French Kissing (12 page)

‘Oh,
please
. Two days running, a girl makes a move on you? Seriously? Did Beth tear off your shirt like that model did? It's getting to be quite a problem for you, isn't it?'

‘I was getting undressed for bed when Beth burst into my room and literally jumped on me –'

‘It's bad enough that you sleep with Izzy and then discard her –'

‘I've never slept with Izzy.'

‘You told me you slept with her – the night of Natalie's party. I distinctly remember you coming in the next morning and saying that you'd stayed over –'

‘I stayed at her house –'

‘You
used
her, Alex. And now you're using Beth. Was tonight the only time you've kissed her? The first time? Or have there been others? Have you slept with her too?'

‘I have not.' Alex's eyes flashed angrily. ‘Is this what you think of me? That I go around seducing married women?'

‘I don't know what to think.' By now, I was shaking with rage. ‘You can have any girl you want, why would you hit on Beth? I invite you into my flat, into my
home
, and this is how you repay me.'

‘If you want me to move out, you only have to say.'

‘I do. I want you to go.'

‘I'll leave first thing in the morning.'

‘Fine.' I glared at him. ‘You and I are no longer friends.' I strode out of his room, slamming the door behind me.

Thirteen

I woke with a start. Beth was lying next to me in my bed, her eyes closed. For a moment, I couldn't understand why she was there, but then the events of the previous night came flooding back to me. Izzy dancing. Beth getting drunk. Alex kissing her. Alex and I arguing …

I sat up and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand.

It was then that I noticed the white envelope that had been pushed under my door. I got out of bed, padded across the room, and picked it up. My name was on the front, written in Alex's familiar handwriting. I tore the envelope open, and pulled out the several sheets of paper that were inside. A letter. I sank down on the foot of my bed and read:

Dear Anna,

Last night you told me that we are no longer friends. That saddens me, but I am not going to beg you to change your mind. I will move out of your flat as soon I can. You also accused me of behaving badly towards Izzy and Beth. That, I cannot let pass.

When Cécile left me, I had a rough time, and I arrived in England feeling very low. Meeting a pretty girl like Izzy at your boss's birthday party, having her hanging on my every word and gazing up adoringly into my eyes, was flattering to my bruised ego, and made me feel a whole lot better, if only for a while.

Izzy is sweet and uncomplicated – the complete opposite of Cécile – and I spent most of the party talking and dancing with her. When the party broke up in the early hours, it seemed only right that I should see her safely to her front door – or rather her parents' front door, as she still lives with them. And I kissed her. Standing there on the front step, outside her parents' house, I kissed her. But I did
not
sleep with her. I never had any intention of sleeping with her. She is a girl who wants a boyfriend, love, and romance, not casual sex with a guy she's just met. I did stay the night – at her suggestion, as the trains had stopped running and there was an hour's wait for a cab – but I slept in a spare bedroom. Alone, in a single bed. In the morning, I put my head round Izzy's bedroom door to say goodbye, and then I left, before the rest of the household woke up. I did
not
say that I'd call her, or ask to see her again, or make any promises that I knew I couldn't keep. Izzy has no reason to feel used. And no reason to think I'd want her to flaunt herself at me the way she did last night. It is true that I invited her to the gallery – but only after she'd hinted so strongly that she wanted to come with us that I really had no choice.

As for Beth – I have no idea what prompted her to come to my bedroom. All I can think is that she was so drunk she had no idea what she was doing. I certainly hadn't said or done anything that might encourage her to believe that I'd welcome her presence, but suddenly there she was, clinging to me and trying to kiss me. I was so amazed that I just stood there – which is when you came in.

I know you were shocked when you saw me with Beth, and I don't blame you for being angry if you thought I'd made a pass at her. What I can't understand is why you refused to listen to me when I told you that I was as shocked as you were. Instead, you immediately assumed that I'd already lured her into some sort of sexual liaison. You must have a very poor opinion of me if you seriously believe I would mess around with a woman who is another man's wife and the mother of two young children.

