Diamond (7 page)

‘Deano dropped out at fifteen,’ said Jenna, with a laugh. ‘How ironic.’

‘Ah, see, they never told us that. Propaganda.’ Leonardo shook his head in disgust.

‘Was Psycho Sanderson still teaching there when you went?’

Leonardo clapped his hands, accompanying the gesture with a long, low chuckle.

‘Bullying knob that he is, yeah.’

‘He was the reason Deano walked out. Called him a shirtlifter for coming into school with an earring.’

‘Once a wanker,’ said Leonardo, philosophically. ‘He’s part of the reason I left, too. Just couldn’t stand the thought of looking at his face for one more day. But you did your GCSEs, yeah?’

‘Yes, I stayed on. Went into the sixth form too, but
left when Deano’s band started getting attention in the music press. Became their agent slash manager. The rest is history, yadda yadda.’

‘So you were a kid, really. You must’ve been tough as nails, going into that business at that age.’

‘I don’t know. I had so much faith in Deano, I’d have fought lions to get him the recognition he deserved. I didn’t really think about needing to be strong. I just did what I had to do.’

Leonardo nodded, looking impressed. ‘You’re a good person to have in a bloke’s corner,’ he said, then his smile took on a devilish hint. ‘Are you in my corner? Nice and tight.’

It was the second time he’d given Jenna a frisson of excitement that came from low down between her thighs.
Dirty boy, you’re trying it on with me
.

‘I’m more than willing to represent you,’ she said, trying to sound prim, but her mouth wouldn’t harden enough and she knew she was breathing too fast. What the hell was wrong with her? This was worse than the time she’d met Madonna and her mind had gone a giddy blank.

‘You can’t exactly put my name in lights,’ he pointed out. ‘There’s a warrant out for me. Hey, perhaps I can be like Banksy. Faceless ninja artist, putting my stamp on the world. I reckon I’d be good at that.’

‘I reckon you would, too. Actually, that’s a really good idea. I mean, a bit derivative, but I don’t think Banksy has a copyright on anonymity. We’ll have to give it some thought.’

‘What I don’t get,’ he said, putting down his wine glass after a long swallow, ‘is why you’ve come back here at all. I mean, you got out. Last I heard, you were on TV, every
Saturday night, making pots of dough. Who the fuck comes back to Bledburn? And why?’

‘You know I’m divorcing Deano?’

Leonardo shook his head.

‘Like I said, I’m not up with that kind of thing. And I’ve spent the last six weeks holed up here. So, what, broken heart? You’re going to let some bloke ruin everything you’ve worked for?’

Jenna laughed sharply to hear Deano Diamond, the triple Grammy winner, described as ‘some bloke’, then she sobered.

‘It isn’t like that. I don’t have a broken heart. Me and Deano – it hadn’t been working for a while.’

Leonardo gave her a long look.

‘Someone else?’ he asked gently.

‘For him. Someone – some
thing
too. Coke, mainly. Staying up all night, wanting to party, while I went to bed with a book and a couple of Advil. The writing was on the wall, really.’

Leonardo exhaled, never breaking eye contact with her.

‘What a wanker,’ he said, almost prayerfully. ‘Leaving you to go to bed alone. He wants to see a fucking shrink.’

‘Oh, he’s got several of those,’ said Jenna, but her cheerful tone was forced, and a huge, red danger alarm pulsed all over body.

‘I’ll bet. So you didn’t have anyone else, then?’

Jenna shook her head. ‘No time for any of that. Plenty of opportunity, but you know people are only trying to get you to bed so you’ll give them something. A contract, a newspaper exclusive, a spot on the show. Fuck it, Leo, I’m so tired of it all. So, so tired.’

She put her glass down at her feet and laid her head on
her arms, which were crossed over her knees.

Saying the words had made her realise it, made her finally see that she couldn’t carry on with the LA life.

‘Hey.’ His voice was a little breath, but so heavy with concern that she made no objection when he put his hand on her shoulder.

When she stayed put, the hand crept around the base of her neck, so his arm was around her. He was close, clean and fresh-smelling, warm and strong. She felt protected. How mad. How could she feel protected by this feral fugitive, years younger than her? Yet she did.

His fingers were firm on her shoulder while his thumb lightly stroked the base of her neck. It was very soothing, and very tender, and it made her see how long it was since anyone had performed a really caring gesture towards her.

