Chapter 27
27
Heading up the stairs hand in hand felt absolutely thrilling. Lucie couldn’t help thinking that as she had gone through all the downside of a divorce, it was about time that she enjoyed the upside. And every step on that staircase made her feel as if she was de-aging by a year. So by the time she was opening the door with her key, she felt giddy, light-hearted and as free as in her early twenties.
But once they were in the room, the lights on, her crumpled travel outfit thrown over a chair, her makeup scattered across the bedside table, it somehow felt a little too real. Yes, there was a real, living, breathing man standing right next to her, his arms around her waist, his face against her hair. And a wave of uncertainty washed over her now.
‘It’s been a while… I’m not sure if this is…’ she began and trailed off.
Clark kept his arms in place, but immediately moved his head back so he could look her in the eye. He smiled and asked, ‘OK, so how nervous are you on a scale of one to ten, where ten is pre-colonoscopy or maybe root canal without pain relief? Because I’m at about a six or seven.’
‘Me too.’ She smiled back.
‘I mean, I haven’t waxed anything,’ he added. ‘No part of me has been waxed since I left the States eight months ago. You probably thought I was wearing a t-shirt, but no, it’s white fur.’
She burst out laughing at this and put her arms back around him.
‘Oh my God, waxing… I haven’t salon waxed since the financial crisis in 2008,’ she admitted. ‘Bromley’s best beautician went bust and that was the end of it.’
‘Well,’ he began, kissing her lightly on the lips, ‘I blame that crash for a lot of things, but I hadn’t thought of all the furry suburban mummies it caused.’
‘I’m furry…’ she blurted. ‘And nervous. It’s really been quite a long time…’
‘So, we are going to kiss and only do what’s completely enjoyable. Does that sound OK? And FYI, I like the seventies vibe. Low lights, fur, I’m going to put classic Grace Jones on speakerphone and we can roll around on that big bed over there and have come completely grown-up fun. How does that sound?’
She wanted to tell him that it sounded perfect. It sounded like the exact solution to every single moment of angst that this wedding had caused her. And she was so happy that he was here and so interested. But instead, she heard herself muttering something about putting on something else… although she couldn’t even think what that would be. It wasn’t as if she’d packed the silky negligee and matching dressing gown that she would quite like to be wearing right now.
‘No, no…’ Clark was telling her ear in a way that was making her neck tingle and shiver. ‘Leave your dress on, I love the dress, but take your underwear off. Does that work for you?’
‘Yes… I think that could work for me.’
As she slid her bra out from under the dress straps and let her knickers fall to the floor, he turned off one of the side lights, tossed his jacket and shoes onto the carpet and, to the promised Grace Jones soundtrack, they fell onto the bed.
In between exploratory kisses, he told her, ‘Just forget about the outside world. Totally forget it. We are here, we’re alive, we’re very happy to see each other again. We should have done this in our twenties, but let’s make up for some lost time.’
She pulled open his shirt and ran her hand over the fur. ‘Waxing is over-rated.’ She giggled.
‘Oh, tell me about it,’ he groaned. ‘All the ingrown hairs. This is perfect, “La Vie En Rose” has started and it is still the sexiest song in the universe.’
And it was… and he was unbelievably sexy too… and finally, when she managed to leave the outside world behind on the other side of that door, so was she.
When Lucie opened her eyes the next morning, she saw a cream-coloured ceiling and an ornate gold and crystal chandelier. For a few moments, she blinked and stared, absolutely no idea where she was. Then she lifted her fuzzy head and remembered that this was the pink bedroom in the chateau.
Oh… the pink bedroom! The wedding, the wine, the cocktails, the dancing and… Clark!
She turned her head sideways…
Oh. My. God. Clark.
There he was, asleep, beside her. Her mix of excitement, confusion and panic was real. Now what?
Now what?
Now what!
As if he could hear her thinking, he suddenly opened his eyes, looked right at her, smiled and said: ‘Now what, Lucie Chilvers?’
‘I think I need some water,’ she replied. ‘And a shower.’
‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘Water. Shower. Coffee. Then a plan of action.’
And it turned out that after the water, shower, coffee and more kissing, the plan of action was simple. Clark suggested it and Lucie agreed.
‘We leave in your Jag. We pick up a few of my things at the holiday cottage and then we go to your hotel by the sea.’
‘For twenty-four hours of getting to know one another again,’ she said. ‘Then real life intervenes again because I have to pick up the loved-up Zoe, drive Deva to Brive, check on the Eritrean boys and head home.’
‘Deva to Brive… check on the Eritrean boys?’ Clark asked with surprise.
‘C’mon, I’ll tell you all about that in the car. I just need to let Zoe know I’ll be back for her tomorrow.’
