by Grace Lowrie
‘No don’t,’ Celeste said anxiously. ‘Come back with us, you can shower and I’ll lend you some clothes. We can have breakfast in bed!’
‘Only if you’re sure …’ I looked uncertainly at Sebastian and he shrugged.
‘Sorted,’ Celeste declared.
Chapter Seven
That weekend had been the best of my life and I’d thought of it often in the intervening years. By the time my yoga class had finished I was feeling much calmer and left the gym with an optimistic spring in my step. Across the road I treated myself to coffee and a pastry in a café, and as I stared absently out at the Saturday morning shoppers in Turnham Green I let my mind drift back to Brighton again.
The three of us lounged decadently on the sofas in Celeste’s hotel suite while a gentle breeze filtered through the open French windows and seagulls wheeled noisily above the busy seafront. It was 10 a.m., we’d just consumed a huge English breakfast, and now we were quiet and drowsy as we digested. The room was completely over the top, the epitome of Victorian splendour, and I struggled to appear as unaffected by the opulence as the twins seemed to be. I was still getting my head around the fact that they were really here – in Brighton – that they’d just strolled into my life completely out of the blue. It was as if I’d been teleported to another planet.
Celeste looked sensational. She was wearing a retro, cherry-print halterneck with light blue cotton pedal-pushers, and strappy scarlet sandals. Her tumbling fair hair was swept back off her face by a scarf that brought out the blue in her eyes and her lips were painted fire engine red. Celeste had brought a huge suitcase on wheels with her, despite the brief duration of their visit.
‘I didn’t know what I might need!’ she exclaimed and Sebastian rolled his eyes while I stifled a smile.
Sebastian looked casually sexy in a blue T-shirt, beige combat-style shorts that stopped at his knees, and flip-flops. It took all of my willpower not to stare at his biceps, pecs, calves, toes … he looked good enough to eat. He had only brought a modestly sized, worn leather holdall with him apart from his camera bag. I’d caught sight of it as he’d entered his room next door to take a shower. The thought of Sebastian in the shower unsettled me. Did he still use the same shower gel as he used to when he was fourteen? So many things must have changed since then … I tried desperately to stop my mind from imagining Sebastian naked, it was distracting and very unlike me. I wasn’t a very sexual person, I didn’t even like sex – despite Pete’s best efforts, it just did nothing for me. And yet, there was something about Sebastian that made me feel peculiar …
I locked myself in the en suite bathroom to brush my teeth. As I was liberating the complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste from their crisp packaging, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and tried to remember how I had looked six years previously. I didn’t think I’d visibly changed much over the intervening years – my face was less rounded, most of my freckles had faded, and I had filled out slightly in some places, but otherwise I was still me. I glanced down at the flip-flops and the pretty sundress Celeste had lent me to wear. The cotton fabric smelled subtly of her perfume, sweet and floral. She had said I should keep the dress, that it looked better on me than her, but I suspected it was expensive.
Underneath the dress I wore a spare pair of Celeste’s French knickers, all silk and lace and seductively soft against my skin. It felt strangely intimate wearing them, knowing they were Celeste’s and as I considered it I almost felt … aroused … I shook my head despairingly at my reflection, I must still be drunk! I cleared my throat and brushed my teeth with fervour.
The three of us braved the crowds and went shopping in the Lanes. The shops jostled for space, selling furniture, candles, comic books, jewellery, fabrics, skateboards, flowers, vegetarian shoes, cupcakes, and more. Celeste was naturally friendly and chatted to people everywhere we went, shop keepers, staff, and customers alike. In particular she couldn’t resist those who were imaginatively dressed and Brighton was full of them. She approached people of all kinds and all walks of life, disarming them with her enthusiasm until they were putty in her hands. Sebastian was less expressive, but turned heads just the same. He stopped to chat to every street performer we encountered; from baton-juggling students to a busking blind flautist, liberally emptying change into their hats and instrument cases. The twins were magnetic, making friends everywhere they went, and I was buzzing just from being in their company. It briefly crossed my mind that Celeste must have a best friend back in Paris but the idea made me feel sick with jealousy, so I didn’t ask her.
