Chapter 16
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Luke says, clinking my wine glass later that evening. ‘I literally owe you my life. You have no idea what disgrace I would have brought to my family if you hadn’t hidden me like you did. Here’s to your quick thinking and your billowing petticoats.’
We are dining in the private room. It’s breathtakingly elegant with wooden surrounds, a big roaring fire, twinkling lights strung up, candles everywhere and tropical flowers bursting from designer vases.
I’m finding it difficult to act like we’re not on a romantic date because, with the delicious cuisine and free-flowing wine, it very much feels like one.
Instead of just food on a plate in a room.
After the head rush of the performance and then the ridiculous way we had to sidestep off stage to save any further embarrassment, we collapsed into peals of giggles.
Dolly took one look at Luke trying to cover his gigantic bulge with a flimsy sheet of music backstage and proclaimed I was just as much to blame.
Me! She shooed us both off to our dressing rooms with a huge tut.
We have been laughing like children about it ever since. We’ve been highly unprofessional. Which just makes it all the more hilarious.
‘I’m not sure Dolly will ever speak to me again,’ he says, sitting back down. ‘Shame because she’s been an excellent work-wife. Sorry. “Co-worker”.’ He does air quotes. ‘She really looks after me.’
‘It was not your finest hour,’ I say.
‘I think it is fair to say that you have single-handedly saved both the British monarchy and the House of Glucksburg. On their behalf, Constance Cooper, I salute you.’ Luke stands up and does a formal salute.
He is quite tipsy, and so am I. ‘That hardly makes up for saving my actual life.’
Luke gives me a bashful look. He still has not mentioned his heroics to a single person. ‘Why don’t we say this makes us even?’
I raise my glass to his. It’s hardly a fair comparison.
‘Connie, we are electric on stage.’ His face grows serious. ‘Tell me it’s not just me. Tell me you can feel it too.’
Oh my word. The temperature has just gone up a thousand degrees. I shuffle in my seat. We are only halfway through this tour. It feels a thousand years long. We still have three more performances to get through, this last one in York tomorrow and two in Newcastle.
Luke reaches across to take my hand. ‘You do something to me. It’s like my entire body bursts into flames whenever you walk into the room.’
He is gazing lustfully at me. I need to nip this in the bud.
‘Luke. Please stop. There’s no point.’
A knock on the door breaks the tension as the waiter comes in. I whip my hand from Luke’s, and we sit in silence as he clears our plates away. When the waiter leaves, we resume the conversation.
Luke sighs loudly. ‘Why? Why is there no point?’ he asks, reaching over to top up my glass.
I cover the glass with my hand to stop him. ‘I’m with someone.’
Luke’s jaw falls slightly open. ‘You are?’ He puts the bottle down with a thump, regarding me for a moment as he visibly recovers his composure. A full range of expressions crosses his face. ‘Of course you are,’ he says with a huge sigh. ‘Look at you. Why wouldn’t you be?’
What a relief to finally get that out. I’m glad Matteo is not here to witness how unnecessarily long it has taken me to admit to Luke that I’m in a relationship. And hopefully, Luke has mistaken how deeply he feels for me, and we can get back to being co-workers.
Luke glugs back his wine and reaches for the bottle.
He looks thoroughly dejected. I am finding this whole scenario quite stressful.
It’s not in my nature to knowingly upset anyone.
‘Actually, I will have some wine, please.’ I remove my hand and watch as the dark red liquid sloshes into the oversized carved crystal glass.
It’s time for a change of subject. ‘The weather’s been nice so far, hasn’t it? ’ I almost choke on the words.
‘Is it serious?’ he asks, maintaining eye contact. He’s clearly not British enough to be tempted into weather talk.
I nod.
‘You love him?’
I nod.
‘How long have you been together?’
I gulp down a mouthful of wine. ‘Erm…’ I say, frowning as though it’s been a while. This is not going to sound great. ‘A week… and four days.’
‘A week and four days?’ Luke knocks back his drink and immediately pours himself another. He is trying hard not to look amazed. ‘And four of those days you’ve spent with me?’
