Third Time Lucky (25 page)

‘I can understand,’ he says, holding himself stiffly, bottling everything up, ‘that you wanted to take this opportunity, but why not tell me?’

‘And that would have made everything OK?’ I snap back.

‘It would …’ he begins.

‘Well?’

‘No, you’re right. It
wouldn’t
have made everything OK. I don’t like the idea of you disappearing off to Washington, walking out of my life just like that.’ He snaps his fingers, making me jump. ‘Give me some bloody credit, Lauren. But no, I don’t relish the idea of you living four thousand miles away, working in the same bloody city as Mr Schulze for one of his mother’s cronies.’

‘That’s not why I’m going! You’re being unreasonable!’

He stares at me, glances away briefly, then shakes his head. ‘Call me unreasonable if you like but I’m not
going to apologize for being pissed off and a
trifle
put out’ – he lays sarcastic emphasis on this last phrase – ‘that you planned to walk out of my life without so much as a by your leave.’

I’m trembling a little, partly at the injustice of his words – and partly because he may possibly have reason to be upset, but I also know I can’t stand the battle any longer. ‘If you’re thinking of handing me some all-or-nothing ultimatum, Alexander …’

‘Would that be so bloody terrible?’ he demands.

I open my mouth to speak, close it again and hold up my hands in frustration, aware of the stinging at the back of my eyes, at the impasse between us. I expect him to shout, or another bitter retort, but instead of anger, he throws back something else at me: a quiet resignation that’s equally ominous in its own way.

He sighs deeply. ‘It was unfair of me to assume that any success or opportunity you get is anything other than by your own merits because you’re brilliant and beautiful, and you’re like … Christ, this will sound mad.’

‘Try me,’ I murmur.

‘When you’re around, you make me doubt myself and that scares me.’

‘
Me
scare
you
?’

‘Yes. The way you make me feel, out of control, unsure … I hate it and yet I can’t seem to keep away because it’s not only the sex, though that is pretty bloody fantastic. The thought of you drove me on after
my father died, and whenever I’m away on an op, not knowing if I’ll ever come home. You’re like a thorn in my flesh that I can’t remove.’

‘A thorn in your flesh? That good, eh?’

He smiles and I melt a little. ‘
That
good. I know the past year has been difficult. I’m not an easy person to live with – to be with – but, Lauren, I need you around. And please don’t underestimate what it takes me to say that.’

I can hardly speak; I’m also digging my nails into my palms to stop myself from trembling as he goes on.

‘But I can also see that it’s too much for you, the distance between us. So yes, I guess I am giving you the all-or-nothing ultimatum. I want more than you can give me if you’re living in Washington. So pick – it’s me or the job,’ he says, the expression in his eyes dark and unreadable.

I cannot believe he has said this. I know he’s hurt, and I know he can be unreasonable. But anger bubbles up in me. I take a moment to compose myself. ‘OK, if that’s what you want, you leave me no choice,’ I say coldly. ‘I have my world, you have yours, Alexander … and you are not being reasonable’

I don’t know what’s more painful, watching the struggle in his eyes or fighting my own desperate longing to hear what he has to say. He can’t quite bring himself to apologize, and I can see he’s not going to back down, but he puts his arms around me, and the wool of his mess jacket is gently abrasive on my tender skin.
He kisses me, so softly that I feel like a candle flame flickering down, sputtering, almost snuffed out.

I push him away, before he can end the kiss. ‘Listen, if that’s the way things are going to be, if that’s how you feel, if that’s how we both feel, I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, right?’

He reaches for me again, holding me lightly. ‘What?’

‘Before I say, will you promise to do as I ask?’

He frowns. ‘Of course I can’t do that until I know what it is.’

My heart feels like it’s cracking in two but I know that what I’m doing is the right thing. ‘
Please
listen to me and promise you’re going to make this as easy on me – on both of us – as you can.’

‘I can’t promise that, Lauren.’

