Some Girls Do (37 page)

‘Yes, I was about to go anyway when you came in. Night, love,’ she said to Claire. ‘Bye, Mark. I’m sure we’ll meet again some time.’

‘Yes, I hope so. Goodnight.’

‘So – coffee?’ Claire said to Mark, when they were alone. ‘Or would you like another glass of wine?’

He leant back against the sofa, looking at her speculatively. ‘Come here,’ he said, patting the sofa beside him. His eyes were hooded and heavy.

Claire sat beside him and he put an arm around her. ‘I’m glad your mother’s okay,’ he said.

‘Sorry we had to leave early.’

‘That’s okay.’

He nuzzled her face, and then they were kissing – long, slow
kisses at first, but then it became urgent and grabby and they were lying face to face on the sofa making out like teenagers while Claire’s mother slept upstairs.

‘Claire,’ Mark panted into her mouth, as she pulled his shirt out of his waistband, ‘can I ask you something?’

‘Mm.’ Her fingers wriggled underneath to touch hard, warm flesh.

‘Do you ever break the rules?’ He lifted her leg to hitch it across his, and Claire gasped as she felt his erection against her.

‘Sometimes.’ She wanted nothing more right now than to forget about the five-date rule and have Mark inside her, right here on the living-room sofa. But she wasn’t ready for that yet. ‘But never my own rules,’ she said.

Mark stilled, leaning his forehead against hers, his breath hot on her face. ‘I think I’d better get a cab, then.’ His weight lifted off her and he sat up, running a hand through his hair.

Claire struggled upright beside him, adjusting her clothing. ‘I’ll call one for you.’

They kissed at the door when the taxi arrived, then Claire went up the stairs to bed. She couldn’t wait for the fifth date. But in the meantime, she thought, opening the drawer in her nightstand, this would be a good time to get in some practice with her vibrator.

Chapter Twenty-four

‘Ooh, you look very fancy, Luca,’ Jula said, as he emerged from the house the following Saturday. It had been a beautiful day, and Jula and Danuta, the thin, almost translucently pale Polish girls who shared the basement flat, were sitting on the front steps enjoying the last of the evening sunshine and sharing a bottle of wine.

‘Where are you going? Big date?’

‘Party.’ He sat down on the step above them, placing his gift-wrapped parcel beside him. ‘It’s my sister’s birthday.’ He tilted his face towards the sun and closed his eyes, trying to relax. There was still warmth in the evening air.

‘You want a glass of wine?’ Danuta asked. He opened his eyes to find her waving the bottle at him.

‘No, thanks,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Claire will be picking me up in a few minutes.’ It was still only seven fifteen, but he had been ready far too early, and he had become increasingly twitchy and anxious as he waited for her. When he couldn’t handle any more antsy pacing around his flat, he’d decided to come down and wait outside.

‘Ah, your girlfriend?’ Jula smiled. ‘She’s pretty.’

Luca smiled. ‘Yeah, she is pretty. But she’s not my girlfriend.’

Jula and Danuta shared knowing smiles, but said nothing, and went back to their conversation.

Luca checked his watch again, but only a minute had passed. It was ridiculous how nervous he felt, but he really didn’t want to go to his parents’ house. He wouldn’t do it for anyone but Ali. Still, for her sake, he would grit his teeth and endure it. He would even try to be pleasant and play the part of the loving and beloved son. As if he knew fuck all about that!

At least Claire would be with him, he thought. It wouldn’t be
so bad with her there. In a way, he was almost looking forward to it. He liked the idea of his mother seeing him with Claire, this lovely, kind, decent girl who cared about him – even if it was just as a friend because her heart belonged to Mr Perfect. Childishly, he thought he could prove Jacqueline wrong, demonstrate to her that he
was
lovable, with Claire as his evidence. He knew it was twisted, but he wanted to highlight his mother’s inadequacies by flaunting Claire in front of her, so that she would finally realise: ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’

Claire pulled up almost on the dot of seven thirty.

‘Goodnight, girls,’ Luca said to his neighbours, grabbing his parcel as he jumped up. He bounded over to the car. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’ He smiled at Claire as he slid in beside her.

‘Hi.’ She turned to him. ‘You look lovely.’

‘So do you.’ He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She smelled amazing. ‘I wish we could blow out this party and just drive off somewhere together,’ he said on an impulse.

‘You couldn’t do that to your sister. She’d be so disappointed.’