It seems to me that our friendship has run its course. Maybe it only ever existed on paper, in the letters that we wrote to one another, but to me, it felt very real.

This is the last letter I will write to you. I wish you well.

Alexandre Tourville

I thought back to the scene in Alex's bedroom. Beth's mouth on his, her hands clasped around his neck. Alex standing rigid, like a statue, his arms at his side. The calm, gentle way he'd loosened her grasp, and stepped away from her.

What had I done? I felt sick to my stomach. I'd been so furious with Alex last night, I hadn't stopped to consider that when he'd said Beth had burst in on him, he might have been describing exactly what had happened. Instead of hearing him out, I'd yelled at him, and told him to leave. I looked down at Beth, who was still sleeping soundly. Had she been drunk enough to lose all self-control and kiss a man who was not her husband? It would be totally out of character, and yet … She wouldn't be the first girl to do something stupid when she'd had too much wine … I bit my lip. I'd said some awful things to Alex last night. I had to talk to him.

Clutching the letter to my chest, I left my room and went and knocked on Alex's door. He didn't answer. I pushed the door open.

Alex wasn't there. His jacket wasn't on the back of the door where he habitually hung it. For one hideous moment I thought he'd taken me at my word and already moved out of my flat, but then common sense told me that he wouldn't go in the middle of the night, and certainly wouldn't have left his favourite camera and his laptop, which were on the dressing table that he used as a desk. Even so, I opened his wardrobe to check that his clothes were still there. Seeing his jeans and shirts reassured me that he hadn't walked out of my life forever.

I re-read Alex's letter. Last night, I'd been so certain that my outrage was entirely justified. Now, my anger had faded, and his version of events seemed far more likely. In the cold light of day, the idea that he and Beth had embarked on an illicit liaison was frankly ludicrous.

I didn't want those to be the last words he ever wrote to me. Whatever happened last night, I didn't want our friendship to end like this.

Stowing the letter in my pyjama pocket, I left Alex's room and closed the door behind me. The noise of someone moving about drew me into the kitchen. Instead of Alex, I found Izzy in the process of loading the dishwasher with wine and beer glasses.

‘Thanks, Izzy.' I surveyed the empty cans and bottles on the kitchen counter. ‘Did the four of us really get through all those?'

Izzy nodded. ‘How's Beth?'

‘Still asleep,' I said. ‘I don't suppose you've seen Alex this morning? He seems to have gone out.'

‘No, I haven't seen him.' Izzy leant against the counter. ‘Anna, I – I think I made a bit of an idiot of myself last night.'

‘No, you didn't –' I began. ‘Well, maybe you did, just a little. But I wouldn't worry about it. You weren't the only one.'

‘I'm so embarrassed. Alexandre must think I'm desperate, prancing around in front of him like that.'

‘Forget it, Izzy. It's really no big deal.'

‘It is to me. I'm mortified.'

Mortified but not heartbroken. She'd get over it.

‘Izzy, can I ask you something? After Natalie's party, did you sleep with Alex?'

Izzy's eyes widened. ‘No, I did not. I'm an old-fashioned girl. I want the first time I have sex to be with a man I love – and who loves me.'

‘You've never been with a guy?'

Izzy shrugged. ‘The right man hasn't come along yet. I did think that maybe Alexandre was going to be the one, but he obviously isn't interested.'

Well, I had told her.

‘Anyway,' Izzy continued, ‘I wanted to hang around until you got up – I couldn't leave without thanking you for putting up with me last night – but I'd rather not face Alexandre. So I'll be getting off home now.'

‘OK, Izzy.' I followed her out into the hall.

Izzy put on her coat and picked up her bag. ‘I'll see you on Monday.'

‘Yes, see you at work.'

Izzy left. I'd only just closed the front door, when a pale and bedraggled Beth staggered out of my bedroom.

‘Morning,' I said. ‘How are you?'

She burst into tears.

