Facing the Light (50 page)

‘That wasn't the only reason,' Beth said. ‘You mostly agreed with every word Efe said.'

‘I suppose so. So did you, though. Go on, admit it.'

‘I admit it. Come into the kitchen and I'll fix you up.'

‘Do I need fixing?' Alex said, but he followed her willingly enough and sat down at the kitchen table.

‘You do a little. You've got a bit of a cut. It's not bleeding much, but still, I'd better mop it up. I've never done this before but I do know you have to have tea with sugar in it for the shock.'

‘I hate sugary tea. Give me a Coke instead. That's full of sugar. In the fridge.'

‘Times have changed,' Beth said. ‘Leonora wouldn't have given house room to a fizzy drink in the old days.'

‘My dad's been working on her, I believe. She's quite fond of rum and Coke on a hot day, it seems.'

‘Wonders never cease.' Beth put the glass down on the table and went to find a clean tea-towel. She turned on the cold tap and wet a corner of the towel, then wrung it out as hard as she could.

‘Okay, don't move,' she said, leaning over Alex, who turned his face to her. His eyes were shut and he looked suddenly, ridiculously, vulnerable. Because he was a little younger than she was, she always thought of him as needing care, but now for the first time ever she saw him as her equal. A man. She noticed the blue veins in his eyelids. She could smell his hair, and his skin. The sore lip was swollen and cut and one side of Alex's lower face was already showing bruising. There was something turning over in her stomach, a kind of fluttering, like the feeling you might have before going on stage. A sort of thrilled nervousness she hadn't felt in Alex's company before. What was wrong with her? Everything she was used to feeling, all her preconceptions, were being subjected to something like an earthquake. She was meant to be in love with Efe, wasn't she? So why was being so close to Alex having this effect on her? She felt hot and cold at once and closed her eyes because she thought that if she didn't she might faint. Above all, she knew that what she was feeling now was
true
. It had nothing to do with fantasy or imagination or dreams. Beth was almost overcome by a fierce desire to kiss Alex,
to comfort him by wrapping her arms around his shoulders, but hesitated in case she was wrong about how he felt.

‘Beth?' he whispered.

‘Mmm,' she said. She couldn't speak his name in case her voice wobbled or gave away her feelings somehow. Everything she had previously felt, everything she'd believed for so long, all her emotions and desires, were like the translucent, brilliantly coloured pieces in a kaleidoscope, and having Alex so close to her was shaking and rearranging them into strange shapes she didn't recognize. She lost all sense of who she was, where she was. There was nothing in her whole world but this mouth, which was on hers before she could find a word to say that might stop it, and her own lips were opening and she closed her eyes against the light and the heat that was running through her veins.

‘Alex,' she murmured. ‘Oh, Alex …'

‘Don't say anything,' Alex whispered. ‘Kiss me again.'

He stood up then, and put his arms around her. Beth could feel everything changing. Nothing would be the same again. This … this person who was kissing her was not the one she'd always known.

‘Alex,' she said. ‘What's happened? What's happened to us?'

‘It's me,' Alex said. ‘Something's happened to me. I've been stupid and slow and haven't admitted it to myself.'

‘What? What haven't you admitted?'

‘That I love you. I think I always have, only there was Efe and I could see how you felt about him, and I didn't want … I couldn't … oh, Beth, you know what I'm saying. I didn't think you'd ever, you know, be able to feel the way I want you to feel.'

‘I didn't think I could either,' Beth smiled. ‘But that was because Efe was dazzling me. I wasn't seeing or feeling anything properly.'

Alex stroked her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. ‘And you were right, I
was
jealous. You noticed it, remember? On the way to see Nanny Mouse. When I thought of the two of you together, you and Efe, I became quite unlike myself: murderous, suicidal, pathetic. Just jealous, I suppose.'

‘You don't have to be any longer, Alex. I promise.' She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and then drew back, leaning away from him a little, breathless from the force of what she had begun to feel.

‘Alex, we can't,' she said. ‘Not here. Anyone could come in.'

He sat down shakily on the kitchen chair again and grinned at her, and at that moment the kitchen door opened and there was Rilla.

