Lara blew her cheeks out.
‘Well, it is and it isn’t. This one has got a few more ingredients in it than a spag bol,’ replied Lara, feeling her face begin to heat up and begging it not to. It would only give Keely the satisfaction that once again she had ‘got’ to her.
‘Like what?’
‘Courgettes.’
‘I hate courgettes.’
‘And mushrooms.’
‘I hate mushrooms.’
Lara knew it wasn’t really the food, it was her – Lara – that was the problem. And not only because she was Lara, Keely’s father’s live-in lover, but because she wasn’t her: the one whose name haunted her. The one whose name was on the edge of Keely’s tongue, just waiting to run free into the air at every available opportunity. And sure enough, when Keely opened her mouth again that name sprang like To m Daly off the top diving board.
‘When Tianne used to stay over, she made the best spag bol in the world.’
‘Oh, did she?’ Lara tried to look and sound composed, but she didn’t quite bring it off. That bloody name. Tianne (a compound of Tina-Anne) Lee. Tianne used to make us laugh like drains. Tianne used to be an absolute riot. Tianne’s farts smelled of Chanel Number Five. Bloody Tianne. More and more Lara felt like the unnamed heroine in Rebecca, but in her case it wasn’t James’s ex-wife, Miriam, that was ruffling up the waves, but bloody Tianne Lee, James’s ex-girlfriend: the equivalent of the first Mrs de Winter. Except she wasn’t dead. She was alive and well and living in a trendy flat in Notting Hill with her swishy dark-brown hair, spray-tanned skin and incapable-of-being-closed legs.
Lara glanced up at the clock to see it was ten past eight. She stirred the sauce with annoyance. Why was James getting back in from work later and later? Especially when she told him that tonight she was leaving the office early in order to make everyone a family meal. Even more especially because it was Friday night and who didn’t want to rush home at the weekend? She had never realized that children could cause such stress – especially ones who so obviously resented her. She badly needed James at home to smooth the way and support her because the situation wasn’t getting better however much she’d hoped it would. He was the bridge between them and without him around, the two sides would never unite in an arc of cordiality.
Before she’d moved in she’d taken the time to try to get to know Keely and Garth, and even though they were quiet when she used to visit, she had presumed that they might grow to like her, because she was keen to like them. Lara had had a happy childhood, despite her family not having much money. She certainly didn’t have the privileges that James’s children had, but she was always loved and well fed and felt safe. The last thing she’d ever wanted to do was make the children feel threatened by her, and she’d been prepared to do anything to make them get on with her. She had tried everything and had even looked up on the Internet how to win over a partner’s offspring. None of it had worked. It was as if they knew she was pulling out all the stops to befriend them and the aim of their game was to block all attempts. Lara had cried to herself in the bath a few times but James merely said they would ‘come around eventually’. The twelfth of never would happen before ‘eventually’ did, she thought.
Lara had been so excited about bringing her belongings into James’s beautiful large house and becoming part of his family, but lovely Manor Gardens in Dorking had turned out to be anything but a sanctuary. James had dismissed his children’s inability to warm to his new lover as a mere teething problem. Yet although he knew that she wasn’t comfortable in the house without him, his getting-home time seemed to be delayed by a further twenty minutes with every passing week. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before he would be arriving home at the time he should be setting back off for work.
‘Where are you, for God’s sake, James?’ she said under her breath. ‘Help.’
‘Dad’s late, isn’t he?’ said Keely, still doing her best staring, but this time she added an annoying sneer to her face. ‘Again.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Lara sighed.
‘He was never late home when he was going out with Tianne. He used to race in so he could get ready to pick her up early.’
That damned name. Dropped like a tiny stone into a pond and yet it sent out three miles worth of ripples from its centre.
Lara didn’t bite, however much she wanted to shout out that she didn’t give a toss about Tianne – even if she did. She reminded herself again that she was the first woman James had lived with since he had divorced Miriam. She alone had received the privilege, although with Keely’s eyes boring holes into her, it didn’t feel much like a privilege.
As if Keely was reading her thoughts, she opened her mouth, gave a little sigh and said: ‘Funny how you moved in just after Kristina said she was working too many hours and threatened to leave.’
