“I’m a student.”
Lucy sipped her drink. “You don’t look like one.”
Jenna smiled as Adam returned and handed her a drink. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied.
Adam sat down and Lucy said with a mischievous twitch of her brow, “So you’re into students now, Adam.”
Adam’s smile was thin. “Just one. Shut up, Lucy.”
Lucy feigned a huff and twirled a small foot. “Oh! Touchy!” An older woman in green and wearing huge earrings, leaned round Lucy and said, “I’m Agnes. I’m the one who has to try to keep Lucy under control. I don’t always succeed.”
Lucy grinned. “Come on, Agnes. I brighten up your dreary days.”
Jenna began to relax. The band finished one song and the lead singer called for more couples on the floor. Then the drums began again and the floor thrummed with the vibrations.
Lucy jerked her chair a few inches to bring her ear closer to Jenna’s. “So how did you and Adam meet?”
“At a friend’s house.”
“How long have you been going out?”
“About six months.”
Lucy nodded and sipped her drink. “That figures.”
“Oh?”
She smiled brightly. “Well, Adam’s back to being one of the eligible bachelors around here.”
Jenna studied the crowd while her mind turned over the precise words Lucy had used. They sat without speaking for some minutes. Adam had left her side. Jenna looked around for him. He was at the far side of the room, amongst a group of men of his own age. They were laughing, gesturing, joking. She willed him to look round, to smile across at her. It was early for him to have left her alone and she felt the breeze of his absence.
There was a nudge at her elbow.
“Who’s that?” asked Lucy, pointing. “She seems to know you.”
Jenna looked. It was Dianne. She was weaving her way gracefully though the crowd, waving at Jenna, her blond head a few inches above most of the women and her progress tracked by most of the men.
Jenna was surprised. “What on earth are you doing here?” She sat in the chair Adam had left. “Darling! I’m so glad to see you. I don’t know anyone, except you and Adam. But at least there are people – lots of people!”
Lucy said, “You’re English?”
Dianne’s laugh tinkled. “I just have to open my mouth, don’t I?”
“Is Paul here?” asked Jenna.
She nodded. “He allowed himself to be dragged along after I pestered him for two days. He bought me a drink and then went to sulk in a corner.”
“So… you knew this party was on?”
Dianne’s lip gloss shone in the spinning lights and her cheeks glowed with pleasure. “Adam mentioned it one night he was at our house. I was just dying to get out.” She sipped her drink and gestured around the room with the glass. “There are parties all over the place at home and I’m missing out on them all. So Adam said we could come to this one. He said no-one would notice another couple.”
People have already noticed you, Jenna thought, looking round. Her eyes kept searching, moving, checking. She could see Adam; where was Paul?
“You’ll get to a few when you go over for Christmas, I’m sure.” The lead singer was calling for volunteers to have a go at the microphone. Dianne raised her voice as ‘The Rose of Tralee’ belted from the throat of a middle-aged man in cords and a shirt with a pattern of holly and berries. “Yes, we fly over tomorrow afternoon. Arabella has things planned for every night.” She held up a hand theatrically. “Wonderful! I can’t wait.”
“Paul must be looking forward to meeting up with a few old friends.”
Dianne made a face. “He says I should be grateful he’s agreed to get on the plane.”
The evening became layer upon layer of music, lights, chatter and tinsel. Adam appeared. “Come on, Jenna. Let’s give the dance floor a whirl.”
She took his hand and felt wonderful, carefree. She put an arm round his waist as he introduced her to more people around the room. She found herself at ease, happy, chatting, secure. A plump woman in a dress that was sprayed on over every bulge, was singing ‘Hey, Big Spender’. Adam found a cracker on the floor and held it out to Jenna. He caught the paper hat as it flew from the centre and unfolded it.
“It’s a good fit,” he said, arranging it on her head.
“Hey, don’t muss my hair!” she laughed.
They were standing at a pillar. A shiny red bell swayed slowly beside her head. She looked around. “There’s got to be mistletoe somewhere.”