With his SLR Sebastian steadily photographed the colourful jumble of windows, balconies, and doorways while Celeste and I tried on hats, glasses, and wigs until we were crying with laughter. Eventually, in response to Celeste’s relentless begging, Sebastian reluctantly took a picture of us together, arm-in-arm, grinning in our disguises. He said we looked like Thelma and Louise.
We found several vintage clothes shops and Celeste was in seventh heaven. Sebastian browsed CDs while we squeezed into a tiny cubicle to try on some gorgeous 1950s day dresses with tiny waists and full skirts. At first I tried to self-consciously wriggle out of one dress and into another with my back to Celeste because I didn’t have a bra on, but it was impractical in the confined space and I suddenly realised that I didn’t care anyway – Celeste had always made me feel good about my figure. My long, lanky body transformed into that of a poised woman through her eyes. She was effortlessly beautiful and she somehow wrapped me up in her magical world where nothing could touch us. It was a bit like being high.
We stopped for lunch at an organic cafe and sat at a table in the street. At first I couldn’t understand why Sebastian had ordered an extra sandwich, but while Celeste and I were chatting, he quietly took it over to a homeless man sitting in a doorway further along the pavement, before returning to his seat without comment. Celeste didn’t bother to acknowledge her brother’s actions and I realised it was a routine occurrence. In the distance I could see that the gesture was appreciated.
‘Ah, I love it here,’ Celeste sighed, leaning back in her chair and tilting her face towards the sun. ‘I wish we could stay longer.’ Sebastian was slouched in the shade of the umbrella, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as he people watched, but he nodded in agreement.
‘You really can’t take any time off?’
‘No,’ Celeste said with a sad pout. ‘We start back on Monday, that’s why we’re here now.’
‘Oh, well. Lucky we bumped into each other then.’ I smiled, but even to my own ears I sounded sad.
‘Absolument! The best surprise ever!’ Celeste said. I took a long slurp of my mango, strawberry, and banana smoothie through a straw.
‘We are going to move back to London though,’ Sebastian said turning to me.
‘Yes of course,’ Celeste peered at me. ‘As soon as we turn twenty-one we get access to our trust fund – our inheritance, y’know and once Seb graduates we’ll move back to London.’
‘That’s great,’ I said. My words lacked enthusiasm because it sounded years away and I couldn’t help wondering why Celeste hadn’t invited me to visit them in Paris.
Just then my mobile phone started ringing in my handbag. I dug it out and immediately felt guilty upon seeing Pete’s name displayed on the screen. I switched it to silent and waited for it to go to voicemail. When I glanced up, the twins were both looking at me.
‘Who was that?’ Celeste said with undisguised curiosity.
I briefly considered lying. ‘Pete … my boyfriend, I guess.’
‘You guess?’ Celeste leaned forwards smiling. She picked up a cigarette and her lighter. ‘Tell all!’
‘Ugh, there’s not much to tell,’ I shrugged while she lit up. ‘We haven’t been together very long and I don’t think we’re really suited, so …’
‘So …?’ Celeste arched a neatly plucked eyebrow. Sebastian just sat still, watching me impassively – as far as I could tell. ‘So I think I should en
d it,’ I said honestly.
Celeste considered what I’d said and then exhaled. ‘What’s he like?’
I sighed. ‘He’s really nice and kind and cute …’ They waited for me to continue. ‘He’s reading Medicine … he’s going to make a really good doctor …’ I trailed off.
‘He does sound nice,’ Celeste said tapping ash delicately into the ashtray. The end was crimson with lipstick. ‘And I bet he adores you,’ she looked directly at me. ‘But you should trust your instincts, Tasha – you deserve someone who sets your soul alight.’
She was completely serious and I didn’t know what to say. The waiter asked us if we would like anything else and Sebastian told him no, rather abruptly. I felt weirdly uncomfortable and keen to change the subject.
‘I should text my housemates to let them know I’m OK.’ I picked up my phone and started texting.
‘Tasha, are your parents still living in Pinner?’ Celeste asked softly.
The sudden change in subject caught me off guard. ‘Yes, why?’
