by Lindsey Kelk
‘Nick!’ I shouted at the top of my voice as two uniformed men and one uniformed woman sprinted towards me. ‘Nick! Turn around, you shit.’
But if he did turn around, if he did see me, I didn’t know about it. The last thing I remembered was seeing a tiny but incredibly fierce woman with a slick black ponytail charging at my midriff. After that, there was a bang and a shriek that might have been mine and then nothing but darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Signore.’
It felt like forever until someone appeared outside our cell but really it couldn’t have been more than a few of hours. Time dragged when you weren’t having fun. I had no idea how, but Amy had fallen asleep almost as soon as she arrived while I sat on the floor, curled up in a small, tragic ball, watching planes fly by through our tiny scrap of a window. Every time one took off, I wondered whether Nick or Charlie was on board, eating peanuts and drinking whisky. They both like whisky and neither of them liked me very much so perhaps they would get on well enough after all.
‘Oh my God, look at the two of you!’ Kekipi appeared in front of the cell door, looking altogether the worse for wear. ‘I’m getting you out of here. Is she asleep?’
‘Don’t ask me how.’ I rose carefully, avoiding putting weight on my bad foot, and nudged Amy awake.
‘Give me half an hour,’ she muttered, rolling face first into the wall. ‘You can shower first.’
‘Get up!’ I was in no mood for it. ‘You’re in prison. Kekipi has come to get us out.’
‘Oh.’ She turned over onto her back and blinked up at me. ‘Fair enough then.’
The people in the airport police station weren’t nearly as friendly as the people back in the one in Shoreditch. It could have been the language barrier or it could have been the fact that I’d been arrested for hurling a missile through an airport security area instead of having been mistakenly brought in for breaking out of my own house but who could say?
I didn’t ask Kekipi what kind of deal he had struck or spell he had cast to get us out, I only nodded, smiled, signed everything that was handed to me and kept my head down. Twenty minutes later, we were in the back of the car, motoring back towards Milan.
‘No word from either of them?’ Kekipi asked. I looked in the rear-view mirror to see Amy snuggled up under a blanket, fast asleep and snoring.
‘Wouldn’t know,’ I reminded him. ‘I threw my phone across an airport and I haven’t seen it since. Bit stupid.’
‘You weren’t thinking straight.’ He patted my knee and handed me a bottle of water from his cup holder. ‘You were in love.’
‘I’m starting to think I had the right idea before any of this,’ I said, resting my face against my seatbelt and staring out of the windows – there were so many stars in the sky, it seemed impossible. ‘Keep your head down, get on with things, don’t get in trouble, leave men alone. I was doing OK.’
‘Do you wish you’d never met him?’ he asked me. ‘Mr Miller?’
I smiled and shook my head, hating myself for it. ‘I can’t even imagine how that would feel but I don’t think it would really be better.’
‘It’s not over,’ Kekipi promised, patting my leg. ‘His pride is hurt. He’s letting off steam.’
‘On another continent,’ I added. ‘Again.’
Kekipi gave a distracted sigh, his eyes on the empty road ahead of us. ‘Then perhaps it’s not you who should be feeling bad. Maybe he isn’t the one for you after all?’
‘I wish I agreed with you,’ I said, holding the cold water bottle against my sore eye. ‘He is stubborn and proud and arrogant and he thinks he knows best about everything. And I love the shit out of him.’
‘I hate when that happens.’ He gave me a sideways glance. ‘I’m right there with you.’
‘Yeah, about that …’ I pulled my hair over to one side and twisted it together. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and I-hate-him-so-much-Domenico?’
A smile I recognized plastered itself all over his face, even when he tried to smother it. ‘I don’t know, I honestly don’t,’ he said. ‘We were working on the party and he was making me so mad, then one afternoon he made me so mad the only thing I could do was kiss him. It doesn’t make any sense, I know.’
‘Makes sense to me,’ I said, my eyes trained on the mountains outside the window. ‘What’s going to happen when you go back to Hawaii?’
