All Tomorrow's Parties (9 page)

Lunch had been booked at the Hiroko Japanese restaurant at the Kensington Hilton. Laine had never been to a Japanese restaurant before. She was struggling with the concept of raw fish. She didn’t want to seem parochial but the truth was she was! She was way out of her comfort zone, making her incredibly quiet. Not that anyone really noticed, after all put a load of larger than life personalities together and there’s no room for awkward silences.

Ambra helped Laine choose from the menu, explaining as best she could what Laine could expect. The experience set the foundations for her love of Japanese food.

Conversation flowed steadily throughout the meal, and by the time the bill arrived Tony knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was utterly and totally in love with her. Laine on the other hand was none the wiser. She had relished every moment of that first Japanese meal; it certainly beat her regular jacket potato from the local wine bar!

Tonight The Castle was filling up with locals popping in for a quick pint on their way home. Tony kissed her lightly on the cheek. Small talk was not something he was good at and tonight was no exception.

“I really needed to see you Laine, to make sure last night was real…you OK?” he blurted out, not even having sat down.

“Last night was definitely real”, she said. “You made me feel and think things I’ve never felt before.” Her hands clasped on the table, her head bowed. “I do not know what to do or think.” She lifted her head and caught his eye.

‘Thanks for the brooch, it’s beautiful”, Laine added, smiling, holding the lapel of her jacket with pride; it really was a very pretty brooch.

“It was my grandmother’s: she was a beautiful, intelligent woman, just like you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the last echo of birdsong cut above the noise of clanking W11 chatter.

Tony was first to speak. “I’ll get us both a drink”, he said. As he stood Laine couldn’t help stare as he made his way through the now busy pub. What was she doing? She should be at home with Danny. Did she really think Tony Black would be interested in her long term? She knew his reputation well enough, but she didn’t know him. Was this his usual modus operandi?

Crazy thoughts were going thirteen to the dozen through her head. I could just never go home again! Is that what I want? Why do I want that? What’s wrong with being with Danny?

Does he expect me to sleep with him tonight? Does he know I’m going away next week? Will he wait for me to come back? God this is so screwed up.

Laine felt as if her mind were about to explode. She was not used to having to multitask on such an emotional level. Could she really have Tony? At what cost?

Tony placed the large chilled glass of wine in front of her. “Looks like you may need this”, he said.

“Thanks Tony.” She wanted to sip the fresh fruity Chardonnay but instead found herself swigging it rather quickly.

“I’m sorry for seeming distracted; I just seem to have more questions than answers”, she said. “I’m really worried about what this will do to Danny…” Her voice cracked and small.

“You need to decide what you want Laine…I know this is not an ideal situation and I hate the fact that I can’t do anything about it. I want to be with you and only you, do you understand? I want to be able to go out with you and not feel like some brazen girlfriend-stealing pimp. It’s not fair on us and it’s certainly not fair on Danny, he’s a good bloke. I suppose the bottom line, Laine, is whether you want to be with me or him?” He looked Laine straight in the eyes, those beautiful deep steely blue mesmerising eyes.

Laine dropped her gaze. She knew he was right and that she had to make the decision. She felt unsteady and not at ease with this situation at all.

“I’m going on holiday next week with Ella…we planned it months ago but now the timing couldn’t be more right. I need time to get my head around everything and figure out what to do, how to tell Danny. I know I’m going to hurt him and that is a gut wrenching awful feeling. Will you give me until I come back to make a decision?” Laine lifted her eyes. Tony’s eyes had softened, she felt she was looking into the depths of his soul and it was a good place to be.

“Yes of course I will, I will be here, I’m not going anywhere, well except for Hammersmith Palais which is where I have to be in half an hour”, he smiled widely. He felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. He had wanted her to be as madly in love with him as he was with her, to drop everything and promise to be his forever whatever the consequences, yet she hadn’t. The next few weeks would be hell, he already felt out of control and possessive over her. Again he smiled, trying to reassure himself, giving nothing away. Laine smiled back, she felt everything was going to work out; she just didn’t know how, that was all.

She left Tony hailing a cab and made her way home. Mr Wong’s supplied the chicken chop suey for herself and sweet and sour pork balls for Danny. She had convinced herself that everything was going to be alright and by the time she got home she had decided that this was her “other” life, the life she would somehow be able to live until she had the courage to change it. She would maintain an outward display of same old same old whilst inwardly weather the storm until she could decide. 

Putting the key in the door she could hear Chairmen Of The Board’s “Give Me Just A Little More Time” pleading with her. It was one of Danny’s favourites: how strange that this is the song to greet her, she thought.

“Baby! Boots! God I’ve missed you!” Danny almost knocked her over as he gave her the biggest hug.

Outwardly she was hugging him back; inwardly she was numb.

She knew more heartache would follow if she didn’t keep up appearances. Just keep it together for the short term, she told herself.

Danny, obviously excited to see her, gave her a day by day breakdown of his trip as they sat and ate their takeaway. She didn’t have to say anything, Danny was fit to bursting. He had so much he wanted to share that he did not pick up how distant she was. He had not asked her what she had been doing, so it was a relief to Laine that she had not had to lie to him.

He’ll want sex though, she thought, horrified…she had not thought this through. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t; it was never gonna happen ever again. Her decision was already made. She made her excuses, an early period that had caught her unaware, which of course he accepted - why would he doubt her?  It may have been there was a hint of curiosity, but Danny let it go. He knew she had been working hard: after all he had tried to call her till well past midnight last night with no response.

