either that, or ask you to give up your plan for your children. And that didn’t seem right.

‘Kate, I should have talked to you about this. I know that now. I was wrong to decide what you wanted without asking you. But you seemed so definite! You’re always so definite about going after what’s important to you and this seemed really important. I couldn’t see a way out of it.

‘Then I met Sophie. And there was something about her . . . and she’s Parisian, too . . . Kate, it seemed so right. Except for the part where it meant hurting you.’ He took her hands again, and Kate looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

‘Kate, I can’t be sorry that I met Sophie. I love her. I loved you too but this is different. I don’t know why, but I know it’s true. It’s partly about the children, but it isn’t really about logical reasons. I wish I could explain it better, but can you understand, even a little? Do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?’

Looking down into the face she had loved – and realising with a jolt that she, too, was using the past tense, now – Kate thought maybe she did understand, a little. After all, her infatuation with Josh made no sense, but it was still real. In spite of everything that was crazy about it, in a way, it was even more real than what she had had with Alain. So yes, she could understand.

The difference was that there was not going to be a happy ending for her and Josh. How could there be? But that was no reason to deny one to Alain. For the sake of what they had had, if for no other reason, could she not give him what he had come for? Maybe even Sophie deserved her help. She had, after all, valued Kate’s friendship enough to send her lover to the other side of the world to mend his fences with Kate before he built new ones with her.

She squeezed Alain’s hands and from somewhere, managed to summon a smile. He tentatively smiled back, looking hopeful, but apprehensive, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was smiling at him.

‘Alain, I have spent a year of my life loving you, and two weeks hating you. I know which time made me happier.’ She sighed. ‘I guess you’re right. I guess our plans were too different for us to make it. But it was good while it lasted, and I don’t want to hate you any more. And I realise now that I never really hated Sophie. You can tell her from me that I only ever really blamed you.’

He made a face that was halfway between a smile and a grimace and Kate smiled.

‘Alain, I do forgive you. You handled this about as badly as anyone could, but then, maybe I did too. At least now I know you were trying to do the right thing. Much as I hated you at the time, no-one can really ask for more than that. Go home. Go, and be happy with Sophie. Make little French babies for me to play with.’

Alain pulled her out of the chair into his arms and held her close as he replied.

‘Kate, thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.’

Kate pushed him away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

‘Yeah, well, don’t go all soft on me. Unless I’m very mistaken, you have a phone call to make.’

If Kate had had any worries that she was doing the right thing, the glow on Alain’s face as he thought of giving Sophie the good news would have silenced them. She was happy for them, even though, when she thought of her own love life, her heart felt as if it were made of lead. Was she ever going to be in love with the right man at the right time? She gave Alain a push.

‘Go on, then! Don’t keep her waiting.’

Alain looked down at her. ‘Are you sure, Kate? Are you all right?’

Kate took a stab at a couldn’t-care-less toss of her head.

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Devereux! I’ll be fine! Go!’ She pushed him again, and kept pushing until, laughing, he set off down the hallway.

At the door he stopped and turned to hug her once more, and kiss her on both cheeks. Then he left.

Kate closed the door and leaned against it, exhausted. She had meant it when she had said she was happy for him. It sounded as though he and Sophie had found that elusive animal known as true love. Half their luck. May they live happily ever after.

Now, if only she could believe that she would, too.

Eventually, Kate managed to peel herself away from the door and totter back down the hall to the kitchen. She looked at the platter of goodies, but she still couldn’t summon any interest in food, so she put it out of sight in the fridge. Her orange juice, which had been freshly squeezed and appetising a while ago, was now looking distinctly tired and unappealing, so she poured it down the sink, smothering another wave of nausea as she did so.

Then she didn’t know what to do. She tried lying down, knowing that she needed sleep, but sleep refused to come. So she tried to read a book. She gave up when she realised that she had ‘read’ three pages and could not remember a single word on any of them. She tried to pat the cat, but Cleo was sensitive to moods and wasn’t having a bar of Kate’s. She arched her back and made her disapproval plain when Kate tried to pick her up from the windowsill. Kate couldn’t blame her. In her current mood, she could empathise with a tendency to hiss and spit.