“Will you be all right for a minute?” He was looking round the room, his attention straying from her again.
“Sure, but…”
He gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back for the slow one. Keep it for me?”
“Who else?” she said to his back. Now he was irritating her. She deserved better. She leaned against the pillar, watching, listening.
“You must be Adam’s friend.” A girl in a bright red top and silk trousers had appeared in front of her. Her head was heavy with loose black curls. She stood with her feet apart, a hand on one hip.
Jenna smiled at her. “Yes, I’m Jenna.”
The girl held out her hand. It was a formal, surprising gesture. “Rachel,” she said. Her handshake was firm, almost masculine. “I’ve heard of you.”
Rachel’s eyes were not smiling. Jenna felt a faint unease; there was something in this girl’s body language that was alert, feline. Rachel looked down to Jenna’s feet and back up to her head, where the paper hat still perched.
“Nice dress,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Jenna.
“I used to have one just like it…” she took a sip of her drink “… about five years ago. You’re a student, I believe.” She said it as if it were faintly amusing.
“Yes. How did you know?”
Rachel waved a hand vaguely and her curls swayed. “Oh, Adam must have mentioned it one night.”
Suddenly Lucy appeared from nowhere. “Hey Rachel!” she said brightly. “Come over here. There’s someone wants to meet you.”
Rachel allowed herself to be pulled away. Her eyes stayed on Jenna as she turned. “Check out the nail bars sometime. You might be able to get varnish that actually matches the dress.”
Jenna watched her go. Meow, who let the cat in?
“Are you OK?”
She knew the voice before she turned round. Paul was leaning against the pillar, the shiny red bell obscuring his eyes.
“What could be wrong?” she said to his mouth.
“Stay away from her. She’s got claws.”
Jenna’s brows rose. “So have I.”
He pushed himself upright. “Not nearly sharp enough.”
The room was very warm. Jenna walked away from him and found a bench seat against the wall. She was beginning to feel tired. Luke said he always knew when his sister had tuned out because she went to a corner and just watched. Rachel was on the dance floor now, her hips moving, her red sandals tapping, her arms swaying in rhythm. She was attractive rather than beautiful, an effortless sexiness about her that gave her an aura of power. How did Paul know Rachel? And know her well enough to know about the claws?
Lucy flopped down beside her. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“You’re the second person who’s asked me that.”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Well, it’s a pity you had to meet Rachel. She’d want to meet you, of course.”
“Why would she want to meet me?”
Lucy looked at her curiously. “Well,” she said slowly, “I think she’s regretting what she did.”
Jenna spread a hand, baffled. “What did she do?”
Lucy put a hand over her face. “Oh, God!” When she looked again, Jenna saw pity in her eyes. “You don’t know, do you? Adam hasn’t told you.”
Jenna frowned. “Told me what?”
Lucy blew out her cheeks and looked down. Jenna saw her com
e to a decision. “Rachel and Adam were engaged. She jilted him a week before the wedding.” She looked away, up at a glittering ball on the ceiling. “I don’t think… he’s ever got over it.” She turned back to Jenna. “I also think she wants him back.”
The heat, the music, the lights, all receded, became the stage scenery of shock. After a moment, Jenna whispered, “Engaged to her?”
Lucy had leaned in to hear her. She nodded. “They were supposed to be married last year,” she replied.
Jenna closed her eyes. Waves of realisation broke in her. Everybody in the room knew this. Including Paul. Everyone except her. Adam had been about to get married. He had never told her. Never mentioned it.
Lucy touched her arm. “She mightn’t get her way, you know. You’re a much nicer person than Rachel.”
Jenna’s hands balled into fists on her lap. Does the whole world think I’m ‘nice’? Next she’ll tell me I’m ‘good’.
The room began to come into focus again. She would ask him about it. Plenty of people have relationships that don’t work out. They move on. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. That’s probably it. She’d talk it over with him.
The band was breaking for a drink. The chatter and laughter were thrown into relief in a room empty of music. Near her, strands from party poppers were shooting between tables amidst roars of laughter and sliding chairs. One landed on Jenna’s head. She pulled it off, crushing the paper hat as she did so. She threw it on the ground.