‘What's going on, darlings?' she said, coming in and sitting down immediately next to Alex. ‘I saw Efe just now looking like a thundercloud. Have you two been fighting? Whatever about? Tell all, go on. Alex, sweetie pie, what
has
happened to your lip?'

‘It wasn't anything, Rilla, honestly,' Alex said weakly.

‘Nonsense, of course it was.' She turned to Beth and gave her a smile. ‘Could I ask you to get me a Coke, Beth? Thanks, darling. Alex's looks delicious. And I wouldn't say no to a biscuit, either, if you'd pass that tin from the dresser. I can't possibly last until dinner.'

Beth went to get Rilla's drink and put the biscuit tin in front of her.

‘I'll leave you two to it,' she said. ‘I'm going out for a bit of fresh air.'

She knew as she stepped out into the Peter Rabbit garden that Alex would have given anything to come with her, to be rescued from Rilla's interrogation, but she wanted to be on her own.

She needed to think. She needed to think about Efe, because every single thing she'd thought about him
before this weekend had changed. And now, because of Alex and what had just happened, even the strongest of her sensations, the physical attraction that often made her breathless and incoherent, had changed. It was as though by kissing her like that, Alex had woken her up, made her aware of him for the first time.

For about thirty seconds, Beth wondered whether this was what was known as the rebound. Whether she was making do with second-best because she had accepted that she couldn't have Efe, and even as she thought it she knew it wasn't true. This new emotion, this revelation, had nothing whatsoever to do with Efe and what she had once felt for him.

Oh, God, what a lot of time I've wasted, Beth thought. I could have saved myself so much anguish. So much unhappiness. I could have been spared loving Efe altogether if I'd had any sense. I never noticed Alex before because I wasn't looking properly. She sat down on the bench near the shed, which was out of sight of the house, and let the late afternoon sun fall on her face.

Beth sat quietly in front of the enormous three-sided mirror in the spare bedroom of the McVie house, having her hair arranged by Jules, Fiona's hairdresser. The other bridesmaid, Fiona's cousin Rowan, waited for her turn wearing a satin dressing-gown that looked as though it had cost more than a month's salary. December was a ridiculous time for a wedding. Efe was marrying Fiona McVie this afternoon, less than a week before Christmas. The happy couple were leaving tonight on a skiing honeymoon, and Beth could hardly bring herself to think about it. Any of it. Jules said, ‘You're going to look perfect, Beth, just trust me, but you have to do your bit, too, you know. Smile, darling, smile! You've got a face on you more suited to a funeral.'

Beth moved her lips dutifully, and hoped that Jules would be taken in by her efforts. She had never felt less like smiling. The make-up they'd slapped all over her face was thicker than she was used to. The lipstick she'd been allocated was too pink. She'd asked Fiona why they had to have a make-up artist (Fiona's name for a young girl called Mirabelle) to do their faces. Surely they were all old enough to do it themselves? Fiona had explained patiently that it was ‘for the photographs'. Make-up had to be more dramatic than usual if you didn't want to look like death warmed up for ever and ever in the wedding album.

‘But Alex is doing the photos,' Beth tried again. ‘He
never makes people look awful. You know that. He's brilliant.'

‘Oh, I know,' Fiona had answered. ‘He's marvellous, of course, but it's never a bad idea to give Nature a bit of a helping hand, is it?'

Very latest light-reflecting miracle or not, oily-feeling make-up in the wrong colour seemed to Beth like defacing Nature, but she said nothing. It was, after all, Fiona's wedding day and everyone was having to do things her way.

Like getting married in December, when it was going to be too cold, really, for the kind of silly dresses the bride had decreed. While Jules scraped her hair back from her brow and fastened it into an immensely complicated arrangement at the nape of her neck, she thought of the dress she would soon be wearing: pale pink silk, edged with two layers of frilled lace around the scoop neck, which didn't really suit her. The colour wasn't flattering to her skin, either, but never mind. Everyone would have eyes only for the bride, and Fiona had been working hard at this day for the last six months.

