It was both those things—a grown-up version of the teenage print stuck to her wall, now rolled up and packed away along with the rest of her previous life. She considered the gold-framed girl, composed as she awaited her fate. Cam, too, was now looking like a grown-up version of himself. A very attractive grown-up version, going back to his real life far away. She sighed. Saints and devils each held their temptations. But now she knew that, whichever way you were inclined, the choice might not be easy to make. Or there might not be a choice at all.
Thirty-Three
“Do you ever have times when you just don’t know what you should do?” Livi despaired into her drink at the Lamb and Flag the following night.
The Parisian memories were proving harder to squash than she expected, especially after the arrival of Cecilia, but her Silver Lake superhero wouldn’t lie down and die either. One known quantity, leaving. One unknown quantity, also leaving. Each so different from the other, but with one thing in common.
“She doesn’t know whether to say something to Cam, or go across the Atlantic with her American,” Cass explained for Aidan and Will, as they came back from the bar with their post-work drinks.
They assumed matching expressions of sympathy. “Cam or glam,” Aidan said. “That is tricky.”
Will came around the table, carefully avoiding Livi’s bandaged, propped-up foot, and sat next to her. “Anyone could see how special Cam thinks you are. And you seemed so comfortable together.”
“Special, smeshal,” Livi sighed. “Anyway, the whole thing is hypothetical, isn’t it? I mean, ‘I’ve got your back’ is hardly a declaration of undying love. And he actually insisted we try to find Ryan in Paris.”
“But there were sparks, right?”
“Well…it seemed that way.” She still hadn’t told any of them about the kiss under the Eiffel Tower, when her crush got the better of her. “But it was Paris! Who wouldn’t feel romantic in Paris? I’ve never seen so much blatant public fondling. Plus, it’s probably just a side-effect of seeing someone from my past. The happy part.”
“Do you fancy him, or does he represent something in your psyche?” Aidan teased. “Deep.”
Livi threw a crisp at his head, but it fluttered down to the table.
“In any case,” she added, “I haven’t talked to him since. When I phoned to say thanks for Cecilia, I had to leave a message, and he just sent a text back.” She sighed. “The mysterious Sasha Fernsby must be keeping him busy.”
“The evil Sasha Fernsby.” Cass remained unimpressed.
Aidan couldn’t help himself. “Ooh, the Madonna and the whore—how Freudian.”
“Aidan!” Cass said.
Will shushed him. “Aidan, do you mind? Very inappropriate.”
“Thanks, at least, for making me the Madonna in that scenario,” Livi said, finishing her wine. “I think.”
“Anyway, we don’t know the whole story there,” Cass said. “He did send you the saint…that must mean something. It might be you he’d rather have.”
She was unconvinced. “No. Come on. Why would he trek around Paris looking for another man, then?”
Cass shrugged. “I don’t know. And then, that other man is no slouch, either. Oh, I’m torn!”
“He’s definitely no slouch—but then, I’m not completely sure what he is. Or who he is.”
Will persevered, showing his bias. “In that case, I don’t think you should just rule Cam out. You’ve known each other for so long. How nice to not have to start at the beginning again. He knows why you are the way you are, because he was there. You can just relax.”
“Just because he’s been around the longest doesn’t mean he should be the one,” Livi retorted. She banged her empty glass on the table. “I don’t want comfortable, I want the rush, damn it!”
But for a moment her mind was filled with the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower, and she remembered herself turning to him, her guard down, her heart open and her desire obvious. If she was honest, it wasn’t hard to tell who she really wanted. She groaned and leaned her head on the table.
“Anyway, he’s leaving, and I’m not going back there,” she said, her nose pressed against a damp coaster. “I’m just not.”
They all looked at her. “How many drinks has she had?” Will asked Cass.
“Just a couple,” Cass replied. “Over-emotional…” Everyone nodded.
“I am still here, you know,” Livi said, looking up and waving at them.
“Maybe you’re over-thinking things,” Will said. “You do tend to do that.”
“Yes, think like a man instead,” Aidan suggested. “Think with your…well, maybe not that.”
“Va-jay-jay,” Cass substituted for him. “Oprah,” she added, by way of explanation.
Will looked incredulous. “Do you mean to say that woman is telling us what to call our equipment now? My God, is there no end to it?”
“Stop!” Livi said. “I think this is a conversation to have after considerably more drinks than this.”
“But if your va-jay-jay was in charge, it would pick Ryan, right?” Aidan persisted.
“It doesn’t operate independently of my other body parts, unlike you men,” she replied. “My brain and my heart keep functioning at the same time. Although…” Something occurred to her. “That would explain Rob.”
“An a-ha moment!” exclaimed Cass. “See, Oprah knows.”
“There you have it. She is omniscient,” Will deadpanned.
“But the only thing is,” Aidan said, pointedly ignoring him, “lovely though Cam is, Ryan has stepped up and, let’s face it, Cam has not.”
Livi realised he was right. For years Gemma and Bex, and probably everyone except her, had expected Cam to step up, but he never did. And here he was now, not stepping up, off with the unrelenting Ms Fernsby. It obviously just wasn’t going to happen. Why was she even factoring him in? Just because she’d now discovered some very unexpected feelings of her own, it didn’t mean he was suddenly going to—Paris or otherwise.
