Resurrectionists (41 page)

Maisie squirmed in her chair. Sacha, who sat opposite, smiled at her. Her heart flipped over in her chest. It had been doing that all night.

“So you still haven’t told me how it went with your father,” she said to him.

“It went all right.”

“Just all right?”

“Yes, just all right. We didn’t shed tears and vow our undying love to each other. Sorry to disappoint.”

“But are you glad you stayed to talk to him?”

“I suppose so. Our relationship is slightly improved.”

“Meanwhile, my relationship with my mother has taken a serious nosedive,” Maisie said.

Cathy looked up. “Why? What happened?”

Maisie sighed. “Oh, it’s boring.”

“No, tell me. You should meet Maisie’s mother, Sacha. She’s the scariest woman on the planet.”

“Is that right?” Sacha replied lazily, suppressing a yawn.

“I kind of . . . well, I wanted a break from the orchestra and I knew I couldn’t tell her that, so I kind of faked an injury. And Adrian let it slip the other day.”

“Was she angry?” Cathy asked.

“Indescribably. Adrian and I have been requested not to come home.”

“You live with Adrian?” This was Sacha.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Was she serious?” Cathy asked, ignoring the exchange.

Maisie kept her eyes on Sacha, who was now

refilling his glass.

“Maisie? Was she serious?”

“I doubt it. She wouldn’t kick us out. But I don’t want to go home until she’s cooled off a bit.”

“How long will that take?” Cathy asked.

“Couple of hundred years, knowing my mum.”

“Are you going to marry Adrian?” Sacha asked. Before Maisie could answer, Cathy interjected. “Oh, they’re
meant
to be together. He’s such a sweetie, she’s so lucky. And her parents love him, don’t they, Maisie?”

“I think they’re annoyed with him at the moment, but yes, they think very highly of him. Though he hasn’t asked me to marry him,” she replied. But it was implied. Buy a house together, get married, start breeding. She felt suddenly short of breath.

“You’re so young. I always think those decisions should be put off as long as possible,” Sacha said.

“I agree.”

“But I think she’s so lucky to have met the right person so early,” Cathy said, flicking long hair off her shoulders. “Come on, Maisie, admit it. Can you think of anyone better than Adrian?”

Maisie took a gulp of her drink. “He’s certainly very special,” she answered softly. Sacha was gazing into the fire now, as though he wasn’t listening. Cathy’s eyes darted from Maisie to Sacha and back again, a small frown playing the corner of her mouth. Maisie felt a vague discomfort. Even though Cathy was here in Yorkshire, she was really part of Maisie’s other life, her real life with famous parents and Adrian and the orchestra. She didn’t like the idea of Sacha being touched by anything from that life – as if it would spoil him somehow. She watched his hands circling the glass, could see fine black hairs on his wrist beneath the cuff of his black pullover.

“I’d better go home,” he said, draining the last of his drink and putting the glass down beside his chair.

“It’s still pretty early,” Maisie said.

“I have to work tomorrow.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head. For a tantalising second she caught a glimpse of the skin on his stomach, but he soon readjusted his pullover. “Do you have my car keys?”

“Sure.” Maisie rose from her chair, placing her glass by the phone. The keys were on the mantelpiece. She picked them up and held them out to him. He plucked them out of her hand, almost as though he were being careful not to brush her fingers with his own.

“You left a jacket at my dad’s place,” he said.

“Oh. Was it my brown suede one?”

“It’s brown, yeah. I’ll bring it back before you go.”

“Well, you know you’re always welcome.”

“I should have brought it with me tonight, but I forgot.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, I should get going.”

Maisie sneaked a quick look at Cathy, who was gazing into the fire. “I’ll walk you to the van.”

“There’s no need. It’s freezing out there.”

“No, it’s okay. Back in a tick, Cathy.”

“Sure,” Cathy said, not looking up.

Maisie closed the door behind them and followed Sacha up the front path. It was a still, icy night. Stars glowed far above, and she could hear the soft, regular swoosh of the sea in the distance.