She'd decided to have the wedding in London instead of at Willow Court. Fair enough, Beth conceded, considering that her parents had been limbering up for this day practically since Fiona was born. And it
was
more convenient for the airport. Also, most of the couple's friends were London-based. It all made perfect sense, and even Leonora, who would have loved to have had the whole shooting-match under her roof, had entered into the spirit of the thing. Fiona had enlisted the services of the best designers, the most fashionable caterers, and people like Jules and Mirabelle in order to leave nothing to chance. This was going to be the wedding of the winter season or she would know the reason why.

Jules stabbed two ornaments into the tight knot of Beth's hair.

‘Absolutely darling, honestly! These snow-crystals. Just divine! Such a wonderful sparkly contrast against your dark hair. You look gorgeous. Truly gorgeous.' He made the ‘o' of gorgeous last for at least three seconds. Beth said, ‘That's lovely, thanks so much', and got to her feet. It was Rowan's turn now and for her there was nothing to do but wait for the moment when the ghastly dress would be put on for her by someone else; wait for the whole pantomime to begin. The white limousines would be here in half an hour. She sat down on the chaise-longue and leaned gingerly against the blue velvet, making sure that her head was well clear of the back. It would never do to spoil Jules's handiwork. She frowned. Efe was getting married. Their whole relationship would change. It was bound to. His first loyalty would be to Fiona now. It wasn't always so. There was a time when he was closer to her than to anyone.

———

Everyone was busy somewhere else, and Beth was happy because she was doing what she liked doing better than almost everything else: looking after Chloë. The Easter holiday had just begun, Efe was back from his school, and Rilla had sent Beth to spend a week with her cousins. She herself hardly ever came to Willow Court since Mark died, but she knew how much Beth enjoyed it. At first, after Markie's death, Beth hadn't wanted to go back to Willow Court either, but as time went on, she began to pine for her cousins. Rilla noticed this at once, and persuaded her to visit whenever she could. She had said, ‘I don't see why you shouldn't go down there just because I find it difficult. I know you love going, and they all look forward to seeing you so much.'

Chloë was five, and known in the family as a bit of a handful. She had firm opinions and a wide vocabulary.

‘Where does she hear such things?' Gwen used to wail when her little girl, looking just like a cherub, came out with something awful she'd picked up from the television or the adults she observed so closely.

‘From us, Mum,' Efe told her. ‘From all of us.'

Chloë adored Beth, and clung to the older girl every time she came to Willow Court. She would take Beth's hand and pull her this way and that, to the Peter Rabbit garden to look at the carrots coming up; to the Climbing Tree, which was an enormous ash that leaned against the back wall of the Quiet Garden, and to her bedroom, which was a mess of toys, books, crayons and clothes, in spite of the combined efforts of Nanny Mouse, Gwen and whichever nursery maid was currently ‘helping out' with childcare. She made her join in elaborate games with Sissy, the fluffy white cat, who was quite obliging and sometimes allowed herself to be pushed along in a miniature pram meant for dolls. She'd once let Chloë tie a bonnet on her head until Nanny Mouse put a stop to such behaviour and forbade the little girl to dress up her animals ever again. Tom, Sissy's black and white brother, was never in danger from such attentions. His particular talent was for running away and disappearing before anyone could catch him.

On this day, though, Beth had decided that Chloë was allowed a treat. She'd asked special permission from Leonora to play with the dolls' house in the nursery.

‘I'll look after everything, I promise,' she said. ‘Chloë won't touch anything without asking me, and we'll be very gentle with the dolls. Won't we, Chloë?'

Chloë nodded gravely. Leonora thought for a moment, and said, ‘Very well, Beth dear, but you're responsible. Take great care, please. I know I can trust you.'

‘Oh, yes, you can! We'll be ever so good. Come on, Chloë!'

The girls hurried up to the nursery. The rain was
coming down hard now, beating against the windows and streaming down the panes diagonally, making what light there was watery and dim. Beth knelt down beside the dolls' house. She breathed a sigh of pure pleasure. This was, it had to be, the most beautiful toy in the whole world, and even though she was twelve years old and the playing was supposed to be to amuse little Chloë, she felt herself slip back and back till she was her own younger self again, believing in the dolls; creating lives for them and joining in those lives, sharing their dreams and emotions.