Untouchable Things (24 page)

He exhaled smoke. “And now you find yourself stranded in adulthood with an inordinate sense of entitlement.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant and it didn’t sound altogether complimentary. He read her expression and reached to squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. I don’t think it’s possible to be an interesting or successful person without it. And you, my dear, are both of those.”

Her smile hovered uncertainly as he released her hand. She thought how much smoking suited him.

“So how did the teenage Rebecca get herself back on track?”

She took a breath to focus. “Packed off to stay with goody-goody cousin Annabelle for the summer who turned out to be a complete party animal. Spent the summer surfing, playing volleyball and having a fling with a cute local lad, got back refreshed and ready to knuckle down for A-Levels.”

Seth smiled. “Return of Alpha Daughter. I like it. And drama school after that?”

“Actually a year skiing in Val D’Isère. It was amazing – one of the best years of my life.” Memories glowed on her face.

“Why?”

“Oh, everything. The people, the skiing, being outdoors all the time. God, I got a tan for the first and only time in my life.” They both laughed. “Then Newcastle Uni, then Guildhall.”

“Had you always wanted to act?”

He’d never asked her so many questions. It was sweet, he was clearly trying to take her mind off recent events. And succeeding.

“I don’t know about always, but even as a child I used to put these performances on with my teddies and dolls. And when I was older I was always performing for Mum and Dad’s friends, you know little ballet routines or songs. In fact, I wanted to be a ballerina before I got too tall. What is it?”

She watched his expression wipe clean. “Nothing. I can picture it well, little Rebecca enchanting all and sundry in a pink tutu. You must have been a beautiful child.”

His eyes brushed over her and the child in her blushed. Then the woman. “I don’t know about that. I used to be teased horribly about my freckles at school, all the usual ginger gags.”
Rebecca Freckle-bum
. It was one of the main reasons she’d got a stage name, to get away from Featherstone and its associations. But she was hardly going to tell him that.

He rested his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and looked at her with an intensity that reminded her of their first meeting. “I’ve never understood that. A true redhead is something extraordinary, like a rare bird, something you don’t see very often. Look at this.” He lifted a handful of her hair. “It’s exquisite.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure how to respond.

He mussed her hair round his fingers. “But beauty like this can make you seem a little aloof, unapproachable. I expect the local urchins were secretly besotted by you. And terrified.”

She laughed and he dropped her hair.

“My mother was a redhead.”

Rebecca nearly stopped breathing. He had never mentioned her before. “Was she?”

“She was so beautiful. Perhaps as beautiful as you.” Rebecca tucked that one away for later because she needed to focus on his words. “Perhaps too beautiful. I don’t think she ever saw herself as my mother. I had a nanny for that.”

He picked up his cigarette box and ran his thumb across the embossed lid. “This was hers, you know.”

It was the first time he’d let her look at it properly. She followed the movement of his thumb towards the initials
JG
, carved in the corner. He ran his thumbnail under them slowly. “Julia Gardner.”

Rebecca let out a breath. “You must miss her.”

He said nothing, running his thumb over and over the initials as if to erase them. Then he turned to her, smiling. “I had very ambitious parents, Rebecca.”

“Ambitious?”

“Money, status, power, you name it. Most of the time I was packed off to school so I didn’t get in the way.”

He spoke lightly but the loneliness was almost tangible. She reached out her hand but he was already sitting forward to stub out his cigarette.

“Now, how’s your appetite coming along, Ms Laurence?”

She reeled at the quick change of subject. “Um, I don’t know really. I’m fine for now.”

“How about I serve up in half an hour?” He got to his feet.

“Sure.” He wasn’t going to say more. As Rebecca followed him into the kitchen she felt as though an opportunity had slipped through her fingers.

She tried to steer the subject back to him over dinner but never quite managed it. They drank two bottles of wine before the inevitable whisky appeared – tasters from several bottles, Seth having decided to educate her into the intricacies of single malt. She pulled her face at the peaty ones but fell for a golden, honey-edged liquor that turned out to be the most expensive of the lot. She felt swollen with blurry emotion, punch-drunk from a day she couldn’t yet process.

“Can I have one of those?” Seth was lighting up again. Sod it, there was no Jason now to lecture her.

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s wise? No point in throwing the bathwater out with the boyfriend.”

She laughed. “Maybe you’re right.” She straightened. “I should probably go home.”

“Soon. Let’s have some music first.”

