French Kissing (10 page)

‘I would love to go on holiday with you.'

‘Great. I'll see you on Saturday, and we'll take a look at some of the online travel sites.'

‘You could come over tomorrow night, if you like.'

‘I can't. I'm going out with the guys from my office.'

Of course he was. Like he did every Friday.

Nick kissed the side of my face, and then leant past me to open the passenger door. ‘Goodnight, Anna.'

‘Night.' I got out of the car.

He waited until I was inside my building's communal hallway before driving off.

I trudged up the stairs to my flat and let myself in. The lights were on and I could hear music coming from the living room, so I knew that Alex was home. Whatever Nick might think about Alex's continuing presence, I'd seen very little of him over the last two weeks – either he'd come in after I'd gone to bed or I'd been at Nick's – but now, because of Mrs Cooper's travel arrangements, I'd have the opportunity to spend some time alone with my friend. Just this once, Mrs Cooper was forgiven.

I opened the living room door and went in.

The first thing I saw was Alex's shirt and jeans lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to an equally crumpled dress. Alex was sitting on the sofa in his boxers, his eyes shut, his long legs stretched out in front of him, kissing a woman wearing just a bra and a thong, who was sprawled on his lap.

‘Alex!' I gasped. I couldn't help myself.

Alex's eyes flew open, and he looked at me with an almost comical expression of surprise on his face. For what seemed like ages, but in reality was probably no more than a few seconds, I just stood there, frozen, unable to move. Then I turned and ran, slamming the door behind me.

I went to my room and sank down shakily on my bed. I was hideously embarrassed to have witnessed a scene of such intimacy, and more than a little shocked that Alex had brought a woman back to the flat. Then I had to ask myself why I was shocked. A single, twenty-eight-year-old guy, especially one as attractive as Alex, wasn't going to be short of offers, and while he might not want a
relationship
, while he might still be carrying a torch for his ex, that didn't mean he'd taken a vow of celibacy. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been with a girl since he broke up with Cécile. He'd already slept with Izzy. Not that it was any concern of mine who he hooked up with.

I realised that I could no longer hear music. A few minutes, later I heard the sound of an angry female voice in the hall, and the front door opening and closing. Then there were approaching footsteps, and a knock on my door.

‘Anna? Can I talk to you?'

My face on fire, I said, ‘Come in, Alex.'

He pushed open the door and leant against the frame. He was, I was relieved to see, fully dressed.

‘Has she gone?' I said.

‘Yes. I called her a cab.'

At least I wouldn't have to make polite conversation with her over the breakfast table. ‘She didn't sound very happy.'

‘She got it into her head that you were my girlfriend, and wouldn't believe me when I told her that you weren't.'

‘I hope you're not expecting me to apologise for ruining your night.'

‘I'm the one who should be apologising. It was wrong of me to invite someone into your home without asking you first.'

‘It's your home too, for the next few months. You don't need my permission to … have a visitor. Though you might have gone into your bedroom before you ripped each other's clothes off.'

‘That was my intention,' Alex said. ‘I hadn't reckoned on Chloe being quite so eager. We'd only been in the flat five minutes when she took off her dress and started unbuttoning my shirt.'

‘You poor little innocent French boy. I should have warned you about English girls.'

‘I like English girls.'

‘Evidently. Who is she, anyway, this Chloe? Someone from your magazine?'

‘No. I only met her tonight. We were both on the guest list for the launch of a new fashion label. She's a model. A very successful model. As you might expect, given her figure.'

Her figure wasn't that great, from what I saw of it. Far too skinny. ‘Well, I'm sure her being a model and your being a photographer had nothing to do with her taking her clothes off.'

‘Are you suggesting that girl only came on to me because she thought I'd shoot her a new Z-card?'

‘Yes.'

Alex looked at me uncertainly, not sure if I was being serious. I wasn't entirely sure myself.

‘You're wrong,' he said, eventually. ‘She was after my body.'

I gazed at him standing there in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, and I thought, I can't blame her for that. I reminded myself of my resolve not to think about Alex's muscles.

‘You are so up yourself.' I threw a pillow at him.