Lara didn’t gratify that with a comment either. Don’t react, she told herself and tried not to sever an artery as she cleaned the knife.
‘Yep. I heard her telling Dad that she would walk out if he made her work more than two evenings a week. Obviously that would mean there was no one to feed Garth and me unless he got another doormat in.’
Don’t bite. She knows just what to say to bug you, Lara.
What if that were true, though? What if the au pair had put her foot down and James had grasped the opportunity to draft in some extra child cover from his lover?
The first voice countered the second doubting one: Lara, not all men are total users. There’s no point being with James if you don’t trust him. So do you trust him or not?
Of course she did. He worked too hard to be seeing someone else anyway. He was head of consultancy at Harrison IT, or HIT as it was more commonly known, and determined to reach even greater heights within the company. Plus, he loved her. He had told her he did, so it must be true.
Lara had met James at the Ritz at the very prestigious celebrity launch of a book by Harrison Harris the self-made billionaire founder of HIT. Her immediate boss was a personal friend of Harrison Harris but couldn’t attend and asked if she would do so on his behalf. The first person she saw on walking into the foyer had been James Galsworthy and she had instantly been drawn to his confident stance, as well as his beautifully cut Savile Row suit. People were hovering around, keener to speak to him than to the author. She didn’t think she would have a cat in hell’s chance of catching his eye, but someone nudged her, the glasses perched on her nose fell onto the floor and James trod on them en route to catching up with one of his colleagues. He bent to pick them up, apologized and handed them back with a deftly produced business card and a promise that he would buy her some new specs. He took her out to dinner the next night and she cooked him breakfast the morning after in her Islington flat. It was the first time in Lara’s life that she had ever slept with someone on a first date, but it felt right. Plus, it helped blast out the memory of her recent rat of a boyfriend, who had dumped her the previous month for a blonde bimbo with knocker implants the size of barrage balloons. And her ex-husband, who had been carrying on with his ex-wife within a month of their wedding. Oh, Lara was so good at picking faithful men.
Keely made a disgruntled sniff and then turned her biggest gun on Lara.
‘You do know, don’t you,’ she began, quietly enough, ‘that Dad saw Tianne behind Rachel’s back and Chloe’s back? He’ll see her behind yours. She’s like a drug to him.’
Bull’s-eye.
Lara stopped stirring and saw the twelve-inch-long sideways smirk on Keely’s face that recognized she had wounded her. But before Lara could say or do anything the back door opened and in came James, bringing a blast of showery air with him.
‘Hello, princesses,’ he said with his big smile. ‘My goodness, where is the summer? I thought this was supposed to be August.’
Lara’s heart lifted to see him. Keely didn’t usually stand around pouting and grimacing when he was present. She would disappear up to her room to talk to her friends on Skype or li
sten to music or sit in the middle of a Pentagram.
‘Smells good. What’s for tea? I am absolutely starving.’
‘Pasta,’ said Lara. ‘And there’s plenty of it.’
‘Great. We all love pasta in this house. I’m just going up to get out of these things and I’ll be back quick as a flash.’ He put down his briefcase and stripped off his big overcoat. His short fair hair was shiny with raindrops. ‘God, I need a warm shower.’
And he was gone, taking with him the warmth his presence had brought. Keely reached for a packet of gum on the worktop and popped a piece into her mouth.
‘What we were talking about?’ she said, with as much innocence as a serial killer caught by the police whilst holding a severed head dripping with blood.
‘I am Mrs de Winter now,’ said Lara, far louder than she intended.
‘What?’ said Keely.
‘Er . . . nothing,’ said Lara, transferring her wonderful-smelling dish to the oven. Not that she was that proud of it any more. She’d lost her appetite. James would wolf it down not even noticing what it tasted of, and Keely and Garth would look at it as if a stray dog had just climbed on the table and deposited it from its bum.
Lara pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge and screwed off the top. She poured out two big glasses and took a sip from one, trying not to throw her head back and drink the whole lot.
