Summer Loving

by Spicer, Rivka

  “I think you’re the best boyfriend ever.” She kissed him and went to the bathroom to do as suggested.

  When she returned Nathan had the television on and the news was just going to the local segment. To her horror there was a picture of her and Taylor on the dance floor as the third headline in and she watched aghast as the news reader broke out in a grin.

  “Of course the talk in the city this morning is all about this romantic love story. Are Taylor Stone and Elise Waterford an item? And who is the mysterious Mr X? We go now to our entertainment reporter Blake Chisholm.

  Thank you Tamara. Last night at the benefit ball to raise money for the crisis in Sudan many eyebrows were raised when Taylor Stone, millionaire playboy and editor of Monochrome Magazine, turned up with a mysterious brunette on his arm.” The screen cut to video of the two of them working the red carpet and Elise could only be grateful that she didn’t look anywhere near as dazed as she had felt. “Inside sources revealed that the woman is Elise Waterford who joined the magazine a few weeks ago and is currently writing a hit blog for the magazine on internet dating. There have been rumours for weeks that Taylor Stone was no longer an eligible bachelor fuelled by his distinct lack of womanising recently and further fuelled by an argument between he and his brother, Anton Stone. Anton is rumoured to have told close friends and associates that he disapproves of his brother’s relationship with Elise Waterford. Both of the brothers and their father, media mogul George Stone, have been unavailable for comment this morning.

  And Blake, what can you tell us about Mr X? It seems to be a love story that has gripped the city.” Well there was an exaggeration if ever Elise had heard one. Gripped the city? She snorted. Hardly. “Well Tamara, since Ms Waterford started blogging on the magazine’s website, an anonymous person known only as Mr X has been leaving love letters in the comments section for her. Ms Waterford has not yet commented in her blog towards Mr X but it is widely speculated that Mr X is an acquaintance of hers. Sources close to Ms Waterford say she has no idea who he is.”

  “What sources?” Elise was confused. “Who have they been speaking to? I don’t know anyone here except for you and your friends.”

  Nathan looked angry. “It’ll have been leaked from the magazine. This is good publicity for them.”

  “Is there a possibility that Mr X is Taylor Stone?” The female newsreader was asking and the reporter shrugged.

  “Nobody knows for sure but witnesses say they looked pretty happy last night. It’s not out of the realms of possibility. Of course there are other contenders for the title of Mr X. Her first subject for the feature, a man known only as Mark, may be responsible for the postings. It has even been speculated that Mr X may be Anton Stone and that this was the cause of the row between he and Taylor.”

  “I can’t watch any more of this.” Elise turned away. “Switch it off.”

  Nathan pressed the button and the screen went blank. “It’ll blow over in a couple of days.” He tried to reassure her. “There’s no blog post now until Monday. In two days there’ll be plenty of other news to fill the gap.”

  “I hope so.” But Elise was troubled. She had a bad feeling about this and knew that it could only get worse.

  After a quiet lunch of soup and sandwiches they headed across town to the dance studio and spent an enjoyable couple of hours practicing their tango. They were actually getting pretty good for novices and the sheer pleasure of it distracted Elise enough from the mess of her social life that she was able to relax for the first time that day.

  It lasted until they got out of the studio and her phone beeped with a voicemail from Taylor.

  “Elise, I’m guessing by now you’ve seen the news.” He sounded tired. “I suggest you keep your head down for a couple of days. Nobody knows where you live so, as long as no-one gets the chance to follow you, you should be fine. I’ve got reporters camped outside my door otherwise I’d be there. We’ve had some requests coming into the office and we’ll deal with them for the moment but I strongly advise you to get an agent. I’m sending you an email with the number of a company we use. I’ve given them a heads up that they’ll hear from you. I’ll try and call you again later.” There was a brief pause. “Sorry.” He hung up.

  “Taylor says I need to lay low for a couple of days.” She told Nathan as they walked.

  “That’s probably a good idea. I’ll go shopping for you.” He shrugged easily and Elise stared at him.

  “I can’t believe you’re taking this so well.” She said and he shrugged again.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty raging. I think Taylor set it up this way – his family own a media empire...he had to know that taking you to the ball would fuel the rumours. But it’s done and there’s nothing we can do about it now. Shouting a lot and pointing fingers isn’t going to help or fix anything. Right now the best thing to do is follow his advice and try and minimise the amount of disruption to your life as possible and hope that this goes away.”

  “Do you think I should go back to Scotland?” She asked, worried, and he shook his head.

  “No. Your home there is a matter of public record. Down here your name isn’t attached in any way to the apartment or, in fact, to me so unless someone at the magazine spills the beans again there’s no way they can find you.” He frowned. “Unless the magazine decides it’s too good a story and try to milk it in which case they might let slip.”

