That Certain Something

by Clare Ashton

  Pia gulped, unable to restrain her curiosity. ‘Have you talked to her?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Is she OK?’

  Ed leaned over her desk and peered deep into Pia’s eyes as if she could see every naughty thing she’d ever done. ‘No she’s not OK shortarse. What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  Pia groaned. ‘Oh no, not you too?’

  Ed chuckled. ‘Has someone been bending your ear?’

  Pia nodded. ‘My mama.’

  ‘Ha! Good woman. Did she say that you were a hopeless bloody romantic and needed to grow up?’

  Pia opened her mouth, shocked. ‘No. She was a lot nicer.’

  ‘Really?’ Ed seemed perplexed. She shook her head. ‘Bloody good job I didn’t have kids then. However, Pia Benitez-Smith, you’re a hopeless bloody romantic; now grow up. Cate is an incredible lady. One who has integrity, high standards, a moral compass. Fucking annoying in a journalist, but I thought she would be perfect for someone like you who admires such things. You’ve had this earth-shattering love for her, and now that she’s bravely sorting out her life you’ve decided you’re a bit squeamish about how you met and the slight matter of her involvement with a man, that if you’d had a half a brain to ask about you would have avoided in the first place.’

  Pia stared at Ed. ‘Mama didn’t say that either.’

  ‘Well somebody bloody had to.’

  Pia looked down at her hands folded and dejected in her lap.

  ‘Shortarse.’ Ed was more conciliatory. ‘Are you going to walk away from someone who is probably the love of your life?’

  ‘I wish I could get over it. My head says to forgive and try again. I know I’m the luckiest person alive to have someone like Cate love me. But my heart still hurts and I can’t do what it doesn’t want to.’

  Ed sat back and puffed out. ‘Jesus. I could knock your heads together. I really could.’ She inhaled through her nose and leaned forward again. ‘I do understand shortarse. I hope you don’t regret it, that’s all.’

  -

  Work seemed an empty place without Cate. Pia rattled around London doing Ed’s bidding, but the excitement, the real joy, she realised had gone. She took photos that were adequate, some even good. Ed complimented her at times, but she realised how important Cate’s approval had been to her now that she wasn’t there. The shine of working for the gossip magazine was tarnished and the motivation to get that one exceptional image was gone.

  Every day she peeped at the contacts icon on her phone. It took every bit of will power not to tap through to Cate’s name. The temptation to send a simple text and be with Cate via a few simple characters was overwhelming.

  Pia loitered in the corridor of the office one morning practising just this masochism when her fingers refused her bidding and stroked through to her number. She was shocked when her phone started to connect.

  ‘You all right mate?’ Rafe’s voice came so clear from his office that Pia thought he was speaking to her. She snapped her thumb over her phone to end the call and scrambled it into her pocket.

  Rafe’s door was ajar, the key in the lock as always, but he remained inside.

  ‘Yeah yeah,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t take long for gossip to get round does it?’

  Pia tip-toed forward to peek inside the room. Rafe sat with his feet on the large desk, glass of whisky in hand and phone cradled between his shoulder and ear. His hair was flat and a day or two of stubble peppered his chin. But his voice still had his customary bravado.

  ‘Yeah, the fucking bitch. I couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had to put up with.’

  Pia froze at his harsh words that could only have been aimed at Cate.

  ‘Still gave her a fucking huge white wedding and a honeymoon a hundred women would have killed for.’

  Conciliatory words must have been said on the other end of the line.

  ‘Don’t worry about me mate. I’ll get over the bitch. You shouldn’t feel too sorry for me either. It’s not as if I haven’t been getting my end away.’

  Pia heard a tinny male laugh from the phone. Rafe grinned and stared out of the window as his friend talked.

  ‘You know me too well mate. I had her over my desk on the first day here.’

  Pia twitched back with revulsion. An instant image appeared in Pia’s head of Cate reclined over the desk with Rafe inside her. She turned away with nausea curdling her stomach.

