Dog Handling (31 page)

In fact, by Sunday evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon on yet another perfect, still evening and they toasted more bliss and sex with yet another bottle of Shiraz, Liv felt as though her life had been a seamless journey from the Provençal marketplace to Australia. She could barely remember a time in between. Somewhere she was terrified to be this happy—she tried to tell herself that anything she gained on this trip, be it a man or a business empire, was a bonus, but she mustn’t treat this adventure as her everyday life.
She
mattered; finding out what
she
thought and felt and cared about and hated mattered. Wasn’t she slightly missing the point if she didn’t do what she wanted to do for once in her life rather than what was right or expected or made someone else happy? Yes, she should definitely go for it.

After the Shiraz, Liv kissed Ben on the forehead and went to get dressed for their Last Supper. Or what she privately hoped would be their first of a million suppers. She showered for an age and pulled on an emerald-green silk slip dress. Though it was a bit on the long side because it was Alex’s, it still looked ethereal and lovely. And the wine had made her cheeks flush pink, giving her a Snow White look against her clean, shining black hair. She wondered if she felt beautiful enough to tell him about the silly, pointless, irrelevant little game she’d been playing. She’d tell him honestly that it was because she felt used and broken and fragile and she realised now how childish it had been, but she was sorry and hoped that he could understand. He’d made such a big deal about her honesty, her integrity, that she felt she had to live up to his expectations and come clean. Then they’d have a wonderful basis for a new relationship. Liv was beginning to feel ready to trust someone again. There was little for it now except to remember to put some perfume on and hope for the best.

As she walked out onto the balcony into the dusk Ben whistled slowly. “It just doesn’t get any better,” he said, and pulled her onto his lap.

“Wait and see,” Liv teased as she allowed his hands to ease down the straps of her dress and he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder.

“You are so fantastic.”

“You’re all right, too.”

“Liv, you have to say that we can give this a go. That as soon as I’ve told Amelia it’s over then we can be together. You have to.”

Ben was so close, she could feel his eyelashes grazing her cheek. She should tell him now. Just say it. He’d understand completely why she’d done what she’d done. Then she thought maybe better after a glass of wine or two. Oil the wheels first.

“The table’s for seven-thirty. We’ll discuss it later, okay?” Liv took his hands and pulled him reluctantly to his feet. They set off hand in hand down the valley, through the rows of vines, dusting their feet with red sand. Robert’s Restaurant was just at the foot of their hill, and they entered through the rose-covered oak door just slightly breathless from the walk.

The restaurant was full of very quiet couples. They were all so sophisticated that Liv felt she’d come in her mother’s nightie and high heels. Everyone was tête-à-tête, doubtless discussing the vintage of the merlot in hushed tones and agreeing that this year’s grape may be pungent, but it lacked a certain je ne sais quoi.

“Doesn’t it remind you of the school in
Little House on the Prairie?”
Ben whispered in Liv’s ear as they were shown across the low-beamed dining room to their table. This of course was all the excuse they needed to break into ludicrous American accents and find themselves hysterically funny. They devoured their warm bread rolls and then asked for more as they suddenly realised that they hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The waitress gave them a sympathetic look as though she were feeding the needy.

“Do you think we’ll still behave like five-year-olds when we’re seventy?” Liv asked, giving her first hint that she was prepared to talk about anything beyond tomorrow. Which, one glass of champagne down, was the first step to giving up her armoury of toughness and mantle of noncommitment.

“Seventy?” Ben asked, casting his imagination across the decades. “No, when we’re seventy we’ll be wandering around a farm in Devon scraping our gum boots on our grandchildren and kicking geese.”

“Devon? God, I can’t imagine a time without sunshine,” said Liv. “Couldn’t we stay here and have sandy children and mangoes for breakfast forever?”

“Sorry, you’re barking up the wrong bloke. I’ve always wanted to live in England. Well, Russia, actually, but England’s got all the miserable weather you can buy. I want a windswept, chilly old age with bleak skies and a library full of books. The sun’s no good when you’ve got the body of a California prune and can’t get your kit off without scaring off the local wildlife,” Ben remarked as he offered her a bite of his asparagus.

