by Lucy Coleman
‘Don’t you simply love the atmosphere in here?’ Silvia asks in a low tone as she leans in to me.
I nod, a little dismayed to see that Rick has bagged a seat next to Arran. On the other side of Arran is Will, but he’s already deep in conversation with Kris. Poor Arran, this probably isn’t going to be a relaxing evening meal at all but an onslaught of questions as Rick picks his brains.
All I can do is to relax and make sure everyone else has a chance to join in to make Rick and Arran’s intense conversation less obvious. For the most part the group manage on their own with only the odd steer required from me. But when it’s time to head back to the villa I’m more than ready to say goodnight to our tired new arrivals. It isn’t long before I’m alone in the kitchen, grateful to be off duty.
13
Is the Whole World Spinning or is it Just Me?
Automatically, I begin clearing up the glasses and empty wine bottles still cluttering up the table on the terrace. Three trips and it’s done. I figure Arran isn’t going to want to come down to this tomorrow morning and it’s pleasant enough out here with a slight breeze cooling my skin.
If I go up to my room I’m going to write and I’m not really in the mood for that right now. Instead I go back inside to grab a clean glass and a bottle from the fridge. I’m careful about what I drink, rarely exceeding two glasses of wine, but tonight I need something to make me relax. I didn’t realise how mentally exhausting it would be hosting a group of strangers. Being two down for most of the evening with Rick glued to Arran’s side, it left me to keep five people happy and I wasn’t prepared for that.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’
I turn to see Arran walking towards me with a glass in his hand.
‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’
He takes the seat next to me, flopping down into it as if he, too, feels drained.
‘I had a text I had to respond to and anger is something best dealt with in private.’
I lean forward to fill his glass.
‘Bad news?’
He nods, but doesn’t speak. We settle down in our chairs and both end up resting our heads back to stare up at the velvety sky.
‘That’s one mass of stars. I didn’t realise there were that many, actually.’ The number seems to grow as my eyes become accustomed to the inky black background.
‘There’s hardly any light pollution up here. They’re always there, you just can’t see them this clearly, but the sky is perfect tonight. In fact, bring your glass and follow me.’ He grabs the bottle of wine and jumps up out of his seat with a sudden burst of enthusiasm.
We amble along the path, past the cypress trees and the hidden garden and wend our way up around the side of the villa. There are fewer lights at the back of the house, and fewer still the further we walk. At the far end of the garden there’s a nook where the rocky hillside has formed a shallow cave. It’s only about three feet deep and five feet long but under the overhang nestles a rattan sofa.
‘This is more comfortable and looking out from here you’ll notice even more stars. The terrace lighting at the front doesn’t help but I can’t risk people stumbling around in the dark and falling into the pool.’
I nod, thinking what an intrusion it is to invite a group of strangers into your home. Arran refills my glass.
‘I noticed that you didn’t eat much in the restaurant and I’m sorry I left you holding the fort so to speak. I’m very grateful. Are you hungry now? I could certainly murder something snackish.’
I give him a forgiving smile. ‘It’s a bit late but I suppose it will soak up the alcohol.’
He gives me a grin and eases himself up out of the sofa. I watch him disappear into the semi-gloom, wondering if this is a good idea, or not.
There’s a sudden buzz in my pocket and I pull out the phone to see there’s a text from Mel – at last!
OMG what an evening! Ross is such a kind, gentle and thoughtful guy. There has to be a catch, Brie, because it seems too good to be true. We’re seeing each other again tomorrow night and I can’t wait. How’s Lake Garda? I hope you can ring when you have a spare five minutes. I’m dying to know what Arran is like and how you’re getting on with him. Take care, lovely! M x
Does there always have to be a catch? Mel is being cautious because of what she’s been through, but it would be wonderful if life decided to give her a break. I hate to think the past will colour her judgement of Ross without even giving him a chance to prove he’s a very different sort of man. Although, a part of me is glad she’s treading carefully because I’d hate to see her get hurt again. It’s an age old dilemma.
