Chapter 26
26
‘Oh Lucie, hello!’ He jumped up.
‘Clark… Hi…’
He pulled out a chair for her.
‘I’d love you to come and sit with me,’ he said. Then with something of a small laugh he added, ‘I was sitting out here hoping you would somehow come along. Because I remember that you used to only like partying for so long and then you want the quiet again.’
Wow. She felt a little bowled over that he could remember that.
She liked his accent, English but with an unmistakable Californian twang. He must have been over there for a while. He still looked Californian. The way he casually wore that white tux jacket with the shirt undone by a few buttons, a little rumpled too. He was tanned, his hair was well cut and he had nice teeth, straight, strong, not too glaringly white. Plus, he was relaxed, a little slouchy in the chair. And his eyes didn’t seem to leave her face. That was… no denying it: sexy.
Lucie took her time, placing her drink down on the table, settling down onto the chair, pulling it to the right angle to face him. She took her time because this was making her so nervy and excited that she had to try and calm down. And he had been so insightful about her that she needed a little time to think about how to make sure that her reply was as perfect as his words had been.
Finally, she went for, ‘It’s just too good to see you again. Why have we not been in touch for decades?’ with as much eye contact and sincerity as she dared.
‘It’s so good to see you too…’ he replied with that half smile and something of a light laugh. She remembered it exactly and could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
‘I didn’t expect you to be here…’ he began. ‘In fact, what the hell are you doing here? This is your ex-husband’s wedding night – you should be on the other side of the world in a hot tub full of eligible young men.’
She slightly splurted a little bit of cocktail at that.
‘I had no intention of being here,’ she insisted. ‘But I had to drive Zoe and my nephew down and… long story. And probably a total mistake. Until I bumped into you, obviously.’ She gave him her best smile and they held the look.
‘I have missed you,’ he said.
‘Really? Clark… twenty-eight freaking years have passed. You never wrote, you never called.’
‘Please don’t remind me how old I am. Don’t do it.’
‘And what in the bloody hell are you doing here, by the way?’
‘Stalking you, obvs,’ he joked immediately.
‘Ha!’
‘No, I’m here because I did a business thing with Miles…’
‘Oh yeah, I heard. I will be informing my lawyer and claiming my share…’ she replied. She remembered how easy he was to talk to, how open, honest and how funny he was. How he used to make her funny too.
‘Very good. So I told him we were holidaying nearby and he insisted we drop in on his wedding.’
Ah, there was the ‘we’. The chill of the ‘we’. Whatever warmth, lingering eye contact and interested vibes she’d thought she wanted to put across, she reined them right in now because, once again, he was oh-so-interesting, but unavailable.
‘So here we are… in a glorious French garden…’ he went on. ‘And how are you? How has it been?’
‘What? The divorce?’ she asked, startled by the question.
‘No, being married to Miles for all this time? I mean, that is one pompous little prick. I always thought that and nothing about my recent dealings with him has proved me wrong.’
She felt another snort of cocktail coming on.
‘You are well shot of him. Hot tub full of eligible young men. That is the way to go. Oh, there’s a waiter. Hello! Yup, over here,’ he called, then with a winning smile, he asked for, ‘Two more of those gorgeous drinks, please, for me and one of my oldest friends.’
Two fresh cocktails were set out on the table in front of them.
‘Oh boy,’ Lucie said, unsure if she could manage another mouthful.
‘We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Cheers.’
They clinked glasses together, eyes meeting, Lucie flooding with the memory of being twenty-four and being just desperate for this man to feel the way about her that she felt about him.
‘So you’re shot of Miles, you’re shot of the suburban home in Bromley, shot of the millstone businesses. I’m guessing you’re coping admirably, living the life, planning your next big move,’ he told her. ‘And… can I just say, looking not at all so different from when I knew you. How do you manage that? Is there a lot of excellent quality “tweakments” involved? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re old, old friends. But not so old,’ he corrected himself quickly.
What was this look he was giving her? So warm, so connecting, so understanding. It was almost too easy to talk to him, too easy for him to understand her thoughts. That was what she remembered from before. The natural barrier that existed between people, it just seemed to blur and melt between them. That was exactly how it was before. Too easy. Too straightforward to talk and be understood by him.
And how could he still be so handsome? He must be past the mid-fifty mark… Could she ever have imagined she would be attracted to someone who was that age? But look at those shoulders, the waistline, the lean, rangy physique, hair that was steel grey, but still thick and well cut.
He looked at ease with himself, no hair dye, no need for plugs. She doubted very much that there were man Spanx under his suit. And she suddenly longed to tell him about Miles and the man Spanx… Another sip or two of this cocktail and she probably would.
‘So, what about Clark?’ she asked. ‘Tell me all about you. How long did you stay in the US? When did you meet your wife? Are there any other children to go with the lovely daughter?’
