Fire After Dark (34 page)

Celia makes up the sofa up with sheets, blankets and a pillow, and I snuggle down there, but for a long time I can’t sleep. All I can do is watch the darkened windows opposite and wonder where he is and what he’s doing.

On Saturday it’s obvious that Celia wants to be busy in the flat, sorting out her things and settling back in, so I leave early in the morning and go for a long day out on my own. It’s as though I’m almost back where I started in all of this, as I walk around London with all the other tourists, queuing for the British Museum and the V & A. Every half an hour, I check my phone, hoping against hope that Dominic will get in touch but it seems unlikely. I told him when we parted that I couldn’t do what he wanted any more. He’s probably given me up as a lost cause, and now that he’s received his strange idea of penance, he doesn’t need me any more.

Still, I can’t help hoping against hope that he wants to fight for me, perhaps even try to change. But hour after hour goes by and still no message comes.

I get home hot and tired in the late afternoon and Celia is waiting for me, calm and relaxed now that she has unpacked.

‘Tea for you, I think,’ she announces, and makes a pot of Earl Grey which she serves with delicious little apricot biscuits. While we are sipping at our tea, she chatters on about things and then says, ‘Oh, yes – while I remember . . . When I came home yesterday, there was a letter for you on the hall mat. I put it on the table and meant to tell you all about it, but I quite forgot. I saw it just after you left this morning.’

I put my cup down quickly and rush to the hall. The familiar cream envelope is there addressed to me in Dominic’s writing and I rip it open with trembling hands. There is a handwritten card inside.

Dear Beth

I will never stop respecting your courage and bravery. It took a lot to do what I asked for last night. I know I’ve pushed you to the limits and I understand completely that you’ve gone as far as you can ever go. If anyone needs to compromise their needs, it’s me, Beth, not you. I’ve been very selfish but I’ve learned that it isn’t going to bring me what I need more than anything else, and that is you.

I’ve had my chance, I know that. You stuck with me for longer than any other woman would. I still managed to fuck it up. It’s more than I dare hope after all that’s happened, but I will be in my apartment tonight if you want to talk.

If I don’t hear from you, I will understand that you don’t wish us to be in contact any longer, and I will respect that.

I hope you and Adam will be very happy together.

All my love

Dx

P. S. The boudoir is at your disposal. Use it as long as you need it.

I gasp in horror. He was waiting for me
last night.
While I was out with Celia, he was in the flat, wondering if I would arrive there.

And his note makes it sound as though he wants to change, as though he’s willing to try a different way.

Oh my God. Am I too late?

I hurry to the sitting room and look across at the flat opposite. The gauzy curtains are drawn but I can see a figure moving around inside.

He’s there. There’s still time.

I turn to Celia, who is watching me with faint surprise from the sofa. ‘I have to go out. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’

‘Whatever you must do, darling,’ she says, stroking De Havilland who is curled on her knee. ‘See you later.’

I don’t even say goodbye to her in my haste to be gone.

Chapter Twenty-One

It takes me a few frantic minutes to get from one side of the building to the other, but at last I am racing along the corridor to Dominic’s flat. I bang hard on the door.

‘Dominic, are you there? It’s me, Beth!’

There’s an agonising wait and then I hear footsteps approaching. The door opens and swings back to reveal the tall, slim figure and high cheekbones of Vanessa.

What’s she doing here?

‘Ah, Beth,’ she says coolly. ‘Well, well.’

‘Where’s Dominic?’ I gasp. ‘I need to see him.’

‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’ She turns on her heel and walks back inside. I follow her, panting.

‘What do you mean?’

She turns around and fixes me with a hard look. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble?’ she asks in a cold voice. ‘You’ve turned everything upside down. Everything was going very nicely before you arrived.’

‘I . . . I . . . I don’t understand – what have I done?’

Vanessa strides into the sitting room and I go after her. It’s horrible to be in there without Dominic. It seems to be lacking its lifeblood without him.

‘Well, you’ve certainly caused an upset, that’s what you’ve done.’ She fixes me with her stare. ‘Dominic’s gone. He’s left.’

‘Left?’ The blood drains from my face and I feel faint. ‘Where’s he gone?’

