by Kate Hardy
Lily pronounced herself satisfied and they returned to the house energised with several carrier bags and, in Rose’s case, a complete makeover.
Course, she thought, she would never be lean and glamorous like her sister, but she hadn’t exactly looked fat in the dressing rooms.
‘You’ve lost weight,’ Lily announced airily, not for the first time reading her sister’s mind as she dumped the bags on the kitchen table. She poured Rose a glass of wine to get her in the mood, and plonked herself down on one of the chairs. ‘I kinda liked the old you,’ Lily said wistfully. ‘Cuddly and comfortable.’
Rose wondered whether that was how Nick had seen her. As cuddly and comfortable, like an old cushion that was just right for sleeping with when nothing better was available. She rescued herself from pointlessly worrying the thought and smiled as Lily went on to talk about the people she had met in America, and their obsession with food. They either seemed to eat too much or eat too little. Doughnut emporiums squatted alongside organic health food shops and she had seen people leaving their gyms, still perspiring from their workouts, to head directly to the nearest hot-dog stand where they would proceed to order the largest of everything.
Rose was quietly convinced that Lily would return to England. She had confided on more than one occasion, looking over her shoulder as though one of those Bigwigs she kept mentioning might pop out from behind a bush, that there was too much pressure in America to be thin, to be competitive, to suck up to the right people. Lily, having inherited Tony and Flora’s basic bohemian disregard for personal wealth, couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so willing to jump through hoops for yet more money, which they obviously didn’t need.
‘Anyway, you’re sick of me going on about this.’ She grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll just return to London when I’m done there. My CV will be a whole lot healthier, thanks to Nick, and I can just get a nice little job in a soap opera.’
Nick. Not once had she asked her sister whether she had seen Nick. She had told herself that she wasn’t interested, that the past was the past, but she knew, really, that she was just scared. Scared that she might want her sister to tell her too much. Scared that the floodgates, which she was trying hard to close, would crash open again and she would be lost.
‘Right.’ All assertive once again, Lily stood up, topped Rose’s glass of wine with a fraction more, and ordered her to go and get changed but to do absolutely nothing with her make-up because she, Lily, would do it for her.
‘You wouldn’t believe the tips I’ve got from the girls who make me up.’ She laughed. ‘Believe me, it’s all in the brush strokes.’
‘You’re chivvying again.’ But Rose laughed because it was just so good not to be on her own. She had missed Lily, but only now was she realising by how much.
‘And it feels good. Now I can understand why you spent your life chivvying me around as a kid.’
There was no rush and Rose took her time getting dressed. Yes, she really had lost weight and it suited her. She had also been coerced into buying a little black number that she would never have dared to have worn a few months ago. It had a plunging neckline, one of her great no-noes previously, and exposed more than a generous eyeful of cleavage. With high heels, she felt quite pleased with herself. The dress fitted snugly to the waist, then flared out to just above the knees.
By the time Lily had sorted out her costume jewellery and applied the make-up, Rose felt her spirits lift. She could almost believe her own mantra that she was well rid of Nick, that life was just about to begin, that all experience, in hindsight, was good experience, that he was little more than a dot on her learning curve brought on by temporary insanity. Of course, the two and a half glasses of white wine helped.
They took a taxi and just when Rose was beginning to warm to the idea of not staying in, Lily dropped the bombshell.
Nick was going to be there. Well, he might be there. But don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t it be good to prove to him how much she had managed to get her act together? There was no need to fuss. She looked fabulous. She couldn’t spend her days scuttling away from the possibility of seeing him again. Sooner or later the time would come when she would meet him because she, Lily, remained good friends with him and grateful for everything he had done to help her with her career. Never run scared, that was the key thing.
Rose, despairingly, toyed with the idea of demanding that the taxi driver turn around and take her back home.
Then, if not back home, at least to the nearest pub so that she could fortify her nerves with a couple more glasses of wine.
But she was given little opportunity to object because Lily, with all her newly acquired bossiness, kept up a never-ending monologue for most of the trip, and Rose glumly took on board that her sister had a point. Why should she be scared? It wasn’t as if Nick had guessed her shameful secret. He had no idea that what to him had been a fling had, for her, been the love of a lifetime. She looked good and if there was one thing he had done for her, it had been to inject a level of confidence in her appearance that she had never really had. He had made her feel sexy and the residue of that confidence was still there. The little black dress looked great and if he did turn up, big if because, as Lily had pointed out, he was mega busy and the invite had been last-minute, then she would damn well show him that she was doing fine.
The jazz club was tucked away in a side road a million miles away on the other side of London. Rose had no idea how her sister had managed to discover the place, but it was certainly popular. Despite being early, the venue was already beginning to fill up. She had no time to wonder whether she was feeling nervous about meeting Nick because over the next hour or so she was wrapped up in the business of meeting Lily’s friends, a fair few of whom were American and flatteringly thrilled to be in a genuine British club and not one of those that catered for the loaded tourists.
