Yes, she wanted all of those things and more.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the dance auction will now begin.’
Waiting in line for her turn to go on stage, Alexia put a smile onto her face. A dance was nothing – it might even be fun. Sure, it would be humiliating if she were to be ‘sold’ for a meagre amount of money, but it would only be her ego that got hurt. She’d survive it.
What a success the evening had been. The media had been generous with the publicity they’d given to it, and the place was packed as a result. All the charities were really going to benefit, and Alexia felt a sense of pride at being a part of it all. What other events could they organise? A record breaking attempt perhaps? Maybe she could persuade Bert to try to grow some seriously large vegetables. Or something connected to salsa dancing? She’d take a look – see if there was something she and her dancing friends could have a go at. A sponsored Salsa-athon maybe.
‘Your turn,’ someone told her just then.
Whoops! She’d been miles away. Hitching up her dress to avoid tripping, Alexia made her way on stage.
‘And what will you bid for a dance with the gorgeous Alexia Bright?’ the auctioneer said, but suddenly, his voice dimmed as if somebody had pressed a pause button. There was only white noise, buzzing in Alexia’s ears and brain. And a voice – her voice. Chris. It’s Chris!
‘Alexia is normally to be found in wellies and gardening overalls, but a little bird tells me she’s an accomplished salsa dancer, so the winner of this lot is in for a big treat. And I think you’ll all agree that she looks stunning tonight.’
It was definitely Chris, not some strange, waking nightmare. Alexia didn’t know why he was here or how he had found her, but it was him all right, his hand shooting up in the air to bid for a dance with her.
Other men were bidding too. Desperately, Alexia looked in their direction, willing them to bid harder, bid more. If only Mark could afford to take part in the auction! If she’d had even a clue that this might happen – that Chris would turn up here – she’d have given Mark the money to bid for a dance. No she wouldn’t; she’d have left before the auction even began. She had absolutely nothing to say to Chris, and the thought of dancing with him was abhorrent.
But it seemed that Chris was determined to win. One by one the other bidders dropped out. Until Chris, with his triumphant smile was the only one left.
‘Sold! To the gentleman in the red tie for one hundred pounds!’
Chris had always been competitive. How many others times had she seen that celebratory smile? Many, many times when they were growing up and the friendship between their fathers had thrown them together. Board games, running races, even childish things like who could finish their meal first – until their teens, she and Chris had been like brother and sister. A fact that had only made his betrayal all the more painful.
The final model in the dance auction was coming up the steps. It was time for Alexia to leave the stage and for Chris to claim his dance. As Alexia descended, using the excuse of her high heels to move slowly, she did her best to prepare herself for the meeting to come.
Chris was making his way through the crowd to her – she didn’t have very long to prepare. But it was long enough to remember that in the five years since he’d jilted her, she had successfully re-invented herself. At The Heath Centre, she was confident, and she was liked. She played a valuable part in the success of the charity, and she made a real difference to peoples’ lives. She knew this because people told her so. She wasn’t the fragile, broken person she’d been the last time she’d seen the man now standing in front of her, holding out his hand to take hers. She was strong.
‘Alexia!’ he said, and she saw that the smile had changed from ‘crowing board game victor’ to persuasive ‘let’s climb trees, and I promise you won’t fall this time’, head on one side, eyes wide. She’d fallen for it every time. Then.
‘I think you owe me a dance?’ he said.
The auction had ended by now, and music was playing – there was no choice but to go through with it. She took his hand. Next moment, his other hand was at her waist, and he was pulling her in close. How many times had they danced like this? At weddings? School discos? Nightclubs?
‘Our bodies remember,’ he said softly, and instantly Alexia pulled back a little.
‘They’ve no business remembering,’ she said. Then, ‘What are you doing here?’
Now he shot her his ‘innocent act’ smile. ‘Dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.’
Alexia didn’t even bother to try to hide her irritation at the corny line. ‘How did you even know where to find me?’ she asked. ‘And don’t try to tell me this a coincidence, you turning up like this.’