‘It’s really none of your business but if you must know, he’s on his way to Russia. His boss needs him there and he’ll be gone for some time.’

‘How long?’

Vanessa shrugs. ‘Weeks. Months. I don’t know. When his boss says go, he goes. From Russia, he might go to New York or Los Angeles, Belize or the Arctic Circle. Who knows?’

‘But . . . he lives
here.’

‘He lives wherever is necessary. And if he needs to be elsewhere, there is plenty to keep him busy.’ She is walking around the room, collecting bits and pieces and putting them in a canvas bag. ‘So I’m afraid it looks as though your little holiday romance is at an end.’

I stare at her, still uncomprehending. How much does she know about what’s gone on? I know that she and Dominic are close, but are they so close that he’s confided in her about our intimate relationship?

Vanessa stops walking about and turns to face me. Her face is stony as she puts one hand on her hip. ‘I think you’re a fool, if you must know. He was willing to do more for you than he ever has for anyone else. He was willing to try and change. And you threw it away.’

‘But it’s a mistake,’ I say breathlessly, finding my voice at last. ‘He thinks I’m with Adam, but I’m not. And I was meant to see him last night but I didn’t get the note until just now.’

Vanessa shrugs as if all this detail is too tedious for words. ‘Whatever the reason, you’ve missed your chance.’ She smiles grimly. ‘That little bird has well and truly flown. Most women would have done anything to have Dominic, no matter what little foibles he might enjoy. I don’t think you’ll get a second chance.’

Her words pierce me painfully. Have I really been so stupid?

Suddenly, she leans towards me, her expression almost kind. Her eyes soften and she says, ‘Go home and forget about him. It’s for the best, really. It wasn’t meant to be, that much is obvious. You’ve had your fun. Go back to where you belong.’

As I stare at her, the fight suddenly goes out of me.
She must be right. She knows Dominic better than anyone.
If we were meant to be together, then we would not have made such a royal mess of it. The way the note was lost . . . it must be fate. What’s the point of fighting it, now that he’s gone?

‘All right,’ I say quietly. ‘I understand. Will you tell him… Tell him that I wish it could have been different for us. And that I’ll never be sorry that I met him. What we shared meant so much to me.’

‘Of course.’ She smiles at me, as if glad our little interview is at an end. ‘Goodbye, Beth.’

‘Goodbye.’ I turn and walk out of Dominic’s apartment for what I suspect will be the last time.

Celia is listening to Handel and sipping a glass of white wine as she reads a book when I come in. As soon as she sees my face, she pours another and hands it to me.

‘Poor Beth,’ she says sympathetically. ‘Life can be miserable, can’t it? I take it it’s to do with love.’

I nod, still shell-shocked as it starts to sink in that Dominic has gone.

‘You don’t have to tell me anything, my dear, but I’m here if you need me.’

I sit down and take a gulp of the white wine. Its cold flintiness brings me back to myself a little. ‘I thought . . . I thought I was going to be with someone, but it hasn’t worked out. He’s left.’

Celia shakes her head. ‘Oh dear. Is it all based on a misunderstanding?’

I nod again, and my eyes sting. I do all I can to damp down my emotion. I don’t want to lose control, I’m not sure how I’d ever regain it. ‘I think so,’ I say. ‘I’m not even sure any more. I thought it was too painful to be with him, but now I don’t know how I’ll manage without him.’

‘Oh dear.’ Celia sighs. ‘Yes, that sounds like it.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like love, my dear. Many people prefer to shun love. They settle for something easier, less all consuming, less dangerous. Because, as Shakespeare observed, violent delights have violent ends. Great passion brings pain with it. But to live without it . . . well, is it worth it?’ She fixes me with a bright look. ‘I’m not sure. Not all of us are granted the chance to feel that sublime passion for someone else, or the agony that comes with it. I was lucky to know it more than once, and that’s why I live happily alone now. Knowing I’ve tasted at that magnificent cup, I’d rather survive on the memory than accept anything less.’

I stare at her, imagining that young Celia, lost in rapture with her lover, living, as I have lately, on a knife edge of delight and despair.

