Third Time Lucky (8 page)

‘Ah, Miss Cusack.’

‘Hi, Robert. Is everything OK?’

‘Yes. Helen thought you’d like to know we have visitors.’

My post-jog endorphins evaporate when I walk into the hallway to find Alexander with his cousin, and my
arch-enemy, Rupert, his father and a petite and very well-preserved redhead who must be his mother, Letty.

Rupert and his father grunt a greeting almost in unison but Letty de Courcey steps forward, smiling warmly. ‘Lauren, hello again.’

Recognition flickers, but I’m more aware of my sweaty palms and the ragtag mess I must look after my run. I shake her hand as briefly as possible but return the smile.

‘Hello.’

‘I’m Letty. We have met before but the circumstances weren’t happy.’

‘Oh, of course,’ I say, vaguely recalling her at the funeral, although I’d hardly recognize her today in her skinny jeans and pale-blue sweater, with a pair of dark glasses pushed back on her auburn bob.

‘How was the run?’ Alexander asks, looking a little strained.

‘Good, though I’m sorry I’m late. I took an unscheduled detour.’

Rupert smirks.

‘It’s a big estate,’ says Mr de Courcey gruffly.

‘And easy to get lost in,’ Letty adds. ‘I seem to recall a search party being sent out for you, Giles, when you took Rupert for a walk years ago.’

‘I don’t remember it.’

‘My memory is better than yours and how could I forget? Rupert was still in nappies at the time and
needed a complete change of clothes by the time you found your way home.’

Rupert groans. ‘Mother!’

I am struggling not to snigger and even Alexander is smiling. ‘Would you like to join us for some breakfast, Aunt Letty?’ he asks.

‘I had mine some time ago,’ says Mr de Courcey tartly.

Ignoring her husband, Letty slips her arm through Alexander’s. ‘I’d love a cup of tea, but only if you drop the “aunt”, please, Alexander. It makes me sound like I’m a hundred and one.’

He laughs. ‘Whatever you want, Aunt.’

She glares at him but soon the smile is back on her pretty face. She seems much younger than her husband, though she must be in her late forties because Rupert is a few years older than me.

‘What about you, Rupert?’

‘I’ll have a black coffee,’ he mutters.

‘I suppose I’ll have some tea too, if it’s going,’ Giles grumbles. Alexander calls to Helen, who’s been hovering on the sidelines. ‘Helen, would you mind serving breakfast now, please? And bringing some extra tea and coffee? I’m sorry we’re so late.’

‘It’s my fault,’ I say. ‘And I need to leave you again to change. I’ll be as quick as I can but please start without me.’

I scoot off, ignoring a look from Rupert that’s
somewhere between loathing and lust. While I take the fastest shower ever, and pull on jeans and a top, I try to decide how to react to the de Courceys’ visit. Alexander doesn’t know yet that it was Rupert who emailed the sex clip to me last term. I still cringe even now, when I recall the images of Alexander and Valentina having kinky sex, but I don’t think telling Alexander about it now, in front of his aunt and uncle, is the best idea, even though I’d love to see Rupert’s face.

I dash downstairs, my still damp hair restrained with a clip.

Alexander and the de Courceys are sitting around the table in the breakfast room, with tea cups in front of them. The breakfast plates, however, are still on the dresser so they have waited for me. Alexander stands when I enter the room.

‘Sorry to have kept you waiting,’ I say.

Letty smiles. ‘Oh, don’t give it a thought. I bet you’re starving after your jog.’

Despite their earlier claims, Rupert and his father pile food on their plates. Like me, Letty selects a croissant from the tray.

While we’re eating, I can’t resist a dig at Rupert. ‘So how are you, Rupes? How’s your vacation going? I haven’t seen you since the Boat Race party, when we had such an interesting chat – really, so enlightening.’

‘I’ve been working,’ he says, suddenly reluctant to meet my eyes. He
must
wonder if I’ve already told Alexander what he did. Then again, if I
had
, Rupert might
not have got as far as the hallway, let alone the breakfast room.

‘Rupert has a lot of catching up to do, if he’s going to get his degree,’ Letty says acidly.

Rupert almost chokes on his bacon but then mumbles, ‘Thanks, Mother.’

‘It’s true. He seems to have spent most of his time in that dreadful drinking society or else raving all night in some club.’

‘I promote club nights, Mother, I don’t rave!’

‘You know what I mean. You’ve been virtually nocturnal since you’ve been back home so I assume it’s a habit you developed at Wyckham. You see more of my son than I do, Lauren, I’m sure. You’ll have to let me know what he’s been up to.’