“You’re right,” she said to Aidan. “Of course you are.” Better to blame the whole thing on her Parisian imagination getting carried away.
For once, he didn’t look pleased to be right. “I’m sorry, my love, I don’t want to sound harsh, but it’s true. So we’re not choosing between two, we’re really choosing yes or no to Ryan.”
“We?” she said.
“It’s too late, I’m invested now,” said Aidan. “Like it or not, I care.”
“As do we all,” said Will, and Cass agreed.
“Thanks, you guys,” said Livi, feeling slightly misty. “With friends like you, who needs a man?”
As she looked at their familiar faces, something dawned on her. Actually, who did need a man? Did she desperately need a man, right this minute? If things weren’t falling into place with either of these two, maybe she should just let it go. She did have other things to think about, after all. The interview, heaven help her. But on the positive side, friends, travel, and a not-quite-yet glittering career to work on.
“I think,” she said slowly, the idea solidifying as she spoke, “I will choose…not to choose a man right now.”
“Oh.” Cass was disappointed. “But I wanted you to find your true love.”
“No, it’s good,” said Will. “Because we want you to be happy, but we don’t really want you racing off to another country. We like having you here.”
If home was the place where you looked around and found the people you loved, here she was.
“That’s so sweet,” she said, as he reached out and patted her hand. “But you know, even if I give up on men for a while, there’s still the question—what’s my next move now?”
* * *
Having decided to go it alone, she had to tell Ryan. When they got home that night she phoned his number again, and this time left a message. He rang back a few minutes later.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s bad form to tell you on the phone.”
“Hey!” she protested, and he laughed.
“If you’re ever stateside, look me up.”
“I will. And thanks again for your help with everything.”
As she hung up, she knew she’d made the right decision. If her a-ha moment explained Rob, it also explained Ryan. The cowboy put his hat back on, and turned and walked away, boots kicking up dust as he went.
In the background, a figure sat astride a motorbike. She averted her eyes. No point in flogging a dead Kawasaki.
Thirty-Four
Over the next few days, she grew increasingly anxious. Ryan might have negotiated the interview on her terms, but she feared she’d be no match for a fast-talking reporter determined to push his own agenda. She was glad he’d agreed to do the interview in Trafalgar Square. If she had scuttled away around the world, at least let them see it was to somewhere spectacular. And it felt better to be public rather than private. Didn’t they used to say that if you sit in Trafalgar Square long enough, everyone you know will eventually pass by? Safety in numbers…she hoped.
So when Nicolette asked her to meet for lunch at a restaurant on Dean Street, she was glad of the distraction. It would be good to talk about plans for Peach. It would be good to talk about her long-overdue pay rise, too.
With the bandage now off her ankle, she carefully walked the short distance to the restaurant. Going in, she could see that Nicolette had the best spot in the place. As usual, her loud voice carried above the hubbub of the other patrons, and her ostentatious arm waving put passing waiters in danger. So far, so normal. But then Livi saw who she was talking to. Rachael Radner and Helena were sitting across the glossy black oak table, laughing over their glasses of wine.
She knew it couldn’t be a bad thing that they were there, but her pleasure at seeing them again was tempered by a sudden anxiety. It was the same feeling she’d had as a child being called to the headmaster’s office, even if she knew she’d done nothing wrong. What could be going on? She went over, half on edge, but they all looked up and smiled.
Rachael stood up. “How lovely to see you again,” she said, taking Livi’s hands and giving her a kiss on each cheek.
“You too. This is a surprise.” There were kisses all round, then they settled into their seats, and Helena poured Livi a glass of wine.
She looked at Nicolette. “I thought we were just having a meeting.”
“We are.” She raised her eyebrows, obviously enjoying the anticipation of whatever was coming.
“It’s a meeting with a proposal,” Rachael said, getting right to business. “While you were away we had some discussions, and we have a project we’d like you to be involved in.”
While Helena was glowing with excitement, Nicolette was nearly bursting, so Rachael let her go ahead.
“It’s a new salon,” she announced. “A place for Americans to feel at home when they’re in England. British quality and service, with the best of American style and comfort. We’ll cater for the Hollywood crowd, visiting actors and actresses, industry players, singers, any kind of celebrity. And a select few who want to mingle with them—if they can afford it.” She winked at Livi. “With backing from Jake and Rachael, we can make it happen.”
Livi looked at the three of them, her own excitement growing. “And you want me to be involved?”
Rachael nodded. “Yes. We’d like to offer you the manager’s job. And we’d like you to be involved in choosing the stylists, and determining the look of the salon. If it all goes well, in the medium term we’ll look at expanding into LA. The best of British and American combined.”
Helena was bouncing in her chair. “Livi, isn’t it so exciting? I’m going to be the receptionist. I can’t wait.”
“It is exciting!” Suddenly her career looked a little more glittering. “I can hardly believe it.”
“Well, believe it, darling,” said Nicolette. “You made it happen by working hard and doing a damn good job. And those ideas you left with me were top-rate. You’ve earned this opportunity.”
