Authors: Jane Lovering
Slightly Foxed (32 page)
from my cheeks. "This is exactly how I imagined it would be."
"What, the flies and the sand? Do you fantasise about the
Foreign Legion?"
Piers just grinned. "You
so
do not want to know about my
fantasies. Actually, you probably do. But, I meant this. The
losing control and the mind-blowing fucking sweet
awesomeness
of it all." He held out one hand, straggling the
rest of his rangy body over mine. "This—
this
is all I've ever
wanted."
I reached up from beneath him and ran my hand down his
back. "I think," I said slowly, "that one of us could get
incredibly hurt."
"You can't get hurt if you don't care." He was responding
to my touch, moving restlessly against me, eager once again.
"Do you care, Alys?"
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"Piers." There was a little sob in my voice, even I didn't
know what it meant, but I did know that the heat inside me
was crying out for him, for his cool sureness of touch.
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I walked back to Charlton House on rubber legs and with a
slight, but noticeable, flush still staining my skin. I couldn't
believe what had just happened. Piers. I mean,
Piers.
Good
God, it was almost unthinkable. He was so young. Bloody
hell, but he had some experience on him though. So young
and so careless. Or should that be
carefree
? He thought he
loved me, said he loved me, but where the hell did that leave
me
?
Leo was offering me everything. All those things I'd
thought I wanted during the years of loneliness and
struggling. Stability, kindness. I looked across the paddock
towards the big house which was glowing a pinkish colour as
the sun spread its late-afternoon rays across its face, the air
dulled with heat. So Leo loved me with all this and with his
words, his poetry. Piers loved me with—my legs trembled
again—with a passion that registered on the Richter scale. A
love that could bend metal.
And the downside? Leo had his horses, his raison d'etre.
And the poetry he never let me see. Was he
ashamed
? Of the
way he felt or the need to write it down? Piers had his youth,
his instinctive spontaneity. Leo was kind, gentle, wanted me
to be happy and life to run smoothly. Piers—Piers was just
bloody
gorgeous
and who knew what he wanted?
I wanted to think. No. I
needed
to talk.
The Land Rover was drawn up at the front of the house,
two-horse trailer still coupled onto the back. There was no
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sign of the occupants of the trailer nor the car, although the
driver and passenger doors were open. It was the Marie
Celeste of animal transporters. A faint trail of straw wisps led
around to the stable yard. I followed and found Leo inside a
stable. He was covered in straw and chatting rather earnestly
to Jay.
"Alys!" Leo sounded startled. "I...we...you were out for a
walk?"
"Leo. We need to talk."
A rush of emotions made his face go pink as they
conflicted, fighting for dominance. "Yes, we do."
Jay and I met one another's eyes. She looked oddly self-
assured, but carefully blank-faced, and I wondered if Leo had
been telling her his plans for me, for
us
. Something must
have shown in my face, because her eyebrows raised.
"It needs to be now." As I spoke I turned. Without even
making sure he was behind me, I headed towards the house,
back stiff with determination.
Leo followed me into the kitchen, his boots clonking
against the old stone floor. "Alys—" he began, but I waved a
hand.
"Look, Leo, I—" Then I stammered to a halt. Couldn't think
what to say. The pair of us stared, beetroot faced, at each
other. "You first."
Leo just shook his head. "I'm not sure how to put it."
I closed my eyes. It was easier when I couldn't see his
face, even if it did instantly conjure an image of Piers. He was
burned onto my retina.
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"Listen to me, Leo. Please." I had to do it. I really did.
"I've read your poetry—yes, even the stuff in the drawer in
the bedroom. It isn't some psychic tie that we share, it's the
fact that I recognised you from your photo in the book
Isabelle had printed." I opened my eyes. My face was
scalding hot. "And I engineered our meeting. I don't much
like horses either. I'm really sorry, but—" I took the ring out
of my pocket. "I can't marry you."
Leo stared at the ring. His gaze began to roam around the
room as his face flamed again. "I can't marry you," he
echoed. He was shifting from foot to foot as though even his
boots wanted out.
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"No, I mean,
I
can't marry
you
."
"What?" I blinked in confusion. "Of course you can't marry
me, if I won't marry you."
"No. It...it's complicated." His stare came down off the
ceiling and brushed past me on its way to investigate a
corner. A shifty little emotion fled through his eyes. "I've only
just—things have come home to me that I've been blind to for
so long." He went, if it was possible, even redder.
The straw-covered sweater. The expression on Jay's face.
"Oh my God. You've screwed Jay."
"She...I...we never...this was the only time." Then,
pleadingly, "She was leaving."
"That's one hell of a reinterpreting of the term golden
handshake."
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"I've just realised what I could have lost. What I've been
hiding from myself for all this time. That Jay is the woman for
me." A hand reached out. "I'm sorry, Alys. Truly sorry."
"So am I." If I'd been a better person, now would have
been the time to confess to the rip-roaring sex with Piers. I
couldn't do it. But knowing Leo and I were both guilty made
me feel better. I caught his hand, held it loosely. "I think
maybe I wanted to be in love a bit more than I was capable
of. I tried to fool myself that you could be the one, even when
I knew it wouldn't work."
"And I was so bowled over by you, by your interest in me,
that I lost sight of what was important to me. The stud, the
horses."
"And the poetry?" I met his clear green eyes.