‘I know it doesn’t sound long. But a lot of stuff happened over that week. Benidorm can be a very intense place. And we weren’t really together together until the very end.’ I am babbling.
‘So, you met him on holiday? He’s a holiday fling?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Absolutely not. I met him while singing, for work. We were work colleagues of a sort. It all happened so fast.’
Oh, the irony.
Luke has a strange expression on his face. He places his hands wide to grip the corners of the table. A smile is dancing around his lips. ‘How do you know he’s the one?’
I fiddle with my napkin. I’m not answering that.
He throws his head back and regards me through thick lashes. His eyes have a look of mischief.
‘And if you hadn’t met him last week,’ he asks, ‘would you be interested in me?’
What a question. I look away. ‘I think we should change the subject.’
Luke shakes his head very slowly. ‘I want you, Connie, like I’ve never wanted any other woman in my life.’
I gulp nervously. He really fancies me. He could literally have any woman on the planet. It makes no sense.
Luke walks over to the sideboard, a big, dark wooden beast laden with all manner of alcohol, and picks up another bottle of wine.
He yanks the cork out with his teeth. I consider the two empty bottles lying on the table in front of me and realise that we are getting through way too much. He fills our glasses up to the brim.
‘I’m falling in love with you. There, what do you say to that?’ He sways slightly before slumping back into his seat.
‘I’d say you are very drunk. That’s what I’d say.’
He lifts his glass and drains it in one go, immediately pouring another. ‘I’m not. But even if I was very drunk, that wouldn’t matter, would it?’
‘Kind of, yes.’ I’m a bit startled at his declaration.
I should nip this conversation in the bud.
Besides, I’m in love with Matteo. I know it has only been a week and four days, but when you know, you know.
And I very much need to give that a chance because I get the impression that Matteo has fallen for me too, despite the lack of a formal relationship status.
‘Connie. When this tour is finished, I want you to come away with me.’
‘No. I can’t do that.’
‘I want you to give me the same chance to win you over.’
‘No. Sorry. I’m already booked.’
‘To go off and be with him?’
‘For work.’ Not that it is any of his business.
‘Cancel it. Come to…’ Luke casts his eyes around the room as though the answer lies hidden in the lavish, baroque furniture. ‘Santorini. Come to Santorini with me.’
‘What’s in Santorini?’
‘Nothing.’
He’s very drunk.
‘You make it sound so tempting,’ I quip, desperate to lighten the mood.
‘Well, obviously it’s full of things, beautiful things, but the point is… there’s nothing there without you.’
‘I can’t. I have personal performances to give.’
‘Personal performances?’ Luke leans towards me, his eyes wide. ‘Can I have a personal performance?’
‘No. Erm, it’s a performance at the Palace. To an audience.’
Why am I making it sound more important than it is?
‘Kensington?’
I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t gone down this road.
‘Ah,’ he says, pinching his chin as though he’s deep in thought. ‘St James’s. Nice venue.’
‘No. Not quite.’
Just tell him!
‘Buckingham Palace?’ Luke’s jaw has fallen open.
‘No, it’s the one in Benidorm actually.’
Luke screws his eyes in confusion. ‘There’s a Spanish royal residence in Benidorm?’
‘I’m making it sound very… erm, well, it’s Benidorm Palace. It’s more of a cabaret place than a royal one.’
Luke flops back in his seat, disappointed. ‘But I want you to come away with me. Surely this Benidorm Palace can replace you for a few nights?’
It’s time to spell it out for him. ‘Look, you’re a really sweet guy, and I like you a lot, but…’
He gives me a smouldering stare. ‘Honey, the very last thing that I am… is sweet.’
I’m not sure where to go with that. I’ll try another adjective. ‘Okay, you’re a really thoughtful and considerate—’
‘No. Try again. I’m selfish to the core. My own mother would tell you that for free.’
‘You’re really… erm, punctual?’
Luke leans forward, his forehead thumping onto the table. ‘Kill me now.’
‘The point is, I’m spoken for. I’m in love with someone else. Nothing can happen between us.’
He looks like a teen who has just been told he’s not allowed to play any more Xbox games.
He lifts his head and examines me thoughtfully as his brows knit together.