She could have called Jo. She felt as though she should call Jo. But she wasn’t sure that Jo would understand, and much as she wished Alain well, she didn’t have the energy or the inclination right now to defend him to her best friend.

She knew who she wanted to call: Josh. But what would be the point?

She didn’t doubt he’d come if she called him, and he’d hold her, and soothe her wounded spirit. And that would be lovely – but where would it go from there? Nowhere good.

Kate leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window and admitted to herself that that was a lie. Holding Josh would lead to some things that were very good indeed. That was the problem. Even if she were the kind of person who could have casual sex, there would be nothing casual about sleeping with Josh. She was already hopelessly in lust with him. If she slept with him it would push her over the edge into love. Capital ‘L’ Love. This leap wasn’t a bungee, where there was some chance of coming back up. This was a lovers’ leap, complete with jagged rocks at the bottom. She couldn’t take that leap and then leave. She couldn’t.

So much for having a fling. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it appeared that she wasn’t very good at them. Or maybe she had picked the wrong flingee. Whichever, she couldn’t be casual about the way he made her feel.

Which left her with the problem of what on earth she was supposed to do now.

She still had a bit over a week left of her holiday. Could she continue seeing him, knowing that it would just make it harder to leave at the end of that time?

Could she bear not to?

Was it even her decision?

Their planned week was over. He had committed to spend time with her for a week for her mum’s benefit, but he hadn’t said anything about what happened after that. There was no guarantee that he would be available, even if she wanted him to be. He might prefer to go back to one of the many other women he apparently had scattered all over town. Or several of them, perhaps. It might make her sick to think of it, but if he wanted to she couldn’t stop him. It wasn’t as if she had any rights.

She had no plan for this situation. She didn’t even know where to start. And given how close she was to that rocky cliff, it seemed foolhardy to go looking for him without one.

So, she couldn’t call him. Not yet. Not until she had worked some things out. She would have to find some other way of clearing away the weary fog that had settled on her soul.

Finally, after literally walking around in circles a few times, looking for something she could settle to, she grabbed her jacket and headed out. Maybe some fresh air would blow the mist away.

She decided to take the stairs. After the week she’d had, she wasn’t sure she was ever going to feel comfortable about getting in a lift again. Besides, the exercise would do her good.

The stairs in Jo’s building were steep and narrow, almost as though they had been squeezed in as an afterthought, but Kate didn’t mind. She headed down them two at a time, jumping with a bump onto the tiny landings, bouncing off the walls on the turns and picking up speed with every step. It felt good. Maybe if she could keep up this momentum, she could outrun the blanket of gloom that was threatening to smother her.

With that aim in mind, when she got to the last flight, she bypassed the lobby and opted for the door that opened straight onto the street. She paused for the briefest second to gather herself, then, taking the last four steps in a single leap, she cannoned into the door and tumbled out into the smudgy winter daylight.

It wasn’t until she had straightened up and the door had swung closed behind her that she realised that someone had been leaning on the door when she burst through it. That person was now sprawled at her feet, a mobile phone still clutched in his outstretched hand, looking winded, shocked and pleased to see her, all at once.

It was Josh.

Kate’s chest clenched and she pressed one hand to it and took a deep breath to try to make the feeling go away. She really would have to do more exercise if going down a few flights of stairs was enough to give her palpitations. With the other hand, she reached out to Josh, to help him up. He waved her away, though, as he had already rolled onto his feet and was in the process of gracefully unfolding himself to stand next to her.

He was still talking on the phone and when she realised it, she made as if to go. It seemed the right thing to do. It wasn’t what she wanted, but he was busy and it wasn’t as though she had come out looking for him. She still had things to work out. But then he put one hand on her arm and asked her with his eyes to stay.

Staying probably wasn’t right. Based on the way her wrist was tingling where he touched it, neither was it smart. It wasn’t going to make her confusion any less. But her body didn’t appear to be on the same page as her better judgement. The light touch of his hand on her arm had anchored her to the pavement and she found that all those perfectly good reasons for avoiding him, which had been so clear upstairs, were slipping off the surface of her mind like condensation down glass.