‘If you can tell me what’s going to happen tomorrow I’ll give you a prize,’ he said. ‘It’s so long since I’ve had anyone in my life, I’m way past confused. Any suggestions?’
‘I’m not even going to pretend to try and answer that,’ I said. ‘I’m really not.’
As much as I wanted to get back to the palazzo, take a shower and then get right back on with my mission to fuck up my life as much as humanly possible, my manky foot and complete physical exhaustion put a real crimp in my plans.
‘I’ve got a doctor who will come and take a look at it in a few hours,’ Domenico announced once Kekipi had carried me into the house and handed me over to two younger, stronger men who had the pleasure of making a human Stannah stairlift to get me all the way up to my room. ‘It may need stitches.’
I wrinkled my nose and tried not to look too pathetic. I didn’t want stitches. I wanted a time machine to go back twenty-four hours and have another crack at a day that didn’t end in my arrest.
‘Thank you,’ I said, keeping my fantasies to myself. ‘And I’m really sorry for telling Kekipi that you knew what was going on with Artie. I shouldn’t have assumed.’
‘Not at all,’ he said, passing me a much-needed cup of tea. ‘And now it is all well, I think.’
‘I’m glad things are OK.’ I tried not to smile. Mostly because it really hurt my face. ‘He’s basically one of the two best men I know and I don’t think you’re going to be making a move on Al, are you?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He gave me the smile I couldn’t quite muster. ‘For the longest time, we argue all the time and then, from nowhere, this is happening. But who knows what happens next? Is a mystery.’
‘Yes it is,’ I replied, sipping the precious, precious tea. ‘But I do get the arguing thing. Apparently that’s my type too.’
‘You haven’t been able to reach Mr Miller?’ he asked. ‘I could place a call if you like?’
‘He’ll be on the plane, I think.’ I shook my head. Now I’d stopped, I was too tired to even think what I would say to him. Maybe a nice eighteen-hour nap would clear my head. ‘Maybe we can try tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Domenico agreed. ‘Kekipi says you are to get some rest, even if I have to restrain you to the bed.’
‘Not necessary,’ I said, putting the cup back on my nightstand. ‘Thank you, Domenico.’
When he closed my door, I could already see a pale wash of light coming underneath my curtains. Almost dawn and I was only just going to bed; it was a long time since that had happened. I only wished it was for better reasons. Curling up around my duvet, I told myself to stop thinking about everything and to let myself sleep but the more I fought everything the harder it was to even close my eyes. Eventually, I rolled over, face first into the pillows, and gave in.
The tears only took seconds to come but instead of the huge, roaring sobs I’d been expecting, I felt quiet and still and just as though I was letting go. I cried about Charlie and Nick leaving; I cried for the children in the airport who had been traumatized by my best friend’s breasts; and I cried for myself. Self-pity never got anyone anywhere but in that bed, high as a kite on painkillers, it felt entirely justified. I didn’t have anywhere to live, my foot hurt, I had a black eye and I had been to prison. Again. And then, at the end of it all, I cried because I was alone. I’d chased what I wanted and ended up with nothing. That seemed like as good a reason for tears as any.
‘I hoped you would be in here,’ I said, hobbling into the little walled garden at the back of the palazzo to find Al in his favourite board shorts a
nd Grateful Dead T-shirt, sitting with a pot of coffee and a sunny smile on his face.
‘And I’m very glad you found me,’ he replied, standing up and holding out the second iron chair. ‘How’s the foot?’
‘They didn’t cut it off so it could be worse,’ I said, waving my bandaged hoof in the air as I sat down. ‘But they did give me this crutch which I think will double nicely as a weapon.’
‘Always handy to have.’ He poured me a cup of coffee from the pot and pushed the milk and sugar across the table. ‘Dare I ask about the other business?’
‘You mean my friend showing up to declare his love for me and then me declaring my love for Nick and then both of them leaving me on my tod?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘No, nothing to report.’