Alexander smiles and Letty laughs. ‘Perhaps we should go for tea some time while the boys are busy hunting.’

‘Lauren won’t want to do that and the season is almost over.’ Rupert sounds horrified at the prospect of his mother and me cosying up over a slice of cake and a cup of Earl Grey.

‘I think it sounds like a lot of fun, Mrs de Courcey,’ I say brightly.

‘Oh God, call me Letty. Mrs de Courcey makes me feel ancient!’

‘OK, Letty.’

Alexander holds up his arm. ‘I’m not allowed to ride until the medics sign me off but I’m hoping I’ll be fit by the new season, if I get any leave that is.’

Letty
pats his arm. ‘Poor you. You’ve had some terrible luck this year, apart from meeting Lauren, of course.’

Rupert rolls his eyes and I cringe a little, though Alexander smiles politely.

When we’ve finished breakfast, which was far more fun that I’d expected thanks to Letty, Alexander disappears into the study with Mr de Courcey to discuss some papers relating to the probate of the estate. Rupert’s father is an executor of General Hunt’s estate but I’m not sure how much actual help he’s being.

Rupert, clearly fed up that things haven’t gone his way this morning, seizes the chance to escape and mutters something about going to make a call outside.

The door slams and Letty and I are left alone. ‘Oh dear, perhaps I overdid the teasing, I say.’

She sighs. ‘It won’t do him any harm though. He was such a lovely child but I’m not sure the company he’s been keeping at Wyckham has been entirely good for him, you and Alexander excepted, of course.’

Letty smiles but I suspect she may be hiding her real anxieties over Rupert. It can’t be a happy thing to realize that your kids aren’t the people you’d like them to be. I feel deeply sorry for her because I don’t think even she can know quite how mean-spirited her son has turned out to be.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you’re a very beautiful girl. I think Rupert may have a crush on you.’

‘A
crush? I don’t think so! I also look a terrible mess. I’m sorry you met me when I’d just got back from a run.’

‘Rubbish. You look natural and lovely and as for Rupert, I know him better than anyone – and I can also see that Alexander is mad about you.’

My cheeks are heating up. ‘I really don’t know about that.’

‘It’s obvious to us all.’

She steers me to the window, where Rupert is striding up and down the courtyard with his mobile clamped to his ear. ‘Mmm. Have it your way, but I do know that Rupert hasn’t got a cat in hell’s chance where you’re concerned. I love my son, no matter what he gets up to, but he needs a kick up the arse for his own sake.’ She sighs again. ‘I can’t say he’ll find life hard after he leaves Oxford because he’ll just walk into the family firm, but as for relationships, I don’t want to see him badly hurt, alone or heartbroken.’

‘I can promise you that I will not be the one to break his heart.’

She smiles, but she is definitely nobody’s fool and her eyes bore into me like an interrogator’s.

‘I hope you’re not planning on doing it to my nephew.’

I laugh lightly. ‘Alexander doesn’t allow his heart to be broken.’

‘You’d be surprised. If he falls, he falls hard. Very hard.’

I stiffen. ‘If you mean Valentina, I know he was upset when they broke off their engagement.’

She
blows out a sharp breath. ‘Valentina? God knows why they got engaged, or rather I do know. Valentina wanted to get her hands on this place and his title and Alexander thought he was pleasing his father – and his dead mother too, poor boy. No, I didn’t mean her, and I’m
very
glad it ended.

‘You’re young, Lauren, and I’m sure the world is your oyster as they say, in terms of men and careers, but behind that devil-may-care facade Alexander is a very deep and intense young man. Wound him and the hurt cuts deep.’

‘I’m sure there won’t be any wounding on my part,’ I say, wondering if it would be such a great idea to have tea with Letty, after all.

‘An honest answer. I appreciate that, but sooner or later you will be responsible for what happens. Sooner, I’m guessing, and then you will have to make a choice. I can’t tell you what that is but make sure it’s the right one.’

I’m getting uncomfortable now – I’m not ready for this. Most of Alexander’s relatives seem terrified that I might one day end up as mistress of Falconbury; now Letty seems terrified that I won’t. For once, I’m lost for words, and that takes some doing.

Letty is smiling. ‘I’ve said too much; as you’ve noticed, I always do – but I stand by my opinion of Alexander, and
do
meet me for coffee one day. I’d love some female company.’

‘I will,’ I say, smiling. And I do mean it, but our girly
chat is cut short by the door opening and Alexander and his uncle walking into the room.