"That's—not important. Not really. Not to me. It's just
something I do, it's not who I am."
Therein had lain my problem all along. I'd wanted to fall
for a poetic soul and it wasn't Leo's fault that he didn't have
one. Just a facility for words and the kind of lonely
introspection that made it all come out on paper. Poetry in his
heart, perhaps, but not his soul.
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Letting myself into the flat, I surprised Florence, who was
sitting on the floor in the living room, packing a suitcase.
"Mum?"
I didn't answer, barely acknowledged her presence and
swept on into my bedroom. The silent sanctuary-ness of it
soothed my nerves, although the scarlet throw I'd bought to
tempt Leo rankled, until I balled it up and shoved it under the
bed.
"Mum?" The door opened quietly. "Are you okay? Is it
because of Mrs. Treadgold?"
"I'm feeling fragile," I muttered, muffled by the amount of
duvet in my mouth. "Just leave me be, Florrie, please."
Florrie moved closer, sat down beside me and gave my
back a tentative pat. "It's all right to feel sad. It's healthy."
Another pat. "Piers said you were a bit shaken. Do you want
me to call him?"
The mattress barely had time to bounce. I shot to my feet
like a reversed film. "No. No, honestly, Florence, I'm okay.
Well, I'm sure you can imagine."
Please God, don't let her be
able to imagine. In fact
never
let her feel the way I'm feeling
right now.
"All right then. Just thought. You and he seem so tight
these days, and the way he insisted on driving down to tell
you—"
"Tell me?" She didn't
know
, did she, what Piers had said?
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"About Mrs. Treadgold." Florence stared at her feet. "Did
something happen, Mum? With Piers?"
Shock nearly stopped me breathing. "With Piers?" My voice
was high with tension. "With
Piers
? Good Lord, Florrie,
whatever could happen between me and
Piers
?" I blushed a
scalding tide to my hairline, and my hands started to sweat.
"Well, you keep falling out and making up, thought you
might have had another bust up. He came by to say you were
coming back. Looked completely fucked up."
"Florence." I wasn't so completely appalled by myself that
I couldn't spare a bit of appall for her. "Language!"
"Sorry." She cupped her knees up under her chin and
fiddled with her toes like a five year old. "Mum—"
Why wouldn't she go away and let me think? "Can this wait
Florence? Can't you go out? There's twenty pounds in my
bag, go to the pictures or something." Oh, but what if Piers
came by to see if I was back yet? Found me sitting in on my
own. My mouth was suddenly full of the taste of him, my skin
flickering as it had beneath his featherlight touch... "Or rent a
film, that's a good idea."
"Something slushy? Romantic? What about
Notting Hill
again?"
"I was thinking more about
Dawn of the Dead
actually.
Something violent, lots of limbs hanging off, you know the
kind of thing."
Florence stood, then sat again. "I'd really better get this
over with." She sounded incredibly adult. "If I stop now I
might not have the nerve."
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I felt my mouth dry and the blood which had started
seeping slowly away from my blush-encrusted cheeks
suddenly drained downwards. "What?" I said faintly.
"Mum. Oh shit, there's no easy way to say this, is there?
Look, about my A levels... Well. I'm not going to be able to
take them. I mean, I'll always have those GCSE results if I
want to. But. Not for a while."
"Oh my God." I flopped onto the trunk which served as a
bedside table, knocking over a glass of water and a lamp. I
didn't even notice. "Oh,
Florrie
."
"In London I met this guy."
"It's all right, darling, I understand... Have you decided
what to do yet?" I burbled incoherently for a moment and all I
could think of was
like mother, like daughter
. I gave Florence
a quick up-and-down look, feeling guilty that I'd not noticed
any changes in her. She looked slim in her tiny jeans, no sign
of swelling stomach or breasts yet.
Florence was looking at me with pity. Surely that was
wrong? Shouldn't it be the other way round? What was I
missing? My head felt as though I'd put it on inside out.
"
Mum.
Just listen for a moment.
I'm not pregnant!
Now,
will you stop staring at my boobs and just
listen
. When I was
in London I met this guy. Keish and I met him actually—well,
we didn't exactly
meet
him, more, we went to see him. He's
an agent, y'see, and we'd taken our pictures. Proper pictures,
like a kind of portfolio thing and he said—he said he'd take
me on. He phoned yesterday. Well, he's shown my photos
around and, oh, get
this
, Mum, Models Inc. want to have a
look at me in person. Apparently they think I've got what it
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takes! They've got a branch in York, but you have to come
with me to sign things and make sure it's all above board and
no one's going to sell me into prostitution or anything like
that. But if they want me—
if they do
—they want me to go to
Paris and do a show with some of the other new girls. Isn't it
fantastic
?"
"You." I needed the whole monologue again, in little bite-
sized chunks. "London?"
"Yes, Mum." Florence had started patting me again as if I
had Old Lady syndrome. "Keisha and I went to London to see
Jamie. That's his name, Jamie Keene. Not
just
to see him of
course. We went to see Lex as well and do stuff. We could
have sent pictures but we thought it would be better to go in
person." She jumped up and executed a stylish pirouette. "To
show him how
stunningly amazing
we were. He said that, you
know, he called us stunningly amazing."
"Er." I felt not particularly amazed but certainly completely
stunned. "You had pictures?"
"Yes. Jack did mine. Came round one afternoon."
And I'd thought they were my birthday present. How