Just the Way You Are (7 page)

‘Is this not your scene then?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone as civil as possible.

Amira scoffed loudly. ‘Um not really, love. I’m used to mixing with a cooler crowd than this. Oh by the way, I meant to say nice dress; bit cheap-looking though. A bit like you really.’

Right that’s it, no more Miss Nice Ava.

‘What exactly is your problem with me, because I don’t get it! For some reason, you’ve decided you hate me and that’s fine. I’m a big girl and I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with is you standing there making snide remarks about me and implying that my best friend isn’t good enough for you! If you can’t see what an amazing guy he is, that’s your problem.’

‘From the sounds of things,
you’ve
already seen what an “amazing guy” he is. Don’t get me wrong, Max is OK and I like him but I know I can do better. He, on the other hand, will never do better than me.’

‘Wow, you’re such a romantic,’ I bit back. ‘So you’re only with Max because you think you’re out of his league and he should be grateful to have you?’

‘Precisely. Girls like me always date downwards until someone who deserves us comes along. Oh, and if you’re thinking of telling Max about any of this, don’t bother. I can make your life a living hell and make sure he never speaks to you again.’

Amira picked up a vegetable samosa, popped it in her bow-like mouth and sidled away. I watched her for a second as she went to mingle with some guests. Something in her bag distracted her and I saw her pull out her phone. She moved in a sleek curve away from the group of people she’d been chatting to and I saw her jaw tighten and her eyes screw tightly shut.

As she passed by me, I heard her say ‘Mum, it’s fine… it was just a nightmare. Yes, it was. Look, Grace is calling round at seven to help put you to bed. She’s your carer, remember? You
do
know her, Mum…’

She said a hurried goodbye and ended the call. While her back was turned, her head dropped into her hands and I heard her exhale sharply. Sensing someone was watching her, she whipped her head round and glared at me.

‘What are you looking at?!’ she snapped.

‘I… Nothing.’

Amira snatched a glass of champagne from a passing tray and stormed off. Although I couldn’t swear to it, I was sure I saw a tear roll down her cheek.

Just to plunge me even further into the depths of despair, the first dance soon followed. The new Mr and Mrs Henderson took to the floor as
Take My Breath Away
by Berlin began to play. Gradually, the guests began to pair off and joined them on the dance floor to celebrate their special night. Soon, only me and a few other “spares” remained. Amira had dragged Max up at the first opportunity while Nate was getting very friendly with a bridesmaid.

‘Makes you sad, don’t it honey?’ A rich female voice lifted straight from the Deep South drifted across to me from a nearby table.

I turned to see who the mystery person was and found an old woman of around seventy sitting by herself. She was extremely beautiful; her crop of silver hair made her look full of life, as did the glint in her sparkly black eyes. Her skin was the colour of milky coffee and barely had any wrinkles, save for some lines at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. I recognised her as the jazz singer from earlier, the one who’d sung
At Last
while Giselle had walked down the aisle. She was wearing a long black maxi dress, accented with a teal shawl. When she saw me looking, she smiled and waved, beckoning me to go over to her.

‘Makes you sad, don’t it?’ she said again when I sat down opposite her.

‘What does?’ I followed her gaze to the dance floor, where all the couples were now swaying in time to
Careless Whisper
.

‘Seeing all them couples out there, happy as clams, when there’s people like you and me who just sit by and watch it all happen without us.’ It was impossible for the woman’s voice to sound truly sad but there was a definite melancholy tone to it. It struck a chord deep within me.

I chuckled awkwardly. ‘It’s just a first dance; it doesn’t bother me really.’

The woman eyed me with suspicion. Her eyes pierced through me, behind the layers of bravado I’d built up in preparation for this moment. I’d been dreading being alone for the first dance and my nightmare had come true.

‘Honey, a beautiful young thing like you should be out there with the most handsome young man in the room, spinning like a ballerina without a care in the world. Instead you’re sitting here with an old crone like me!’

My mouth dropped open. ‘Y-you’re not a crone! You look very good for your age actually. I heard you singing Etta James earlier and you were wonderful.’