Letty collects her handbag. ‘All done? Shall we leave these people to get on with their day?’

Rupert is waiting in the hallway as we say our goodbyes and Alexander kisses Letty. ‘You’re staying then,’ Rupert mutters with a sneer.

‘Of course,’ I say with a huge grin, then Letty kisses me and sweeps her son out of the door. He still manages a glare at me before he gets in his father’s BMW, which I return with a cheery wave.

If I wasn’t sure about my decision to stay before, I am now.

‘Hi, honey, how are you?’

It’s with mixed emotions that I answer the phone to my mother a few days later. I’ve popped back to Oxford for the day to do some research in the Ashmolean, and she calls while I’m in the juice bar in the Covered Market, grabbing some lunch. It’s only breakfast time in Washington, so I know she must be keen to speak to me.

‘I’m fine, Mom.’

‘And how is Alexander?’

‘On the mend,’ I say as lightly as I can.

‘Where are you? It sounds very noisy.’

‘In a cafe in the market.’

‘In Oxford? Are you back in college?’

I touch the table for luck. ‘Only for the day to do some research. I’ve been staying with Alexander at his family’s home.’

There’s a pause. ‘His
family’s
home? Do they mind? Can’t they help him?’

‘Well, he lost his mother when he was young and his father died in January and he has a young sister to take care of.’

My mother’s voice has softened when she next
speaks. ‘How awful for them both! Well, I’m sorry to hear that … But remember, you have your own life, Lauren; you mustn’t let yourself get sucked into other people’s tragedies. But it sounds as if you have made your mind up and you’re not going to listen to me.’ She pauses for a beat or two and I think I’m over the worst, and then her tone changes. ‘You know, this situation may turn out to be a blessing in disguise.’

I have to make a conscious effort to stop twirling my hair. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your father desperately needs a break and London’s only a few hours away, as you kept reminding us when you took up this place to study. I’m sure England looks wonderful at this time of year and I’ve been meaning to come over again. This is the perfect excuse.’

I push my salad bowl away, my appetite gone. I could slap myself. Why, oh why, did I not foresee this would happen?

I swallow – I have to handle this right. ‘Um, that sounds a nice idea. But I’ll be very busy with revision and work so I may not have much time to spend with you, and won’t it be tricky to get flights and hotels at such short notice?’

Her voice takes on a determined tone. ‘Nonsense, Lauren. We’ll be sightseeing some of the time so we won’t get under your feet. It will do you good to take a break and I’m sure you can spare a little time to see us. Now I come to think of it, this is serendipity. Your
father needs a holiday and it means we can meet Alexander. I’ll email you when I’ve booked flights.’

There is no stopping my mother in this mood so, like a gigantic wave, I let her words roll over me and carry me along. There is nothing I can do now. My parents are going to meet Alexander and know everything.

‘Lauren? Are you still there, honey? Did you hear what I said? We can’t wait to see you.’

‘You too, Mom.’

‘And Alexander, of course,’ she adds, and with a final ‘See you soon,’ the line goes dead.

‘Is there anything wrong with your meal?’

Back at Falconbury later that evening, I glance up from chasing a carrot baton around my dinner plate to find Alexander eyeing me thoughtfully from the other side of the small dining table in the sitting room.

‘I’m OK.’

‘Really? You’re very quiet and you haven’t eaten much. I’d have thought all our activities would have given you an appetite,’ he grins. ‘I know I’m ravenous.’ He pops a forkful of fish into his mouth. He’s managed to hack pieces off his fillet of sole, which was served with bite-sized forestière potatoes and sliced vegetables. Good old Helen, she obviously consulted the cook on what to serve a one-handed man to spare him the indignity of having to have his food cut up for him.

I rest my fork on my plate. ‘Sorry.’

‘Why
are you sorry? If anything’s worrying you, you can tell me.’

Can I? I’m not so sure about that. ‘Well,’ I sigh, deciding to get it over with, ‘the thing is, I spoke to my mom earlier and it seems my parents are planning to visit, since I can’t get home.’

Alexander swallows, then puts his fork down.

‘I had to tell them about us.’

He regards me steadily. ‘About us?’ The remark hangs in the air between us. ‘You mean the fact that we’re shagging each other senseless.’

I smile. ‘Well, anyway, they want to come over for a visit. To check you out, I suspect.’

He reaches for the wine bottle and manages to top up my glass without spilling any. ‘You can hardly blame them. They must be disappointed you’re not going home as planned.’

‘I know, but …’

He smiles. ‘But what? I’d be delighted to meet them. In fact, why don’t you invite them to Falconbury?’