As for how I’m getting along with Arran – the answer to that is still in the balance. His outwardly charming persona and smooth voice is a professional veneer but who knows what really lies behind that? I feel that his impression of me is based on assumptions and he’s not really giving me a chance. And I’m conscious that I’m retaliating quite a bit, which is equally as pathetic and unfair of me. Come on, Brie, you know better than that. Give the guy the benefit of the doubt or the next four weeks will be living hell. You’re coming out of an overly sensitive phase of your life and now you’re in danger of going in the opposite direction. That’s hardly fair on Arran.
I type a quick response to Mel to let her know how pleased I am for her that it’s gone well and will be in touch soon to find out more.
Then I sit back to think about Arran. But before I can assemble my thoughts he’s back, carrying another bottle of wine and two huge bags of nibbles.
‘I’m not that hungry,’ I laugh.
‘You said you weren’t a fussy eater. They’re for sharing and they’re gluten free,’ he throws back at me, settling down and letting out a groan as his body relaxes back into the cushions. Well, that was thoughtful of him.
We each take a bag and begin munching. After a few minutes we swap.
‘I prefer these,’ I whisper, wondering if our voices will carry.
‘Don’t worry, the wind’s in the opposite direction so no one can hear us and besides, we’re far enough away from the villa not to be seen or heard. I know exactly what you’re thinking. The peace and quiet is nice.’
‘It’s stressful for you, isn’t it?’
Our eyes meet, and he raises his eyebrows, letting out a low sigh.
‘I have no choice. This fiasco began three years ago. And it’s about to get much worse.’
I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or to me, his voice is so low. I put down the cheesy snacks and pick up my wine glass.
‘I’m here if you want to share more than just the snacks.’
He turns to look at me again and this time his look is apologetic. His eyes show me a vulnerability I haven’t seen so far.
‘It’s a saga worthy of a long running series. You could end up being sorry you asked.’ Again, a weary sigh escapes from his lips and it’s awful to hear because he sounds so very demoralised. ‘My ex-wife, Harriet, left me three years ago. Well, she physically removed herself and whatever she wanted from the property. In reality, we hadn’t been functioning as a couple for quite a while before that. I was extremely busy at the time and it seemed easier to give her what she wanted, which was a trial separation. So, I rented an apartment for her at Sirmione, which is on the southern shore of the lake. She has friends there and to be honest I was relieved to put some distance between us.’
He presses back into the deep cushions and stretches out his legs in front of him. I don’t say a word, because I feel it’s not necessary.
‘Money seemed to be going out as fast as it was coming in so that’s why I began running the courses. A lot of the projects I work on pay well but it isn’t a regular income. I get a large cheque and then maybe nothing for several months. The royalty cheques for the books come in every six months and for the time being, at least, that’s all I can bank on.’
I don’t understand why his ex-wife is still demanding money from him.
‘B
ut you’re divorced now so all of that is settled, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, and no. I was stupid, and I gave her, I don’t know how much exactly, maybe a hundred grand during that first year in rent and expenses. Then I realised that although it was well and truly over, she never was going to file for divorce. So, it was down to me. The lawyers thrashed out a financial settlement. Our two families live a stone’s throw away from each other in Surrey and we’d purchased a four bedroom house there as a holiday home. The only other asset was this villa, which belonged to my grandfather and was bequeathed to me. That’s a long story in itself; when he died my father hadn’t spoken to him for nearly twenty years. But I spent every summer here with my grandfather from the age of thirteen.’
Arran pauses to take a hefty gulp of his wine and top up our glasses.
‘What does Harriet do for a living?’
He gives a bitter laugh. ‘She doesn’t earn a penny, she does voluntary work. That’s wonderful, of course, but someone is required to foot the bill for her lavish lifestyle.’
‘You didn’t have children?’