He laughed and threw it back.

‘I don't know why you're laughing, Alex. I was
mortified,
walking in on you like that.' I tried not to smile.

‘You weren't the only one who was embarrassed, I can assure you,' Alex said. He added, ‘Is Nick not with you? Or is he so mortified that he's hiding in your wardrobe?'

I explained about Mrs Cooper's mistrust of minicab drivers.

‘And how are you and Nick?' Alex said.

‘We're great. Why wouldn't we be?'

‘No reason.' Alex walked across the room and flopped down next to me on my bed, resting on his elbows. ‘I only asked because I haven't seen much of you lately, and I don't know what's going on in your life.'

‘I was thinking the same about you. What have you been up to?' Apart from picking up girls at fashion launches.

Alex thought for a moment and then he said, ‘Dear Anna, Over the last couple of weeks, I've had some challenging assignments in interesting locations around London, and I've taken some shots I'm very pleased with. I also spent a day photographing furniture, which was somewhat less interesting. I've played squash with Rob a few times –'

‘Who won?' I said.

‘Ssh. No interrupting my letter.' Alex cleared his throat. ‘I played squash with Rob, and I won, although it wasn't easy, as we're pretty evenly matched. Rob invited me to call in for a drink on my way home, and I saw your friend Beth –'

‘How is Beth? I've been meaning to call her.'

‘Ssh! Beth seemed tired, so I didn't stay very long. Yours sincerely, Alexandre Tourville. PS. Tomorrow, if you are free after work, would you like to come with me to the National Gallery? It stays open 'til 9 p.m. on Fridays.'

‘Ooh, I do like getting letters,' I said. ‘
Cher
Alexandre, thank you for your kind invitation. I would very much like to visit the National Gallery with you.
Á bientôt,
Anna Mitchel.'

‘It's a date, then,' Alex said. ‘What time do you finish work?'

I told him, and we arranged that he would come and meet me at Nova Graphics, that we'd spend a couple of hours at the National Gallery, and then go for a meal, and possibly on to a club. We chatted for a while, and then, seeing as we were both yawning, decided to call it a night.

‘I'll see you tomorrow, then,' Alex stood up in one sinuous motion. ‘
Bonne nuit
.'

‘
Bonne nuit
, Alex.'

He headed out of my room. I lay back on my bed and thought how easy he was to talk to, how easy to be around. And easy on the eye, of course. I ran my hand over the dent on the duvet where he had been lying next to me. My friend.
Mon ami.
I would miss him when he went back to France.

Twelve

The following morning, I'd just come out of one meeting and was getting my notes together ready for another, when Beth rang my mobile.

‘Hi, Anna,' she said. ‘Are you at work? Can you talk?'

‘Yes, I'm at work, but I can talk for five minutes.'

‘Well, it's short notice, but I know you never see Nick on Fridays, and Rob's said he'll look after the kids, so I was hoping that you and I could have a girls' night out. Go to a bar, somewhere with live music, like we used to –'

‘Beth, slow down. Do you mean tonight?'

‘Yes. Sorry, I'm wittering. It's what happens when you're at home with small children all day. You forget how to talk to people over the age of five.

‘I can't tonight.'

‘Tomorrow?'

‘I'm really sorry, but I'm seeing Nick tomorrow.'

‘Oh, well, maybe some other time,' Beth said, sounding horribly disappointed.

‘Any other Friday would be fine,' I said, ‘but tonight I'm going to the National Gallery with Alex.'

‘You're going out with Alex?' Beth said. ‘Then why I don't I come with you? I'm sure he wouldn't mind.'

Maybe he wouldn't mind. But I did. I'd been looking forward to my night out with Alex, and really didn't want a third person tagging along, not even my oldest friend.

‘You want to spend an evening looking at paintings?' I asked.

‘Why not? I never went to university like you, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a bit of culture.'

‘No, of course it doesn't, but when we shared a flat I was always asking you to come with me to art exhibitions, and you always said you couldn't imagine anything more boring.'

‘Did I? I don't remember.'

I should just tell her that I don't want her to come.