‘I know. I wouldn’t. But I’m really glad you’re coming.’

‘Well, I’m the one with the car and the beer money,’ she quipped. Then she blushed. ‘Sorry, that sounded awful. I didn’t mean—’

‘I know.’ He wasn’t offended. He knew she’d only said it because she couldn’t take a compliment and laughing it off was a reflex with her. ‘Anyway, it’s free booze. But I don’t think I could face it on my own,’ he said seriously, taking her hand. ‘So thank you.’ He kissed her knuckles.

‘You’re welcome,’ she said, and he was glad that for once she had simply accepted that he was happy to have her with him.

‘Okay,’ she said, starting the engine. ‘I think I know my way to Dalkey village, but you’ll have to give me directions from there.’

Claire usually avoided routes she didn’t know well, and she hadn’t driven to Dalkey very often. It wasn’t helping her concentration
that Luca was fidgety and restless, constantly shifting around in his seat, tapping his fingers on the dash or jiggling his legs. She tried to ignore him and focus on where she was going.

‘It’s so beautiful out here,’ she said, as they drove along the coast road, glancing at the perfect blue sea dotted with coloured sails. Summer had arrived at the beginning of June and seemed set to stay, with unbroken sunshine and soaring temperatures. Everywhere people were out enjoying the weather, playing games, strolling along with ice-creams, or sitting outside bars and restaurants under bright awnings, their high-spirited chatter and laughter drifting through the car window.

‘Mm,’ Luca agreed distractedly, seeming oblivious to his surroundings. ‘We’re almost there. Turn right here.’ He pointed to a narrow road climbing away from the sea front and directed her along a hilly, twisting road lined with massive, gated houses. ‘This is it,’ he said, indicating a set of wrought-iron gates standing open to the left. The tree-lined gravel drive sloped towards the sea, turned right and opened out onto a paved area to the side of a tall double-fronted house.

‘Wow!’ Claire breathed, as she parked beside a black BMW. She couldn’t believe this was where Luca had grown up. ‘This is an amazing house,’ she said, peeping at him warily. He had gone very quiet.

He shrugged in reply and removed his seatbelt, but made no move to open his door. His agitation seemed to have been replaced by gloom, and she sensed he was reluctant to get out. She touched his leg, giving him a reassuring smile.

‘Right, let’s get this over with,’ he said, opening his door.

As Claire stepped out onto the drive, the sound of the waves on one side mingled with the buzz of the party on the other. The location was stunning. The house clung to the cliff, nothing between it and the broad sweep of Killiney Bay, breathtakingly beautiful panoramic views spreading out in every direction. She went to the low stone wall at the edge of the garden and looked down to the beach at the bottom of the cliff, where foamy
white waves crashed against the rocks. She turned back to the house, which was fronted by a terraced garden dotted with tiled benches, flowerbeds and quirky sculptures, and planted with an abundance of shrubs. Lanterns hung in the trees, and the deck around a large sunroom was strung with fairy lights.

Luca grabbed her hand, holding it so tightly it was almost painful as he led her towards the house.

‘Luca and Claire are here,’ Ali called over her shoulder, as she came barrelling down the steps that led to the front door. She threw her arms around Luca, and the tension seemed to leave his body, his grip on Claire’s hand relaxing.

‘Happy birthday, Ali,’ he said, kissing her cheek.

Ali released him and hugged Claire. ‘Thank you so much for coming. It’s lovely to have you here – both of you.’

‘Thanks for inviting me,’ Claire said. ‘Happy birthday!’

‘Come and meet Mum and Dad,’ Ali said, leading the way to the house.

Luca’s hand tightened around Claire’s again as they followed Ali up the steps to the open front door. They stepped into a high-ceilinged hall with a wooden floor. A large vase of tall white lilies on an elegant side table perfumed the air. Claire recognised the slim blonde woman who came to meet them from her author photo.

‘Why don’t you do the introductions?’ Ali said to Luca. ‘I have to check on the caterers.’ She skipped off through a side door.

‘Claire, this is my – this is Jacqueline,’ Luca said, as he drew her forward. Claire noticed Jacqueline’s hastily disguised wince at his use of her name. ‘Jacqueline, this is Claire.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Claire.’ Jacqueline smiled as she extended her hand.

‘Nice to meet you too,’ Claire said stiffly, as they shook. She felt Jacqueline scrutinising her closely, as if she was trying to figure something out.