“If you promise that I can have a blackberry bush and pond and you’ll bring me duck eggs for breakfast you might have yourself a deal,” Liv said as she imagined her grown-up self picking daffodils and packing the children off to school with perfect triangles of marmite sandwiches. But now obviously wasn’t going to be the time to be grown-up because, as Liv tried to cut her way through her prosciutto to offer him a taste, her hand slipped and sent her wineglass tumbling, which set off a full-blown chain reaction incorporating the water jug and ending with the candelabra. In Ben’s lap.

“That’s not a good look.” Liv tried not to laugh as the waitress wafted the smell of burning away with a large napkin and offered to douse Ben’s trousers with a soda siphon.

“Thanks, I’ll be fine.” He was an adult for a second before the pair of them exploded into howls the second the waitress’s back was turned.

“It all just happened in slow motion,” Liv said by way of apology.

“Yeah, well, like I said, you set me on fire.”

“I was wondering how long it’d take you before you came out with some atrocious line, Barry Manilow.” Liv smiled as the waitress hastily took their credit cards before she got tangled up in a tidal wave or assassination plot or some other disaster that might befall the ill-fated Liv and Ben.

Despite narrowly averted injury, this had been the most fun evening Liv had had in a very very long time. She wasn’t really a druggy clubby girl. She wasn’t an athletic, hearty, surfing type, either. She was much more mellowing-out-with-the-man-I-love. It suddenly occurred to her that it wasn’t just a coincidence that she’d been in a relationship with Tim for five years. Being part of a couple suited her in the way getting pissed and staying up till five o’clock and crawling to brunch in combats with a hangover suited other girls. It would be unnatural to pretend otherwise. Liv decided that now was the moment to come clean. Then she’d be able to agree to what he wanted. What she wanted more than anything. They could at least give the relationship a try.

“Ben, I’ve been thinking. About us,” Liv began.

“It’s not so hard, Liv. You know all you have to do is say yes. I’ve never felt more serious about anything and—”

“It’s not quite so simple.”

“There’s Will, I know, but maybe you can finish with him when I finish with Amelia—”

“I’m not seeing Will. That was just a rebound moment. There’s nothing to finish, thankfully. No, this is a bit more tricky. . . .” Liv took a deep breath. “You see, I,” but as she was about to launch into her dog-handling confession she was interrupted by the waitress, who braved life and limb and approached the jinxed table.

“Erm, do you have another credit card, Miss Elliot?” she asked quietly.

“What?” Liv looked up at the interloper.

“This one’s been declined.” She was a sweet waitress who looked embarrassed to have to ask. Liv the accountant had a bit of a problem.

“Oh no,” she said, hunting through her purse for sufficient coinage.

“Here.” Ben handed the waitress his card again. “Put the rest on here. See, that’s God’s way of saying if you’d let me pay in the first place . . .” He looked at Liv, who had just had a minor epiphany.

“That’s God’s way of saying I’m no longer an accountant and now I’m a fully fledged designer of small, tight swimsuits.” Liv smiled proudly. She’d been longing for something like this to happen since she opened her junior savings account aged twelve.

“Congratulations.” Ben leaned over and kissed her.

“It’s actually a really big deal, because for the first time in my life I’ve been totally, utterly irresponsible and hopeless without having to try.” She laughed out loud and the whispering couples thought it might be better for all concerned if the couple in the corner left. Which they did.

They clambered back up the scrub of the hillside with a bit of bruising and battering on the way. At the top they collapsed onto the back lawn and looked up at the stars.

“That was gorgeous,” Liv said as Ben pulled a tin of tobacco from his pocket and began to roll a spliff. “And I’ve been thinking.” He stopped for a second and looked up at her. “Me and you. I really would like to try . . .” Liv laughed nervously to fill the silence. Ben wrapped his tobacco back up and put it to one side.

“And I hope that when I tell you what I’m about to tell you—”

“Liv, that’s so fantastic. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He gave the biggest rib-crunching hug and kissed her face over and over again.