  The eavesdropping was a tonic for her temptation and her phone thereafter remained resolutely in her pocket. There was one person, however, that she thought she should see, no matter how unwelcome or unpleasant, and that was Sir Charles.

  Pia loitered around the gates to the mansion one morning until she saw Cate drive out in Lady Wynne’s Jaguar. She was escorted by the butler to the large entrance hall where she waited to be seen. It was cool inside the cavernous hall. The sun blazed in the bright green gardens through the windows and Pia gazed in disbelief at the ancestral home of the woman she loved and who loved her.

  Her reverie was broken by rapid echoing steps. She sprung to her feet, anxious at Lady Wynne’s reaction, and ready to leave if that was appropriate.

  Lady Wynne entered from the ballroom, her expression pained and her arms outstretched. ‘My darling Pia.’ She covered the ground in quick steps and threw her arms around Pia’s neck. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come, but you’ve missed her by seconds.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Pia said, flustered. ‘I came to see you and Sir Charles.’

  Wynne looked disappointed and a little perplexed.

  ‘I wanted to check he was all right.’ Pia was timid. ‘How is he?’

  ‘You can see for yourself.’ She took Pia’s arm and led her outside. She pointed her freckled hand towards the lawn where an elderly gentleman lay on the grass.

  ‘Is he OK?’

  ‘Go and see,’ Wynne said with a warm smile.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Pia was nervous at approaching the gunman and also at how altered she might find him.

  ‘Quite sure my dear.’

  Pia edged towards the lawn. He lay so still in the sun. She trod over the grass, alert to any movement. More than a small fear of finding him dead gripped her chest.

  Glassy, unblinking eyes stared at the sky. His white, bony fingers were entwined over his heart. For a horrible moment she thought she was going to have to reach out and prod him.

  ‘Hello? Sir?’ she whispered.

  He blinked, sniffed, coughed a little and came to. He shaded his brow and sat up. ‘Hello,’ he offered. It was neither a question nor a confident greeting. He regarded her with interest. ‘I’m terribly sorry my dear. Not a clue who you are.’

  She knelt down and offered a hand. ‘It’s Pia sir. Pia Benitez-Smith.’

  He took her hand in a firm shake, with the vigour of someone who’d been bred to be superior.

  ‘I’m very sorry my dear. Wynne says I should know lots of these people who visit. But I haven’t a bloody clue who they are. Pia, did you say?’

  She nodded, wondering what memories would surface.

  ‘Spanish name?’

  ‘That’s right sir.’

  Sir Charles squinted in concentration. ‘You remind me of a fellow I used to serve with. Chap called Peter. Handsome devil. Slight chap, but very successful with the ladies. He was very nice fellow with it all too.’

  Pia had no idea if this was a true memory, or if she had become garbled with someone else. Sir Charles stared at her and a flicker of recognition flitted across his face. She tried to keep calm while she waited for the penny to drop and a torrent of abuse to start. He tilted his head to one side, his frown intensifying, and she closed her eyes for the inevitable wrath.

  ‘Do you fancy giving me hand?’ he said.

  She opened one eye and saw the garden. She opened two and saw more garden. She turned around. Sir Charles had walked to the border and was bringing back a fork and spade. He threw the prongs of the fork into the ground by her
feet and set to work with the spade.

  ‘Um. Sir?’ Pia checked for Lady Wynne but there was no-one in sight. ‘What are you doing?’

  Sir Charles stopped and stared at her with a disapproving look that was much more like his old self. ‘Digging. What the bloody hell does it look like? Are you a half-wit?’

  Pia blushed. ‘I mean, should you be digging up the lawn?’

  ‘Oh I see.’ He stopped and leaned on the spade. ‘Well, I was flicking through some books in the library and I found a photo of the old place during the war. The entire east lawn was planted with veg. I thought it the most heartening sight. Britain resisting and feeding itself.’ A breath later he asked ‘Are you German, Pia?’

  ‘No sir. Spanish. Half Spanish.’

  ‘Yes, you did say didn’t you? Can’t be helped.’ And he started to dig again. ‘You know I’ve had a funny thought.’ He peered up. ‘Do you know my granddaughter?’