He drums his fingers on the table as though he’s thinking of a solution to this problem of me not willing to give things a go with him.
‘I’m not a fool. We have chemistry whether you like it or not. I can tell that you can feel it too. The way you look at me. The way your hand is trembling now.’
I hurriedly put down my glass. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you earlier,’ I say. ‘I mean, I’m sorry you have those feelings for me but, truly, they are not reciprocated.’
He mulls over my words, not taking his eyes from mine for a second. ‘Marry me.’
‘Excuse me?’ I can’t believe he just asked me that.
‘Marry me. Be my wife.’
‘But we haven’t even kissed!’ Dear God, is that the only reason I can come up with? ‘I mean, we barely know each other.’
‘You’ve known me almost as long as him.’
‘We’re work colleagues. We should keep it that way.’
‘Lots of couples meet at work. You said it yourself. You and he are work colleagues.’
‘We were colleagues. Now we are in a relationship. I’m spoken for.’
‘You’ve known him a week,’ he says. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Marry me.’
‘You’re the one being ridiculous.’
‘I’d make a great husband. You’d make me a great wife. What’s the problem here? I need to marry someone, and you need a leg-up with your career. It’s a win-win.’
Oh. My. God. I am not liking the way this evening is going.
‘No,’ I say, leaning back on my chair as I put my napkin on the table. ‘I’m pretty sure you can avoid marrying a lesbian some other way.’
‘I can’t believe you’re rejecting me.’ Luke lets out a long sigh of frustration. He reaches into his dinner jacket and pulls out a small packet with white powder in it.
Oh God. Such an obvious red flag. I’m rapidly going off him by the second. He flings it down on the table, his face serious. ‘We need to get high.’
‘No thank you,’ I say. I’m no prude but I really am shocked.
He shrugs before deftly ripping a corner from the menu. He rolls it into a small tube, empties a substantial mound of the powder onto the back of his phone and bends to sniff it straight up his nostril. Then he does the same thing again with his other nostril.
I am speechless. Those menus look bespoke. They have gold edging!
Luke shakes his head, his hair flopping into his eyes, and blinks a few times. He leans so close to me across the table that I can see a ring of white powder round his nostrils. ‘Come on, Connie. I know you want me. I see it in your eyes. All women want me.’
Whaaat?
‘Not me,’ I hiss, pushing my chair back. ‘What if the waiter comes in and sees you with drugs?’
He laughs as if I’ve made a huge joke. ‘It’s just harmless fun.’ He sniffs unattractively and leans back in the chair. He gives me a hopeful look.
I huff. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘I could lock the door to make sure we’re not disturbed.’ He studies the rug on the floor in front of the fire. I can see his mind ticking over. He is not quite getting it.
‘You’re drunk and high, and I’m going,’ I say, reaching down to retrieve my handbag. Not quite the wholesome dinner conversation I had originally imagined. However, he’s done a brilliant job of putting me off him forever.
‘No. Wait! Don’t go.’ Luke leaps up, desperately clawing at his shirt and trying to kick his shoes off at the same time. ‘Stay. I’ll show you how good we can be together. I have a ten-pack.’
‘I don’t care how ripped you are.’ It’s quite pathetic really, the way he is assuming I’ll simply lie down and think of England. Or Norway. Or whatever post-Brexit free trade agreement we’ve put in place.
‘But I love you,’ he says, hopping on one leg as he yanks off a sock.
Hop. Hop. Hop.
‘I’m in love with you,’ he declares, all without so much as eye contact. ‘Why are these socks… so goddamn difficult… to get off?’
‘Luke!’ I bark. ‘Put your clothes back on.’
He freezes as though I’ve pulled out a knife and threatened to stab him with it. He suddenly looks tearful standing there with his trousers round his ankles, his shirt ripped open, a raging hard-on and a sock in his hand. ‘But what about milking me dry?’ he pleads.
How dare he.
Seconds tick slowly by while I march across the room and he processes what is actually happening. ‘But I thought…’ He lifts the sock towards me as though it’ll make all the difference.
‘You thought wrong,’ I say firmly, slamming the door on my way out.