‘Then I’ll have to be strong.’ I take a deep breath and reach up to my neck. ‘This necklace is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever given me, but I can’t keep it. Shh …’ I put my finger on his lips. ‘I am incredibly honoured and touched that you gave it to me, because I know how much it must mean to you, but you should give it to Emma. Your mother must surely have intended that?’

Without a word, he allows me to lay the necklace in his hands. I’m not sure I can look at him much longer; I feel as if I’m being crushed inside and out and my tears are a hair’s breadth away from spilling out.

He slips the necklace in his jacket pocket. ‘And what else?’ he asks quietly.

‘I’ll
just sit here, and I’ll close my eyes and when I open them, you’ll be gone.’

He gazes down at me, until I can’t bear it any more. ‘Is that what you really want?’

‘Yes, it is.’

There’s a pause, during which my heart thuds wildly, and finally a nod. ‘If you really can’t bear to see me walk away, then, close your eyes,’ he says.

What? No protest? No fight? No battering down of my defences? Just resignation? No ‘He who conquers endures’ family motto stuff? It seems as if I have finally defeated Alexander Hunt – and victory tastes like ashes and smells acrid and cold.

I close my stinging eyes. I squeeze them so tightly shut it hurts because when I open them, he’ll be gone for good.

I wait to hear him walk away; I wait ten seconds and I count one, two, three – then ten – then twenty. I can’t hear his footsteps retreating, dying. I hear nothing but the Ferris-wheel music but I dare not look in case he’s fooling me, because I know I can never bear this again. I count up to thirty, then forty, stretching the time out beyond a minute. Still I dare not open my eyes, my aching eyes …

‘Lauren?’

That’s Immy’s voice, right next to me. I open my eyes and quickly drag one hand over them, while clenching the other hand. I’m trying to defy the tears – to tell them to get the fuck out my life.

‘Where’s
Alexander?’

‘Didn’t you just see him?’

‘No.’

‘You must have noticed him walk past you?’ I crane my neck, searching the garden for him.

She glances around her. ‘No. Maybe he went another way out of the garden?’

‘But …’

‘What’s up, Lauren? Where’s Alexander?’

‘Nothing. He just … went home.’

She frowns, and then seems to accept my explanation. ‘Oh. I see.’

Soon, I hope, my chest will stop feeling like a giant fist is squeezing it. ‘Where’s Scott?’ I ask.

She nibbles her lip nervously. ‘Still beating himself up over the fact that he mentioned the job to Alexander. Has it caused a lot of trouble? Is that why he’s gone home?’

‘No, he just … had things to take care of.’

‘OK … You’ve lost your necklace …’ she says, her face puzzled.

‘I know.’

Immy looks at me and in that moment, I know she’s guessed what’s just happened. She also knows that, for now, one word or touch of sympathy would burst a bubble so huge and so fragile that it would finish me.

So she smiles and links her arm through mine. ‘Come on, it’s time for the survivors’ photo.’

‘What’s
that?’ I ask, suddenly feeling so light I could float away.

‘Everyone who made it to the end of the ball gathers in the Front Quad and a photographer takes a mass picture. You haven’t lived unless you make it to the survivors’ photo.’

So I pretend I have limbs that have real bones in them, not Jello, and I stroll with her across the dewy grass towards the Front Quad on this perfect midsummer morning. The sky is a pale blue now, the morning sun bathes the stone walls with a golden light and even the founders seem to gaze benignly down on us.

The photographer shouts: ‘Big smiles!’

When Immy and I stand either side of Scott, with his big arms tight around us, I grin like an idiot for the camera and even though I’m dying inside, I tell myself I made it.

The
doors of the Ross Foundation hiss shut behind me and the rumble of the traffic and blast of sirens assault my ears. Heat bounces off the sidewalks and the grey stone facade of the building.

A bead of perspiration slides down my back. It has to be in the high eighties out here in the piazza. I suck in some breaths. The air is hardly fresh, but it’s a relief after the chill of the Foundation’s offices. Making sure I’m out of sight of the reception, I sit on a wall in the piazza, swap my heels for the ballet flats in my briefcase and sling my jacket over my shoulder. Even in my sleeveless linen shift, I’m too warm, but it’s not far to the restaurant where I’ve arranged to meet Scott.