A single guitar chord cut above the noise. She looked up. Paul was on the raised platform where the band had been, holding a borrowed guitar. Curious, everyone watched him. She could hear whispers: Who’s that? Don’t know. I think he’s Adam’s brother. Does he have a brother? Never mentioned one.
Colours from the spotlights slid across Paul’s white shirt. She was reminded of him sitting in her chair, colour from her tree lights flicking across his cheeks. He plucked a few chords, checked the tuning. Then he looked up, his gaze travelling the room.
“I’ve been shoved up here by my brother. He’s never liked me, so I shouldn’t be surprised.” Laughter. “But I’m a gate-crasher, so I’ll sing for my supper.”
His fingers ran down the strings slowly. Then he set up an easy lazy rhythm, caressing the strings. A solitary figure, head bent, he held the room in the hollow of his hand. Jenna looked around. People were quiet, hardly a movement stirred the shadows. Even the lights stopped spinning and Paul was left in a pool of white, his fingers plucking a faultless riff.
Suddenly he jerked his head up and sprang to the front of the platform. Everyone jumped amid squeals of surprise. He scraped the strings raucously and placed his feet apart. In amazement, Jenna watched him launch himself across the stage in a wicked send-up of Elvis’ ‘Hound Dog’. The room erupted, yells and whoops accompanied the beat, stamping, clapping. Jenna hunched back in her seat, too surprised to join in. He was torturing the strings, strutting, spinning. Lucy was on her feet, bouncing and clapping.
Jenna’s eyes followed Paul across the stage, watched his mouth curve in mischief, his eyes wink at the girls around him, his feet tap in time to his flying fingers.
And you asked me who I am! Who are you? A shapeshifter? I thought you were sulking in a corner.
It took some minutes for the room to calm down. Jenna caught the faint glint of sweat on his temple as he set down the borrowed guitar and Dianne threw her arms round him in delight, owning him. She didn’t see where he went after that.
Jenna wanted Adam and wanted to go home. She got to her feet and looked around for him. The slow dance, sleepy in his arms, was a pleasure in store. Except Adam was on the other side of the room and Rachel was close to him, closer than she should have been, laughing up into his face. A coloured strand of some decoration had landed on his shoulder. Rachel reached up and pulled it off. There was something in the way she did it, something intimate about the gesture. Adam wasn’t smiling, his concentration on her totally.
Rachel’s black curls tumbled round her neck as she pointed to the ceiling. Jenna stopped breathing. Something very like mistletoe peeped from a cross beam. Very deliberately, Rachel put her hands on Adam’s shoulders and kissed him full on the mouth. He stood with his hands rigid by his sides as she pulled away. Jenna was aware of people looking, nudging. Adam said something. Rachel replied. Adam looked up, cast a brief glance round the room. The loose, red silk rippled on Rachel’s back as she kissed him again. His arms came up and he pulled her to him, lingered, then kissed her deeply. The slow dance was starting, the last dance. Keep the last dance for me. He had totally forgotten. Rachel pulled him onto the dance floor.
Jenna put a hand to the wall to steady herself. People were looking at her. Suddenly Lucy was beside her, pulling her away, saying she felt faint and would Jenna come outside with her for a minute or two? Jenna shook her arm away. Adam had been flirting, bantering all evening. He had not been paying her enough attention. She had been trying to keep the thought at bay. After all, she was just Jenna, but Adam was Somebody here. Now the first flicker of anger lit in her head. Now she had found out he had been about to marry another woman only a year before. Now he was kissing that woman in front of her. This wasn’t flirting. This girl knew exactly where her head would reach on Adam’s shoulder, knew the length of his arms, the way of his walk, the turn of his step. Adam’s palm knew the small of her back, the angle of her neck, the twine of her fingers, the scent of her hair.
Jenna raised a finger to Lucy who was still trying to pull her towards the door. She bit out the words. “Don’t follow me.” She turned to leave. Lucy came with her. Jenna swung round. “Just don’t!”