“Hop in while I warm it up,” he said casually, letting himself in. He leaned over to unlock her door and she did as he said. Soon they were both sitting in the van – only marginally warmer than outside – with the engine running. Maisie glanced back at the house then at Sacha, whose head was bent over, looking at the dash instruments.

“What’s the matter? Trying to see if I ran up extra kilometres?” Maisie said.

“No. Just checking the fuel gauge. I should have asked you to put some diesel in. This thing always says it’s full when it’s not. You have to tap it a few times.” He did so, then leaned back. “It’s fine. I’ll make it home.”

The quiet, the intimacy, were overwhelming her. Her hand, as though it had intentions of its own, wanted to reach for his.

“Thanks again for dinner,” he said.

“I’ll tell Cathy. She did a great job.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s nice, isn’t she,” Maisie said, because she couldn’t think of what else to say.

“Yes, but she’s not like you.”

Maisie had to turn her face away to hide a stupidly delighted smile. “I guess not. She’s so . . .”

“Uncomplicated.”

“She’d probably hate for me to say it, but yes. I think she’s uncomplicated.” She turned back to him.

“Do you think I’m complicated?”

“You told me so yourself.”

Had she? She didn’t remember that. This wasn’t getting her any closer to finding out what she really wanted to know, and luckily she’d drunk sufficient to be bold enough to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me Chris was your girlfriend?”

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I was expecting a guy. But I got your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was a girl, but she’s not my girlfriend. Is that what she said?”

“Yes. That you were taking a break.”

He shook his head. The lights on the dashboard illuminated the right side of his face in soft blue. “No. Chris is just a friend.”

“Then why would she say that?”

“It’s complicated.”

“So am I – I’m sure to understand,” she said, smiling.

He shrugged, a you-asked-for-it gesture. “Earlier this year we used to . . . well, we um . . . every time I was in York we’d have sex.”

A hot flush spread up her body. Jealousy and excitement warred in her blood. “Oh. I see.”

“But I made it clear it was nothing more than . . . than that. She knows she’s not my girlfriend. And she’s not some poor, sad creature who’s been used and abused by me. We haven’t done it for months, so . . . anyway, she was probably just being mischievous. She’s like that.”

Mischievous? Why didn’t he call her stupid?

Deluded? Cretinous? But his voice was coloured with fondness, and now she had to cope with knowing that the short blonde girl – Janet would have called her

“common” – had enjoyed in real life what Maisie had only daydreamed about.

“Maisie?”

She looked up.

“You’ve gone all quiet,” he said. “Do you think I’m a bastard?”

“No, of course not. What you do is none of my business.” Try as she might, she couldn’t make her voice sound natural. It baffled her. She was so disappointed in him.

Sacha smiled at her. One of his hands left the steering wheel and was making its way to her cheek when he stopped suddenly, his gaze going past her to the house. She turned to see that Cathy had opened the door and stood in the hallway, peering out at them. When Maisie turned back, his hand was once more on the steering wheel.

“When are you going home?” he asked.

“I still don’t know.”

“I thought you were changing your flight.”

“I didn’t. As it stands, my return flight is in midFebruary.” She glanced over her shoulder again. What was Cathy doing? Keeping an eye on her? “I should go inside.”

“Sure. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.” She opened the door and stepped out into the cold night. As Sacha drove off, she made her way down the path to the front door where Cathy was waiting for her.

“It’s cold out here,” Cathy said.

“You could have waited inside.” She immediately regretted the snap in her voice.

“I wondered what had happened to you. You were gone so long.”

They went into the house and Maisie closed the door behind them. “He was warming up his car.”

“I’m making caramel rabbits. Go wait in the lounge room. I’ll get them.”

Maisie settled in the lounge chair while Cathy pottered in the kitchen. She stared into the fire, and in her mind the scene played out as it hadn’t in reality. Sacha had touched her cheek, leaned in to kiss her, that amazing top lip coming to rest on her own. Beyond that, she didn’t care. Just one kiss would do her. And a kiss wasn’t cheating on Adrian, not really. She closed her eyes and felt a humid warmth spread through her lower body.

“Here you are.”

Maisie opened her eyes. Cathy held out a mug, the one with “best friend in the world” written across it. She hoped Cathy hadn’t chosen it on purpose.