It’s a Latin Asian place, nothing fancy but with a relaxed contemporary vibe, and I order a mint julep while I wait for him. He’s only a few minutes late and diners look up as he walks up to my table. He’s in a business suit – the first time I’ve ever seen him wear one – and I catch my breath. He looks serious … a little older maybe, but he wears the gravitas very well.

‘So, how was the interview?’ he asks, kissing me on the cheek before taking the seat opposite.

‘Good,
it seemed to go well.’ I grimace. ‘Though for an interview that was meant to be just a formality, according to my mother, I sure took a real grilling from Donna and her HR president.’

He winces. ‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah, but you know what? I’m glad they were thorough, because if I do get an offer, I’ll know I got it on merit.’

‘Of course you got it on merit! Believe me, no one makes Donna Ross do anything she doesn’t want to, let alone hire an assistant! Have faith in yourself, Lauren, you have a master’s from Oxford. And
if
you get the job? Why would you even question it?’

‘Well, I won’t hear the result for a little while.’ I cool my palm on my glass.

‘You look the part.’

‘I feel a little overdressed after a year at Oxford. I’m used to a mini, skinny jeans or a ballgown. The dress and jacket feel odd.’

‘It’s the tie I can’t get used to. I can see why my father calls his a knot of servitude.’ He runs his finger around the knot and undoes his top button.

‘Every other time I’ve seen you, you’ve been in sports gear, apart from at the ball, of course.’

‘Did I scrub up?’ he asks.

‘Pretty well.’

‘Good. So, apart from post-interview trauma, how are you?’

‘Good,
I’m good. So how’s life on the Hill?’ I ask.

‘Interesting … Who knew Water Policy could stir up so much intrigue?’

‘Mmm. So, have you been sent to spy on
me
?’

He taps the side of his nose and whispers, ‘Of course. Keep it under your hat, but I’m the new recruit for the WMA. Washington Mothers Agency.’ He picks up the menu. ‘Have you ordered? I don’t know about you, but I could eat a horse.’

The rest of lunch is a mix of gossip, about Scott’s department, rowing, mutual friends and foes. It’s so great to be able to relax after my morning of interviews. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until now; I can feel my shoulder blades tangibly sinking from somewhere around the top of my ears. Arranging to meet Scott for lunch was such a great idea; he knows me so well, and in no time an hour has gone by.

Scott glances at his watch.

‘Do you have to get back?’ I ask.

He smiles. ‘Not yet. My boss is out of town and I had a meeting nearby this morning, which is why I suggested this place. I can say I was with Senator Cusack’s team if any one complains, but they won’t … Say, if you don’t want to order coffee, why don’t we get out of here?’

We go halves on the check, and Scott pulls off his tie, before we stroll out towards the park across the street. The shade of the trees is welcome as we meander around the pathways.

‘So,
what’s the story with Alexander?’ he asks.

I think I was prepared for this; in fact I’m a little surprised he didn’t bring up the subject sooner. Even so, I take care with my words. ‘Do you know, it’s been so hectic since I’ve been home, I’ve hardly had time to think about him. Which is good. We’ve gone our separate ways. He couldn’t handle me coming back here.’

‘Really? Have you not talked at all?’

‘No, and I don’t expect to. We left things on a sour note – it was just impossible. We’re both tied to opposing sides of the Atlantic, and he gave me no choice but to end things cleanly.’

‘Hmm,’ he muses. ‘That’s a great statement for the press, Lauren, but is that how you really feel? I’m still beating myself up that I put my foot in it by mentioning your job offer. It wasn’t deliberate, though you may not believe that.’

‘I
do
believe you – I know you’d never play games with me, Scott, which is why I love you to bits.’

‘You love me to bits?’

I stop under the shade of a maple, slightly regretting my choice of words. ‘You know how much I think of you, and as for Alexander, you did me a favour. I had to tell him sooner or later.’