‘Your mother told me where you worked. And when I dropped in there this afternoon on the off chance, your very helpful receptionist told me you’d be her tonight. So I bought a ticket.’
Bloody Julia. And as for her mother, what had she been thinking of?
‘Your mum always did have a soft spot for me,’ he said, reading her mind.
‘What do you want, Chris?’ she asked.
‘Right at this moment? Nothing – my life is complete. After this dance? To go for a drink with you, take you out to dinner – whatever you like.’
‘None of the above, that’s my preference. You paid for a dance, and that’s all you’re getting.’
He looked hurt. ‘Alexia! Do you hate me that much?’
Did she hate him? She had, five years ago. But she had hated her father more. ‘I don’t hate you, Chris. I hate what you did.’
Finally – finally – he stopped smiling. Out of nowhere, the memory of Chris at his father’s funeral popped into her mind. He’d been twelve years old, dressed in a suit Alexia’s mother had organised for him, standing in a pew at the front of the church between Alexia and her father. Chris’ mother was long dead, and since Alexia’s father had been appointed as his guardian, Chris was officially part of her family now. Quietly, as the vicar led the congregation in prayer, Alexia slid her hand into his. Chris turned to look at her, his face openly revealing his despair.
Had that been the moment? The moment when feelings of sisterhood and caring had changed into something different? Maybe. Chris had gone away to boarding school, and when he returned in the holidays, he seemed older. There was no more talk of climbing trees.
Closing her eyes, Alexia remembered their first kiss – a kiss that had left her trembling with surprise and something more. And suddenly, Alexia felt claustrophobic, wanting badly to get away. She didn’t want to be reminded of the past – she’d spent the past five years blocking it out.
‘I… I’m sorry,’ she said, pushing at his chest. ‘I have to go to the ladies.’
Chris pulled her back. ‘Wait until the end of the dance.’
‘No, she said, still trying to get free. ‘I need to go now.’
‘I paid good money for this dance,’ said Chris, and although his tone of voice was jokey, his eyes didn’t match it.
‘Then I’ll give you a refund,’ she started to say, but suddenly Mark was there. She’d never felt so glad to see anyone in her life.
‘You heard what Alexia said,’ he told Chris. ‘Let her go.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Chris said, ‘and you are…?’
‘Alexia’s friend,’ Mark said.
‘Well,’ Chris said, still not letting Alexia go, ‘you aren’t sounding very friendly.’
People were starting to look in their direction. Alexia felt embarrassed. She should have just stuck the dance out until the end instead of creating a situation where two men were glowering at each other. Thankfully, just then, the band came to the end of the song.
‘The dance is over now, Chris,’ she said. ‘If you don’t mind?’ And very reluctantly, Chris allowed his arms to drop.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said with a final glare in Mark’s direction. ‘We’ve got things to talk about.’
Alexia str
etched her lips into a smile. ‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘See you later.’ And she walked quickly away from him.
Mark was at her side. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I’m sorry if I was out of line, but you didn’t look too happy back there.’
The brittle smile splintered. ‘No,’ she said. ‘And thanks. You… you weren’t out of line at all.’
His hand went to her waist. It couldn’t have felt more different to Chris’. ‘Want to get out of here?’ he asked.
Suddenly it was what she wanted more than anything. ‘Oh, yes please.’
Chapter Nine
Outside, Alexia struggled to regain her composure. Mark was still looking down at her with concern, and she took a deep breath, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and sob out the whole horrid story. She’d kept Chris and those dismal months after they’d split up to herself for five long years, and she didn’t know Mark, not really. But he did deserve some explanation.
‘That was Chris,’ she said. ‘He’s an ex of mine. I… didn’t expect to see him.’
Mark nodded. ‘Sometimes the past comes back to bite you,’ he said, and something about his expression told her that he did, indeed understand. Why wouldn’t he? He was struggling with demons of his own.