‘I wish I could say I’ve heard a lot about you,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid I haven’t.’

‘There’s not much to tell,’ Claire said, blushing. ‘We’re not really—’

‘We haven’t been together very long,’ Luca interrupted, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

Claire smiled helplessly, feeling wrong-footed.

‘This is my husband, Jonathan,’ Jacqueline said, as a tall, lean man joined them in the hall. Grey-haired and handsome, he was considerably older than his wife. ‘Jonathan, this is Luca’s … friend, Claire.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, as he shook her hand, eyeing her as curiously as his wife had done. ‘Hey, Luca,’ he said, pulling him into a hug.

‘Why don’t you take Claire upstairs, Luca, and show her where everything is?’ Jacqueline said. ‘We’re putting jackets in your old bedroom. Then come down and join everyone in the sunroom.’

Upstairs, Luca showed Claire into his room. While she ducked into the en-suite to fix her hair and makeup, he went to the window and stared out at the sea. He wished he could have brought Claire here and shown her all this as something that was a part of him, somewhere he belonged – the beautiful house, his clever, talented family and the lovely life they led. But it was nothing to do with him. He felt as much a guest as she was – just as welcome, just as superfluous; every bit as much of an outsider. It highlighted how little he had to offer on his own account, and it struck him how bare and bleak his life must seem to her, how rich hers was by comparison – not just materially, but in people who cared about her and would always be there for her.

He was beginning to regret his insistence that she come. He didn’t like who he was around Jacqueline and he didn’t want Claire to see him like that – so cold and churlish, so ungrateful to the woman who had rescued him. He knew he owed her everything, and he had tried to make allowances and forgive
her – not for not loving him, that wasn’t her fault: there hadn’t been much to love in the cold, scarred, battle-wounded boy she had brought home and, anyway, love wasn’t a decision you could make. But he did blame her for writing that book. It wasn’t because it came as a surprise to him that he was unloved, but until then it had been their secret, and keeping it was something they had done together. They’d worked as a team, the magician and her little accomplice – some sleight of hand here, a bit of misdirection there and, ta-da!, no one was the wiser. Until the day she broke faith with him and let everyone see behind the curtain, exposing him as the graceless impostor he really was.

‘This is an amazing house,’ Claire said, as she emerged from the bathroom. ‘Your parents must be loaded.’

‘They’re pretty well off. Jonathan’s a surgeon and Jacqueline’s a very successful journalist. So …’

‘Wow.’ She was looking troubled, probably wondering why his parents didn’t help him out when they were so wealthy.

‘And what about Ali?’

‘Ali has her trust fund. She has plenty of money of her own.’

‘Oh!’

‘They did the same for me,’ he told her. ‘I got money when I was twenty-one, same as Ali.’

‘What happened to it?’

He affected nonchalance. ‘I burned through it pretty quickly. I spent most of it on drugs and generally getting wrecked.’

He waited for her reaction, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t seem shocked or disapproving, just looked at him calmly, accepting what he was saying without comment or judgement.

‘They were pretty decent about it,’ he continued. ‘Obviously they couldn’t keep giving me money to squander on drugs so they cut me off, but they paid to send me to a pretty high-end rehab. And they made it clear I was welcome to move back here when I’d sorted myself out.’

‘But you didn’t?’

‘No. I’d leeched off them long enough. Rehab was all about
standing on your own two feet. I thought I should try that for a while.’

‘Good for you!’

It killed him that she actually looked proud of him. ‘Well, I’m not making much of a go of it.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I’m not exactly the poster child for turning your life around. You’ve seen where I live.’

‘But you’re standing on your own two feet. You’re not relying on anyone else for handouts when you could easily have moved back here and continued to take money from your parents. And you’ve got off drugs and stayed clean. I think that’s pretty admirable.’

‘Less admirable than not getting fucked up in the first place.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

He smiled. He knew he didn’t deserve her faith in him, but it felt good having it. ‘Come on,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘We should find Ali and give her her presents.’

Downstairs, Luca led Claire into the large sunroom. Decorated in creams and greens, filled with plants and overlooking the sea on three sides, it felt like an extension of the garden. The walls were strung with fairy lights, and a long table in the centre of the room was set for dinner, with little vases of flowers dotted along the centre, the coloured glasses and floral tablecloth giving it a light, summery feel. The doors were thrown open, and guests were milling around on the deck overlooking the garden.