This was new for Rose, this feeling of blending in with a crowd of people, all strangers to her. She was determined not to drink too much, but the music was sexy and, although she stuck to wine, she found her glass being replaced without her having to ask or even make her way to the bar.
The dress, she thought, was proving even more effective than she could ever have dared to hope.
Several men seemed to find her fascinating, although it was hard to tell because the atmospheric lighting bordered on downright dark. Certainly one in particular had taken her under his wing and had been responsible for at least two glasses of wine, the last of which Rose was now drinking very slowly indeed as she listened to him tell her about his latest film, a short film noir, which had had a very successful première at the Cannes festival.
Lily had asked a lot of her old friends, but most of the new faces belonged to the world of film and media. Rose had never met so many men who seemed to be film producers. They were very entertaining, even if she had never heard of a single one of the films they had produced. A lot of them, she noticed, sported pony-tails, which looked very trendy. Miles apart, she thought nastily, from Nick, who was as traditional as they went when it came to fashion. Long hair and jewellery on men, he had told her, were strictly for hippies, and she had laughed and accused him of being narrow-minded.
The memory made her heart constrict.
At least he wasn’t around. She had kept one beady eye open so that she could take appropriate measures to avoid him, but it was now after ten and he was nowhere in sight, obviously too busy to get away.
Disappointment bit into her and she favoured her companion with a wide, reckless smile.
Which was when she spotted him, standing on the other side of the room, with a leggy red-haired woman on his arm. She looked as though she had been poured into her small silver dress.
Rose felt her heart skip a beat and, weirdly, the noise, the people, even the band playing a slow number on the little raised podium, seemed to fade away, leaving just the sight of him, as sexy as she remembered, in a pair of dark-coloured trousers and a white shirt, casually rolled t
o the elbows.
Well, he seemed to have managed to relegate her to the history books in no time at all, Rose thought bitterly. Less than a month and he was back to his cover-girl babes.
She gulped down what was left in her glass and concentrated on what the man by her side was saying. His name was Ted, although his friends, for reasons that escaped her, called him Splice, and he was giving her the low-down on the people he had met at the Cannes Festival, a warts-and-all account that would have been hilarious had her attention not been suddenly hijacked by her ex-lover, now excusing himself and heading for the bar while the red-haired beauty sashayed over to the nearest group of men, one of whom she clearly knew. The world of actors, models and musicians was a very small one, Lily had told her.
Rose gaily accepted another drink from Ted Splice, as she called him in her head, and was making sure not to look in the direction of the redhead just in case Nick returned to his date and noticed her staring, when she felt the tap on her shoulder.
She spun round and there he was. She’d been certain she hadn’t been noticed, but he must have seen her as he was making his way back from the bar.
Rose felt her heart skip a beat, then she produced the same sparkly smile she had perfected with Ted.
‘Good heavens. Fancy seeing you here. How are you?’ She noticed that he failed to produce a reciprocal smile. In fact, his expression was cool and Rose was suddenly enraged that he should chuck her aside and then, as if that weren’t bad enough, treat her to the cold shoulder.
‘You seem to be having a good time,’ Nick drawled, giving her a leisurely appraisal.
‘Oh, I am.’
‘Bit of a change for you, isn’t it? This kind of thing?’
‘Well, you know what they say about a change being as good as a rest. I hadn’t expected it to be quite as large as this, but I’m having a brilliant time, meeting loads of really interesting people.’
‘So I couldn’t help but notice.’
His voice dripped ice and Rose wondered whether, having an ego the size of a house, he had expected her to be sitting indoors pining for him. Little could he guess that she had pretty much been doing just that until tonight.
‘What about you?’ she asked politely. ‘Having a good time? Did you come with anyone? I guess you know quite a few of the people here anyway…’ She was gratified to notice that even the subdued lighting couldn’t quite hide his dark flush and she gave him her most innocent look.
‘As a matter of fact, I did come with someone. She’s over there somewhere.’ He indicated somewhere behind her while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her face, and Rose dutifully turned around to see the redhead looking daggers at her.
‘Oh, dear. Your date doesn’t look awfully happy that you’ve abandoned her. You’d better run along before she blows a fuse.’
Nick, whose mood seemed to be deteriorating by the second, scowled. ‘My date is more than capable of taking care of herself for a few minutes.’ He bared his teeth in a smile. ‘Besides, I don’t think she would begrudge me catching up with an old…friend…’ Of course he had known that she would be there and he had brought along the arm candy to remind himself that he had done the right thing, they had both done the right thing—parted company because at the end of the day she was a settling-down kind of girl and he was a no-commitment kind of guy. That was just the way it was. He liked variety. The redhead filled that role.
‘I don’t think there’s much to catch up on.’ Rose frowned and made a show of giving his remark all the attention it deserved. ‘I’m back at my old job and enjoying it and…’ she could be as cool and dismissive as he was ‘…you were very useful in teaching me that madness isn’t always a bad thing. As you can see, I’ve taken that advice to heart.’ She laughed gaily. ‘I’d have steered a million miles away from something like this in the past—as you pointed out…’
He had been useful? Nick didn’t appreciate the compliment, not at all.
