Chapter 29
Luca was glad of the distraction when Ali showed up at his flat on Sunday afternoon.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d thought he’d be glad to have all his time to himself again – he’d been neglecting his painting lately – but he missed Claire.
He wasn’t used to having sex with someone he had any kind of relationship with.
It was a novel experience for him and, to his surprise, he liked it.
He had thought it would be boring having sex with the same person over and over again, but it added a whole other dimension that made the sex more interesting and nuanced and…
better. And it was relaxing not having to worry about Claire getting clingy and making demands on him.
‘Where’s Claire?’ Ali asked, wandering from room to room.
‘She doesn’t live here, you know.’
‘Doesn’t she?’
‘No. So, what’s up?’ he asked, as he cleaned his hands on a rag.
‘Nothing much,’ she said, prowling around restlessly, like a caged tiger. ‘I just haven’t seen you in a while. I thought I’d take you out to dinner.’
‘Dinner?’
‘Yes.’ She turned to him. ‘You remember dinner? It’s the meal that comes after breakfast and lunch.’
‘Oh, that dinner.’ He could tell she was in one of those moods where she wanted to make things up to him. He sighed. She would never be done trying to make things up to him.
‘Yes, that dinner. My treat.’
‘You shouldn’t spend your money on me. We can have dinner here.’
‘Really?’ she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at him sceptically. She skipped over to the kitchen area, opened the fridge and peered in. ‘What would we have?’
‘I’m pretty sure there’s some cheese that’s still broadly feasible.’
‘You mean this?’ she asked, her lip curled as she held up something green and hairy that might once have been cheese. He couldn’t really tell from where he was standing. He felt bad because Claire had left it there and he’d let it rot. He didn’t like her wasting her money on him.
‘Okay, not cheese, then,’ he conceded.
‘What do you normally have for dinner? What would you have if I wasn’t here?’
He really had no idea. When he was working flat out, like he was now, he often forgot to eat until he realised he was almost faint with hunger. Then he’d just grab whatever was closest to hand.
‘You don’t have anything, do you?’ she asked crossly.
‘I do sometimes,’ he said defensively. ‘If I think of it.’
Ali rolled her eyes. ‘And what do you have then?’
‘Toast.’ He grinned.
Ali tutted. ‘You don’t eat enough. Look at you – you’re skin and bone. Come on, I’m taking you out for dinner, and that’s that.’
‘I don’t know…’ He hesitated. ‘I have a lot of work to do.’
‘Luca,’ she said sympathetically, ‘you need a break.’
She was probably right. He was getting paint-blindness, and he felt dizzy and disoriented from too little sleep.
Apart from the few hours he’d spent at Claire’s house on Friday night, he hadn’t been outside the flat in days – that couldn’t be healthy.
And, now that he thought about it, he was really hungry.
‘Okay, you’re on. I’ll just go and clean up a bit,’ he said, waving his paint-stained hands.
‘Let’s see what you’re working on,’ she said, darting over to the canvas propped up on an easel by the window. ‘Luca, you shameless hussy! You’re doing a rude painting of your girlfriend!’
‘She’s not my girlfriend. And it’s not rude.
’ He frowned. Claire was obviously naked in the painting, but her shoulders were hunched, her arms held straight in front of her covering her breasts, and her head hung shyly, her dark curtain of hair completely shielding her body from the viewer’s gaze.
He had wanted to capture the private nature of her sexuality – the ‘for your eyes only’ aspect of it that he found so tantalising.
Except it wasn’t for his eyes only any more…
‘Does Claire know you’re putting nudie pictures of her on display?’
‘I’m not. This isn’t going in my show.’ It begged the question why he was working on it now when he should be concentrating on pieces for his exhibition.
‘So, how is Claire?’ Ali asked, as he began putting away brushes and paint. He could hear the forced casualness in her tone.
‘She’s fine – I think.’
‘Is she around? We could ask her to join us for dinner!’ Ali said, as if the idea had just occurred to her. But he knew her too well. He could tell this was what she had been thinking of all along. ‘Why don’t you give her a call, see if she’s free?’
‘Can’t – she’s in London for the weekend.’
‘Oh, pity. Well, never mind,’ she said brightly. ‘And put on something respectable,’ she called after him, as he went to get cleaned up.
Luca started scrubbing his face and hands to remove the worst of the paint, then changed his mind. ‘I’m just going to have a quick shower,’ he called to Ali, as he stripped off. It would wake him up and make him feel more human.
‘Okay. I’ll be out here nosing through your stuff.’
