Invincible Summer (23 page)

He stopped outside Eva's door, foggily working out his next move. There was really only one way to make an announcement of this magnitude, and that was naked. After all, she would be in bed, naked or nearly naked, and she'd surely want him to join her after he'd said his piece. No point ruining the moment by forcing her to wait while he wrestled his socks off, he always hated that bit. Lucien dropped his clothes onto the landing carpet and opened the door. It was completely dark inside the room and he suddenly realised there was something he ought to have done beforehand, which was to relieve his aching bladder. No matter; here was the door to the en suite. Ahhhh, that was better. Suddenly the whole room glowed and for a moment he thought maybe this was part of the thing, the epiphany, but then a voice behind him spoke and he realised that someone had turned the light on.

‘What the fuck are you doing?' said Eva.

‘Shhh,' he told her, lurching backwards and putting his hands out to stop himself falling onto the bed, so that the warm stream of urine ran down his legs. Suddenly the whole thing seemed really funny, this situation, and even life itself, and his effervescent happiness burst forth. ‘I've got something important to tell you,' he gasped, struggling to get the words out through bursts of laughter.

‘Lucien, you're drunk. And naked. And…oh my god, were you taking a piss in my wardrobe?'

Eva didn't sound as happy as he was, but she would do in a minute because he was about to make her the happiest woman alive.

‘I know, I know, that'sh all true but none of it matters because I love you.'

‘You what?'

‘I love you and I think we should be together. Eva Andrewsh, I fucking love you!'

‘Oh my God, you're actually pissing on my bed! ‘

Lucien wasn't feeling as good as he'd expected. He'd made his announcement but was hazily aware that it wasn't being as well received as it ought to have been, and in addition the room was spinning and there was a sort of slithery feeling in his stomach. He leant back heavily on the bed just as his oesophagus contracted, forcing the contents of his booze-filled stomach to leap up into his throat and be expelled through his mouth with considerable force. For a moment he felt terribly relieved, and then Eva, the bed, the wall, the lamp and everything else receded into darkness.

Consciousness returned in brutal phases. The room was dim, but even the watery light pouring through the curtains slammed into his eyes like a wall of pain. His skull contained a curdled egg. That thought aroused the ire of his stomach, which threatened to crawl out through his parched mouth. The air was heavy with the stench of urine and vomit. He became aware of a figure standing above him silhouetted against the light, soothingly blocking the source of anguish and giving off the glow of a celestial being.

‘Here,' said Eva. ‘I brought you a cup of tea.'

‘You're an angel,' croaked Lucien. ‘A ministering angel.'

‘Well, it's more than you deserve. Do you remember what you did last night?'

He gave it some thought. At first his memory was an empty void, but then dreadful snippets started to flow back to him.

‘I may have…declared my love to you?'

‘Yes. Naked. While simultaneously urinating on yourself. And on my bed. And then you…'

‘Oh, Christ.' Suddenly it was all there, clear as day. ‘I told you that we were meant to be together, then I threw up and passed out?'

‘That's about the size of it. And now for the good news. Your new boss phoned and he says that even though you're late for your first day of work, if you're there within the next hour he won't fire you. I've booked you a taxi. You have ten minutes to shower and dress.'

Lucien catapulted out of bed and was halfway out the door, when he stopped and turned back.

‘Eva?'

‘Yes?'

‘You were tempted, right?' He smiled his wickedest grin and stood there, unashamedly naked, his tall, naturally slender body sculpted by all the hours he'd spent in the prison gym. Eva ran her gaze across him. Even now, she felt a pang of longing to touch him that was so deeply written into the fabric of her being that she doubted it would ever disappear altogether. Could you ever completely shake off those teenage loves or did they stay with you forever, no matter how ludicrous they became?

‘You've made me some pretty bad offers in your time, Lucien Marchant, but that was undoubtedly the worst,' she told him, and smiled as he ran for the shower.