It’s only with a monumental effort that I don’t spill the wine halfway to getting it to my face. I can’t believe he seems so cool with the idea that my parents are going to meet him – and I’m even more amazed that he’s asked then to Falconbury.

Alexander is sleeping peacefully on his back with his wounded arm out of its sling and supported on a pillow by his side. I haven’t been able to sleep and now
I’m lying next to him, thinking over what he said earlier.

Why don’t I ask my parents to Falconbury? I guess I have no choice now he’s issued the invitation but I can’t imagine their reaction. I’m not sure whether they’ll be impressed or horrified at the scale and grandeur of the place. They’ll certainly think things have become ‘serious’ between us and yet we’ve barely even discussed being back together.

Once again, I’ve allowed myself to be dragged back into Alexander’s life. I listen to him breathing peacefully, and see his long lashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Everything is so peaceful, so tranquil and calm. I rest my hand on his chest and feel the rhythmic rise and fall, and the glorious warmth of his body.

I turn over and sigh into my pillow. Maybe I’ll ease my parents in gently at first, arrange to meet them on neutral territory in Oxford and introduce them to Alexander there, before launching Falconbury on them. I’ll see how the land lies and if need be, maybe I can get away with them not seeing the place at all.

The following week, I’m enjoying the warmth of the sun on my arms as I walk out of the Sackler Library. Brandon dropped me in Oxford again, before driving Alexander to London to see his lawyers. I have so much to do here and I’m grateful for the chance to spend some time catching up with normality. The cherry blossom hangs in thick clusters from the trees and the
golden stone of the colleges seems to glow as I walk along the Broad towards Wyckham. My phone rings and I grin at the name on the screen before remembering that I have some news he may not be happy to hear.

‘Scott, hello!’

‘Hi there. How’s Washington?’

Oh fuck. ‘Even warmer than here, probably, but I’m actually in Oxford right now; I just got out of the Sackler.’

There’s a pause, then, ‘I thought you were going home?’

‘Sorry, I ought to have called. Things got complicated.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I decided to stay on for a while myself. In fact, I’m in Oxford too. It’s suddenly hit home that I have a master’s to complete and only a term to do it in,’ he jokes, making me laugh as he always does.

‘Well, if you will try and be a Boat Race hero …’ I tease. ‘And as you’re studying Water Policy, it shouldn’t take you more than five minutes to learn all you need to know.’

‘Make that more like ten.’ His deep laughter down the phone makes me smile. ‘However, I do need to knuckle down because I ought to leave Oxford with more than blisters. Anyway, how are you?’ he asks. ‘I heard you and Alexander broke up …’

Arghh, this is going to be excruciating. ‘Oh?’ I stall for time.

‘Jocasta
told me at the party. I thought you might have told me – we’re meant to be friends, aren’t we?’ he teases.

‘And rain on your parade? No way; you were having a great time and you were with Lia. She seems … um, nice.’ I remember how inexplicably jealous I had felt when Scott waltzed in with Lia, a gorgeous rowing medic. I remember the feeling now with a jolt of surprise – Scott is my friend, and yes, I think he might have a soft spot for me, but why did I feel so jealous? Does that make me a bad person?

‘So are you staying with Immy? When are you going back to Washington?’ he asks before I have time to tell him the rest of the story.

There’s no point waiting any longer so I plunge straight in. ‘I’m staying with Alexander actually. We, er, didn’t stay broken up for long, I guess.’

‘What? Oh … wow.’ He bursts out laughing. ‘This story has more twists than a switchback ride. OK, so fill me in. Where exactly are you now?’

‘Walking towards Wyckham. You?’

‘In the middle of town. How do you fancy lunch? Better still, a picnic?’

‘Sounds lovely. I have no food though.’

‘I’ll take care of that. Meet you by High Bridge in thirty minutes?’

I end the call, feeling much better. I’m looking forward to seeing Scott. The last couple of weeks have been so crazy and so much has happened that I haven’t
had a chance to really think, and seeing a good friend who always lifts my mood is just what I need.

After calling in at Wyckham to check my pigeonhole and popping into a wine merchant for a bottle of Prosecco, I scurry eagerly past the Pitt Rivers Museum to the Parks. The breeze ripples through the reeds at the edge of the river and moorhens pootle around in the shallows. I’m a little chilly in my skinny jeans and Joseph top but thankfully I grabbed a cashmere cardigan on my way out. Finding a spot in the shade of a willow, I sit down on the grass to wait for Scott. Punts glide past; laughter and shrieks combine with the quacking of drakes harrying reluctant ducks. Oxford lives up to every idyllic cliché at this time of year, on the surface at least.