She tried to grasp them as they slid . . . then gave up. She was only human. She had resisted calling him, but when he just landed in her lap like this – or, more accurately, when she landed in his – it would have been fighting nature to turn away.

He ended the call and looked down at her, the concern on his face so touching that she felt as though she might cry.

‘Are you all right?’

No. She was bruised of spirit, confused of heart, and hopelessly attracted to how good he smelled. She shrugged, hoping it looked nonchalant.

‘So-so. I don’t really want to talk about it. What was your phone call about?’

Josh’s reaction was unexpected enough to distract her from the catalogue of his features she had been making for her memory. She didn’t really care what his phone call had been about; she had just wanted to change the subject. But the question seemed to bother him. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat before he spoke.

‘Hmm, you have me there. I don’t really want to talk about that either.’

Then, as rapidly as it had come, the dark expression left his face, and he smiled down at Kate. ‘Which makes us a right pair of miseries, doesn’t it? Do you want to be miserable together? Over coffee, maybe?’

He gestured in the direction of the coffee shop next door, but Kate shook her head. Now that she had stirred herself and left the flat she wasn’t interested in going back inside and sitting still. She wanted to keep moving. She had an idea.

‘No, I don’t want coffee. But there is something I want to do.’

‘How can I help?’ he asked with the sort of expansive gesture and expression that indicated that if she wanted the moon, he would be happy to oblige.

‘Do you have your car here?’

His face split into a grin.

‘I do and I would be delighted to put it at your disposal. Where do you want to go?’

‘To the beach,’ Kate replied. ‘Somewhere isolated and lonely where no-one else is likely to be, with big, crashing surf to look at and lots of wind to blow my hair into an impossible tangle.’ She looked up at him. ‘Can you manage that?’

Josh looked back at her, his eyes as dark as she had ever seen them, and didn’t reply. He looked serious – almost sad – and she wondered if it was something she had said or if it was a reflection of what was in her own eyes. He reached for her arm and seemed about to speak; then abruptly, he swallowed, let his hand fall and transformed his expression so quickly to a smile that Kate was left to wonder if she had imagined the seriousness. He bowed foolishly, in an echo of his act from the reunion, and said, ‘Certainly, I can manage that for madam. If madam would like to walk this way . . .’

He put his hand under her elbow and gently steered her towards a car a few paces from where they were standing. Kate stared. This was no ordinary car. It was a magnificent, racing-green, vintage MG roadster, with the top down, in defiance of the overcast sky. She turned to Josh.

‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? This isn’t the car you had last night. Did you hire it?’

Josh looked hurt.

‘I am not kidding and no, I certainly did not hire this beauty. She’s mine. I bought her in England years ago, with the proceeds of a rather canny property investment – if I do say so myself. I love her, but it isn’t exactly practical to drag her round the world with me. Most of the places I’ve lived I haven’t bothered with a car at all. So I shipped her out here and Mum and Dad keep her for me. Dad drives her and looks after her.’ Josh grinned the rapid, cheeky grin that was the twin of Jo’s. ‘I don’t think he finds it a hardship. In fact, as you discovered last night, it can be hard to get her back even when I am in town.’

He opened the door for Kate, and she slid into the beautiful car. No-one would call riding in this gorgeous thing a hardship. Especially when the owner was driving. How was it that he always managed to make her feel better? At the reunion and at her mother’s dinner, when she had teetered on the edge of losing her cool completely, somehow he had managed to pull her back. And now, when she was as confused as she had ever been in her life and even though he was part of the cause, his presence was acting on her soul-fog the way sun acts on real fog. With each minute she spent in his company, more and more of it was melting away.

Being with him might not be smart, it might just be asking for heartache, but it was irresistible. If only she could bottle the effect. She wasn’t going to be able to hold on to it any other way, and she had a sinking feeling that life was going to seem very dull without it.

Kate put on her seat belt and snuck a look at Josh out of the corner of her eye as he pulled away from the kerb. He and his car were a good match for each other: beautiful, high quality, comfortable, old-fashioned (but only in a good way) and totally out of her reach.

Kate sighed, closed her eyes and rested her head against the smooth leather of the seat. She would just have to make the most of this feeling while it lasted. She would just have to . . .