Chapter 8
‘They walked on, without knowing in what direction.’
The sun had gone down and the barbecue had been transformed into an open fireplace. Toby and Luke had stacked it with a lattice of logs. Flames flickered and roared like a pagan pyre. Smoke and music drifted on the thick, humid night air.
The party was in full swing. The lawn had morphed into a dance floor, lit by fairy lights and dotted with swaying, jumping bodies. No one danced with anyone in particular – except for Vicky’s friend, who stayed fused to Jamie’s side.
I moved to the rhythm, but my brain was elsewhere, running a mental tally of the Jamie girlfriends I’d encountered.
Six, officially. There were probably three times as many unofficially.
It was a depressing train of thought, and it punctured the small, fizzy party bubble I’d been clinging to.
Watching him – golden, easy, untouchable – made something cave in.
I slipped away, grabbed an open bottle of wine from the table, and wandered to the far end of the garden, where the lawn gave way to an orchard.
I sat under one of the gnarled apple trees with a view of the valley stretched out below.
It was quiet, peaceful. I took a long swig straight from the bottle.
Then another. And another.
If Jamie was never going to be mine – and I’d finally accepted that he wasn’t – then I could at least sit here and drink to the truth of it. I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t shiny or seductive. I was just me.
‘Mind if I join you?’
I jumped. The voice had come from behind the tree. But not just any voice. Jamie.
He stepped out, bottle in hand, his face lit by moonlight.
‘Please do,’ I said, raising the empty bottle. ‘Good thing you brought your own. This one’s toast.’
He sat down beside me. Normally that would have sent twenty million volts of adrenaline racing through me. But I was too wine-blurred to feel much of anything.
‘Nice view,’ he said.
‘Yeah. I’ve been counting the sheep over there. Twenty-three, I think.’
‘Took me a while to find you.’
‘I didn’t know you were looking.’ I kept my eyes fixed on the valley. It didn’t feel real. Jamie, here. With me. Talking.
‘One minute you were dancing opposite me, and the next you were gone.’
‘What about Vicky’s friend?’
He took a long sip. ‘She moved on to Toby when I said I needed to find you.’
That landed oddly. I turned to him. ‘Me? You came to find me? I’m just Dom’s little sister. You rescued me once from ‘Florence’s Disgrace on the Dance Floor’ and now you’re at it again. But I don’t need rescuing, or pitying. I might be young but I am strong and fine out here on my own.’
I could feel the words bursting out – years of silent crush and invisible love flaring into speech. It was the rise of the inner she-warrior. I stood up barefoot and marched off through the orchard, past the shadows of apple trees.
I would join the sheep. I would become a shepherdess. I would live a life of fierce independence, free from the torment of this unattainable Darcy.
‘Florrie! Florrie, please wait!’
I heard him behind me, gaining. I broke into a run, grass flying beneath my feet, until I reached a stream and was forced to pick carefully across the slippery stones.
‘Florrie, please.’ He caught my hand. I tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go.
‘The sheep need me,’ I said, deadpan.
‘I need you more.’
I stopped.
He stepped closer.
‘I need you, Florrie. You’re not just Dom’s little sister. You’re gorgeous and funny. I promised Dom I’d never go near you, but I can’t keep that promise anymore.’
‘Dom?’ I turned on him. ‘What exactly did my brother say to you?’
Jamie sighed. Long and theatrical, like a deflating balloon. ‘After the first time I met you – in the Mini – I said to Dom how sweet and lovely you were. And he said I was never to go near you. Said I’d eat you up and spit you out. Made me promise.’
I wasn’t sure whether to hug Dom or throttle him.
‘So… do you want to eat me up and spit me out?’
Jamie smiled. ‘No. I want to go out with you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You.’
My feet were frozen in the stream, but the rest of me was fire. The she-warrior was glowing now, lit up from the inside. ‘For how long?’
Jamie blinked, startled.
‘An hour? A day? A week? More?’
‘Way more.’
I bit my lip. I could feel a smile rising up – slow and unstoppable. ‘How much more?’
He pulled me gently towards him so we were balanced on the same slab of rock. ‘Forever,’ he said.
We were eye to eye. I could see every fleck in his green eyes.
‘Beautiful Florrie,’ he whispered, and kissed me.
Our tongues danced, taunting and tasting. I wasn’t nervous anymore – the alcohol had softened everything, including inhibition. Somewhere between the pages of Pride and Prejudice, I’d built an image of what this could be. And now here we were. It was happening.
His hands moved down my back, over my body, up and over my breasts. I shivered. My nipples stiffened in response. He pulled my dress up and over my head, letting it float to the ground.
He leaned in again – but I caught something out of the corner of my eye.
‘My dress!’
It was sailing gently downstream, like a turquoise ghost.
I leapt into the water. Jamie followed, springing from the rock like a man in an aftershave advert. He front-crawled to the dress and held it up, triumphant.
We climbed out, soaking and breathless. We stripped the rest of our clothes off and stood naked under the stars.
‘Exquisite,’ Jamie said, tracing a finger down my body.
I touched his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin. He pulled me in. Our bodies locked together, fitting.
We kissed. He was hard against me. His fingers parted me and I gasped – the kind of gasp I’d imagined in a thousand different versions of this moment.
And then I froze.
‘Are you okay?’ he said, pulling back.
‘Um.’ My face was blazing. ‘It’s just…’
He waited.
I couldn’t find the words.
Then his eyes softened. ‘It’s your first time, isn’t it?’
I nodded.
The she-warrior vanished.
‘We can stop,’ he said gently.
‘I don’t want to stop.’
‘Are you sure, Florrie?’
‘Yes.’
He kissed me. This time slower, deeper. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, every inch of me. He laid me down gently on the grass. And then, he showed me how it was done.
When it was over, I curled up next to him, naked and silent under the night sky.
I had found my very own Darcy.
And this time, he wasn’t in a photo. He was real. And mine.