Scott greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a grin. ‘Hi, beautiful, how are you?’

I give him a hug and grin back. ‘I’m good, all the better for seeing you actually. The last few weeks have been frantic.’

‘I aim to please,’ he says, holding up a bag filled with delicious food and a rug to sit on, which he spreads on the grass.

‘Wow,’ I whistle, looking at all the treats he’s brought and suddenly feeling very hungry. ‘You’re a regular Martha Stewart.’

He grins. ‘You have no idea.’ He proceeds to unpack chips and dips, some Brie, black grapes, mini baguettes and a pyramid of profiteroles, and couple of bottles of Peroni.

I
hand over my bottle. ‘This is my contribution. I haven’t really celebrated your awesome victory yet and I presume you’re not teetotal any more.’

He unwraps the tissue from the bottle. ‘No way. This is great, thanks for the thought.’ He smiles. ‘However, even though I’m not training these days, I could still eat a horse. Shall we get started?’

Scott bats away a gnat before taking a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and sawing a hunk off a baguette.

I pop a grape into my mouth while Scott slathers Brie on his bread. ‘So, what is all this drama with Alex? Are you OK? It sounds like you’ve had a pretty tough time with him.’

‘I don’t really know where it’s going myself,’ I say lightly. ‘We had a big fight and I thought everything was off but the morning after the party, Alexander had a really serious accident. He asked for me, so I went, and I’ve kind of not left.’ I look up sheepishly.

Scott frowns. ‘Jesus. Is he all right?’

‘Things were a little hairy for a while but the surgeons fixed him up and he’s on the mend now.’

‘My God, how did it happen?’

‘I don’t know. It all kicked off while he was on a mission.’

‘I’m sorry he’s been injured,’ he says, then adds, ‘genuinely.’ He swallows a grape. ‘And what about
you
?’

I don’t know quite how to answer this, all I know is I can’t keep away from the flame, no matter how many
times I get burned. I can’t really explain or justify it, it is just the way things are at the moment.

I take a deep breath. ‘Well, I had no choice initially, I had to go to him when he was hurt, and then, I don’t know …’ I tail off. ‘We’re both feeling our way, Scott. I guess that’s all we can do.’

‘Well, that’s an honest answer,’ he murmurs, giving my arm a friendly squeeze. ‘Look, whatever happens, just remember I’m here, always, you know, if you need a shoulder. We’re buddies, you and me.’

‘Buddies?’ I laugh.

He looks at me, his eyes teasing. ‘Do you want us to be more than buddies?’

I blush, as the memory of a kiss in the street, with Alexander looking on, comes back to me. We exist in this limbo land, Scott and I, somewhere between very good friends and would-be lovers. But I ignore the facetious question and give him a playful shove.

‘Hey, thanks, I appreciate the support. Really. But now tell me, what about Lia? Anything to share with me about her?’ I ask lightly, my tone gently teasing.

‘Hmm, not really. She’s fine, we’re good,’ he says, giving nothing away.

‘I love being able to talk to you …’ I say.

‘Good.’ He smiles and squeezes my hand. His hand is shovel-sized and calloused from the oars, yet the pressure he exerts on my fingers is of the lightest kind. ‘Can’t you talk to Alexander?’

I
shrug, unable to give an honest answer, which is ‘no’. I’ll always be tiptoeing around Alexander, and the contrast with Scott has never been more stark than now. Scott represents a life I could choose: of steady, uncomplicated fun, of laughter and good times. I’m attracted to him: who wouldn’t be to a six-foot-six hunk of blond gorgeousness with a great sense of humour to boot? Scott would never get himself into a knife fight, or be filmed in a sex video, or leave me curled up on my bed in misery or walking the streets of Oxford with tears streaming down my face.

As if he can read my mind, he says in a mournful voice: ‘You know, life isn’t fair. I go through hell to make the Boat Race squad, I thrash myself to win the race for Oxford, and it still isn’t enough. You want me to parachute into some hellhole and get myself half killed to impress you?’ He grins, grabbing another piece of baguette.

I can’t help but laugh at this – he is outrageous – but while I am flattered by what he says, I don’t grace him with an answer, swatting him away and suggesting he open the wine and stop yanking my chain.

He picks up the bottle. ‘Sure,’ he says easily. ‘Let’s drink to both our futures, whatever they may be.’ He raises an eyebrow at me and I shake my head at him, laughing.