Her head was spinning as she processed what they were telling her. “Wow…thanks.” And from the many thoughts whirling in her head, one emerged clear and strong: she couldn’t wait to tell Cam.
Nicolette held up her bejewelled hands. “Not to mention, look at the state of my nails. Thank God you’re back.”
Livi laughed and looked at the contract on the table in front of her, a few pages holding the promise of so much. “It all sounds amazing. Thank you.”
But Rachael shook her head. “It wouldn’t be professional of us to ask you to sign now. Take the contract and read it through, see what you think, and we can negotiate on the details.” She smiled. “But I do hope we can do business together.”
Their eyes met and Livi knew she was dealing with a straight shooter. “Me too.”
Maybe she did have something to thank Therese for, after all. Even without the TV show, if she’d stayed with Rob she would have realised their mismatch eventually—possibly too late. And then, how different her life would look now.
Rachael signalled for a waiter. “In the meantime, I still owe you a lunch. Let’s order.”
* * *
That night, Livi and Cass stopped at the off-licence on the way home and bought a bottle of bubbly. They agreed that the occasion deserved more celebration than the shoebox of chocolate under the coffee table.
“Funny to think that this whole thing is thanks to Mattias, in a way,” Livi said, as she poured the sparkly liquid into champagne flutes. They didn’t match, but they were real crystal, at least. “Now I feel a bit bad that we hardly see him any more.”
Cass raised her glass. “To Mattias.” They both laughed as they clinked their appreciation. “Oh, and Steve said to tell you congratulations from him.”
“Thanks!” She took a sip. “And to think I was on the verge of leaving.”
“I’m extremely glad you’re staying,” Cass said. “I really didn’t want the drama of finding someone else for your room.” She grinned.
“And where would you ever find someone saintly enough to put up with you the way I do?”
“Irreplaceable, and modest.”
“Absolutely.” They smiled at each other, and secretly Livi thought how lucky she was. She’d lost Bex and Gemma along with her Antipodean life, but Cass was an unexpected and very welcome compensation. “Mind you, you’ll probably be replacing me soon anyway,” she added. “Three is a bit of a crowd in this wee place.”
“Oh, we’re not at that stage yet, not really,” Cass said. “Not yet…” And she smiled to herself.
“Well, when you are, I won’t be offended if we have to make alternative arrangements.” It would be sad to break up their team of two, but Livi was glad to see one of them finding love, at least.
Then the phone rang, and she left her glass on the table for Cass to top up while she went to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
Cam, out of the blue again. Her heart jumped, but she kept her voice casual. “Oh, hi! How are you?”
“Good…busy.”
Vague as usual. She knew better than to press him. In any case, she didn’t want the details if they involved the fancy Ms Fernsby. “Thanks again for Cecilia.”
“You’re welcome. After your battle with Len, I realised she wasn’t the only brave one.”
She laughed. “I don’t think we quite compare—but thanks. You never know what you’ll do in a situation like that, until it’s upon you.”
“You did very well.”
She paused. “That was a really…thoughtful gift.” She waited to see what else he might say.
But then Cass was there, curious. “Is that Cam?” she whispered. When Livi nodded, she called out, “Hi, Cam! We’re having champagne, you should be here.”
Livi shushed her, and Cam said, “That sounds good. I was ringing t
o say congratulations on the new job.”
“Thanks!” Livi said. “But how did you know already?”
“Steve told me.”
“Ah. Your spies are everywhere.”
He laughed. “We’ve kept in touch. Bike stuff. So…does this mean you’re not going with your American then?”
“Oh!” She was pink, and it wasn’t the champagne. “No. That wasn’t the right thing for me. Did Steve tell you about that too?”
“Men talk too, you know.”
“So it seems. I thought you two seemed to hit it off.”
“Yeah. I’m going to try one of his bikes. Too good a chance to miss.”
“Are you back in London, then?” Back from wherever…and whoever.
“Just for a couple of days. I’m staying in a hotel while I get a few things sorted out. I’m not looking forward to that long flight.”
So he was going. In her mind, she’d already farewelled him off to Sasha Fernsby anyway. And she always knew he’d be getting back on the plane sooner rather than later. As Aidan had pointed out, there had been no stepping up, no beginning, and the framed Cecilia obviously didn’t hold any romantic significance. So there was no point in confessing her feelings at the last minute. But, now that it came to the crunch—was that regret, that heavy feeling in her chest? She stifled a sigh, held her line. “When are you leaving?”
“My flight’s booked for late Saturday night. I just have one thing to do on Saturday morning. Would you like to have a last coffee-and-hot-chocolate after that, back at the National Gallery?”
Yes, she would. Now that he was going, she absolutely knew it. She really, really would.
Thirty-Five
They met under the portico outside the grand, square doors of the gallery. It was an uncharacteristically hot day, and the usual London crowds had been replaced with a summery new bare-limbed cast, many of whom were lolling on the broad white steps. Happily, none of them were disrespecting Livi’s lions today, clambering all over their noble backs.
The Near & Far Series Page 78