She let out a wry laugh. ‘S’all I’m good for nowadays. Fifty years ago, I was Ivy St Clair, toast of the jazz scene. Now I’m Ivy St Clair, dried-up old has-been who’s wheeled out for the odd special occasion.’

‘You were a jazz singer?’ I shuffled my seat round, keen to know more about the mysterious Ivy St Clair.

‘Indeed I was!’ Her face beamed with pride and she straightened up in her chair. ‘Back in New Orleans, I sang at every jazz club on Bourbon Street. Oh I did all the classics: Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday. Rock and roll fever hadn’t hit New Orleans yet so jazz was still flavour of the month. I still remember the atmosphere in those jazz clubs; it was like our own version of Hollywood. You could step out on that stage and feel like a star in seconds because you knew everybody in that room was there to see you.’

She cast a wistful glance around the room before turning her attention back to me. I was completely enthralled by her; I could tell she had a thousand stories to tell but nobody had ever taken the time to ask.

‘Wow, that sounds amazing!’ I breathed. ‘I don’t think I’d ever be brave enough to get up in front of a room full of people.’

Sensing she had a captive audience, Ivy continued. ‘Nothing to do with being brave, sugar. I performed because I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else and loving it as much. It was like I was born to do it, you know? It was such a wonderful time. The men knew how to be men then too; they were always sharp as tacks with their suits and ties and their hair slicked back with Brylcreem. And talk about gentlemen! Back then if a man wanted to court you, he had to ask your daddy’s permission first. The ladies were always well turned out too, with their pin curls and finger waves and pretty dresses.’

She paused as though she was remembering something and I saw her eyes drop to a gold locket that hung around her neck. She caught me looking at her and I quickly averted my gaze back to the dance floor.

‘Of course that was in the sixties: a time where things like twerking and Gangnam Style and Facebook didn’t exist!’ she added.

‘I’ll bet you had all the men running after you,’ I said with a chuckle.

Ivy smiled secretly. ‘I had my fair share of admirers but they were just that: they came down to the club to hear me sing, asked me out at the end and I said no to all of ‘em.’

I frowned. Surely someone as beautiful and talented as Ivy would have had lots of boyfriends?

‘Why did you say no to them?’ I asked. My curiosity was piqued; I had to know more about this fascinating woman.

Just then, we were interrupted by Nate. He’d left the bridesmaid on the dance floor and was now standing over us with a goofy grin on his face.

‘Fancy a dance?’ he asked, extending his hand.

I paused for a second and looked at Ivy, who smiled knowingly.

‘Sure, why not?’ I knew my voice sounded a bit wobbly and uncertain and from the look on his face, so did Nate. It wasn’t every day a hunky photographer asked me to dance after all.

As I got up to take his hand, a little girl wearing a beautiful ivory bow dress walked up to us. I recognised her instantly as one of the flower girls from the wedding.

‘Excuse me, can I dance with you?’

Nate smiled and took her hand. ‘Of course you can darling. If that’s OK with my friend here?’

I grinned and nodded. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll have a dance later.’

They walked onto the dance floor and I watched as he lifted her so she could dance on his feet. He didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned that his shiny black shoes were being scuffed by her white dancing shoes. It was really quite heart-warming to watch.

I turned my attention back to Ivy and sat back down. ‘Sorry about that. You were about to tell me why you turned down all your admirers?’

Ivy let out a sad sigh. ‘Because of my Leo.’

‘Who was he?’ I chose my words and tone carefully in case he was someone she’d lost in her past.

She opened the locket and showed me two pictures side by side. One was of a young woman with dark skin, neatly curled hair and an incredible smile. The other was of a handsome man with kind features and hair the colour of dark chocolate.

‘Leo Browning was love itself. He came across to New Orleans from England on vacation and we met at one of the clubs I sang at. He told me I had the voice of an angel and… Well I was hooked. We spent a perfect summer together then…’

She trailed off and my heart sank. I knew the story couldn’t possibly have a happy ending and I dreaded to think what might be coming next.

‘Then?’ I prompted in the gentlest voice I could.