He looks at me. ‘Still, I’m sorry I messed up.’

‘No worries,’ I say brightly. ‘The whole thing had a time limit on it from the start and maybe shouldn’t have even begun, and it’s over now. In fact, can we not talk
about Alexander today? I wanted to make it a beginning, not an end.’

He grins. ‘Absolutely delighted not to.’ His attempt at Alexander’s aristo accent is pretty good but I roll my eyes anyway.

We walk on a little more until we reach the other side of the park. A siren wails.

‘You know, I ought to call a cab and get home. My mother will be dying to hear how I got on. I’m amazed she hasn’t called me by now.’

‘I guess I should go back too.’

‘Shall I call you a cab? Or we could share part of the way?’

He glances at the gates of the park and then back at me.

‘I can’t do this any more.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This. Pretending it’s all OK, that I’m happy just to be a shoulder for you to cry on and a little light relief from the angst of fucking Alexander.’

‘Scott, I don’t understand.’

‘You’re just about the smartest girl I know but you must be blind not to see what’s in front of you.’

I’m too shocked to speak.

‘And this is the craziest, most stupid thing I’ve ever done. It’s too soon, you’re still mad about Alexander and I know I’m going to crash and burn …’ He holds up his hands and groans. ‘But, hell, Lauren …’

‘Lemonade,
honey?’

Two days later, my mother places a tray containing a jug and two glasses on the table on the deck. A drop of condensation slides off the base of the glass and on to my cut-offs but I don’t wipe it off. Since my interview, the thermometer has inched up another few degrees. Even in the shade of a parasol by our pool-cum-summer house, the heat burns through the fabric until it’s almost unbearable. At least, I tell myself, it makes me feel alive.

My mother sits down at the table and fans herself with her straw hat. ‘Can you believe this heat? I’d jump in that pool myself if I hadn’t got to go to Karen Amster’s Fourth of July ball committee meeting. How’s it going?’ She nods at the pack of information the Ross Foundation sent me, which includes my contract of employment.

‘Good … it’s all good.’

‘We’re so proud of you, sweetheart. We thought you might not want the job as it came via a friend but you got it all on your own merit. Donna must have been seriously impressed to have the contract couriered over.’

‘I guess so. Thanks, Mom.’ My stomach stirs a little at the memory of that day and the revelation that turned my world upside down once more.

‘Any luck in finding an apartment in town?’ she asks. ‘Because I can get one of the girls at the trust on to it. A couple of them are realtors and have some great
connections – and you don’t have to worry about the rental costs; your father and I can cover it if you want somewhere that’s more than your salary.’

‘Thanks, Mom, but I haven’t had a proper look yet …’

My mother pats my hand. ‘I know you want to be independent. I would too, in your position, but you’ll always be welcome here with us.’

‘Thanks. It means a lot to me to have yours and Daddy’s support.’ I sip the lemonade carefully, focusing on the bittersweet tang against my palate.

‘Forgive me if I’m prying, but Leah called me this morning.’

I lick my lips. ‘Did she?’

‘Yes. She’s thrilled she was able to help you in some small way. She told me you had lunch with Scott the other day, after your interview. Of course, I already knew that, but for some reason, Leah acted like it was some kind of big secret so I pretended to be surprised.’

A bead of perspiration slides down my back. ‘Thanks.’

‘So how is he?’

‘Good. Buzzed about his new job.’

‘He should be. Your father thinks he’ll do very well in the Environment Department. He could be a policy advisor in no time and after that, the sky’s the limit; he could do anything. Look at Ronan Farrow.’

I force a smile, but I might have known that Mom is only lulling me into a false sense of security.

‘Tell
me to mind my own business but I have to ask. Leah said Scott was acting a little weird when he called in to see her after he met you, and that’s not like him. You know how laidback he is, even the Boat Race thing didn’t seem to faze him, so she was a little concerned. I know she fusses over him, but he is her only son.’