When he had dried himself, he pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of black jeans that were a bit scruffy, but clean. ‘I hope we’re not going anywhere too poncy,’ he said, as he rejoined Ali in the main room.
‘No, definitely not. You need feeding up, and you don’t get big enough portions in poncy restaurants. You need steak and lots of vegetables. I’m taking you to Roly’s.’
‘Do I look respectable enough for that?’ he asked, spreading his arms.
Ali surveyed him. ‘You look very rock and roll. I don’t know how you manage it, but somehow you manage to make your scruff look like a deliberate fashion choice.’
‘How do you know it’s not deliberate?’
‘I’ve seen behind the curtain. Come on. Let’s get some potatoes into you quick.’
In the restaurant, Ali told Luca what to order, and he let her boss him around, knowing it would make her happy. When the waiter came, he followed instructions and asked for vegetable soup, followed by steak with mashed potatoes. Ali then proceeded to order every vegetable side dish on the menu.
‘We don’t want you getting scurvy,’ she said, smiling at him over her menu as he looked at her in alarm. ‘And anything we don’t finish you can bring home in a doggy bag.’
‘Where it will meet the same fate as that cheese,’ he said, smiling fondly at her.
‘How long is Claire in London for?’ she asked.
‘Just the weekend,’ he said.
‘You must miss her a lot,’ Ali said, clearly fishing.
‘Ali,’ he said gently, ‘it’s not what you think – me and Claire. We’re just friends.’
‘Since when do you have women friends?’
‘I have plenty of women friends.’
‘Women friends you sleep with on a regular basis?’
‘There’s a first time for everything. Anyway, you don’t know what we do.’
‘You’re not seriously trying to tell me you’re not sleeping with Claire?’
‘I’m trying to tell you that it’s none of your business.’
‘So you admit that you are!’ Ali’s eyes lit up with delight.
They were interrupted by the waiter arriving with their starters.
‘So, are you friends with benefits? Booty-call buddies?’ she asked, diving into her smoked salmon. ‘How would you describe your relationship?’
‘I wouldn’t,’ he said implacably, as he picked up his spoon and started on his soup.
‘You’re no fun,’ she said crossly.
‘But in answer to your question—’
‘Yes?’ Ali sat up eagerly.
‘I do miss her.’
Ali grinned happily.
‘As a friend,’ he added. ‘We’re just friends, Ali.’
Ali gave him a doubtful look. ‘I’ve seen you with her, remember? You know what I think?’
‘No.’
‘I think you’re in love.’
‘No, I’m not. Don’t be stupid,’ he snapped.
‘Hey, don’t look so scared,’ she said, covering his hand with hers. ‘I think she feels the same way about you.’
Luca considered telling Ali that Claire was in London with another man right now and putting paid to any romantic notions she had about them.
But if she was convinced he was in love with Claire, she would only worry and feel sad for him so he said nothing.
He knew how badly Ali needed him to be happy because if he wasn’t, she felt it was her fault – their mother had seen to that when she had written her book.
He knew it wasn’t intentional, but in describing the circumstances of their adoption – Ali’s inconsolable grief at being separated from him, how she had screamed and clung to him when they had tried to take her away – Jacqueline had cast Ali as the architect of his unhappiness, burdening her with the responsibility for the course his life had taken.
‘So what about you?’ he asked, to change the subject, when their mains were served. ‘Any special someone in your life?’
‘Ugh! I’m not discussing my love life with my brother.’
‘Ha, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it.’
‘Shut up and eat your vegetables.’
After spending the day with Mark’s friends at the picnic, Claire was relieved to be alone with him on the drive to the airport – not that she didn’t like them, but she found it a strain spending a lot of time with a group of people she didn’t know and was glad when they could finally get away.
Besides, she had found Sophie’s constant clamouring for attention exhausting – especially when so much of it was directed at Mark.
All morning she had gone out of her way to make a point of how long she had been a part of Mark’s life, constantly reminiscing about places they’d been, meals they’d shared, mutual friends they’d lost touch with, and Claire had no doubt it was all aimed at unsettling her.
But though she found it wearisome, she couldn’t bring herself to resent Sophie – not when she remembered what she’d said last night about Mark: ‘He’s all there is.
’ When she felt like that about him, who could blame her for putting up a fight?
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That was a baptism of fire. I hope it hasn’t put you off ever coming back.’
‘No. I had a really nice time. Thank you.’
‘Good. I know Sophie can be a pain in the arse – but she’s going through a tough time at the moment.’
‘I know. She seemed nice, really.’
He smiled at her. ‘You’re very sweet.’