‘I can say lots of reassuring things, if it would help,’ he said, stroking his beard and heaping a heavy teaspoon of brown sugar into his own coffee cup. ‘However, I imagine you’ve heard all of them by now. I’ve never really had to handle anyone else’s crises but my own, you see, so I’m not terribly original.’
‘It might be the painkillers the doctor gave me,’ I said, ‘but I think it’s going to be OK. I mean, it’s got to sort itself out one way or another, hasn’t it?’
‘It has,’ Al agreed, raising his cup to mine and clinking out a toast. ‘You might be the most level-headed woman with a black eye I have ever had the pleasure of speaking to.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ I replied.
Far too close to the coffee pot for my liking was Al’s iPad and on the screen were several options for the AJB logo. They were all fantastic. ‘Is everything really back on track with the collection?’
‘It seems as though it is,’ he said, holding up the screen for me to take a closer look. ‘Edward has almost all the samples finished already and we’ve got things moving with the factory again. And believe it or not, the party was something of a success. A lot of people have been in touch about stocking the line when the time comes.’
‘That’s brilliant.’ I sipped my coffee and turned my face up to the sun, basking in the mid-afternoon glow. Today wasn’t nearly as hot as it had been, and hiding in the shade of Jane’s olive trees, the weather felt just about perfect. I really was enjoying those painkillers. ‘Dare I ask if you’ve spoken to Artie?’
‘I haven’t.’ Al didn’t look especially moved by this, as if it wasn’t particularly unexpected. ‘He’s already back in New York and I’m very happy to let him work out his tantrum over there for now. He needs time to simmer down and see the bigger picture, then we’ll talk.’
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘That’s the best thing to do?’
Apparently everyone had got this memo except for me.
‘In my experience, when a woman runs away, nine times out of ten, you can’t go after her fast enough,’ he said, ‘preferably with a gift and a grovelling apology. When a man leaves, it’s because he needs to lick his wounds for a while. If he’s worth having, he’ll come back.’
I pinched my eyebrows together and thought about it. ‘So, we should just sit here and do nothing? About any of them?’
‘You should get on with your life,’ Al advised. ‘Countless people asked me about your photographs at the party. You’re going to be a very busy woman, Tess Brookes. That talent of yours can’t be ignored because of a bruised heart.’
I blew on my coffee, not wanting to add burned lips to my litany of injuries. ‘Bruised? Not broken?’
‘Definitely not broken,’ he said, eyes sparkling in the sun. ‘Even if it feels like it might be, I don’t think this one is terminal. You have to give him time.’
‘I’m going back to London on Monday,’ I said, turning my ponytail into a tight bun. ‘I’ve got to make sure everything’s all right with the pitch I was working on for Charlie.’
‘Then you’ve decided on the advertising?’ He looked genuinely surprised and more than a little upset. ‘There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?’
‘No, I haven’t decided,’ I said, letting go of the ponytail, my hair spiralling down my back. ‘But I can’t let him down again, I have to do this for him. If I can get him the contract, we can work the rest out from there.’
‘Then we’ll get you a return ticket,’ he told me, swigging down his red-hot espresso as though it was iced water. ‘And you’ll come back to us as soon as you’re ready.’
‘You’re so nice to me.’ I shook my head and turned my attention to my toes. ‘I really feel like I don’t deserve it.’
‘Don’t let yourself be under any illusion that you’re not worth it,’ he reprimanded. ‘I know you still don’t really believe me but you’re a bloody good photographer and I need someone I can trust, and you need a job. That seems like a fair trade to me. Now, which one of these logos do you like the best?’
I held my hand over my eyes to keep out the sun, listening to Al’s opinions on the six almost identical logos on the screen, and smiled. It was like Amy always said, when life gave you lemons, the best thing to do was cut those lemons up, knock life down and rub them in its eyes, screaming, ‘Have that, you bastard!’ As philosophies went, I’d heard worse.
Someone at Gatwick airport must have got my memo about how sad I was to be leaving Italy because the second we touched down, the clouds broke over London and glorious sunshine lit up Monday morning in the old smoke. I had spent all day Sunday editing the photos I’d taken so far, trying not to refresh my email every seven seconds looking for something from Nick and listening in on Al and Amy’s grand plans for their retail scouting tours around the world.
