by Rosa Temple
‘He does?’
‘Of course. He’s older, vich could add up to viser and in my experience of men that is usually the case.’
‘He’s only five years older than Anthony.’
‘Ve’ve done Anthony; ve’re moving on. Hugo – love that name – has admitted to his mistakes, he’s made a life for himself abroad in vot appears to be a lucrative business, he gives generously to charity and you’ve slept vith him.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘It’s alvays better the penis you know, Madge. Don’t spend your life trying out sexual partners for size; if you find von that does it for you then stick vith it.’
‘Says the woman who has had more penises than full plates of food.’
‘You are here to learn from the benefits of my mistakes. Trust me. Hugo is the von for you, Madge. I feel it in my bones.’
If I was to trust Anya’s bones, and I had to admit she spoke a lot of sense, then I should be calling Hugo now. I’d told him earlier I would and it was getting late.
‘All right,’ I said, getting my mobile out. ‘I’ll see how things go with Hugo. Everything you said about Anthony has its roots in the truth. I can’t say I totally agree with your reasoning but him being engaged … it’s just too messy.’
Anya nodded and had a satisfied look on her face. I stared at my mobile and my fingers hovered over the keys. Why was I hesitating? Anya had this right, didn’t she?
‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘I still have to work with Anthony, at least until the summer. And how do we manage that with this big cloud over our heads?’
‘Let it be his problem. You just go in on Monday, calm as anything. Act as though it never happened. Talk to him about the fantastic veekend you’re about to spend vith Hugo and let Anthony vork things out vith that fiancée girl of his.’
‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Look, Madge, I’m only telling you how I feel given the facts. Ultimately it really is your choice.’
‘Perhaps I just need to call Hugo – out of courtesy if nothing else. We can hook up this weekend and I’ll see how I feel about him at the end of it.’
‘Like I said from the beginning, you should give Hugo a chance to make things up to you. See how it goes. You really don’t have anything to lose.’
She was absolutely right. Anthony made no secret of the fact he was interested at some level in me. But if he waited this long to tell me then that was his lookout.
Anya waved over for the bill and I left the table so I could go up to street level to call Hugo. When I put my phone on I noticed there were two missed calls. One from Anthony and one from Hugo.
I returned Hugo’s call.
‘I was beginning to think you’d had second thoughts,’ he said when he picked up.
‘I met a friend after work and it went on longer than expected. I was in a basement bar and restaurant and there was no signal. I just came up to call you when I realised the time. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. But is it too late for us to meet up?’ he said.
‘I guess not, it’s only about nine, I think.’
‘Half past. But I’m game if you are.’
‘Why not? Where are you?’
‘I’m at my rental. Kensington. You?’
‘West End. I could meet you halfway. There’s a bar called Woolf, in Knightsbridge. I can be there by tenish.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he said. I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was smiling. And so was I. I’d made the right decision. I was pretty sure. Yes, pretty much, anyway.
Chapter 32
And so began my weekend of Hugo. It wasn’t a replay of ten years ago. This time there was a lot more talking going on about our lives. I learned so much more about Hugo: his family, his past, what he did on his travels, who he met. He’d learned to speak Portuguese fluently since living in Brazil and he talked a lot about the charitable work he did out there. Though he was really quite affluent, he didn’t make a big show of it. His retreat, or as I found out later, retreats, because he had one in Peru, too, were doing extremely well. As was the spa in Rio.
‘So would you open one somewhere else?’ I asked him. We were still at Woolf’s. It was getting late but there was quite a crowd occupying the small booths and swaying to the smooth sounds from the speakers. We sat side on to each other on a sumptuous double-seated sofa at a table in a cosy corner of the bar.
‘I was thinking of somewhere in the Caribbean but I’m not sure which island,’ he said. ‘The fact is I’m well aware that these places are really only for the well-to-do and I wish I could make them a bit more accessible, but the running costs are so high. They expanded beyond my control. When I was younger I thought I’d be this super rich musician. I never thought I’d be a super rich businessman; that’s just not how I saw myself.’
‘Is that so bad?’
‘Not bad. It means I can go where I want to go, do what I want to do. I mean that’s the dream isn’t it?’
‘And you got there. You did it yourself. You should be proud, even if you were an unsuspecting entrepreneur.’
‘But money isn’t the be all and end all,’ said Hugo. ‘I mean, I know what’s important to me and I know that happiness is something that can’t be bought. Happiness is something you get from being in the right place and with the right person.’
‘And how do you know you’re in the right place?’ I asked, circling the top of my glass with my finger, eyes on Hugo.
‘You’ll know because it’s where the person you want to be with most is. Wherever they are, that’s where you want to be.’
‘So you’d give up your house in the rainforest to be with “the one”?’ I smirked at him using air quotes.
‘At the drop of a hat, Magenta.’ His arm was behind me on the back of the seat and he moved in closer. ‘All she’d have to do was say the word.’