  ‘Yes sir. I do.’ Pia wondered if he caught the sorrow in her voice.

  ‘Lovely girl. Intelligent, beautiful and devilish sense of humour at times. I thought the two of you might hit it off.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Pia said with a fond smile. ‘We used to work together and I liked her very much.’

  ‘Indeed?’ He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. ‘I thought there’d be a spark or two, if you know what I mean.’

  Pia opened her mouth, but no coherent words came out. ‘Um. You do realise that I’m a woman sir.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, as if this was obvious. ‘Oh, I see what you mean.’ He pondered. ‘Can’t be helped.’ He continued to dig and Pia could think of nothing better to do than help the old man dig his vegetable plot.

  Later Pia sat under a tree with Lady Wynne. They watched Sir Charles methodically dig rows across the erstwhile pristine lawn.

  ‘He’s not quite all there is he?’ Pia said.

  ‘No he’s not,’ replied Wynne. She looked with fondness towards her husband. ‘But at least the good bits are.’

  ‘Will he get better?’

  Wynne sighed. ‘Well depending on your point of view, probably not. But there are advantages to his current state. He’s happier for one, and so is everyone else.’

  Pia stared at Charles and shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’

  ‘Oh, and that silly buffoon wielding a shotgun had nothing to do with it.’

  Pia covered her face not wanting to see Lady Wynne’s reaction. ‘Do you know what happened?’

  Lady Wynne’s fingers squeezed her arm in reassurance. ‘Cate told me everything my dear,’ she whispered. ‘She’s told me everything, right back to when you first met, and I’m very glad the silly old bugger didn’t manage to shoot you.’

  Pia slipped her hands away and looked at Lady Wynne. She saw kindness and regret in her face.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to see Cate?’ Wynne said.

  ‘I want to see Cate every second of the day.’

  -

  Lady Wynne watched from an upstairs window. She watched Pia walk away from the house, down the gravel driveway and into the city beyond the walls.

  ‘She’s still very hurt.’

  Cate nodded, and touched her fingers to the glass. She leant in close to watch Pia until the very last sight of her.

  Her grandmother squeezed her shoulder in affection and comfort. ‘I think you should go darling. You need to get on with your life. Go to New York and do all those things you dreamt of. I can be your safety net now.’

  They both regarded Sir Charles who was tearing up the east lawn.

  ‘And when you divorce Rafe, find someone like Pia and settle down. I promise I will see you right. Pia’s done you more than one favour you know.’

  They peered down sadly at the new agreeable version of Sir Charles.

  ‘Thank you,’ Cate said. ‘But there’s no-one in the world like Pia.’

  Chapter 25.

  Monday morning came around again and again. Pia set off to work with half a heart. Even her beloved second-hand Vespa seemed apathetic today. It coughed and spluttered black fumes and gave the distinct impression of being unwell. It whirred over London Bridge and, by the time it reached Fleet Street, disgruntled cyclists overtook her with ungracious glances.

  She pulled up in her usual spot and remained seated, reluctant to start another week of being reminded of Cate’s absence.

  ‘Come on.’ She swung her heavy legs from the scooter and settled her rucksack on her shoulders. Disgruntled and moping, she sighed down at her own feet. Then she stepped onto the pavement and walked straight into an iced coffee.

  ‘Wooargh.’

  ‘Watch out love!’ An irate man shouted at her from behind a now empty plastic cup.

  Freezing brown liquid soaked into her white T-shirt. It ran its frosty way down into her bra, down her belly and down her trousers, and a small icy drop seeped into her knickers. She shivered and pinched her shirt away from her belly. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Just mind where you’re bloody going.’ The man marched away with a backwards glare of censure.

  Pia looked down at the brown stain from her breasts to her groin. ‘OK. So it’s going to be that kind of day.’

  By checking in every direction on all occasions, the rest of the short journey proved beverage-free. She found a quiet end office, which was inexplicably empty, and dumped her rucksack on the desk. She slumped into the chair, which gave a little, and leaned against its back, which gave a lot. It was so giving in fact that it collapsed and flipped her over.