He pulled her to her feet and she didn’t resist him – she couldn’t, wasn’t steady enough – and it was easier to lean into him and sway gently and then rest her head too and close her eyes. He was murmuring into the top of her head, something about the smell of her hair, and now his fingers were delving in, bringing handfuls to his face. In a second she would lift her eyes and discover what it was like to kiss him.

The phone trilled sharply, piercing the moment. Neither of them moved as the answering machine whirred up and a man’s voice, drunk, berated Seth for being out and said he was missing him. The machine cut him off. Rebecca pushed back, keeping her eyes averted, and sat heavily on the sofa. Seth turned the music down and sat next to her.

Sorry to cut in – but did you recognise the voice on the machine?

Pardon? Oh – no. I don’t think, no, I didn’t.

Okay, carry on.

Um, I need the bathroom again. Just a minute.

Are you all right, Miss Laurence?

Yes, sorry, I’ve got a bit of a, you know, infection, I’ll be right back.

“Look at me, Rebecca.”

She skimmed his face for a split second. “I’d better go home.”

He put a hand on her arm. “I know we haven’t talked about it but I was assuming that the others had filled you in on my… extra-curricular activities. You do know I’m bisexual?”

She shrank at the word. “Yes, but I suppose it was a shock just now.”

“It wasn’t the best timing, granted.” He chuckled. “Or maybe it saved us from doing something rash. You have had a bit of a day, haven’t you?”

She smiled, close to tears. “I suppose I have.”

He put an arm round her and squeezed. “Well, why don’t we get you home now. I take it you’re not working tomorrow?”

She shook her head, filled with sudden fear at the empty day before her.

“Well, I’ll give you a ring to see how you’re doing. Let’s call you a cab. Oh, and by the way,” he leant over and grabbed a carrier bag from the side of the sofa, “here’s your cardigan.”

Scene 12

We have been talking to other people about what happened at the Christmas group, after the pantomime. When Seth Gardner was called to the door. Do you have a take on that, Mr Stanley?

A take? Who knows what was going on? Sorry, I’m not being difficult but I’d guess the only person who can answer that is Seth himself.

But did it worry you at the time?

I suppose I was a little concerned. If I remember rightly I took him out for a drink to check everything was okay. Don’t remember getting very far, though.

That was putting it mildly. Seth had made him suffer from the beginning, the mumbled invitation to a gallery opening in Islington, the mockingly raised eyebrows in response:
Have I got this right, you’re asking me out?
The lid lifted off Glyndebourne in one fell swoop and the stench of locked-up memories escaping. He needn’t have worried. Seth behaved chivalrously throughout, just as he had ever since sending that note and Michael relenting to join the Friday Folly. In fact, conversation had flowed. Seth liked the exhibition and before long, Michael found himself knee-deep in a rather enjoyable debate about the accessibility of the arts. But that wasn’t what the evening was for.

“So,” a slight cough, “everything all right with you?”

Seth blinked at the abrupt change of tack. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “God, Michael, you sound exactly like Charles. Don’t you start, please. I’m fine, everything’s fine, the beer is a little warm but perfectly acceptable and please, for Christ’s sake, can we just be blokes and talk about stuff rather than feelings?”

So that’s what they did. At least for a while. But somehow the stuff became more personal until he was telling Seth about his family. How did that happen? He had the uncomfortable sense of Seth having turned the tables on him without having a clue of how it had happened or how to reverse it. When he almost mentioned Mr Fleming’s name he realised it was time to leave. He refused the offer to share a cab. The goodbye was awkward, a flicker of a smile on Seth’s face as he shook Michael’s hand. He strode off feeling thwarted and oddly buoyed.

Scene 13

[Anna bursts onto stage and stops, blinking into the dark]

[enter José, peering into the dark]

Scene 14

Everyone was great when we split up.

Your friends in the group?

Yeah, some of them took me under their wing a bit. I went Christmas shopping with José.

It was nice to have him to herself for once, away from Anna. Linked arms, taking on the Kensington High Street crowds, spending extravagantly and mostly on themselves. A brass band playing carols as the light faded. The chance to probe a little, to learn about Anna’s rift with her family and ask about Charles and Seth’s friendship.

“They were room mates, weren’t they, at university?”

José smiled. “Yes, imagine sharing a room with Seth. Especially someone like Charles. God knows how many times he bailed Seth out.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “Bless him. He’s such a sweetheart.” She took a sip of her sweet, eggnog-infused coffee. Normally she was a purist, but it was Christmas.