‘I just wondered,’ Celeste shrugged but she was watching me closely. ‘You haven’t mentioned them, that’s all.’
I sighed. Even after all this time Celeste still knew me so well. ‘My dad’s sick,’ I said hoarsely, avoiding eye contact with both twins. I swallowed. ‘He’s dying, actually – prostate cancer, so I go back and visit most weekends.’
‘Oh, God.’ Celeste whispered. Sebastian was as still as a statue, I thought he might have stopped breathing.
I didn’t want to cry, so I carried on talking – better to get it over and done with. ‘I offered to move back for the summer, but Dad won’t hear of it – there’s nothing I can do and he’s trying to protect me from the worst of it. These wonderful Macmillan nurses are looking after him, much better than I can … And she’s holding up amazingly well, really, my mum …’ The silence at our table roared in my ears. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear this, I’m lucky I get to say goodbye to my dad at all …’ My voice finally cracked and I stood up abruptly. I was about to excuse myself and run off to find a loo, but Sebastian rose from his seat and tugged me into a crushing hug. My cheek pressed against the front of his T-shirt, his chest warm and firm under the cotton as my damp tears soaked through. My whole body tingled at the contact as though channelling an electric current. Celeste’s slender arms looped around my waist, her damp face pressed against my shoulder, and the three of us stood together in a silent embrace, surrounded by bustling shoppers.
Eventually, I pulled away. ‘OK, that’s enough,’ I laughed and wiped my cheeks. ‘We’re at the seaside and it’s a beautiful day – let’s go down to the pier.’ I smiled first at Sebastian and then Celeste. I still couldn’t see Sebastian’s eyes behind his sunglasses, but his mouth was set in a firm line. Celeste smiled back with relief, dug a tissue out of her handbag and blew her nose noisily while Sebastian signalled to the waiter for the bill. The twins stubbornly insisted on paying for everything wherever we went and I had given up resisting.
The rest of the afternoon we spent playing arcade games, riding dodgems, and eating donuts until we felt sick. We stopped in a student bar where Sebastian befriended the barman, who in turn proceeded to provide us with delicious cocktails I’d never heard of. The barman obviously fancied Sebastian but it was working to our advantage.
Mel, a girl from my class, was also there. She was talkative, opinionated, and bossy with dyed green hair and a pierced nose, but underneath the prickly exterior, she was warm and generous and a good friend. I wasn’t pleased to see her though – I was reluctant to share Sebastian and Celeste with anyone else, as if they were exclusively mine for the weekend. Of course, Mel instantly took a shine to Sebastian when I grudgingly introduced them and they quickly struck up a conversation.
‘I hope Sebastian already has a girlfriend,’ I said to Celeste, gesturing in his direction across the bar. ‘Mel seems to really like him.’
Celeste grinned. ‘Nah, Sebastian doesn’t have girlfriends. She’s not his type anyway, and he’s used to fending off unwanted attention.’
‘He’s not gay, is he?’ I said before I realised what I was saying.
Celeste laughed. ‘No …’
‘I didn’t really think he was,’ I said. ‘But it’s practically the norm around here.’ Celeste glanced over at Sebastian and smiled. ‘So why doesn’t he have girlfriends. What even is his type?’
‘Oh, I don’t know – he dates occasionally and has one-night stands with pretty women – he’s never short of offers.’ I sipped my drink and tried not to look too interested. ‘But he’s just not that keen, I guess. He’s always been a bit of a loner,’ Celeste shrugged. ‘I guess a relationship isn’t a priority for him at the moment.’ I echoed Celeste’s shrug with my own and changed the subject, secretly praying that Sebastian wouldn’t sleep with Mel.
We were tired and tipsy by the time the three of us staggered back to The Grand just after midnight. Celeste lent me a silk camisole to wear to bed and when I emerged from the bathroom we giggled at our matching white bathrobes. Even Sebastian had one on, although his hung open, revealing gloriously toned abs, blue boxer shorts, and a pair of sexy hairy legs. Even as a kid he had been good-looking, with neat symmetrical features and flawless skin, but now that he had matured he was so much more – manly, handsome, virile … words didn’t cover it. But my body knew what I meant; all my nerve endings tingled in his presence. I felt my cheeks flush and resolutely avoided looking at him altogether for fear of giving myself away.