Our lips met as if the invisible magnet that had been drawing our bodies closer and closer in the little booth had been working towards getting our lips to touch. A tender kiss at first until we leaned back. Hugo’s hand was on my thigh and we were kissing with wild abandon until we heard someone coughing in our general direction. We eventually unlatched and looked up to find a member of the bar staff standing on the other side of the table.
‘I’m really sorry, but …’ A girl in the staff colours of white shirt and black trousers was gesturing to the empty bar. All the other customers had somehow disappeared, tables were being cleaned and someone was mopping the floor. I could have sworn that before I closed my eyes to kiss Hugo the place was buzzing with people, music and the lights were very dim. I blinked in the bright lights and smiled at Hugo.
‘My apartment isn’t far from here,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’
I nodded and stood up. Hugo helped me on with my jacket and with a big, comforting arm around me he led me out to the street and we walked a short distance before spotting a taxi and hopping inside.
Hugo’s apartment was in a swanky house on a road off Kensington High Street. It was an end of terrace house and the apartment had its own entrance to the side. A narrow corridor led up to a split-level conversion at the back of the large house. The living room was massive with an open-plan kitchen diner attached. A door led off to an equally large bedroom where I spotted that Hugo had made a lousy job of making his bed.
Other than that the place was immaculate and very trendy in light, neutral colours, soft furnishings and a large mirror on one wall. There was a tall vase of flowers on a side table, the coffee table was scattered with generic magazines and there were a couple of nondescript but not distasteful prints on the wall. Cream silk curtains draped open on either side of the patio windows, which lead to a balcony. Fairy lights adorned the railings outside.
‘Do you want to have a nose?’ Hugo said when he caught me pressing my forehead against the glass.
‘Why not?’ I replied.
He opened up the windows and we stepped out. I noticed how chilly the night felt compared to the warmth of the apartment. It was a large balcony with a breakfast table and chairs on it. The balcony would have overlooked the gardens below had it not been for a very ambitious sycamore that grew high and overhung the balcony.
‘The fairy lights are a nice touch,’ I said shivering a little. ‘The owners live downstairs do they?’
‘No,’ said Hugo coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me to keep me warm. ‘The people downstairs just handed over the key. The owner is a foreign millionaire, I believe, with properties all over London.’
‘I see.’ I turned around to face him but kept my arms crossed in front of me as he tightened his embrace. ‘Why didn’t you book into a hotel?’
‘I’m not overly keen on hotels. I’m renting a place up in Cumbria, too.’
‘That’s right. So why aren’t you staying with your dad, again?’
Hugo took my hand and led me inside. He’d closed the windows and we’d sat on the sofa before he answered the question.
‘The truth is,’ he said, ‘I never got on with my dad. Half the reason I left home so young was because we never saw eye to eye. I wasn’t cut out for being a farmer and I guess he couldn’t get his head around that. I just wanted to do something different. Since I’ve been back we were getting into fights because I wanted to help him by spending money on his house and on the farm. He thinks I’m showing off but he couldn’t be further from the truth.’
‘I’m sure he’ll come around.’ I put my hand on Hugo’s lap. He had a faraway look in his eyes, one I thought I recognised.
‘Well I pop in on him as often as he can handle it,’ Hugo went on. ‘Fact is, Mum was the glue that kept us together. Without her, Dad and I just …’
‘I didn’t mean to bring this up. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I want us to know everything about each other. I want to get to know you a lot better. So,’ he said pulling my legs up to his lap, ‘tell me all there is to know about Magenta Bright.’
‘Where do I start?’ I giggled.
We talked into the early hours of the morning. We ended up both lying together on the sofa, Hugo on his side, me on my back, with our legs intertwined. My booze buzz wore away but I started to become sleepy. I was aware of trying to suppress a yawn or two as Hugo told me about his childhood, his school life and adolescence. I asked why he didn’t have a Cumbrian accent; he sounded a bit like a Londoner, of sorts.
‘I was quick to get rid of my accent when I moved down here, well at least water it down,’ he said. ‘No one in London knew what I was saying otherwise. I guess I have a bit of a world accent by now but I’m pretty sure there’s still a bit of Cumbria in there somewhere.’
I told Hugo all about my life, my family, my best friend Anya. He had heard of her and seen her on television, along with half the population, and wanted to meet her. I told him more about my job. I even told him about only working for a year, even if it didn’t put me in a good light. But I didn’t tell him that my boss might be in love with me. I said very little about Anthony, or at least I tried.
All that talking sent us into a sumptuous sleep. It was light when we woke, both hungry and both dry from drinking so much the night before.
‘You’ll be happy to know I’m well stocked up here,’ Hugo said when we’d stretched and sat up on the sofa. ‘So I’m going to make you the most lavish breakfast you’ve ever had. Is that okay with you?’
‘That’s more than okay. I’ve been starving myself lately so I could get into shape.’
‘You’re joking; you’re perfect.’
‘I wasn’t so perfect a few weeks ago but that’s a long story. If you stay with me long enough, you’ll get to see I love to eat.’
Hugo’s expression became serious and he stared at me.
‘I’d love to stay with you,’ he said.