‘So you’re a runaway, too,’ he said.

She still sat slumped, head down.

‘I guess I am,’ she said, muffled but clear enough.

He bent and she felt his lips at her ear. He could do what he wanted. She had no strength to fight him off, even if she had wanted to.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘it’s time you were in bed.’

Oh God. Here it was. The seduction scene.

‘Leonardo, I don’t know …’

His hand tightened on her shoulder, fingertips digging in to her soft flesh.

‘Fuck off!’ he said. ‘Do you think I’m trying to …? Jen, I’m thinking of you. You’re knackered and you need to sleep. That wine’s good stuff for insomnia. Even I might get a few hours kip tonight.’

She raised her head and cast bleary eyes in Leonardo’s direction.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Of course I didn’t think that. Why would I? You’re young and good-looking, I’m a shrivelled old bag. I’m sorry.’

He looked so furious at that that she shrank away from him, but he reached out and held her face in his hands, his darkest of dark eyes boring down on her.

‘Shut. Up,’ he said fiercely. ‘Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. D’you hear me?’

She swallowed and tried to nod. He dropped her face and stood up.

‘Get to bed,’ he said, and he stalked out of the room, stopping only to pick up an unopened pack of sausage rolls from the table.

Jenna did as she was told, but all the while she was undressing and brushing her teeth and taking out her contact lenses she felt this odd, hot, weak feeling, as if she were coming down with a virus.

‘Perhaps I am,’ she murmured, slipping under the covers. ‘Perhaps I’ve caught something.’

‘Feeling better this morning?’

Leonardo looked over his shoulder at her. He was wearing the old hoodie, but only because he was painting and didn’t care too much about ruining it, presumably.

‘I’ve brought you breakfast,’ she said, putting the Starbucks paper bag down beside him. ‘Hopefully in a couple of days I won’t have to do takeaways any more. They’re starting to fit the kitchen today. So you’d best lie low till they’re gone.’

‘That’s what I’m good at,’ he said, leaning over to make the tiniest alteration to a brick red terrace of houses he was in the middle of depicting.

He put his brush in a jar and picked up the paper bag, taking it over to his sleeping bag.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he said, looking hard at her. There was a smudge of blue paint on his cheekbone and his hair was mussed again, stubble dotting the lower portions of his face.

Jenna tried to banish the flip-flopping feeling she
got from looking at him.
Aesthetic appreciation is fine, Jen. Ogling is not
.

‘I’m good, thanks. Slept well. You need an old shirt or something.’

He uncapped his coffee and gave it an appreciative sniff.

‘Why?’

‘To paint in a tracksuit seems all wrong somehow. You should have a great big smock and a floppy beret.’

Leonardo laughed. ‘When I want to look like a tosser, I’ll let you know.’

She walked over to the painting and inspected the progress he had made.

‘This is just stunning,’ she said. ‘Their faces – each one of them is a person, not a lumpen crowd. All human life is here. You’re very observant.’

‘I watch people,’ he admitted, blowing at the steam on his coffee. ‘Always have done, since I were a scrap. People’s faces are interesting, aren’t they? They say a lot more than words do, half the time.’

‘Yes,’ said Jenna. ‘You know, before I started work on
Talent Team
, we had a briefing on how to stay poker-faced during the acts. How not to give away what we were thinking. It’s extraordinarily difficult.’

‘I bet you got it, though.’

‘I can do it when I’m watching a new act. Not so much in other circumstances, really. What made you such a watchful child?’

Leonardo had to put down his coffee, fearful of spilling it on Bowyer’s fur and scalding him. He stroked the cat on his lap as he spoke.

‘My mother. She said one thing and meant the other.
She did that a lot. It worried me, so I had to learn to watch her face, then I’d know what she meant.’

‘How odd. Why was she like that?’

‘Survival, I think. She had a rough life. I used to watch her telling the latest boyfriend what a big man he was, when really she meant he was a handy bastard and she was afraid of him. And she’d tell me off, in front of them, but she never meant it. She only did it because they wanted her to. Once I got that, I was less worried. I knew she still loved me, after all.’

A wave of sympathetic tenderness almost bowled Jenna over. She wanted to rush over to him and hold him, seeing the anxious child he must have been behind the swaggering young man.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That must have been hard.’