‘No. Harriet wasn’t at all interested and it wasn’t a burning issue for me. So, basically, I had to agree a big settlement or pay her a smaller sum and ongoing maintenance to support her for the foreseeable future. I went for the settlement, even though I wasn’t sure how exactly I was going to get the money together. She will remarry, of course, but not until someone very wealthy comes along. That’s sad, but true. Believe me, I still think I made the right decision.’
I’m appalled.
‘We sold the house in Surrey and I gave her my share of the handsome profit we made, then I cashed in some shares and emptied my savings accounts. When I handed it over there was still a hefty shortfall. Ironically, it’s because of this place. It’s a valuable property and it never occurred to me to protect my ownership of it. So even though I owned it before we were married, she could claim a share of it.’
‘That hardly seems fair given there are no children involved. I think that’s appalling.’
His expression is one of acceptance.
‘It’s the law. The court looks at the husband’s and the wife’s personal incomes, their assets and the standard of living during the marriage. They make the award on that basis. A legal charge has been put on the house until I’ve paid her the remainder of the lump sum owed. I have to make regular bi-monthly payments, plus interest accruing, and if I default at any time then the villa will be sold from under me.’
I know what’s coming but I hope I’m wrong.
‘At the moment I’m struggling to make those payments. I’ve just scraped enough together to meet the payment due last month. Sadly, as it stands now, I can’t say for sure that I’m going to be able to make the next one. I made the mistake of asking if she’d allow me a little flexibility but I think she has one aim. And that is to take this place away from me because she knows it’s the only thing that has ever meant anything to me.’
My heart is in my mouth. The only thing?
‘But you loved each other in the beginning, surely? Doesn’t that mean anything to her?’
‘I thought it was love, but it’s very obvious to me now that she was a different person back then. I didn’t fully appreciate what a very determined woman Harriet can be. When she sees something she wants, she can be very persuasive. She convinced me we were the real thing but, sadly, her enthusiasm waned very quickly once we were around each other all the time. It turned out that I wasn’t ambitious enough for her, you see.’
‘That’s sad. I mean, it wasn’t you who changed, it was her by the sound of it.’
He shakes his head, sadly.
‘I know, but it was a huge shock realising so quickly that it was all a big mistake and I didn’t know how to handle it. So I tried to keep the peace in the hope that things would improve. Love isn’t something that looms large in my family. It’s all about doing the right thing, having a routine, not letting anyone down and being responsible. As a child if I fell over and hurt myself my mother would say I was clumsy, but then she wasn’t around much to witness that, anyway. So, I did what I’ve always done and I simply put up with Harriet’s outbursts and moods. Until, eventually, it all fell apart.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Arran. A marriage shouldn’t be like that. And a child deserves to be loved, as well as provided for – money can’t buy that.’
‘My grandfather loved me. But the antagonism between my father and him made life very difficult at times. Still, maybe Carrie will succeed in getting me a sizeable advance for the next novel. The manuscript needs a little attention but she’s already talking to two publishers about it, so at least there’s a glimmer of hope. It’s based on a true story.’
He leans forward, staring at the ground. This must be the manuscript Carrie was referring to.
‘Is it a lot of work to polish it up?’
He gives me a sideways glance.
‘When I asked you to define the word “love” I wasn’t being flippant. I was genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say. The story begins with a couple who have a brief affair before he’s goes off to fight as a soldier in the Second World War. That happened a lot and wasn’t unusual as it was an emotional time. People grabbed what comfort they could, the likelihood of death hanging over everyone from the constant bombings at home, as well as on the battlefield. It’s clear she will wait for him until the war is over, if necessary.
‘Obviously, it’s predominantly about the battlefield. But Carrie says the love scenes fall flat. I need to get it sorted as until she’s in a position to submit the manuscript to publishers, nothing will happen and the clock is ticking. Obviously, this is a new genre for me and it’s going to be a learning process to get the balance right. Wanting to broaden my appeal is one thing, but Carrie says I need to do a better job of portraying the emotional turmoil away from the battle zone if I’m going to attract a new publisher and a new audience.’