‘It was all a very long time ago,’ she says with a twinkling smile, ‘and I expect it’s hard to believe that an old woman like me ever felt what you’re feeling.’

‘Oh no, of course not,’ I say quickly.

‘I have just a little wisdom to pass on to you.’ She leans towards me. ‘Don’t be satisfied with a quiet life. Youth slips away more quickly than you can ever guess. Take your strength, your vigour, and all the life within you, seize it, enjoy it, feel it. Even the pain reminds you that you’re alive and without it we wouldn’t know what pleasure is. Don’t forget that golden lads and girls all must, as chimney sweepers, come to dust. We shall be a very long time dead.’

Her words stir something within me.

She’s right, I know it.
The idea that I’d ever wanted to reject Dominic and all he’d given me and made me feel was absurd. He went too far but I know with absolute certainty that he would never have let it happen again. He was prepared to listen to me, and to compromise. I can see that now. But my chance has slipped through my fingers. He’s gone.

There isn’t pleasure without pain. There isn’t passion without suffering. I’d rather feel alive than safe.

Dominic – where the hell are you?

It’s only when, much later, I’m curled up on the sofa and trying to sleep that I remember what Dominic wrote about the boudoir. The key is in the pocket of Celia’s trench coat and I slip into the hall and retrieve it. It sits in my hand, smooth and cold.

Apparently it’s now mine for as long as I want it.

It’s an extraordinary gesture that I can’t really take in. It means, I realise, that my accommodation problem is solved. I can go there whenever I want. Now, if I want to.

The problem is that it’s all too raw. I can’t go there at the moment, knowing it’s the last place I saw Dominic and recalling all the things we did. Is all the stuff still there? The underwear, the toys, the seat? I don’t know if I can bear to see them. I tuck the key away safely. I’ll decide later what to do.

The next day, the storm breaks over London and the rain crashes down, accompanied by great rolls of thunder and the crack and flash of lightning. It’s been building for days and now the pressure is released in torrents.

I stay inside watching the rain coming down and wondering about the boudoir. I’ll have to tell Celia about it, and she’s bound to question how I came to have sole access to a flat in her building. She’ll probably tell my parents and that will lead to yet more tricky questions. But I don’t want to lie to her, either.

When my phone rings, I rush to it, hoping that it’s Dominic but it’s James.

‘Hello, darling, forgive me bothering you at the weekend, but something’s come up that I thought you should know about. Can you meet me?’

‘Yes – is everything all right?’

‘Everything’s fine, but I’d like to see you if I can. Meet me at the Patisserie Valerie on Piccadilly in an hour.’

I go out with an umbrella, sploshing my way through the shiny streets on my way to Piccadilly. It only takes a few minutes to walk there and I enjoy the distinct Sunday feeling in the air. It might still be busy but it’s down a gear from the usual weekday madness.

James is waiting for me when I arrive, his nose buried in a newspaper, an espresso steaming gently beside him. He looks up when I get there and smiles.

‘Ah, you made it. Splendid. Let me get you some coffee.’

When I’m settled with a latte and a
pain au chocolat
to dip into it, he says, ‘I know this is strange, but I simply had to see you. I had a breakfast meeting this morning with a particularly interesting client of mine. His name is Mark Palliser and he happens to the personal art dealer for a very rich man indeed. Mark had some things to discuss with me, and as he is a busy man who occasionally spends a great deal of money at my gallery, I naturally made myself available to him.’

I dip my
pain au chocolat
in the coffee and nibble at it, letting the pastry melt on my tongue. So far, I can’t quite understand what this has to do with me.

‘We had our charming breakfast in the morning room of his Belgravia house. Mark, as you’d expect, has exquisite taste. Incidentally, he’s looking for an assistant and I mentioned your name to him. He would be an excellent man to work for, you’d learn a lot.’

‘Really?’ That’s interesting – a possible job is good news. But is that why he wanted to see me? It couldn’t wait until Monday?

James goes on, ‘We were just discussing some business when another visitor arrived and Mark asked me to wait in the sitting room for a few minutes. Well, his sitting room is connected to the breakfast room by a rather pretty arch, so I was able to see who his visitor was and hear everything that they said.’ He looks straight at me. ‘It was Dominic.’