He shrugged, tipped the cat off his lap and took a mouthful of coffee.

‘Is she still around?’ asked Jenna. ‘Your mother?’

‘She’s still alive,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about around. She’s in and out of hospital a lot. Depression.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He shrugged again. ‘Not your fault,’ he said shortly, rummaging in the paper bag for the egg muffin she’d brought. ‘What about your folks? They left town, didn’t they?’

‘They’re in Spain. Marbella.’

‘Nice. You should go out there and pay them a visit.’

‘Nah, I’m sick of the sun.’

He smiled crookedly. ‘You came to the right place, then.’

They locked eyes for slightly too long, until Jenna’s lips began to ache from holding the complicit smirk they shared.

‘Right. Kitchen. I wish you could have helped me design it, but it’s the one room I had to sort out before I moved in, so it’s all ready to go. I’ll be in all day, pretty much. I’ll come up and make sure you’re OK every couple of hours. By the way …’

‘What?’

‘What did you do about, you know, personal functions? While you were in hiding?’

‘I can get in and out, you know. I used the lav, of course. What do you take me for?’

‘Sorry. I just wondered …’

‘Bowyer’s a different matter, mind. Don’t worry, I clean up after him.’

‘Shall I take him down with me? Let him into the garden?’

‘I don’t know.’ Leonardo tickled the cat’s neck. ‘He likes it up here with me. Probably a good thing to give him a bit of freedom, though. Let him see how he likes it out there and, if he doesn’t get on with it, I’ll have him back.’

Jenna let the cat out into the wilderness, which he seemed interested in exploring, then let the kitchen fitters in. She made tea for them in the drawing room, using a cheap kettle and mugs she’d picked up in the supermarket the day before, and watched them strip the old walls down and rip out the ancient pipes. The floor, with its original granite tiles, was staying, but everything else was leaky, broken or rotten and had to be replaced.

She took a quick break to go to the nearest corner shop and buy packaged sandwiches and bottles of water for herself and Leonardo, plus a tin of tuna for Bowyer. Bowyer, however, seemed more interested in self-catering: on her return, she found a dead mouse on the doorstep.

‘He’s a survivor,’ said Leonardo, proudly, when she told him. ‘Like me. How’s your posh kitchen getting on?’

‘Who said it was posh?’

‘What, so you’re getting a Baby Belling and some knock-off cupboards with doors that don’t shut properly? Come off it, Jen. I bet it’s all
Grand Designs
.’

‘What’s
Grand Designs
?’

‘TV programme. You’ve been away a long time, haven’t you?’ He adopted a faux-plummy voice and said, ‘Jenna is now the proud owner of a space that can be used for so much more than cooking. And this is how good design can influence good living.’

She laughed. ‘Well, it’s probably a bit posh. But I wanted it to be in keeping with the original, a proper old country house kitchen. Not in an over-styled way – just a big, warm, comfortable, working room.’

‘So are you getting people in to do every room?’

She thought about this.

‘To be honest, I was wondering if we could do it ourselves. Once the kitchen’s in, we’re fine. There’s an electrician down there sorting out new wiring for the downstairs rooms. Upstairs can come when we get to it. It’s just a case of some sanding, painting, plastering. Have you ever done anything like that?’

‘No,’ said Leonardo. ‘Well, except painting.’ He bent his head towards his fresco.

‘I think we could do it, though. I’ve been looking forward to it. Getting my hands dirty – honest, hard work. Doing something real.’

‘Hey, my painting’s real.’

‘Of course. It’s my line of business I’m not sure about.’

He smiled.

‘Yeah, why not?’ he said. ‘Let’s work up a sweat.’ He tore into his chicken sandwich and she felt that weak, virusy thing again. Suddenly her tuna on granary didn’t hold much appeal.

Once the fitters had left for the evening, leaving a room stripped bare and thick with choking dust, she alerted Leonardo and dialled up a takeaway. Bledburn was not like LA, where you could have perfectly balanced, body-respecting meals delivered from a different place every day. No, here the choice was: pizza, curry, Thai. At Leonardo’s request, she ordered curry.

‘I don’t know if I dare eat this,’ said Jenna, looking bleakly at the array of foil trays oozing brightly coloured oils from between the edges of their cardboard lids. ‘My system might go into shock. I’ve lived on alfalfa sprouts and tofu for the last five years.’