Any part of me that had questioned Amy’s abilities was wiped clean away by the end of the day. She was drawing out floorplans, explaining what fixtures and fittings they would need, working up staffing plans and, quite frankly, being amazing. I hadn’t given my friend enough credit; she was perfect for this job and I felt terrible for having doubted her. The only thing Amy really needed was the self-confidence to see it through and for someone to take her seriously. That might be hard if you were a Topshop HR woman and all you saw were neon thigh-highs, a cropped unicorn T-shirt and a CV with more holes in it than your average sieve, but I should have known better.
And now all I needed was for Charlie to decide he was speaking to me just long enough to get through the Perito’s pitch without kicking me square in the uterus and then everything would be fine and dandy.
I had a loaner phone from Domenico and I’d called Charlie from the airport, leaving him a message to let him know I was coming, but he hadn’t replied. I chose to believe he was quietly pleased rather than silently furious and, after flying through airport security, I arrived at the Perito’s offices just in time. I pulled out a mirror in the lift, making sure the concealer I’d borrowed from Amy was still covering my black eye well enough that I wouldn’t scare anyone.
‘Right …’ I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes. ‘Be brave, don’t be a chicken.’
The lift stopped on the seventeenth floor and I smiled at the receptionist as I hobbled out, so certain that I had got this right. Even if Charlie hated my guts, I knew how much he loved his job; he couldn’t stay angry with me if we won the account.
‘Hi, I’m here for the Perito’s pitch,’ I told the receptionist. I could hear muffled voices inside and felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins. ‘Tess Brookes?’
‘They’ve gone in already.’ She looked down at her sign-in book and back up at me. ‘Someone must have signed you in already.’
The adrenaline started to turn into panic. Charlie had started without me?
‘It’s just through there …’ She pointed at the big wooden door with a chicken stuck to it. ‘They only just went in; the last lot were out early and I think they want to get it over with.’
‘Always bodes well,’ I said, straightening my white silk shirt and patting down my printed trousers. ‘Thanks.’
I peered through the tiny square of glass in the conference room door to see Charlie at
the front of the room, standing in front of a big screen showing my PowerPoint presentation. Huh. I pressed my ear to the wood for a moment, trying to listen in.
‘We’ve looked over the work you sent over and we’re impressed,’ someone was telling him. ‘You’ve really got a hold on our demographic.’
‘We were looking for something that would strike a chord with the younger, reluctant male cook,’ Charlie said, an easy smile on his face. ‘And we wanted something simple and visual that had a lot of impact.’
He couldn’t have looked further away from the man I’d seen on the train. He was calm, confident and in complete control of the room – without me by his side. This was an epic mistake, he didn’t need me here, I realized. And what’s more, he didn’t want me here.
‘And how would you see the roll-out?’ Another person asked. ‘Talk us through the media plan.’
The window door might have been small but it wasn’t small enough. Before I could slope back into the lift and take myself to the nearest Häagen-Dazs’ stockist, Charlie’s eyes locked onto mine. I was busted.
He stared at me. I looked back at him. His mouth hung open for a moment before setting itself tightly.
‘Charlie, the media plan?’ the voice asked again.
‘So sorry, I’m late!’ I wasn’t quite sure what possessed me but without thinking, I pushed the door open and walked straight up to the front of the room. ‘There was an accident. My taxi was in an accident. Big one. Anyway, the plan would be to launch the shorts online at first, get a viral buzz going, encouraging people to share the videos, and then launch on TV, followed by print.’
I gave them all a smile so huge I was worried I was about to swallow my own ears.
‘Right.’ A bald man whose shirt was at least three sizes too big for him stared at me with as much confusion as Charlie. ‘And who are you?’
‘Tess?’ I looked at Charlie, looked back at the men and then realized someone else was in the room. Someone else was sitting on Charlie’s side of the table. A blonde female, someone I had not expected to run into in my wildest dreams.