She thought these sobering questions would be the best way to back off from all the complicated feelings passing between them. Questions like this would give them both a brisk reminder that they couldn’t just pick up from where they’d been in their twenties.
Clark seemed to jerk back in his chair slightly.
‘My wife? I managed to stay in America long enough to acquire two ex-wives.’
‘Oooh dear. That sounds expensive.’
‘Correct. I could be living in a mansion in Kensington now without those vultures – and I mean the lawyers. The ex-wives are fine. All perfectly civil. Four children, Lucie, four…’
He held up four fingers and added, ‘All in the States, but almost all grown up, so the co-parenting gets easier. They want a lot less parent time.’
He took a swig of his drink. ‘Good luck to Miles,’ he added. ‘Because Jacasta has the look of a woman who will be clamouring for babies very soon. I foresee twins, who will need university and a car and a flat and he is going to be working forever. No, no, strictly no more wives or children for me.’
Lucie couldn’t help her smile at this and she could also feel just this little surge of hope. Hadn’t he just said ‘no more wives or children’? Did this mean Dita was his girlfriend? Or could this possibly mean that he was somehow… free?
Just to make absolutely certain she’d understood what was going on, she had to ask him, ‘But didn’t you introduce Dita as your wife?’
Clark’s eyebrows rose.
And there was a pause.
Lucie could feel herself holding her breath.
This answer mattered. It really mattered. It was make or break, do or die…
‘No!’ Clark exclaimed. ‘Or… I think you’ve misunderstood me. Dita is my daughter’s wife. Does that clear up the mystery?’
‘Oh!’ Lucie let her breath out in a rush and felt a smile spread across her face. ‘Oh, of course! I must have misheard… or, I’m sorry, assumed…’
Absolute rush of inner relief.
Inner laughter.
Inner dancing around on the lawn barefoot under the sprinkler.
But… but… whoa… hold your horse s, she warned herself. How does one get from here – two old work colleagues meeting at a wedding after two and a bit decades… to where her crazed, quite wildly overheated imagination seemed to want to lead her?
Overthinking, overthinking…
Maybe – take a steadying sip of cocktail, she told herself – maybe just sit out here and talk a bit more and let’s slow it right down and take this one baby step at a time. She had been in a marriage for most of her adult life. Even thinking about moving on to a new person was huge.
But moving on to someone who’d been so important to you in your early twenties… that was even huger. Yes, she needed to slow this right down and just focus on the talking part. Talking to Clark.
‘So you’re single?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes,’ he replied. ‘Just like you.’
‘Hot tub full of models?’
‘Not so much these days,’ he said and then laughed. ‘To be honest, I’ve been more or less single for four years. No good people left out there… I hate to tell you.’
‘Single? You? You could charm anyone into bed when I knew you.’
‘And look how that worked out for me – two ex-wives, four children, that I know about.’
Single? This man? This gorgeous, emotionally connected, successful, good-looking man. That was a red flag right there. How in the heck was he still unattached? Even if he had become a little commitment phobic.
She was all caught up in his eyes, in his smiles. He’s been waiting … she found herself thinking. Waiting for the right time… the right person… Maybe I could be that right person at the right time? And just thinking that felt as if she’d poured some sort of exhilarating glass of chilled water over her head.
‘So… Lucie Chilvers,’ Clark began. ‘Still sneaking pop stars out of bars? Still crashing the very best parties? Wearing the very best outfits?’ he asked, tipping his head a little in the direction of her dress. ‘That dress… it looks very 1990s… looks like something I remember you wearing one very good night.’
‘Oh…’ She smiled at him. ‘Yeah, that was a good night. I remember it. I remember that dress…’ she said. It felt exciting that he still remembered those stories about her.
‘I was in danger of getting extremely boring – until I set off in the car to France. And it’s been non-stop adventure since then. Non-stop, and still an adventure right now.’ She looked at him.
‘I suspect there’s still a vein… still a rebellious streak that you like to tap into… that you can’t deny,’ he said.
Maybe the cocktail had gone to her head, but this, the tone of voice as he said it, the eye contact, the smile… she felt, for the first time in a long time, oh yes, she felt sexy. And daring… and that it was, just like all those years ago, quite a real physical effort to keep her hands off this man. She wanted to move right up to him, put her arm and her shoulder against his, move her leg next to his and feel his warmth, feel what she suspected would crackle between them, just as it had before.
And it had been such a long time since she’d felt like this.
‘Maybe,’ was all she could manage as they held a long look.
‘So what are you up to? Post-Miles, post Ultimate Interiors.’
‘Oh… you knew about my company?’
‘Yes, I used to look at your website now and then – you did very nice work. I was thinking of commissioning you…’
‘You looked me up? You cyber-stalked me? And you never thought to say hello?’
Quite a heady, dizzy feeling was coming over her.
‘But…’
The word seemed to hang in the air between them, as if he didn’t want to say what stopped him. And she suddenly guessed, because he had worried their feelings would break out all over them again – and she had been married all that time.