  ‘What the…?’

  She lay on the floor, her legs hooked over the upturned seat. As she gazed up at her shoes and brown stained groin, she contemplated whether this was the reason for the office’s lack of occupancy. In any case, she decided it might be best not to move until lunchtime.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket and, having very little else to occupy her on the floor, she answered it.

  ‘Hi.’

  Pia’s heart leapt at the sound of Cate’s greeting. She took a few moments to respond, struck dumb by Cate’s beautiful voice, sudden and vivid. ‘Hi,’ she managed.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d answer.’ Cate sounded melancholy. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m…I’m fine thank you.’

  ‘You sound rough. Do you have a cold?’

  Pia sounded nasal on her back with her feet in the air. ‘I’m just lying around.’

  They were silent for a few moments. It could have been minutes.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you before I left. I’m going to Paris for a few days. I’m helping cover the election. Then I’m going to New York.’

  ‘The secondment to the New York Times?’ Pia forgot herself in her excitement for Cate. She tried to sit up but realised she would need to do a backward somersault to extract herself from between the desk, chair and wall.

  ‘Yes. I called them on the off chance, and they still wanted me to join.’ Cate hesitated. ‘I’ve signed a two-year contract.’

  It knocked the last bit of joy out of Pia. It had a finality that hurt even though Pia knew they couldn’t be together. She tried to smile, to be happy for Cate.

  ‘I hope it’s as good as your dreams.’ Pia closed her eyes in despair when she remembered what Cate’s dream had been. The thought that she would find someone in New York to cherish and love and hold at night cut like a knife through her heart.

  They were silent again. In the background she heard someone, perhaps Lady Wynne, whisper ‘Darling, we’d better set off for the station.’

  Cate’s reply was indistinct but then: ‘Pia?’

  ‘I’d better go anyway.’ The image of Cate happy with someone else had made Pia choke.

  ‘Ring me,’ Cate said quietly. ‘Day or night. Ring me if you want to talk.’

  Pia nodded, gulping down a sob.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Pia sniffed, ‘Only a cold.’

  ‘I thought you said you were all right.’

  ‘Came
on suddenly. Better go. Good luck.’ And Pia fumbled to end the call.

  She lay on the floor, utterly despondent, the cold, brown coffee stain clinging to her tummy. There she stayed for some unknown time until Ed’s face appeared in the air above. Ed’s expression of concern changed to bemusement with the twitch of an eyebrow.

  ‘Hi Ed,’ Pia said, deflated. ‘Please don’t ask.’

  ‘Are things that bad? You know throwing yourself off a chair is no way to end it all.’

  Pia lightened with a fraction of a mental smile. ‘Just shoot me.’

  ‘Well people have tried my dear.’ Ed grinned. ‘But before we ring Sir Charles for another attempt on your life, you have a visitor in reception.’

  ‘I’m not expecting anyone.’

  ‘Not an attractive Spanish lady?’

  Perplexed, Pia extricated herself from the chair and wall using an inelegant manoeuvre and followed Ed to the door. Ed peeped into the corridor with a keen look on her face.

  ‘Ed. That’s my mama!’ Ed was quite obviously admiring her.

  ‘Really?’ Ed took another appreciative glance. ‘Well, congratulations on superior genes missy. You are going to be a scorcher in middle age.’ Ed raised her hand to quash any further objections and disappeared with a smirk before Pia could retaliate.

  The reception area was empty and Denise was absent from the desk. Her mama was free to stride around admiring the large Bennet sign and posters from the first edition that decorated the walls. She lingered by the spread of Cate’s article and Pia’s photo of the London Fashion Show. Pia’s heart swelled when she saw her mother clasp her hands together in pride.

  ‘Hi Mama.’ Pia smiled, the first proper feeling of cheer she’d had all day.

  ‘Pia. My little Pia.’ She came towards her, arms open with proud delight. She drew her close but with a second thought pushed her away. She scanned Pia’s front.

  ‘Oh mija. What do you do on the way to work?’