The week that followed was as if living in Dante’s second circle of hell for Laine. She had managed to keep it together with Danny, she had managed to put Tony on the back burner, she had even managed to get drunk with Ella and still keep it together despite being chatted up at the Embassy club by a rather good-looking boy. To all who knew her it was the same old, same old. Her will to get to the end of the week without cracking had held strong. An internal fire had raged but none had seen. At last she could be free from all ties. Her holiday beckoned with promises of hope and clear thinking. She said goodbye to Danny and walked away with a sense of relief.

7

Ella rented a basement flat at Princes Court, Notting Hill Gate .She had made it Ella O’Mara beautiful, all art student and retro. Flecks of 1980s London morphed seamlessly with 1920s deco. She had collected various pieces of Claris Cliff and Poole Pottery from the many antique shops on Portobello. Simple Minds posters set in Deco frames on the walls next to a cover of Harpers Bazaar and an advert for Lucky Strike cigarettes. There were books about Leyendecker and Man Ray set as though they were just about to be read. Coffee table culture at its finest.

Laine loved Ella’s flat. One day she too would have a flat like hers. Staying at Ella’s the night before the flight had been the right thing to do; she could slowly unwind and finally breathe.

Ella had made all of the arrangements. Laine was just happy to go. Italy the destination, more precisely a place called Lido De Jeselo. Beach and culture rolled into one - they would not be too far away from Venice so could definitely do a bit of sightseeing.

The flight from Gatwick was uneventful apart from having to ply Ella with vast quantities of alcohol prior to the flight as she hated flying. They arrived at Marco Polo airport just before mid-day. Laine peeled Ella off the plane. She had had more than her fill of white wine at 35,000 feet.

As they stepped off the plane and descended the steps the surge of warm air interacted with Ella’s intoxication - it was all Laine could do to steady her friend. Never having been to many overseas destinations, Laine was struck that all of the police at the airport were wearing guns. She had not noticed this in Amsterdam, but was sure they also must have been wearing firearms. The Italian police, she thought, displayed their guns almost as a badge of honour, a declaration that they had the means to take you down and were proud of it. She was impressed by how handsome they all looked, their classic Italian features: dark hair, straight noses, Mediterranean appearance proudly on display.

Steady, girl - she thought - no more complications, especially not ones that carry guns!

With their names checked off they boarded the Thomson holidays coach. Ella absolutely stank of alcohol and managed to garner some rather impressive expressions of disgust from the other tourists. Most appeared too old to remember what it was like to be young! The girls were the youngest people on the coach.

Laine suddenly had a horrible feeling that Ella had booked them onto a Saga holiday by mistake. Please God don’t let this be a sign of things to come, she thought.

Her friend had fallen into a drunken stupor on the seat next to her, snoring loudly. Laine looked out of the window and tried to take in as much of the landscape as possible. She had not really travelled much and was determined to take in all that Italy had to offer.

The coach trundled out of the airport complex, bringing with it a change in landscape. Gone was the familiarity of the hustle and bustle of international travel. For a moment she wondered if she had stepped back in time.

The motorway was as it should be but the small villages appeared lost in time. Sometime perhaps in the 1950s. Old men sat outside tiny houses, cigarette in one hand and newspaper in the other. They watched the world go by, wary of anything unfamiliar, outsiders looking into a world that was changing faster than they were able to comprehend.

A small Fiat, engine racing, exhaust smoking, struggled to overtake the coach. Hot on its heels a series of Vespas swung left and right, driving at breakneck speed trying to avoid the copious amount of potholes. The driving was the craziest she had ever seen; she was convinced that there couldn’t be any Italian driving regulations.

The heat of the day was making itself known and the coach was getting a little stuffy to say the least. At a fair pace the coach continued. It made its way slowly along the road leading east towards Lido De Jeselo. A young man on a moped had pulled over to the side of the road and was gesticulating wildly at a small white van driver who in turn was shouting something incomprehensible back whilst opening up the back of his van. A gaggle of chickens flooded out across the road, flapping and creating merry hell as cars swerved wildly trying to avoid the free flying hens. The young man grabbed at a chicken, placed it firmly on the front of his moped and drove off! What on earth have I let myself in for? wondered Laine. The whole scene was comical if slightly disturbing - Welcome to Italy, she thought. No one else on the coach seemed to take the slightest bit of notice; they were way too interested in a free glass of fizzy stuff and day trips to Yugoslavia being offered by the rep to take in the real world.

They arrived at their apartment block just after 2pm. It had been the fourth stop the now stiflingly hot coach had made. It had arrived just in the nick of time; nausea had not been far off as the doors opened to reveal a gentle warm breeze.

Their apartment was on the top floor of a small twelve-unit block fairly close to the beach. Both girls were excited to be on holiday. Ella seemed to have slept off her alcoholic stupor and after dumping their suitcases they set about exploring. The main street of the town seemed to extend parallel to the beach and contained mainly beach-type shops, restaurants and ice cream parlours.

Different to most Italian towns which had grown up organically over time, Jeselo had been specifically designed along the yellow dolomite sand to attract the tourists. And attract them it did. As Laine and Ella explored they heard a multitude of languages - German, Dutch, Scandinavian and even American. It seemed as if Jeselo was popular the world over. It didn’t take the girls long to realise that Italian men from the outset were very forthright in approaching women. Shouts of “Bellisima!” and “Bella, Bella Madonna!” seemed to echo as they walked by.