That bad. ‘Oh, don't cry.' I went to her and led her back into my room. She slumped down on my bed. I sat beside her while she sobbed, and passed her a box of tissues when she stopped. She blew her nose, and wiped her tear-stained face.

‘I kissed Alex,' she said. ‘I went to his bedroom and I kissed him.

‘
You
kissed
him
?He didn't kiss you back? It usually takes two.'

‘He just stood there – and then he pushed me away.'

How had I got it all so wrong?

Beth said, ‘He must think I'm such a slut.'

‘You were drunk –'

‘I'm a drunken slut.'

‘No, you're not.'

‘What am I going to tell Rob?' Beth's hands fluttered about her face. ‘Did you call him? Does he even know where I am?'

‘Alex spoke to him last night, after you passed out –'

‘
Alex
spoke to him. What did he say?'

‘Don't panic. All he said was that you'd had too much wine and were sleeping it off.'

‘I love Rob, really I do. And now I've
betrayed
him. I'm so ashamed.' Beth started crying again.

I waited until she'd got herself under control, and then I said, ‘I think you're making too much of this. You were drunk and you kissed Alex – for about two seconds. It's not like you had sex with him.'

‘No, but I wanted to,' Beth said.

I stared at her.

‘Not that it's any excuse, but I've been so tired lately. I'm alone with the children all day, and I'm up with one or the other of them half the night. And when Rob comes home from work he only ever asks about Jonah and Molly, never about me. I don't blame him – I've turned into a frump.'

‘That's not true –'

‘Yesterday, at the gallery, I kept thinking how fabulous you looked and how young and pretty Izzy is, how you both have careers, and social lives that don't involve talking to other mums about potty training – and how I used to be just like you. I don't remember everything that happened after we got back to the flat, but I do remember thinking that having sex with a gorgeous man like Alex was going to prove I was still an attractive woman – despite the baby-fat and the stretch-marks.'

‘And do you still think that now you're sober?'

‘No! Absolutely not. I love Rob and Jonah and Molly. I'd never want to do anything that could damage my family.'

‘Then stop beating yourself up. You were exhausted, you had too much to drink, and tried to snog the nearest attractive male. Never going to happen again. End of story.'

‘I don't think Rob would see it like that.'

‘So don't tell him.'

‘I guess there's not much point – it would only hurt him.' Beth's eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them away. ‘I should phone him …'

‘Yes, you should. He said to Alex that he'd drive over this morning and pick you up. Give him a call.'

‘I will. Would it be all right if I took a shower?'

‘Of course. I'll lend you some clean clothes.'

‘Thanks, Anna. You're a good friend.'

Not that much of a good friend, considering how rarely I'd seen her lately.

Beth said, ‘Is Izzy still here? I made such a show of myself in front of her last night. I'd like to apologise.'

‘Izzy's gone home,' I said. ‘But she's way too embarrassed by her own behaviour to care about yours.'

‘What about Alex? I wonder if he's awake. I don't know what I'm going to say to him, but I have to say something.'

‘Don't worry about him. He's decided that you were too drunk to know what you were doing.'

‘He said that?'

‘Not exactly. He went out before I got up. But he wrote it in a letter.'

‘He wrote you a letter? But you live in the same flat!'

My heart constricted. I almost told Beth about the argument I'd had with Alex, but caught myself in time. She had enough stress in her life already.

‘I have to write a reply.'

Leaving Beth to call Rob and to have her shower, I found some notepaper, sat myself down at Alex's desk, picked up my pen, and wrote:

Cher
Alex,

I am sorry. Last night, I said some terrible things to you. I wish I could write that I was drunk or overtired, and didn't mean what I was saying, but I won't lie to you. All I can do is to tell you that I know now I was very wrong to accuse you of using Beth and Izzy, and to ask you to forgive me.

I don't want to lose you, Alex. I don't want the letter you put under my door this morning to be the last one you write to me. I don't want you to move out of my flat. Above all, I don't want our friendship to end. You mean so much to me. I hope that you will always be in my life.