  “I think I can trust them.” Elise was still in too much shock to think straight but she was just getting comfortable in her flat and didn’t want to disrupt all that again.

  “Fine, but if you change your mind it’s the work of seconds to pack you a bag. You can stay at mine.” They descended into the tube station and, wary of people looking at her, she tucked her face into his chest as they waited for a train. This was just a nightmare.

  To: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  From: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  Elise,

  I saw you on the news this morning. You looked absolutely gorgeous at the ball. That dress was spectacular. Try and ignore the media hounds, they’ll forget about it soon enough when some other story comes along.

  Ever yours,

  X

  To: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  From: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  X,

  Don’t try to compliment or reassure me. I’m mad at you.

  Elise

  To: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  From: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  Elise,

  Why are you mad at me? I can’t help that the media have blown this all totally out of proportion.

  Ever yours,

  X

  To: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  From: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  X,

  Don’t try and reason with me. I’m tired and upset and I’ve run out of chocolate. I’m entitled to be irrational.

  Elise

  To: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  From: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  Elise,

  YOU’VE RUN OUT OF CHOCOLATE?! *horrified* This is indeed a sad state of affairs.

  Ever yours,

  X

  To: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  From: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  X,

  Tell me about it.

  Elise

  On Saturday evening Harry came over and Elise cooked them Mexican before they watched a film together. He didn’t say whether he’d seen the news or not and they didn’t bring it up. It was nice to have a slice of normality, even if it was only for a few hours. On Sunday they decided to bake and attempted a Baked Alaska. Nathan couldn’t decide if he liked it more than the chocolate and beetroot cake and declared it joint favourite. At least until the next time they baked at which point, no doubt, he would declare whatever they were baking as his new
favourite.

  When Elise sat in front of her computer on Monday morning her inbox was full and she put the radio on as she began flicking through them. A lot were spam but there were several from family members saying they’d seen her on the news and a few from various friends. There was another email from Mr X, from Sunday afternoon, to say he hoped she was okay with the media circus going on and would be there if she needed someone to freak out to. There were a couple from Taylor that she kept for last because she didn’t think she could face them at that time on a Monday morning but the one that really shook her was a summons from George Stone, Taylor’s father, requesting her presence at the office on Thursday. She sent a brief reply saying she’d be there at four o’clock and blind copied it to Taylor hoping he’d have some idea what it was about. Taylor’s first email contained the details of the agency he had promised and Elise called them quickly, leaving her name and number for someone to get back to her. They assured her they already had it in hand and would be in touch when they had a digest of offers for her to peruse. She didn’t ask what offers she had received – she wasn’t interested in being paraded as a possible plus one of Taylor’s. His second email was a personal one, telling her he’d had a lovely time at the ball and was sorry about the fall-out from it. He asked how she was getting on with the projects and reminded her that she was halfway through the hardest part. He signed off with warmest wishes and Elise sighed. It would be rude not to reply to it so she answered all his questions, stated she too had a lovely time at the ball and brushed off the consequent media storm politely. There wasn’t much else she could say.

  When that was done she still didn’t feel like working so she logged onto the internet just as the news was starting. To her horror they were still speculating about her relationship with Taylor. He had been absent from the city’s clubs all weekend and the Magazine was officially keeping quiet on all fronts regarding any rumours. The continued silence was sending the reporters into a frenzy, like a shoal of piranhas. To make matters worse, a couple of people in high society had openly said they didn’t believe that Taylor was Mr X for exactly the same reason Elise didn’t. He just didn’t seem the romantic type. It wasn’t his style. As a result the reporters were speculating wildly on who it might be. A ‘Mr X Rumours’ hash tag had started up on Twitter where people could exchange guesses, each wilder and crazier than the last. It was a disaster.

  When she’d heard enough she switched the radio off and logged into the blog. She hadn’t read any of the comments left by Mr X the week before but she’d heard snippets in the news casts and realised she was woefully ill-prepared to answer any questions put to her about them. At least if she read them she’d have some idea what she was dealing with.

  Monday – Elise, You need never be afraid my love. You bring out the best in people just by being you...a fiercely beautiful, humble and wonderful woman. Go fearlessly, be brave, be reckless...have faith. There is nothing you cannot overcome or achieve if you just believed in yourself as much as I believe in you. Ever yours...

  Wednesday – Elise, My heart hurts to hear that you have suffered so. You seem so strong, so full of heart and larger than life, that it is almost impossible to imagine that you were ever vulnerable. Any man on a journey such as that you are undertaking with Jim would be lucky to have you at his side. I’m sure you had friends and people to hold your hand on your journey into the darkness. At this time remember how that felt and know that Jim will be as grateful to you as you were to them. And you are not alone. You still have your friends...you still have me. You will get through this and be a brighter and more glorious star in the tenements of beauty than you are now because of it. Ever yours...

