by Ayre, Mark
“Daddy, hi.”
Nina rushed for the older man and swung her arms around him while Jane came forward, hand outstretched.
“James, wonderful to see you again, glad you could make it to my little event.”
She swirled her hand to encompass the people, the food and the drink. James saw the bar and dragged his head back to Jane.
“Good turn out,” he said, unable to think of anything more appropriate.
“So it would seem. Though the people that matter most seem to care the least. My sister turns up late, my father tells me he’s leaving early, and my son hasn’t bothered to show. It’s like they didn’t miss me.”
“Don’t talk rubbish, Jane.”
Davis Chappell approached, putting an arm around each daughter. 20 year age gap aside, they did not look much alike. Both took more after their respective mothers than their ageing father.
“You must be the new boyfriend,” he said, lifting an old hand with a surprisingly strong grip for James to clasp. “Already my daughter cannot stop blathering about you.”
“James,” James offered, pulling his hand back and wondering how disappointed Davis was not quite to have been able to break it.
“Nina has told me your name. Stick around more than a couple of weeks; maybe I’ll start using it.”
“Oh, daddy,” Nina said, putting on the awful loving daughter lilt. “You’re so mean. James and I are going the distance, aren’t we, sweetie?”
Somehow he pasted a horrible fake smile upon his face and managed what might charitably be called a half nod. Jane smirked, and Davis patted his younger daughter on the head.
“He seems keen,” he said, voice awash with sarcasm. “I’d love to do the usual new boyfriend grilling, but it’ll have to wait. I need to go. Goodbye, little one—“ he kissed Nina on the head, then turned to his eldest. “Goodbye, Jane. Hey, now, don’t pout. It’s not like you’ve been back five minutes and this is the first time I’ve seen you. We’ll catch up soon.”
“Goodbye, father.”
Davis departed, leaving James relieved. His head was spinning, his arms a little shaky. The river scene was playing on his mind and tangoing with a protective father would hardly have eased him. Now, at least, there was one less obstacle to deal with, and he deferred to Jane in deciding what to do next. As it was, she made the same decision he would have.
“Drinks.”
Conversation happened. James could feel it knocked around him from person to person. Started by the exuberant bartender, Lars, hit to the mischievous Nina, dropped by the uninterested bar manager, Tahir, picked up by Jane and served to James who had to find a way to partake while fighting the urge to take his drink, down it in one, and run to the bar for another.
He was still in that river. The water filling his ears, turning the table's conversation into distant, garbled voices. Blurring his vision and restricting his breathing. In the quiet of the water the sounds of the party diminished to almost nothing, and from somewhere far more distant came the altogether louder cries of James’ demented past, louder and louder until—
“James?”
He jumped. Nina had her hand on his arm. James looked across the room and saw someone split from a chatting group, drifting for a less grand exit than the one through which James had entered. Someone called, and she turned, revealing her face.
His heart stopped.
“You must forgive my boyfriend,” Nina said, tossing the term out with pride. “We were attacked this evening. That’s why we were late.”
“Shit, what happened?” This was Lars.
“Some arsehole mugger took my purse and pushed James in the river. He—James? Where are you going?”
The girl opened the door and disappeared through it. James stood in a daze, then turned back to the table.
“Need the loo. Sorry.”
Without waiting for permission he made his way fast across the room, brushing past people as he went and muttering quick apologies whenever he felt his shoulder attack someone. He didn’t look back and was at the door before he realised he had left his drink.
He paused, glancing through a narrow pane of glass into the hall beyond the ballroom. At the end of the corridor, he saw her turn right.
Through the door without thinking. All the drinking and meaningless sex and one-half glimpse of her and the darkness was snuffed out like a candle’s flame pinched between two fingers.
Taking the right she had, he passed a staff room, maintenance cupboard and a couple of undistinguished doors before reaching the one that swept him into a grand, marble entrance lobby decorated with tall plants, a round white table covered in brochures for spas and show jumping lessons, and stern looking staff with a keen eye for those that did not belong.
At one side of the room, two grand doors with fake stone handles and a blank-faced doorman were swinging shut. Opposite, a desk that could resist a nuclear blast was guarded by a narrow woman with sharp eyes.
“Are you okay, sir?”
Trying a casual smile that was not well received he crossed the marble floor and allowed the doorman to release him.
Wide stone steps lay ahead, leading onto a gravel carpark. Rows of Bentleys, Ferraris and the like glared at him through the dark. Most of the carpark was shapes and shadows that had swallowed his quarry. Closing his eyes, he listened to the light breeze, praying it would carry her movements to him.
Fifteen seconds passed, then, there she was—a whispering voice to the left.
Descending the steps with the caution of a man on a tightrope, James led his feet into the gravel which crunched in disapproval at his existence.