Mark glanced around, his gaze fixing on a pub. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘We can’t talk here. Do you want to go for a drink or something?’
Alexia frowned, instantly forgetting her own problems. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’
Something flickered over his face. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there’s something I need to tell you about myself.’
Compassion swept through her, and she put a hand out to stop him. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I already know.’
Mark’s lips twisted into a wry smile. ‘No, Alexia,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you do. Look, let’s go into the pub. We can’t talk on a street corner.’
He began to walk, and after a small hesitation, she followed him. If he ordered an alcoholic drink for himself she knew she was going to have to confront him about it, and after her recent encounter with Chris, it was a confrontation she could do without.
Inside the pub, she asked for a fruit juice for herself and was relieved when Mark ordered the same. The pub was quite crowded, but there was one empty table for two in the corner. As Mark led the way over to it, Alexia felt strangely nervous. She realised she didn’t want him to tell her about his struggle with alcohol. In her professional life, she’d heard many such stories. But despite her best efforts, she just couldn’t think about this man in a professional way.
‘Listen,’ he started. ‘There’s been a… misunderstanding.’ Alexia opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. ‘No, please, let me finish. Although I don’t really know how to put this.’ He laughed a humourless laugh. ‘I think that you think I’m an alcoholic.’
She reached out to touch his arm, feeling embarrassed for him. ‘Mark, really, you don’t have to do this,’ she said.
‘Well, I do actually,’ he said. ‘Because I’m not an alcoholic.’
She stared at him. ‘You’re not?’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. And I never have been. I promise you.’
She continued to stare, frowning. In her professional life she’d encountered plenty of people in denial, but something told her that Mark was telling her the truth. Which was wonderful, of course. But what had made her think he was an alcoholic in the first place? She frowned, trying to remember. It had been those dark circles beneath his eyes. The way his hands had been shaking the day they had first met. She hadn’t invented that.
‘Really, Alexia,’ he was saying. ‘It’s true, I promise you. I don’t actually drink much at all. The occasional pint of bitter, and a good wine with dinner occasionally. That is… as good as I can afford, of course … Anyway, the point is, I don’t have a drink problem, and I’ve never had a drink problem. Do you believe me?’
She nodded, feeling very embarrassed now. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have made assumptions. I can’t believe I was so stupid.’
‘Not at all,’ he said, and he looked down at his drink, something changing in his face. ‘I may not be an alcoholic myself, but I do know something about alcoholics.’ His voice was suddenly quiet and charged with emotion. ‘My brother was an alcoholic. It … killed him in the end.’
A ball of feeling and compassion caught in her throat. It was plain to see how much this tragedy still upset him. Had that been why he was shaking? Out of grief for his brother? Oh, how awful. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t apologise enough. It was completely unprofessional of me.’
Mark smiled at her briefly. ‘No it wasn’t, don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t look particularly healthy, I know. I haven’t slept well lately, and I spend far too much time indoors. It’s a long time since I had a sun tan.’
Alexia smiled, grateful for his attempt at levity. ‘They aren’t good for you anyway.’
‘True,’ he agreed, and then his eyes twinkled ever so slightly. ‘You knocked my drink over deliberately that night in the pub, didn’t you?’ he said.
‘Guilty as charged,’ she said, smiling sheepishly. ‘Sorry. I hid the bottles of beer I had at home as well. Oh, I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid!’
He laughed. ‘You were acting with the best of intentions,’ he said. Then he abruptly sobered. ‘I wish I’d knocked a few of Jonathan’s pints over before it was too late,’ he said. ‘And poured his whisky down the sink.’
‘How long is it since he died?’ she asked gently.
‘Six months ago.’
‘It will still be very raw then. Do you want to talk about it?’
He looked straight back at her. ‘Do you want to talk about your ex?’
She flushed, then smiled grimly. ‘Touché,’ she said. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Maybe sometimes it’s best to let the past be just that – the past.’