I almost laugh at this – as if my mother doesn’t fuss over me. ‘So she asked you to try and find out what was going on?’ I say lightly.

‘You can’t blame her. How
are
things between you two?’

‘They’re fine. Why wouldn’t they be?’

‘No reason … I did wonder when she said that he seemed agitated, but she may simply be hyper-sensitive. I do hope everything’s fine because Scott’s a great guy. Your father and I both like him a lot, and I probably shouldn’t say this, but he’s ten times the man Todd was.’

‘I agree.’

My mother narrows her eyes; I know exactly the word she’s about to say and it only has three letters but a whole lot of meaning.

‘
And?
’

I smile again. ‘
And
you’re perfectly right. Scott is ten times the man that Todd is.’

Narrowing her eyes at me, she sighs and stands up. ‘I think I should have minded my own business. When you’re ready to share, I guess we’ll hear soon enough.’

‘I love you, Mom,’ I say, looking up at her gratefully.

She kisses the top of my head. ‘You too, honey.’

A
while later, the parasol is no longer any match for the fierce heat of the sun. My biography of Modigliani lies abandoned on the pool tiles and I can’t seem to focus on anything. It could be the anti-climax after the past term and the fact I’ve been running like a hamster round a wheel for the last few months.

I turn over on to my stomach, watching Hockneyesque ripples on the pool, wondering whether to fetch my watercolours and try and capture the scene, or whether it will only leave me frustrated at my own inadequacies. Besides, the glittering blues and the sun sparkling on the water only remind me of the sapphire necklace. A pang stabs at me unexpectedly; I can’t forget Alexander’s face when I gave it back to him, or how much it hurt me to return it.

As for Scott, I can’t decide whether he’s made my life way more complicated – or much simpler.

I turn over on to my back, replaying his words, the look on his face.

‘I know I’ll regret this – I already do – but I want you to know how I feel about you. You’ve really got under my skin this last year.’

‘Scott. You mean the world to me …’ I said, knowing that deliberately misunderstanding him was the coward’s way out. Knowing that dancing around his meaning was cruel.

‘Ah, but I mean more than that and you know it. I’ve liked you – more than liked you – for a long time. Even back in the Todd days.’

I didn’t pull away when he took my hand. I tried to let him
down gently, because I’m selfish and I wanted things to stay the same between us, to cling on to that fragile balance of friendship and something more.

‘And I really do love you to bits too, Scott.’

He smiled and let go of my hand. ‘You love me
to bits.’
I know, you told me that already today. Oh, Lauren, how I wish those two little words didn’t exist. The first three would be plenty for me; the final two tell me all I need to know.’

He shook his head and I fought back the tears.

‘Scott, I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want. Not right now, not at this moment. I’m really a mess after Alexander.’

Why was I the one in anguish? Why was I the one crying and feeling like my world had fallen apart? Because Scott means so much to me; his pain is mine, and the fact I inflicted it sliced through me like a knife.

He kissed me, on the lips, lingering, just like he did in the street last winter, and it still felt the same: lovely, delicious, warm and comforting.

Scott will always be all of those things to me, even if he never wants to set eyes on me again. He walked with me to the gates of the park and called me a cab. I didn’t want him to, but I couldn’t bear to add another act of rejection to the one I’d already hurled at him. His final words are burned on my conscience for ever.

‘You’d better take a long hard look at what you really want from life, Lauren. It might not be what you thought. It might not fit neatly into your plans, it might even scare you, but if you don’t take the risk, you might always regret it.’

Then he kissed me goodbye. ‘I don’t regret telling you how I feel about you – remember that.’

And then … and then I came back home.

Now,
I shove my fist in my mouth, biting back the tears. I know this: I can’t lie by this pool for ever, however much I want to. I have to do something and stop this awful limbo.

I can’t dodge my parents for ever either, and even now I’m anticipating the rattle of the electric gates opening and my mother’s Cayenne pulling up on the drive. My father has said he’ll try to make it home for a family supper this evening, so I guess I’d better take a shower soon and get ready for the fray.