Staring into the darkness around the side of the building he listened again, but the whispering had stopped. The phone call seemed to have ended. That would make this the opportune moment for him to step forward and announce himself, yet he waited. It was important he took the time to construct the basis of a conversation. Some talking points would be good, but at least an opening sentence. Saying hello in a breathy voice wouldn’t have the desired effect and—
It was too late. The footsteps came, travelling in his direction. He panicked as though a homeowner were about to catch him breaking and entering. Even considered running into the hotel but couldn’t move. Could only stand and wait as she rounded the side of the building, saw him, and stopped.
Her beauty was still breathtaking. Knock out. The pure white dress with plain necklace and bracelet that glinted in the low light was elegant, but the true effect was in the slender figure, the stunning smile, the out of this world eyes. He felt his chest restrict at the sight of her and thought, stupid as it might seem, she may be feeling the same. Not the stuff about the beauty—a looker, he did not believe he was—but the general feeling.
If her chest reacted, she recovered quickly. There was a small breath, then the shocked smile widened.
“Well, hello, James.”
Still, it was a struggle to retake his voice box from the invading army of nerves. To win his body was an even greater battle, but he did and stepped forward.
“Hi, Megan.”
She tilted her head a little, and he knew, whatever he had thought he felt ten months ago was back—every last drop of it.
That was if it had ever gone away.
Like naughty school children sneaking off for a smoke, they did not return to the hotel, but slid around the building, away from the entrance and the car park, past the windows that offered a view into the event they were supposed to be attending, and towards the acres of ground that ran behind the building, alongside a trickling stream.
They did not explore the gardens, though James’ mind offered images of them walking hand in hand through the scenery, instead finding a bench against the building that was mostly dry and was situated under a recess shrouded in shadow. Here they sat, James taking the wet section of bench, Megan the dry. Under cover of darkness, James imagined an illicit drug deal or something else that might make the respectable frown if they we
re caught, but did not voice these thoughts. Their eyes met, and although he could barely make her out it was impossible not to be drawn in by those beautiful orbs. He wanted to take her hand but held back.
“How about this then?” Megan said, and James looked around, thinking she meant the location. She must have seen his head twist in the shadows because she tutted and reached out, turning him back to face her. The feel of her skin made his breath heavy. “I mean you and me, bumping into each other. I know they say it’s a small world but—“
The darkness claimed the end of her sentence, but the words weren’t needed. James was dragged once more into the past, but this time the memories were not the savage ones that usually waited. He was meeting Megan, learning about her unhappy relationship and feeling that spark. Immediate and powerful. He had never fallen for anyone so hard or so quickly, and once her relationship ended, he thought they might give things a go.
But the timing was off. Megan needed to get away. To escape. She had headed to Scotland to see her parents, and he had gone south to stay with his aunt. Ten months had passed since then. James had moved twice, and Megan had come a long way from Scotland for them both to end up in the same city, the same hotel, and even more than that—
“You know Jane?” he asked. A stupid question—why else would she be at the party?
“I work for her. In her bar, anyway. Does that make you think less of me?”
“No. Should it?”
He didn’t need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. There would be no answer to the question because he knew exactly why one might disapprove of working for Jane Chappell, and she knew he knew.
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Good. I don’t get involved in any of the, uh, extras, anyway. It’s just bar work.” A long pause. “I hate it.”
“Then why do it?”
This time he felt, rather than saw, the weaker smile. Her hand came to brush her hair from her eyes and the charm on her bracelet flashed in the dark. It looked like a goat. He assumed it was not.
“Lot of people hate their jobs,” she said, hair back in place. “Most people, maybe. Why should I be any different?”
Now it was his turn not to answer. Her sigh crossed the light breeze to reach him, but she would go on because she was as comfortable in his presence as he was in hers. It had been so from the day they had met.
“I didn’t want to take my parents’ handouts, but I don’t have the skills to do the sort of jobs I would like. Got to pay the bills some way and Jane is one of the few who pays her bar staff decent wages. Plus, the tips don’t hurt.”
James allowed himself a smile.
“Must get a lot of those, looking like you do.”
“Still a charmer.”
James had never considered himself a charmer. Nor smooth in any way. He thanked the darkness for hiding him, sure the sweat on his brow would show in even dim light as his heart continued to crash against his chest. They stayed this way a while. Then she asked the question he had prayed she would not.
“What’s your connection to Jane, then?”
Biting his lip, James considered a lie. It was a natural impulse born from a need to image manage, but he did not want to lie to Megan. No more than he had to, anyway.
“I know her sister, Nina.”
A half-truth, and not one likely to fool the perceptive beauty opposite him. Not even in the dark.
“You know her?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, what, you’re friends, acquaintances?”
“Something like that.”
A tut echoed through the dark.
“I’m not an idiot, James, remember?”
“I remember.”
“So I know it’s more than that. She wouldn’t have invited you unless you were close and the way you talk like you’re hiding something—I’m guessing you’re at least dating. Hey, maybe you’re married.”
He felt the situation slipping away, but what could he do? She needed neither light nor X-Ray to see through him.
“Just dating.”