Benedict sipped at the rather chi-chi little cup of coffee he had inexplicably ordered, reflecting that caffeine so late in the day wouldn't help him to sleep that night. When he'd finally reached the front of the
melée
at the bar he suddenly realised he didn't know what he wanted, but the barman hadn't seemed inclined to indulge him and reasoning it would be better not to get drunk and maudlin, he'd blurted out his order almost at random. Eva was going to think he was mad when she arrived to a cold espresso instead of a nice glass of wine.

He didn't know why he'd suggested they meet at the Southbank either, except that they'd once come here for what had turned out to be a very pleasant lunch on one of his trips back from Switzerland. They'd agreed on a bar by the river that neither of them had been to in years, and now he was there he found that he was at least ten years older than most of the other patrons, who at seven thirty on a Saturday evening were already drinking and flirting with reckless abandon. How young and absurd they appeared to his jaded eyes, the boys with their tight jeans strutting like peacocks and the girls who looked barely more than children, flicking their hair and squawking with laughter at the boys' tepid witticisms.
Laugh it up, kids,
he thought,
you don't know what life's got in store for you.
And then, hearing how old and bitter his interior voice had become,
For God's sake, Benedict, you're thirty-five, not fifty-five
.

He wasn't looking forward to watching Eva's expression when she saw him. When people meet after a length of time measured in years they assess one another for damage, and he knew that on him the damage was profound. His eyes had bagged and his hair was greying along with the stubble on his chin that he now rather fervently wished he'd taken the time to shave.

The fact that he was in love with Eva had taken varying degrees of prominence in his life at different times, but had nonetheless been a constant for more than fifteen years. Could it really be that long? His feelings had waxed and waned, burning brightest in the years after they'd first met and then going almost into abeyance when he and Lydia had first been married and his love for the boys and their life together had eclipsed almost everything. In that period they had been relegated to the status of inconvenient truth and shoved into the background, and he wondered whether it was really wise to reopen that wound now. Still, perhaps he was getting this meeting all out of proportion considering how long it had been since they'd seen each other. Perhaps it would be awkward, or they'd have nothing to say to each other, or she'd have changed so much they'd have no connection anymore.

That train of thought juddered to a halt the moment he saw her. As soon as his gaze met hers, it was clear that it was too late. She was standing in the doorway scanning the room and as her eyes came to rest on him she smiled and in that moment he remembered what an effervescent smile like that could do to you, and he realised too how very long it had been since anyone had smiled at him like that. She was slimmer than when he'd last seen her, and her hair was longer and kind of messy around her face. She was wearing jeans, slightly flared at the bottom, with plimsolls and a blue corduroy jacket, nothing special but somehow she made it look so right. At least he was old enough not to bother trying to pretend to himself anymore. You couldn't talk yourself into or out of loving someone. God knows he'd given falling out of love with Eva and falling in love with Lydia his best shot.

It took her a moment to recognise him, hunched over a cup of coffee in the corner, surrounded by bright young things banging up against him and sloshing their drinks onto his table. Perhaps not the best choice of venue, Eva thought. She stood by the door for a few seconds and took him in. He looked older, not in a bad way exactly, but greying around the temples and where he'd always been a bit gangly, he seemed more solid now. He looked sort of…grown up.

At that moment he looked up and spotted her and broke into a smile and the years seemed to drop away from him. A picture popped into her mind unbidden, a much younger Benedict silhouetted against a bright summer sky at the top of Brandon Hill. She walked towards him, reflecting self-consciously that the passage of time since they last saw each other had been kinder to him than it had been to her. The years of working long hours, the shock of losing her job, the anxiety over Allegra, the weight of supporting Sylvie, had all etched themselves onto her face, she knew.

‘You look amazing,' exclaimed Benedict, standing and moving around the table to hug her as she reached him.

‘Ha, sure,' she said, waving off the compliment and stepping back when he finally released her from the embrace. ‘It's been a long decade,' she added by way of explanation.

‘Are you mad? You look…' he paused, evidently casting around for the right word
.

‘Old?'

‘No. Well, actually yes. Old-er. But in a good way. Not bland like the kids in this bar. You've gained…poise.'

‘I've gained laughter lines and crows' feet, is what you mean. Still, what can you do? I guess we're not kids anymore.'

Benedict gestured at the table without sitting down. ‘I got you a coffee. I have no idea why.'