‘You’re probably regrouping after everything that’s happened. And I’m excited to see what you’ll do next. Maybe we could do some work together in the future?’ he suggested to her surprise.
‘Regrouping,’ she liked his suggestion that she was ‘regrouping’.
That was a good word. Why hadn’t she thought of it like that before? She’d gone through a brutal divorce, the loss of her company, now her husband’s re-marriage and her dad’s illness. Understandably, she might sometimes feel as if everything was over and hopeless and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do next – but how much better to think of it as regrouping. There could be all kinds of exciting times and opportunities ahead, especially if this man could somehow be involved.
‘Lucie,’ he began, ‘I don’t know if you ever had the feeling that…’ He paused and she could feel her heart revving up again. The way he was looking at her, she just knew he was going to say something serious, important… maybe even about them. ‘We could have had something, together… back then?’
‘Yes…’ she heard herself reply, ‘I definitely had that feeling… sitting here next to you, I’m remembering just how strong that feeling was.’
She leaned in a little closer towards him.
Could she really? she wondered. Could she come out of her carefully created and barricaded divorced mum self and start something with this intriguing man who was possibly going to make her have all those deep and difficult feelings all over again? Could she bear to have her hopes lifted? Risk her feelings? Risk having them dashed? She wasn’t sure, but she was thinking that she could be willing to try.
Permission to do something extraordinary…
‘I should tell you that my dad is very ill,’ she began. ‘He’s going to die in a month or two. I’m going to be very involved with him. And I’m going to be very, very sad about it…’
She swallowed to clear the lump from her throat.
‘I am so sorry.’
Clark reached over to put his arm around her, and it was comforting to be held tightly, wrapped up, in the way that she was used to comforting and wrapping other people up, but she hadn’t had this for herself for a long time. So that made the lump in her throat even harder.
‘I’ve waited all this time to connect with you again. I can wait a bit longer,’ he said, and that felt like the best thing he could have said.
‘You come to me when you’re ready,’ he added. ‘Come on, get out your phone and let me give you all my details. Just promise me you will be in touch.’
Once the contact details were stored, they didn’t say anything for a few moments, but became conscious of the music coming from the tent. Deva was singing again and Clark, a smile on his face, asked, ‘Would you like to dance, wild girl of the nineties?’
She hadn’t danced for an age… wasn’t even sure if she could remember a single move. But still found herself getting to her feet and telling him, ‘Yes, let’s go dance.’
As soon as they had stepped into the tent and found a place on the dancefloor, Deva spotted her, stopped the song he was singing in its tracks and made an announcement to the crowd, over the backing music still playing.
‘Wait a minute, wait a minute, everyone, someone very special has just stepped onto the dancefloor. Hello, Auntie Lucie, I’m going to sing something just for you.’
‘Uh oh!’ Lucie looked up at Clark. ‘Rumbled…’
Deva conferred briefly with the DJ and musicians and after a few moments Lucie heard chords… Not the nineties anthem that she had perhaps expected, but still a familiar song. She remembered Zoe loving this, playing it in her room, listening to it in the car, both of them singing along.
And there was Deva, still rocking the dress, gripping the microphone right up to his mouth, as he cut straight to the chorus of the Kelly Clarkson anthem and told his auntie in song that what didn’t kill her would make her stronger and stand a little taller .
Joining in with the words, Lucie started to dance. She felt uncertain, stiff and more than a little jerky and out of practice at first, but she carried on, inspired by Deva’s voice, until she was warmed up and confident. And then she really was dancing the way she remembered from way back, and laughing, and looking deep into the eyes of this man from such a long time ago.
In the middle of that dance, with Clark holding her hands and dancing right alongside her, she remembered her father’s words:
‘Drink champagne, kick off your heels, dance on the grass, and remember that life is to be lived.’
Oh yes, life was to be lived again. How many times had she put off living today in the hope that her real life, all the good things, would come another day?
He was here, right in front of her. Maybe she shouldn’t put anything about this off for another moment. They had wasted enough time already.
So she moved towards him, put her arms around his waist and moved in to kiss him. Right on the mouth. And that was electrifying. So much more exciting and interesting and quite frankly hot than she’d expected. That was some California kissing action, she suspected as he pulled her against him, there on the cosy darkness of the dancefloor, other bodies brushing and bumping against them.
Surprising herself even further, she said against Clark’s ear, ‘I have a gorgeous room in the Maison. What do you think about taking the kissing there?’
‘We could definitely take the kissing there,’ Clark agreed. ‘This is your ex’s wedding night… and if you don’t have a hot tub full of guys to take your mind off it, I’ll have to try and help.’
She leaned in to kiss him on the neck and found herself looking over Clark’s shoulder directly into Zoe’s eyes.
Zoe’s eyebrows may have been up almost to her hairline, but she still grinned and gave her mum a distinct thumbs up.