‘There’s madness and there’s stupidity, Rose,’ he gritted. ‘Madness is breaking out of your comfort zone and coming here tonight…’
‘And stupidity?’ She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like his answer, but that, in a way, would surely work for her, because how on earth would she ever get closure if she carried on loving him? Let him show himself in all his arrogant glory, she willed.
‘Stupidity is wearing that dress.’
Rose’s mouth fell open in shock. She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You object to my dress?’ She glanced significantly over her shoulder to where his date gave the term skimpy clothing a whole new meaning.
‘That’s completely different,’ Nick growled.
‘Oh, and why is that? Because she’s tall and skinny and can carry off wearing handkerchiefs better than me?’
‘Because…’ Because she’s as sexy as a runner bean, Nick thought savagely. He deeply resented the fact that the woman standing in front of him, flaunting herself to all and sundry, was still on his mind, despite all his efforts to wipe her out. ‘Because,’ he grated, ‘you could land yourself in a situation you wouldn’t be able to handle dressed like that. Did you look in the mirror before you left your house? Do you have any idea how much of your…you is on show?’
‘It’s been nice chatting to you, Nick. Now, I think I see Splice coming with my drink.’
‘Splice?’
‘That’s his nickname.’ Rose smiled sweetly and walked away without giving him the chance to continue the conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her sister looking in her direction and she waved cheerfully, not wanting to spoil the evening by having Lily worrying about her. Again.
The minute Lily could escape, however, Rose was dismayed to find that she was by her side and Rose just knew what her sister was going to say.
‘What on earth was going on with the two of you back then?’ Lily asked, jumping straight in with both feet and making Rose feel even guiltier that her sister had noticed more than she had first suspected. ‘What was Nick saying to you?’
‘Lily, never you mind that. I’m not going to spoil your last Saturday night in London by repeating what that man had the nerve to say.’ At one in the morning, the crowd was beginning to thin out. Most of Lily’s friends had headed off, with a couple of the guys insisting on giving Rose their phone numbers although she, tactfully, declined to return the favour. Still, it was flattering even if she couldn’t get Nick’s nasty remark about her dress out of her head.
He, as luck would have it, was still around somewhere, with the redhead clutching him possessively as if scared that he might disappear unless physically restrained. Which, of course, he would. Rose, consistently aware of his presence, made sure to live up to her statement that she was having a brilliant time. She was pretty sure that, at one point, Ted had even asked if she would consider starring in one of his productions, which had resulted in fits of laughter on her part. She had half hoped that Nick might have glanced over at that point and witnessed for himself just how much fun she was having.
Wrapped up in her mental reverie, she became aware of Lily pressing her for details, and eventually she gave in, telling her that he had criticised her dress and dared to suggest that she was somehow sending off the wrong messages and then, having done that, would be incapable of taking care of herself. Lily was nodding, taking it all in, and finally said, ‘You can’t let him get away with that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You should be angry. Fuming!’
‘Well…yes…I am…’
‘You need to march over there and let him know that you’re not just anyone. In fact, you need to let him know that you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. In fact, Splice was mightily impressed by you…’ Lily glanced at her nails, painted a vibrant, deep purple. ‘Nick might just want to know that he’s not the only guy interested in you…’
‘He isn’t interested in me.’
‘I’ll distract Cat—’
‘Cat?’ What cat?
What was Lily on about?
‘His date for the evening. She likes to call herself that. Her real name’s Nancy. I met her briefly in my modelling days.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Quite right. Don’t think. Thinking just complicates matters.’ She pushed Rose out towards where Nick was standing and holding court with several of the pony-tailed men.
There she went. Chivvying again. What was she supposed to say to Nick? She just wanted to go home, but the redhead was being suitably distracted and the pony-tail brigade was breaking up, heading off, leaving her alone with him.
‘My sister wanted your girlfriend to meet a friend of hers…’ was all Rose could think of saying. ‘Her name’s Cat, I gather.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
‘Oh. Date, in that case.’ Rose shrugged as if she was bored with the business of him splitting hairs. ‘It’s been nice meeting you again, Nick. I’m off now.’
‘Wait just a minute.’ He caught hold of her arm as she was turning away and Rose tensed. ‘How much have you had to drink?’
‘What I’ve had to drink has nothing to do with you.’
‘No? How are you going to get back to your house?’
‘In a taxi. With Lily.’ Where was her sister, anyway? ‘Or not, as the case may be.’ Her skin burnt where he was holding her, bringing back memories she wanted to forget, and she looked at him with unhidden hostility.
‘I’ll take you home.’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Alarm and panic slammed into her with such force that she took a step backwards.
‘Your sister’s not around and nor are any of those creeps who were drooling down your front all night.’
‘They were not creeps. In fact—’ she smirked ‘—Ted’s desperate to get in touch with me. He’s a movie producer, you know.’ Or maybe it was advertising. She couldn’t quite remember.