‘Yes.’ Alexia’s heart was suddenly thumping. He wasn’t an alcoholic. He wasn’t a client. He was still a volunteer, but he was only staying a few more days. In theory, there was nothing to stop her letting down her barriers to get closer to him. Nothing, that was, except sheer terror.
But what if she showed him her vulnerable side – okay, showed him more of her vulnerable side – and he turned round and threw it all back in her face? Could she really afford to trust a man the way she’d once trusted Chris?
And yet… And yet… Did she want to spend the rest of her life behind a keep out fence? Did she want to deny the feelings she had for this man? Could she even do that if she wanted to? Alexia didn’t realise her face was reflecting her turmoil until Mark reached out to touch her cheek.
‘I’ve upset you,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry. Look, d’you want to go somewhere else? I’d invite you back to my house, but it’s horrible. I… haven’t been there long enough to do anything with it yet.’
His hand was hardly touching her face, and yet it was stoking an inferno inside her. ‘Good idea,’ she said, finishing her drink and picking up her bag, ‘let’s go to mine.’
* * * * *
They caught a passing taxi. The driver drove quickly. Although Mark knew they were heading to Alexia’s house to talk, he couldn’t help feeling on fire with anticipation. He hadn’t been properly alone with her since the last time he had been to her house. And now here she was, looking amazing in her yellow evening dress with the memory of the bikini she’d been wearing earlier implanted on his flesh like a skin graft. She was sitting so close to him he could catch the incredibly sexy floral scent of her perfume. Mark knew Jonathan wouldn’t begrudge the fact that it wasn’t thoughts of purging the demons of his past that were foremost in his mind right now. Jonathan would understand.
The taxi stopped outside Alexia’s house. Alexia paid the fare – refusing his offer of money – and they got out. The taxi drove away as she fumbled in her bag for her keys. A lipstick tumbled out. Mark picked it up and h
eld it out for her.
‘Thanks.’ Her hand was trembling slightly as she took it. Whatever memories the man back at the hall had stirred up for her back at the hall, they clearly still had a strong hold on her. She was as tense as a coiled spring.
‘Come in,’ she said brightly, stepping inside and throwing her bag down onto a chair. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Unless you want to play hunt the beer bottle?’
There was something brittle about her voice. Mark took off his jacket and laid it down on the chair next to her bag. He imagined crouching down close to Alexia, giggling together as they hunted in cupboards for the hidden bottle.
‘Coffee’s fine,’ he said.
She clacked off towards the kitchen on her high heels. ‘Right, coming up. Black, no sugar?’
‘Yes please.’
He waited on the sofa, and when she came back he willed her to sit next to him. It must have worked, because she did so, and he felt a surge of excitement course through him, like a teenage boy close to his crush. Except that there was nothing innocent about the way he was feeling right now. Alexia was all shimmering fabric and closely moulded curves, and his hands wanted to glide over them all in a voyage of gorgeous erotic discovery.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Do you want to talk about your brother now?’
Sorry, Bucko, he seemed to hear Jonathan speaking inside his head. I’m still causing you grief even now I’ve gone, aren’t I?
Mark sighed. And then suddenly, without even wanting to, he was talking. ‘Jonathan was only a year younger than me. We were always very close. He was brilliant, funny, inspiring… Until he started drinking. I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn’t admit he had a problem. Not even when his wife left him. I should have made him listen; he wasn’t responsible for his actions by then. But instead… I let him push me away.’
Like a film clip playing inside his head, Mark remembered Jonathan leaning on the doorpost of his squalid rented flat for support, a half empty whisky bottle in his hand. ‘Don’t go all high and mighty on me, Mark,’ he’d slurred at him. ‘What do you know about it? I don’t see your business crumbling about your ears. I don’t see your wife leaving you.’ Jonathan had smiled nastily. ‘Oh, I forgot; you don’t have a wife, do you? Come back when you do. You might understand how it feels to lose one!’ And lurching backwards into the room, Jonathan had slammed the door in Mark’s face. That had been the last time he’d seen him alive.
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