He’s reaching out to me and I’m touched because he needn’t have shared the details of his dire personal situation.
‘I’m happy to take a look and make a few suggestions if you’re open to that.’
His eyes search my face.
‘The sex scenes are cold, Carrie told me. “Lacking in depth and emotion” were her exact words. I’ve tried to re-write the scenes but it’s beyond me. I’d be grateful if you could check it out.’
‘Email me the file and I’ll make a start tomorrow morning. I’ve never been one to have a Sunday lie-in, anyway. Will you need me there for your first session on Monday?’
‘No, but I would like to sit in on yours on Tuesday morning. Carrie says I can learn a lot from you.’
Our eyes are locked, and I drag my gaze away on the pretext of needing a little more wine in my glass. I’m not sure how many glasses I’ve had but I’m wonderfully warm and fuzzy. It’s a pleasant feeling. Sitting back and closing my eyes for a second I feel as if everything is moving but when I open them again it’s fine. How very weird. Maybe I need some more of those nibbles. I’ll just up the amount of steps I do tomorrow to compensate. Besides, sometimes a little reward is in order when you’re being very good, despite the temptations around you.
14
Paying the Price
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
What is that awful droning sound? I pull the pillow further down over my head in a desperate attempt to blot out the noise. The sound seems to be reverberating around inside my skull, as if a manic bee has flown into my ear and it’s painful. Then I realise it’s an alarm and someone has, thankfully, just turned it off.
Someone has— ‘Oh, shit!’
I drag the pillow off my head and squint, the brightness sending little waves of pain shuddering throughout my entire body. I look up to see a shocked Arran staring down at me and he’s naked. I squirm around and realise he’s not the only one in a state of undress.
‘Look, it’s not what you think, Brie. Nothing happened. We were b
oth just a bit—’
Memories of us both collapsing on the bed come racing back.
He puts up one hand, palm facing me as if he’s defending himself. The other hand is trying to hide his tackle. If I wasn’t so stunned this would be quite funny. Arran looks mortified.
‘I need to shower and get downstairs. I’m not being rude, really, but my head is thumping and if I don’t get some painkillers inside me pretty quickly I won’t be able to host today’s informal gathering.’
He turns, all modesty forgotten, and heads into the en-suite, leaving me in a daze. Everything is blurry because of the pounding inside my head and I remember that’s why I usually stick to just the two glasses of wine. It’s been a long, long time since I over-indulged and I’m mortified, unable to comprehend what Arran must think of my behaviour.
Okay, damage assessment. I’ve seen Arran naked and we slept in the same bed, or we both passed out on the same bed is probably a more accurate description. No harm done; we’re both embarrassed and we were too drunk for anything to have happened, even if we had wanted it to. This would have been a total disaster if one of us had been sober, but that wasn’t the case. At least that makes me feel a little better.
As soon as I hear the shower running I ease myself out of bed and quickly throw on my clothes. Quietly creeping out onto the landing I scurry, unseen, up to my room.
‘People do stupid things when they’re drunk, Brie, and that’s how mistakes are made,’ I whisper to myself. ‘But you’re old enough to know better, my girl.’
This isn’t an excuse, but it’s a comfort knowing that it’s out of character for Arran, too. Maybe it reflects the fact that we were both stressed and over-tired; too exhausted to sleep and needing something else to knock us out. ‘That will not be happening again,’ I mutter as I head into the shower.
Turning the knob all the way round to the blue dot, I let out a shriek as the icy water hits my skin. Once I’ve adjusted to it, it’s wonderfully refreshing, even though my teeth begin to chatter a little. It isn’t only my head that is aching, but my whole body. How do people do this on a regular basis? Goodness knows how I’m going to function today and then my memory kicks in. I vaguely remember promising to look at Arran’s manuscript this morning and that might just be a lifesaver. Stepping out of the shower I wrap a towel around me and scrabble around in my bag for some tablets. Then I text Arran.