‘Tianne would never drink wine from a screw-top. She said it was common,’ said Keely, tossing her long brown and caramel extensions back over her shoulder. ‘Just saying.’
Lara was about to take another sip of wine but she lifted the glass too high and the liquid cascaded all down her face. Keely burst into exaggerated laughter. Then – thank God – she moved forwards and out of the kitchen. Lara was left dabbing herself with some kitchen roll and trying not to explode with embarrassment. Keely had tortured the new family pet long enough for today.
Chapter 6
Clare looked at Ludwig across the dining table and thought, as always, how handsome he was by candlelight. He really didn’t know it either because inside he was still the class gawky kid with the funny German name and no confidence in himself. She understood this because inside she was still the class female odd-bod with one eye that was ice-blue and one that was bright green. No wonder they had been drawn together from the moment he was introduced as the new boy, aged ten, to the rest of an amused class at primary school. His parents had moved from the Black Forest to York for work reasons and she and Lud gravitated towards each other from the very first minute of meeting. They had been good friends for years, even though, at eleven, Lud went to the local boys’ school and Clare went to the local private girls’ school. After getting a degree from Cambridge he moved to London to take up a fabulous job on Threadneedle Street and they saw each other about once a month for a catch-up. Everything remained on a close but platonic level until her thirtieth birthday, when he had got a bit tiddly at her party and snogged her. And she had found herself snogging him back and rather enjoying it.
She couldn’t wait to tell him her exciting news. The partners at her company moved as slowly as God’s millstone, but they’d got there in the end. She knew Lud would be delighted for her – nearly as pleased as her parents would be. He obviously had news of his own, though, because he was extra smiley tonight, as if he was trying to hold in a grin that was too big for his mouth. He was reading the menu and his blue, blue eyes were twinkling.
After the waiter had taken their order they both began speaking at once. Ludwig, being the consummate gentleman, waved at her to go first.
‘Guess what happened to me today, finally,’ Clare said, beaming.
‘I don’t know. You found the secret of eternal life? You checked your lottery ticket and found you had won?’
Oh, it was much better than that.
‘I was pulled into the boardroom . . .’
‘Yes?’ Lud leaned forward in his seat and reached for her hand.
‘And I was offered a partnership. The first woman in the history of the firm. Me!’ She squealed and Lud stood up and came to her side of the table to hug her, full of congratulations.
‘My darling, that is brilliant,’ he said, but she picked up something in his voice. For some reason it wasn’t as wonderful to him as she’d hoped it would be.
‘I’m so excited. It’s the stuff of dreams. I’ve wanted it for ever but I never thought they’d offer it to me.’
‘Is it what you want?’ asked Lud, returning to his seat.
‘Yes, yes, of course it is,’ said Clare, now slightly confused, her eyebrows dipping in the middle of her forehead. Why would he ask that?
‘So that is good,’ he said. ‘I’m very proud of you. You deserve it, Clare. You’ve worked very hard all your life for this moment.’ He paused. ‘I also have news.’
‘Well, come on, let’s have a news day. What have you got to tell me?’
‘I have been offered a promotion.’
Nothing that Clare didn’t expect, then. She grinned.
‘There’s a shocker, smartypants.’
‘It’s in Dubai,’ he went on, subdued.
‘Dubai?’ Clare gulped. She didn’t expect that. ‘Why Dubai? You won’t take it though, will you, if it’s there, surely?’
‘It’s a new position.’
He didn’t say that he wasn’t taking it.
‘You’ve accepted it?’ Clare felt slightly faint as if all the blood had been diverted from her head.
‘Not yet.’
Not yet was the same as yes, wasn’t it?
‘You’re going to live in Dubai?’ Clare’s mouth formed the words but her brain was refusing to accept them. Lud wouldn’t have taken a position in Dubai without talking to her about it. At least her old, dear, familiar Lud wouldn’t have. The one who wasn’t ruled by his smartphone. ‘When . . . when . . .?’ Her lips felt as if they were losing their power to obey her.
‘Monday. I go on Monday.’
‘Monday?’ She sounded like a deranged echo.