  Friday – Elise, Firstly I am so proud of you for being strong enough to take Jim on this journey. He is a lucky man. Secondly, it is not just those to whom we confess our love that can be broken by the saying or not saying of those three words. It breaks me a little more every day that I cannot tell you I love you, that I must say it silently within my heart. It is an agony of inconstancy, my heart at war with my head. Finally, the good of men often lives long after they have gone. If ever you fear that your deeds are forgotten remember your histories...people that fought and died for love, those that gave selflessly of themselves to better mankind. Think Florence Nightingale, Mother Theresa, Mahatma Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr...sure, there may have been a few negative things about them, but they are remembered for the good they did in this world. Don’t ever fear that the kindnesses you do each day will not live on...I think you underestimate the impact you have on people’s lives. You cannot say how many children will be born into this world as a result of your attempts to enrich these mens’ lives with love. Those are your legacy, spoken or unspoken. If you walk in the light of all that is right and good in this world then when you move on you will have left a little ray of sunshine in the souls of all those who came into contact with you. Ever yours...

  Elise blinked and read that last again. Clearly an educated and well read man then. She didn’t know anyone that would use the word ‘inconstancy’ in common parlance and she couldn’t remember off-hand ever seeing a writing style similar to his amongst her friends. He had given something away though...he was clearly a person she had not been in contact with during the three years before and immediately after her move to Scotland. She’d been too emotional on Wednesday night to pick up on that. That narrowed it down considerably to people she had been at school or university with or someone she had met either in her village back home or someone she had met in London. It neatly checked off all her closest friends, most of whom had been aware of the counselling and the preceding events. It wasn’t much but it was somewhere to start.

  When she couldn’t procrastinate any more she picked up the file for project four and settled down to read.

  Chapter 11

  There’s something to be said for a revelation that occurs during the eating of a marmalade sandwich. That something is that you can’t screech “Holy Moly Batman!” without spraying the person opposite you with partially masticated goodness. Thus forced to keep one’s mouth shut, one avoids having to explain one’s thought process to the unfortunate sprayee. This minimises any need to contact the men in white coats. Today’s epiphany was this - I am a life with chunks kind of girl. I’ve never really understood the point of shredless marmalade or smooth peanut butter. I don’t buy orange juice without bits and I can’t understand why anyone would eat dairy milk when they can have Toblerone with all its chewy goodness. Why buy white bread when you can buy whole grain with all those flies and bits of cardboard and extra protein swept up from the bakery floor?

  There are unspoken food rules to that effect in my house but up until the reading of Project 4’s profile today I had never extrapolated this rule to the rest of my life. There is very little in my life that does, or in fact has, run smoothly. Not for me are the clockwork days, the tidy house, the perfect relationships. Sometimes I fear that I can’t do anything in a sane or normal fashion but, after a whole two seconds of freaking out, I shrug and get on with it. My bumpy life, full of crunchy bits and whole grains and citrus shreds, has led me to become a genius of adaptation, disingenuousness and divertive distraction. On an emotional level I think this way of life has led me to be one of the strongest people I know. My sheer inability to get anything right without at least three or four hiccups along the way has led me to an understanding that a life along a bumpy road is actually a blessing in disguise.

  But more obviously it applies to my taste in men. Every girl has a guy she crushes on that she probably shouldn’t admit to, right? For me it’s Robert Downey Jr. He has made so many screw-ups in his life that I find him fascinating. I’m not into the pretty boys and the vacant stares, the glossy lives and the assorted adopted children. I have issues with Brad Pitt’s nostrils. I’m into people with a story to tell and a depth that only a ‘life with bits’ can give you. Until you have walked in the darkness you will never understand the value of
the light. I need a man that will turn me on intellectually as well as physically, a mirror for the darkness in my own soul that provides a backdrop for all the joy in my life. When it comes to the Vampire Diaries I am aaaalllll about Damon... I know what I like even when I know it’s not necessarily good for me.

  Project four is a man called Simon. Simon is all about what he doesn’t want. His profile is a list of the things he dislikes and doesn’t want in a woman and reading it all makes me wonder if he knows what he actually does like. It feels like he’s so focused on the negative that I don’t think he’s ever actually stopped to consider the positive. He hasn’t even put anything about himself in his profile so I have no idea at all what kind of a man I’m dealing with.

  I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

  As she always did after writing her blog post, she checked her email and ignored all the ones from various relatives and friends, looking for the ones from Mr X. Finally she found one, sent that morning.

  To: Elise Waterford (elise.waterford@monochrome.co.uk)

  From: Mr X (X_Towers@hotmail.com)

  Elise,

  Good luck this week. I’m praying for you that it’s easier than last week and that all this crazy media circus that’s going on doesn’t put too much pressure on you. Wish I could give you a hug. This must seem like the worst kind of hell for you. Let me know how you get on.

  Ever yours,