The hotel foyer was cooler but still not cold enough. Jenna strode through, round chairs, coffee tables and knots of late drinkers. Her pink dress billowed in the breeze as she flung herself through the swing doors and out into the freezing night. She didn’t stop until she was under a tree at the far side of the car park. Halfway across, brakes squealed and the radiator grill of a Mercedes halted two feet from her legs. She scarcely heard it.
Hidden from the lights of the car park, she wrapped her arms round herself. Everything she had felt had turned to vapour. Everyone brought history with them. It was part of the baggage people collected as they lived and loved. She could accept that. It wasn’t right that Adam had not told her about Rachel, but she could have got over it, understood, sympathised even. But she had just witnessed a relationship that was far from over. It was very much alive. And the bastard had humiliated her in front of the whole room. Her fist thudded into her palm.
After a moment of silence, a calm voice said, “That’s good.” She spun round. Paul lounged on the bonnet of the nearest car, his arms folded and his ankles crossed.
Jenna exploded. “Why do you have to be so bloody quiet?” He looked up at the stars. “Nice night. Cold.”
“Go away.”
He looked down, uncrossed his ankles and kicked a pebble. “No.”
She turned her back. The skirt of her dress caught on a thorn twig. She pulled it and heard the thin material tear. It was enough. She put her arm on the trunk of the tree, dropped her head onto it and wept into the black, cold wood.
When her sobs shuddered down to jerky breaths, she turned round slowly, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Paul was still there, arms folded, still calmly surveying the car park, the lights of the hotel, the moon. Finally he turned his head to her.
“No tissue. Sorry.” He stood up and tore some grass from the verge. He handed it to her. “That might work.”
She took it and blew her nose. It did work. She had left her bag back in the hotel. She pulled another clump of grass and wiped her eyes. She tried a small laugh. “And I took such care with my mascara!”
He had come onto the grass beside her. “Don’t do that again.” She sniffed. “Do what?”
“Cry. Not over this. Not over Adam.”
Another tear spilled down her cheek. “Why the hell not?” She ra
ised her voice. “It hurts.”
His voice came, low and urgent beneath the bare winter branches. “Jenna, what hurts – your heart? Or your pride?”
She looked up at him. His back was to the lights of the car park, his face just shadows on shadows. Some guests spilled from the hotel entrance, tipsy laughter carrying across the cold distance to where they stood. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She began to shiver, put her arms round herself again and turned away from him. He stayed where he was and spoke to her back, flicked his question like a dagger.
“Is he your lover or your brother?”
She felt the damp on her bare toes where her sandals sank into the rough grass. She said over her shoulder, “He doesn’t have to be either.”
He came closer. “Yes, he does. Yes, he does, Jenna. If he’s not your lover – and he’s not, is he?” He waited. She said nothing. “If he’s not your lover, then what is he? A brother? Luke in a suit? Your father, taking care of you?”
She flung round, her dress catching again. “Mind your own business! What do you know anyway?”
The shadows of his face shifted in a smile. “That’s it! Bring back the anger. Thump me if you like.” He held out a hand but didn’t touch her. His expression was so intense that a point of light found his eyes even in the darkness. “Don’t waste your life on buddies. Go for the passion. Want the moon and the stars and the sun. Find things that are worth tears.” He turned to go. “Demand more for yourself, Jenna. It’s there. And you’ll be dead a long time.” He backed away, then turned and strolled off across the car park. Half way across, he turned and, walking backwards, called out, “You’re a big girl now. You can find your own way home.”
Jenna watched him reach the entrance, push through the revolving door into the light and warmth. He didn’t look back. He’s just left me here, she thought, incredulous. Adam would have called me a taxi. She kicked the tree. She had never before stubbed all her toes at once.
“Shit!” she said.
12
WHEN SHE GOT back to her house, the lights were on and Luke was lying on her sofa watching television. He had turned on the tree lights. Adam had made her turn them off before they left. She paid the taxi driver who stood distrustfully at the door until she returned with the fare.
Maker of Footprints Page 11