Just. He threw the word out to show it was no big deal, but it was. Had he been dating Megan it wouldn’t have been just. It would have been everything.
But he wasn’t with Megan. He was with Nina. That was the be all and end all concerning romantic liaisons. Or should be.
Time passed. He got the impression Megan didn’t know what to say, and although he didn’t either, he didn’t want the quiet to get the better of him. He didn’t want her to walk away and for it to end on this. What were the chances of them meeting again? He didn’t know. He had never believed in destiny and yet, here she was, sitting beside him, radiant and beautiful and everything he had ever dreamed of. He gulped, as though swallowing a potato he should have spent longer chewing. Fought the silence.
“I’ve found it tough.”
That sounded stupid, but there it was.
“Found what tough?”
Again it took time to find the words, but he worked for it.
“Life. It’s been difficult forever, I think, but worse since… Charlie.” He paused on that, letting the memory of his last day in the village come back. It was not a pleasant one.
“For me too,” Megan said, then lapsed back into silence.
“I’ve been drinking too much. Looking for distractions. Something to make me think less. I met Nina on a night out, and I guess she was—“ he didn’t want to go into it. He could feel Megan squirming in the dark, under the weight of his implications. The actual words would have been worse.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Megan said, and he thought he saw her hand reach out, but if it did, she withdrew before it could make contact. He wanted to reach out himself but resisted.
“I think I do. It’s not about Nina though. It’s about me, and how stupid I’ve been. How tough it’s been, then I see you and—“
Again the words broke off. He didn’t know how to say them although it was evident in his mind. He had been plagued by memories that drink, and Nina had only managed to turn into blurs, sitting like half-formed things in the background, waiting to pop back the moment the hangover hit, or the sex ended. Tonight the river had shown his defences were nothing more than a paper shield against a sharpened axe. The waking nightmares had flooded his mind. Then he had seen Megan and—
Silence. Just like that. All the memories. All the darkness. Gone.
Stupid as that sounded. Pathetic as that might be for someone he had known four days before she disappeared for ten months, it was true. That was what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get his tongue around it and before he could so much as try, the moment had passed.
“I came out here to make a call,” Megan said, and she was looking away, cutting off whatever he had been about to say next. That hurt.
“What call?”
“A friend. I was supposed to be meeting them here, but they can’t make it. I’m going to meet them. We’re going to have a good night then—tomorrow—I’m handing in my notice. I’m leaving this place for good.”
He sat in stunned silence. Somehow it felt like a breakup, though she had been planning this already and they had only bumped into each other minutes ago. It didn’t matter. He wanted her to stay and searched desperately for the words that would convince her to do so. Once again, he waited too long.
“I’ve thought of you a lot since you helped me pack my bags and leave all I’ve ever known. Since that kiss—“ she drifted, and he wondered if she, like him, was remembering that magical moment their lips had touched—the pure perfection of it. If she was, she soon forced herself back from the memory.
“I know there was a connection then and there probably still is. Maybe if things were different… if I hadn’t had Mark back then and if you weren’t seeing Nina now. But I was, and you are, and we can’t know if the connection is anything more until we try, but that’s not going to happen. I can’t be here anymore. I have to go.”
Her hand exte
nded and this time he felt her soft palm touch his cheek, resting gently there. Bringing up his hand he cupped hers, trying not to let emotion overwhelm him as she drove on with chest piercing words.
“Maybe the fact we keep meeting isn’t a sign we are supposed to be together. Maybe the sign is that whenever we meet, it’s the wrong time. That something is going on that means I have to run away.”
And although he couldn’t see her, he could make out the tears in her eyes. Once more he tried to summon up the courage to say something, but before he could, she leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, and quick, and perfect, right on the lips. It stunned him into more silence, and maybe that’s what she wanted because as he tried to recover from the kiss, she was standing.
“I have to go,” she said, “but I want you to be careful, okay? I don’t want to interfere with your life but this family… The Chappells, they’re dangerous. All of them. So please, be careful.”
She was slipping away, disappearing into the darkness and once more James was going to let her vanish from his life.
Then he was up and moving. She heard his feet approach and when she turned, he could see she was rallying with more rational arguments.
“James—“
He kissed her. Wrapping his arms around her back he pulled her in tight and felt her clutch him as though trying to keep him from taking a great fall. Their lips remained connected for some time, and when they broke, she looked as dazed as he felt.
This time, he ensured he regained his composure first.
“Good or bad,” he said, “fuck the signs.”
This was as eloquent as it was rational and persuasive. Still, she was nodding.
“Yeah,” she said. “Good point.”
He kissed her again, and his mind was made up.
3
Entangled in one another they began to drift further into the darkness. Stepping away from the hotel walls towards the grass, bushes and stream, moving as a blind man with a bad leg and poor coordination might, but happier. Ecstatic, in fact.
Then responsibility reared its ugly head, biting Megan and infecting her with an attack of the conscience. Suggesting she pull away from James, which she did, breaking the best moment of his life thus far.