‘Let’s go down, she’s probably having breakfast by now.’
‘Go down there? Together?’
Lucie wasn’t so sure.
‘Oh, yeah definitely, blatantly,’ Clark said with a smile. ‘I’m wearing my outfit from yesterday. I’m doing the walk of shame. You, you’re the lioness who dragged her prey back to her lair.’
He gave her a look which made her stomach give the kind of flip she hadn’t felt for years.
She took a little time to choose the best summer dress from her suitcase, style her hair and apply makeup and perfume. There was no need to run into Jacasta, the wedding girls, or anyone else roaming about Masion Violette this morning, looking like a faded version of herself.
‘I’m regrouping,’ she told her reflection in the mirror, and she patted on her favourite lipstick. Because regrouping sounded interesting and full of new possibilities.
Then they did, blatantly, stroll into the breakfast room, where – after walking past Miles, who understood immediately, ha ! – they found Zoe, Rafi and Deva sitting together in a companionable huddle.
‘Oh, hello, Mum,’ Zoe said, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. ‘You need to know that my fiancé, Rafi—’ – she broke off to beam at him – ‘is flying me home tomorrow. So you’ll be driving back on your own. Will that be OK?’
‘A lot less pee stops,’ Lucie joked.
‘But we’re still doing Brive tomorrow?’ Deva wanted to check.
‘Yes, I’ll be here at breakfast tomorrow to pick you up.’
‘Perfect – so are you going to your seaside hotel? And is your new boyfriend going with you?’ were his next questions.
There wasn’t going to be any sneaking things past Deva, that was for sure.
‘Ermm… yes… this is Clark,’ she told them as Clark took a step forward, smiled and said, ‘Great to meet you all.’
‘We’re old friends… from the nineties,’ Lucie said and couldn’t help the smile at these words.
‘Oooh, you knew her when she was wild then?’ Zoe asked. ‘Not the suburban juggler of work and school run schedules that I grew up with?’ But this came with both a wink and a smile at her mother.
‘And yes, we’re going to the coast… together.’ Lucie tried to say it seriously, but she was so happy that it burst out alongside a little laugh.
‘Hugs,’ Zoe said, holding out her arms. ‘Have a lovely break and see you when you’re back. Love you.’
And holding Zoe close for that moment, Lucie told her with all truthfulness, ‘So happy for you, darling, so excited.’
They didn’t even go out to eat that night because it was too good to be together and they didn’t want anything, or anyone, to spoil it or intrude. Instead, they sat on the balcony of the hotel room in their bubble of happiness and watched the red sun dip into the sea as they ate a picnic involving cheese, baguette and peaches – each thing more perfectly delicious than the last.
‘What in the hell are you doing with me?’ Lucie had to ask him as he sat at the little table opposite her and seemed to be unable to keep his eyes away from her face. ‘You look bloody fantastic! You obviously jog and lift weights and do intermittent fasting or something very Californian.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t undersell yourself,’ he said, putting his hand over hers. ‘I think you have a very sexy Monica Bellucci thing going on and you don’t even know it. Plus you have a brain. You get my jokes and you make your own jokes back. This is ground-breaking, life changing. My daughter is going to be very excited for me.’
‘You sound very Californian… and I like it,’ she admitted. ‘Big change from the man who never told me what was going on. Do we have to go back to reality tomorrow?’
Clark leaned back in his chair and took a long look at her, before saying, ‘You’re going to drive me back to my girl and my little holiday cottage. Then you’re going to take your nephew on his visit and check on your Eritreans. After that, you’ll drive back to England and be with your dad for as long as you need to be. And whenever you’re ready to have the Clark love back in your life, you will call me up and I will be right there waiting for you.’
‘Do you promise?’ she asked, because everything between them seemed too good to be true. ‘You’re not going to turn out to be the Tinder Swindler, are you? A breaker of divorced-lady hearts. Those people are out there. They are real, they exist.’
Clark just looked at her with kindness, sympathy and understanding. Then he said, ‘No, none of those things, Lucie Chilvers. None of those. I am looking forward to enjoying complex, grown-up fun with you.’
‘I’m going to wax,’ she decided, ‘so much.’
‘God, so the freak am I,’ he exclaimed. ‘We’ll be gliding against each other like a pair of damp chicken fillets the next time we meet.’
‘That’s an image,’ Lucie laughed, ‘but quite erotic. I’m getting quite turned on at that thought.’
‘Me too… we need to get back inside.’
What had her father said?
‘Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting there. Have a fling! And wouldn’t that be a wonderful revenge?’
Oh yes… and this was so much more than a fling, she already knew. This could turn out to be… everything. And she’d be able to say, forever, ‘Yes, we met again at my ex-husband’s wedding.’