Liv pulled back “But I’m not so perfect as you imagine, Ben. I mean I’m really so far from perfect. I can behave badly and—”

“God don’t I know it. You’re remarkably filthy for such an angelic-looking girl. You know, the morning after Mardi Gras I was so beaten up and scratched and—”

“I am not filthy.” Liv laughed as he kissed her neck and began to run his fingers up and down her spine. God, now was not the time to tell him, was it? She’d do it tomorrow. She promised.

“I’ve got you. I can’t believe it—you’re mine.”

“Okay. But just a word of warning. If you play true to boy form and dump me brutally or break my heart I’ll get my contacts in the gay Mafia to break your legs and boil your cat. All right?” Liv tried to look forbidding.

“So we’re going out together?” He looked like his team had just won a test match.

“As of the moment you’re no longer going out with Amelia,” Liv added.

“Oh, she’ll get over it.” Ben laughed. “I’m sure she’s already got her next target lined up anyway.”

“My god, who?” Liv asked.

“Good with women and horses.” Ben smiled, paying much more attention to stroking Liv’s shoulder than the fact that his girlfriend was in love with someone else.

A lightbulb went on for Liv. “If you’re talking about the person I think you’re talking about, then Amelia would never survive. Not only is he about to father someone else’s child, he’s dirt-poor and he’d never be able to keep her in the manner to which she’s accustomed.” Liv was thinking of Rob and congratulating herself on having spotted Amelia’s penchant for him the first time they ever met.

“Then you’re thinking of the wrong bloke. This lucky bastard owns this place, for one thing. Along with seven stud farms in the Western Districts and a few department stores in the States.”

“Then we needn’t spare another thought for Amelia, had we? Who is this guy anyway? Guess he’s out of the country on business a lot, hey?” Liv asked, looking out over the hilltop and down the valley. At least as it wasn’t Rob. Amelia would be able to afford to have her highlights redone from time to time.

“Nah, he’s a dyed-in-the-wool Aussie. Now what about us?” Ben pulled Liv towards him and gave her a slow, warm kiss.

“So, best that you don’t come in, I think,” Liv said as Ben pulled up outside the cottage early on Monday morning.

“No, I’ll leave you to explain all this to Laura . . . unless you want me to come in and just sort of be there.”

“She’ll be fine. Leave it to me. And I guess this is it then. We don’t get to speak till . . .”

“I think after the party’s best, don’t you?” Ben looked downcast. “To be on the safe side.”

“Yeah, I guess. Well, until then . . .” She leaned in and kissed him one last time. “Thanks so much. I’ve had the most brilliant time, you know.”

“I really, really do think you’re incredible, Liv. I love the way you are.”

“Bye.” Liv picked up her bags and virtually sprang out of the car and up the path. Did life get much better?

Once inside, she collapsed onto the sofa with a goofy look on her face. Alex had left a note to say she was at the library and Liv wouldn’t have to tell Laura until after the party at least. Until Amelia knew what was going on in her own private life then it was pretty unfair to tell anyone else anyway. Except for Alex of course. And James. Oh, and Dave. Oh god, she felt a lurch of shame when she thought of Dave. How could she ever have behaved so stupidly with all that dog-handling stuff? To use Ben like some experiment. To not return his calls. To be all the things he said he hated—manipulative, steely. Oh, hell. And she just hadn’t been able to tell him this morning in the car on the way home. It was just so sunny and the music was just a bit too loud and they were having such a nice time it would have been criminal to ruin things. It all felt like she’d missed the moment. Still, what he didn’t know was not ever going to hurt him, was it? And really, how bad had it been? It was just a stupid prank. Nobody got hurt. What was a little manipulation, a little massaging of the facts, between friends? Besides which, he was never going to find out—he thought butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and she was pure and innocent as driven snow. Try mucky slush, she thought, and put the whole matter out of her mind guiltily.

“Good weekend?” Laura walked into the room and smiled warmly.

“Yeah, really nice, thanks.”

“Liv, I have a confession to make.” Laura sat down and looked guilty. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t been completely honest with you. . . .”

Liv didn’t know whether to let Laura go on and tell her everything or just explain that she knew the whole story of Laura’s Lunacy, but she didn’t get a choice. Laura, unlike Liv, was in confessional mode and Liv could do nothing but sit back and hear her side of the story until she got pins and needles in her foot.