Before long we were all lying in Celeste’s queen-sized four-poster bed, propped up against a mound of pillows and watching Brief Encounter on TV – Celeste insisted it was one of her favourites. I lay in the middle of the bed, flanked by Celeste and Sebastian on either side, but with the lights off and the TV volume down low, we were all drowsy and talked out. I’d been up for forty hours straight and as I rested my heavy eyelids for longer and longer periods of time I heard Celeste start to snore. It dawned on me that this was a rare opportunity to be alone with Sebastian Walker – and in a bed no less – but even as I thought it, I fell fast asleep.
I was brought back to the present by a couple with a screaming baby who were vying for my seat in the now crowded cafe. Having paid for my coffee I hit the shops in search of the perfect outfit for tonight’s housewarming party. I’d never been able to afford the designer labels the Walkers commonly wore, but I thought I knew which styles and colours suited me, and those which didn’t – Celeste had taught me well. Eventually I found a simple backless evening dress in a silky, emerald green material. It was a bit pricey but I could accessorise it with the strappy gold sandals and costume jewellery I already owned.
Once dressed, I checked myself in the mirror and temporarily experienced a peculiar out of body sensation. I almost didn’t recognise the well turned-out person in front of me – she was a stranger – flushed and giddy with anticipation, as if about to take a leap into the unknown. A swimmer balanced on a high diving-board, afraid to look down.
Chapter Eight
As the taxi drove away, leaving me standing on a smart, tree-lined street at 9.15 in the evening, I fought the urge to run away. Before me was the twins’ large, Victorian, Italianate Holland Park home. It was brilliant white and double-fronted with generous bay windows on the basement, ground, and first floors, and a crown of balconies on the second. I suspected there was yet another floor above that one, but it was impossible to see from where I stood. Beyond the railings, smartly tiled steps led up to an imposing black front door, flanked by neatly clipped, topiary spirals. They had been decorated with blue fairy lights which winked invitingly in the gathering dusk. Muffled dance music and voices emanated from within and lights and shadows played across the drawn blinds as people moved about. The building reminded me, in many ways, of the twins’ parents’ house from our childhood, except this one was far grander and more striking. And of course, with its central London location it must be worth millions. It s
uddenly dawned on me that Sebastian and Celeste must be millionaires. Maybe they always had been, but I’d never really considered it before. What was I doing here?
That sunny weekend in Brighton, back when we were all students, I’d felt included in the twins’ private little bubble; like one of the family. Right up until it was all over …
As I woke on Sunday morning I heard a click. I abruptly remembered where I was and who I was with and quickly opened my eyes, but I wasn’t quick enough. I stretched my fingers out to touch the indented sheet beside me – it was still warm – I’d just missed him. Sebastian had gone back to his own room. Disappointment washed over me. Why did I fall asleep? Idiot! The clock radio on the bedside table read 8:47 and I could hear Celeste’s deep slow breathing behind me, feel her warm breath on my back. For a fleeting moment I was fourteen again and sharing a blissful summer sleepover with Celeste. Except that I could hear seagulls, it was early, and I felt terribly tired, so I buried my nose in the sheet and inhaled Sebastian’s subtle masculine scent as I drifted back to sleep.
At lunchtime the twins checked out of the hotel and the three of us ate fish and chips on the beach. We took refuge from dive-bombing seagulls under an awning and listened to the waves as they crashed against the shore. Sebastian and Celeste were leaving soon and I would be forced to face my real life – the one in which I had coursework to do, instant noodles for dinner, mounting debts, a neglectful landlord, and a dying father. I was very fortunate in many ways and I didn’t usually let the negatives weigh me down, but being with the twins all weekend – I’d been on such a high …
I pushed my thoughts away, determined not to ruin our last few hours together. Celeste had lent me another set of clothes to wear.
‘If you give me your address in Paris I can send your clothes back to you when I’ve cleaned them,’ I said, a chip in my hand.
Celeste shook her head. ‘I don’t want them back.’