‘Then…he had to go home with his folks. We promised to write to each other and for a while we did but gradually the letters stopped. Oh I was heartbroken of course but my mama said it was for the best. She wanted me to stay in New Orleans, see, and not run off to England with “that no-good boy from the hotel”.’ Her voice carried a wistful tone, like she’d give anything to go back to the time she shared with Leo.

Suddenly, an idea hit me. This was exactly what I’d been looking for: an unusual love story. The best part was, it didn’t have an ending yet so I could make one happen. The prospect made my heart almost burst with joy.

‘This might sound weird but I’m a journalist; I work for
Sleek
magazine and I’d love to feature your story in our Valentine’s Day issue. Would you be up for that?’

An uncertain smile spread across her face.. ‘Oh I don’t know about that…!’

‘Please,’ I said, pouting like a child begging for sweets. ‘It’d mean the world to me and I know everyone will love hearing about you and Leo!’

Ivy sighed and threw her hands up in defeat. ‘What if I promise to think about it? I’m not sure I like the idea of my private affairs splashed all over a magazine.’

‘Fair enough, here’s my card. If you fancy doing an interview, give me a call when you’re free, and we can set something up!’

Satisfied with the promise that Ivy would think about letting me tell her story, I decided to go off in search of Nate or Max. I prepared myself to join the throng of neatly paired-up people on the dance floor and my stomach dropped into my shoes.

‘Oh honey, I didn’t catch your name!’ Ivy called.

I screwed my eyes shut with embarrassment. I’d been so busy listening to her that I’d totally forgotten to introduce myself.

‘Ava Clements,’ I replied.

‘Nice to meet you Ava Clements.’

‘Likewise Ivy St Clair.’

Chapter 7

The second letter arrived on a Wednesday.

It came in the middle of a totally hectic week while I was rushing around trying to find the black pumps Gwen had borrowed for her date with Tom the night before. She had a habit of putting things back in odd places, especially when she’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t unusual to find handbags under the sink or jewellery in the fridge.

I was throwing cushions off one of the sofas at lightning speed when I caught sight of the letter. It was lying on our flower-shaped doormat along with some flyers for new takeaways opening in the area. I picked it up and a shiver of anticipation worked its way down my spine as I recognised the neat sloping handwriting. Without hesitation, I ripped it open and pulled out the letter.

Dear Ava,

As I promised in the last letter, I’m writing to you again. I can see how happy the magic surrounding them is making you and it’s wonderful. At first, I was worried about starting the letters again. For all I knew, you could’ve met someone and built a life with them; in that case, a letter from me would’ve been nothing more than a temporary trip down memory lane. After I sent the first one though, I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to stop. When it comes to you Ava, I’m a different person. Normally, I’m afraid to jump in, of getting my heart broken, but not where you’re concerned. You could break my heart into a million pieces and it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. To me, you’d still be the same wonderful woman you’ve always been.

I’ve never forgotten you, Ava. Your smile, your laugh, the sparkle in your eyes; it’s all still so clear to me even after all this time. I also remember how you made me feel: relaxed, at peace with the whole world and like anything was possible. If I was ever stressed or needed someone to make me feel better, I went to you and whatever was bothering me instantly melted away. You made me look at the world differently and I can’t thank you enough for that.

So with that in mind, I’m going to make a promise to you. When you find out who I am and if you’ll have me, I promise that I’ll be there for you whenever you’re scared or unsure. I’ll wrap you up in my arms and tell you everything will be OK because it will. You’ve got an amazing knack for turning things around if only you’d believe in yourself a bit more.

I’m well aware that when I do finally tell you who I am, there’s a chance you might decide you don’t have feelings for me. That does worry me a bit but I’ve loved you for so long that taking the chance to create something beautiful with you far outweighs any fears I’ve got. Believe me, you’re more than worth it.

Keep smiling, beautiful

Love always

?

The world around me seemed to melt away as I lost myself in the words. Getting a glimpse of what our life together would be like when we found each other took my breath away. Knowing he would take care of me and be there for me no matter what made my heart yearn for him.