“Thanks, Cathy.”

Her friend settled in the chair Sacha had sat in, nearly kicking over his empty glass. For a few minutes they joined in reverie, staring into the fire and sipping their warm drinks. Tabby came into the room, fresh from an evening nap, stretching one leg then the other behind her. Maisie dropped her right hand down the side of the chair and the cat rubbed her whiskers on Maisie’s fingers.

“I thought you said he was good-looking.”

Maisie looked up in surprise. “Don’t you think he’s good-looking?”

“He’s okay. But his eyes are too close together, his nose is kind of pointy, and his lips are way too big. And he’s too skinny.”

Maisie stared at her in astonishment. In what alternative universe was Cathy living?

“You obviously disagree,” Cathy said from behind her mug.

She feigned a shrug. “It hardly matters anyway.”

“Don’t pretend, Maisie. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him. I’ve seen starving men look at threecourse meals less avidly.”

“That’s not true. I like him but it’s not . . . you know, out of control or anything.” She almost laughed, realising she had just said the exact opposite of the sick, sad truth. “Why are you worried about it, anyway?”

“Because I know and like your boyfriend. Who, by the way, is ten times better looking, more talented and smarter.” Cathy nursed her mug between her fingers.

“I just don’t want you to have an emotional accident.”

“An emotional accident? What the hell is that?”

“You’re getting grumpy with me.”

“No I’m not. Really, I’m not. I just don’t know what you’re talking about. Sacha’s just a friend, I’m not in any danger.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

They fell silent. Maisie drained the last of her drink.

“It’s a bad term, anyway.”

“What is?” Maisie asked.

“Accident. An affair can’t be an accident.”

“Will you stop it?” Maisie said, forcing a laugh.

“I’m not having an affair.”

“Because there are too many decisions to make along the way. People are always saying, oh, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were having sex. It’s like they can’t help themselves. But they forget they can stop at any point. That there’s about a hundred conscious decisions along the way.” She shook her head. “It’s not an accident. It’s always an act of deliberate disloyalty.”

“Is the lecture over now?” Maisie asked.

“No lecture. Just making an observation.”

“Adrian is in no danger of losing me, Cathy. I don’t know where you got the idea from.”

“I guess it’s a mystery,” Cathy replied, turning her attention to the fire again.

Maisie sipped her drink, tried to slip back into her semi-drunken reverie.

“How long have you and Adrian been together anyway?” Cathy asked, casually.

Maisie calculated in her head. “Just over four years.”

Cathy leaned forward, stretched her hands out to the fire. “Was he your first serious boyfriend?”

“No.” Maisie said. “I had a boyfriend in high school. And then I was going out with this other guy when I met Adrian. Why all the questions?”

“Just curious. God, you’re not good at this girly talk stuff are you.”

Maisie laughed at herself. “I guess not.”

“So tell me. How did you meet Adrian?” Cathy drew her feet up onto the chair.

“My father brought him home. They were working together and Dad had him over for dinner.

I

was

smitten.” She smiled in the firelight,

remembering the first time they saw each other.

“He was smitten.”

“Love at first sight?”

“Maybe it was. In any event, the boyfriend didn’t stand a chance. Adrian and I were just friends for a few weeks, but I couldn’t get him out of my mind. We eventually both broke off the relationships we were in and got together.”

“Your dad must have been happy.”

“Both my parents were. I think it was the first time I got something right in their eyes.”

“Oh, nonsense, your parents are crazy about you.”

“Cathy, what can I say? You’re making judgements on what you see on the outside. Yes, we all get dressed up and head out to concerts together like a happy, affluent family. But they’re so disappointed in me. My mum’s a genius, my dad’s a genius. I’m just a girl.”

Cathy fell into silent reverie. Maisie warmed her hands on her cup.

“Do you want to know what my parents did?”

Cathy said softly.

Maisie wasn’t at all sure she did want to know.

“Yes.”

“My mum got pregnant with me when Sarah was only two months old. Dad told her to get an abortion but she wouldn’t, so he tried to do it himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“He punched her in the stomach and pushed her down the stairs.”