‘Well, I am flying to Dubai on Monday to meet with people, to decide if I want to take the position but they want someone quickly and they’ve made me an offer I would be an idiot to refuse. If I say yes, there will be a little toing and froing for a couple of weeks then I start a two-year contract.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t say anything until now.’ Clare bit her lip to combat the tears of hurt which were rising to her eyes.
‘I didn’t want to say anything until I had been offered the position for sure. Now I have and am here talking to you about it, but suddenly everything is rush rush rush.’ He coughed. ‘Clare, I was hoping you would come with me.’
Oh no, this couldn’t be happening, thought Clare. There had to be a god of timing who was seriously pissed off with the world and had decided to wreak vengeance. Of all the places in the world where Clare would have loved to live, Dubai was right up there in the top three. The endless sandy beaches, those beautiful seas on her doorstep, the sun, the shopping. She pictured herself diving beneath warm water that was as blue as Ludwig’s eyes.
Lud’s hand squeezing hers popped the bubble of her reverie.
‘It’s all right, I know how much the partnership means to you,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe we both have such great news, but . . .’ She knew what that ‘but’ meant: great news that wasn’t great news if you zoomed out and looked at the whole picture.
Clare swallowed hard and tried to block out all images of going to Dubai with Lud.
The wine waiter arrived at their side with a bottle of iced champagne.
‘I took the liberty of ordering some for us when I made the booking,’ said Lud. ‘To celebrate.’ He dropped her hand and her fingers seemed to grow cold in a second.
The waiter twisted out the cork and poured the Cristal into two long flutes. Then Lud’s phone rang and he immediately he picked it up to answer it.
Maybe if he had ignored it, things would have been different, but
even now, in this most intimate of moments when he was asking her to give up everything that she had worked for to follow him thousands of miles around the other side of the world, she was less important than whoever was at the end of the phone. The significance of him taking the call was massive to her.
Over dinner they talked more about Dubai and the partnership. The position in the land of blue skies and opulence sounded wonderful, although Lud said that he didn’t want to pressure Clare into making any rash decision. But Clare knew that however much she wanted to be seduced into going with him, when the time came for her to tell him her answer, it would be no. And all because he had picked up his phone just after the champagne had arrived.
Chapter 7
Lara laid her head on James’s chest and listened to his heartbeat: still racing after sex. He liked her to be on top, which she hated because she didn’t like all her flesh on show. He relished the sight of her generous breasts bouncing up and down. Lara worried about her stomach jumping up and down as well, banging on his and making slapping sounds, although he – in the throes of passion – never seemed to mention it. Tonight, he was too tired for much foreplay; he had just enough energy to conjure up an erection for her to work her magic on, with her on-top bouncy dance, then he came and whispered how much he had needed that. Lara, unsated, was glad to climb off at the end and snuggle up to his side. He lay, his arm around her, in such a post-orgasmic glow one would have been forgiven for thinking he had just eaten a huge portion of Ready-brek and acquired a neon orange aura.
She knew she had tried extra hard just then, haunted by pictures of him in bed with Tianne. Had the sex with his ex been so good that he couldn’t stay away? Was she some sort of siren, luring him in to crash against her rocks?
Lara didn’t like to acknowledge to herself that she was envious of Tianne’s and James’s history. Especially as she noticed that sex had become much more perfunctory since she had moved into his house. She hated to admit that it would slide very quickly into bored middle-aged, old-married-couple sex if they didn’t take care to address it. In the early days, at her old Islington flat, their lovemaking had been much more mutually satisfying. And when she moved into his gorgeous boudoir of a bedroom and they became a co-habiting couple, she’d hoped their sexual repertoire would only increase, but it had worked the other way. Okay, so they both worked long hours and were tired, but she was always ready to put her heart and soul into sex when things were heading that way. She couldn’t remember him giving her an orgasm since she moved in, though, and somehow doubted the hedonistic minx that was Tianne would have stood for that. Tianne Tianne Tianne – all roads seemed to lead back to bloody Tianne. Lara needed to know whether what Keely had said had been the truth. It was the elephant in Lara’s room. She started off by bringing up the subject casually.
It's Raining Men Page 3