Beth said, ‘I'm going stir-crazy stuck here with the kids. It'd be great to get out of the house – Jonah! Be careful! Oh, no!'

‘What is it?' I said. ‘Is Jonah OK?'

‘Oh, yes, he's fine. It's just that he's spilt blackcurrant juice all over the living room carpet. What time shall I meet you at the gallery?'

‘Well, Alex is meeting me from work so –'

‘I'll do the same. Text me the time and Nova Graphic's address.' Beth ended the call.

Nothing like inviting yourself somewhere you're not wanted, I thought, Then I was overcome with guilt. Beth sounded like she really could do with a break from the demands of motherhood. And it wasn't as if Alex and I were going on a date. There was no reason why I should feel so possessive towards him.

At 5.30 sharp, I headed out of the studio and down the stairs to Reception, where I was meeting Alex and Beth. They were both already there – as was Izzy, who had somehow managed to get away from her desk even earlier than I had, and was talking to Alex. She hadn't mentioned him in almost a week, but my hopes that she was over her unrequited infatuation were completely quashed by the way she was gazing up at him from under her long dark eyelashes. Beth, standing next to Izzy, saw me before the other two, and her face broke into a delighted grin. I noticed that she was wearing make-up for the first time in months, she'd straightened her hair, and she had on a new pair of boots. This night off from her family duties certainly seemed to be a big deal for her. I hoped that she wasn't going to be disappointed. And that she wouldn't want to stay out too late, so that I got to spend at least some of the evening alone with Alex.

‘Hi, all,' I said, as I joined the three of them. ‘You look nice tonight, Beth.' To Izzy, I added, ‘We're off to the National Gallery.'

‘I know,' Izzy said. ‘I'm coming with you. Alexandre invited me.'

‘Great.' I gave Alex a tight smile. Well that was really going to convince her that he'd no intention of dating her.

‘Izzy tells me that she's particularly interested in the paintings of the Renaissance,' Alex said.

‘Oh, me too,' Beth said. ‘Nothing I enjoy more than a bit of Renaissance.'

I shot her a look. ‘Let's get going then, shall we?'

‘And after we've done enough looking at pictures,' Beth said, ‘maybe we could go on to a bar?'

‘Good idea,' Izzy said.

So much for my night out with Alex, just the two of us.

Alex said, ‘So every element of
The Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba –
the light reflected on the water, the figure of the boy on the quayside shading his face against the brightness – draws your eye to the luminous horizon, where the queen's ship is about to sail off into the open sea, towards the rising sun.'

‘Yes, I see that now,' Beth said, staring up at Claude Lorrain's painting of a seaport in the early morning. ‘Now that you‘ve explained it.'

‘It's so great to go round a gallery with someone who knows so much about art,' Izzy said to Alex.

Did she really have to tell him how wonderful he was every five minutes? I was longing to discuss the masterpieces that hung in the National Gallery with Alex, but what with Izzy's flirting and Beth's asking him questions, I'd not had a chance to exchange more than a few words with him all evening.

‘Anna knows much more about paintings than I do,' Alex said. ‘I've always enjoyed visiting art galleries, and as a photography student, I did study other visual media, but Anna's the one with the History of Art degree.'

Izzy, apparently not much interested in my academic qualifications, was examining the gallery floor-plan she'd picked up at the information desk. Alex and Beth crowded around her, and after some deliberation as to which painting they wanted to see next, they all headed off to an adjoining room, which was hung with works by artists of the Italian Renaissance. I trailed after them, catching up as they came to a halt in front of Botticelli's
Venus and Mars.
Izzy and Beth gazed at the painting in silence, and then turned expectantly to Alex.

He said, ‘The woman on the left of the picture, sitting upright, dressed in a white and gold nightdress, is Venus, goddess of love, and the naked man lying beside her is Mars, god of war. He has returned from the battlefield, removed his armour, and made love to her, kissing her and caressing her, taking her with him to the heights of ecstasy,
le petit mort,
as we say in France, the little death. And now, all passion spent, he rests, while she smiles serenely to herself, knowing the power she has over him. The meaning of the painting is that love conquers all.'