‘No, Hugo.’ I put my fingers to my lips. ‘I didn’t mean it like that; don’t take it the wrong way. What I mean is –’
‘Too late,’ he said getting up and going to the kitchen. ‘I’m only accepting Freudian slips. You said you wanted me to stay with you and that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘Hugo,’ I sighed but couldn’t finish the thought. For one thing, he began clattering and banging in the kitchen and then my phone rang. It was Lena.
‘Why aren’t you in the park doing physical jerks?’ she said in a stern voice.
‘I’m sorry, Lena. It completely slipped my mind and I’m not near home. Could we skip the physical jerks this Saturday?’ Hugo looked at me puzzled and then smiled. Lena was very accommodating even though she said I’d have to work twice as hard the following Saturday.
Needless to say, the only physical jerks I did that weekend were in Hugo’s bedroom; but I did work, very, very hard.
Chapter 33
The magic bubble that Hugo and I were in had to burst at some time.
The more times we met the more we talked and it became increasingly clear from what Hugo said about his father and the monosyllabic conversations they had on the phone that Hugo had to go back to Cumbria. His father was up there on his own and too proud to tell his son he needed help now that the stream of well-wishers had run dry.
He had been in the kitchen in my flat when a call came and I heard the grunts he made and saw the expression on his face when he returned to the living room.
‘Hugo, don’t you think it’s time you and your father sorted out your problems?’ I asked as he crash-landed onto my sofa.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What do I mean? I mean you have two moods: the fantastic one you have when we’re together and the one you sink into whenever the subject of Cumbria comes up. Go back. Reconcile with your father and do whatever needs to be done up there.’
‘He is sounding as if he’s more amenable to some financial help.’
‘But more than that. Don’t stay away and regret not talking to him. Not sharing your life and what you’ve achieved. I’m sure he’ll be proud of you.’ I felt the prickle of tears in my eyes. Hugo placed a hand on my knee.
‘Magenta, I will go. You don’t have to cry over this.’
‘It’s not that, Hugo. I always used to talk to my Nana Clementine. I did very little before I checked with her first, more than I did Mother. I couldn’t imagine falling out with her and now … now when things are going so right for me, she’s not around for me to tell. The longer you allow yourself to drift apart from your father the harder it’ll get to really talk to him, properly. And one day you won’t have him.’
As I spoke I could see the tenderness in Hugo’s eyes turn into a deep understanding of what I was going through.
‘I’ll call him straight back,’ Hugo said. ‘I’ll tell him I’m going to help him no matter what he says. I can see how hard this is for him. The only thing is, I’m not sure how long I’ll be up there. Is there any chance you could come with me?’ He gave a weak smile. We knew that couldn’t work.
‘I wish I could,’ I told him. But the spring fashion show was weeks away and I had a lot to organise. Hugo understood – of course he did – and the day following that heart to heart I saw him off at Paddington where he left me waving goodbye after a long, smouldering kiss and a hug I didn’t want to be released from.
I was back at Shearman and missing Hugo terribly. I was not in a very nice mood, which was made worse by the fact that Anthony and I were hardly speaking. I’d got back to work on the Monday following Anthony’s confession that he might be in love with me and I did everything I could to avoid bringing the conversation back up.
In the weeks that followed, every time I thought Anthony might start talking about Inez accusing him of being in love with me, I’d shut the conversation down and find a way to either change the subject or escape to another room in the building. It was becoming quite ridiculous between us to the extent that Anthony was annoye
d with me and Cassandra was acting suspicious of our short, sharp conversations.
‘Trouble in paradise?’ she asked me in the kitchen one morning.
‘No, just the pressures of getting the spring fashion show to run smoothly. One of the designers we’re featuring hasn’t come up with as many designs as promised so we’re contemplating pulling someone in from the waiting list or just leaving things as they are.’ I took a big bite of a croissant, hoping I would escape interrogation by chewing my way out of the kitchen but Cassandra followed me up to my room. I took another big bite and chewed for as long as I could after she asked the leading question.
‘Is something going on between you and Anthony?’
I shook my head and pulled a face that was supposed to say, ‘No, not at all,’ but that was very hard to convey while eating.
‘You could have fooled me,’ Cassandra said, bringing her voice down to a whisper and looking over her shoulder at the open door. ‘I know I’m not your favourite person but you can tell me. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and you at him, I might add. But I sense something is different. Something is up, isn’t it? Go on, tell me.’
Before I could stuff in another bite of my croissant, Cassandra snatched if from my hand.
‘What are you hiding?’ she asked screwing up her eyes behind her big glasses.
‘Honestly,’ I said, grabbing back the remaining morsels of my croissant and scattering crumbs everywhere. ‘You’re imagining things. There’s nothing going on here other than a professional, working relationship. Got that? And apart from Anthony being engaged, I’m seeing someone!’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes, don’t look surprised. I’m seeing someone so go back to reception and let me get on with some work.’ At the very moment I pointed at my open office door I saw Anthony standing there.
Cassandra left, raising one eyebrow as she closed the door behind her. Anthony, having ventured inside, was standing with folded arms.
‘I wanted to run a few things by you,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t snooping.’
