The Sunshine And Biscotti Club (12 page)

The sky dipped into an inky blue as they chatted on the terrace. Bats fluttered and dived, black butterflies in the night; the sound of the lake rattling the pebbles on the shore drifted into the silence left by the cicadas. The breeze made the air smell of lemons.

Dex and Miles were talking about the design agency.

‘Congratulations on the award,’ Miles said, leaning forward to clink his beer with Dex’s and then stretching a touch further to make Jessica pick up her bottle and do the same.

She met his eye infinitesimally before taking a sip.

‘What was it? Agency of the Year? It’s really impressive. You’ll be opening an office in New York soon,’ Miles said, pushing the topic, still leaning forward, clearly trying to get Jessica engaged.

Dex tipped his chair back so he was rocking on the two back legs to give Miles better access to Jessica.

‘That’s exactly what I keep saying,’ said Dex.

Jessica lifted her beer bottle to her lips. ‘Maybe,’ she said forcing herself to make eye contact again.

Miles nodded, seemingly satisfied, and sat back in his chair.

The conversation moved on to talking about Bruno’s bar and the renovations to the once dilapidated boathouse.

Jessica excused herself to go and get a sweater.

‘Oh, can you get me one?’ Libby asked as she was on the threshold of the hotel. Jessica nodded, wondering if it was a ploy to make sure she came back out.

In her room she went into the bathroom to wash her face. And stayed, bent over, her elbows on the brown tiled surface, water dripping from her nose and chin into the sink as she stared down at the plug hole.

‘Come on, Jessica,’ she said out loud.

Then she got one of the fluffy white towels and stood with it muffling her face.

She could see them all in New York, walking into Dex’s parents’ apartment—all gaudy and gold, with floor to ceiling tasselled drapes, a grand piano, and a mural of cherubs painted on the ceiling. Sightseeing down Fifth Avenue. Strolling through Chelsea with take-out coffees and cinnamon buns. Staring at the Statue of Liberty on the Staten Island Ferry. Everything taking them a step closer to the day of the wedding. Miles and Flo’s schedule had been so busy that there had been talk of not being able to
meet as a group, which made Jessica’s heart lurch. Caught between wanting it all to go ahead without her knowing anything about it and the pounding adrenaline that this was her last chance. This was the moment that he might come to his senses. That he might finally
see
her. Prior to the trip Jessica had spent her pittance salary on a whole heap of new clothes. She’d had her hair professionally straightened. She’d bought new make-up. Her brokeness as a result seemed worth it just for this snippet of a chance that now wasn’t going to happen.

Then Dex had got a call to say that they could squeeze in a catch up the evening before the big day, meeting at a bar in Soho.

Jessica had looked perfect. Immaculate.

Flo and Miles had turned up looking shattered, Flo in grey tracksuit bottoms and a big, baggy, pale pink jumper, so huge it sloped off her shoulder revealing a honeycomb tan.

‘I got so stressed I had to take a holiday to calm down,’ she’d laughed when Jake had commented on her colour.

Jessica couldn’t work out how Flo managed to do it. How every time Jessica went one way, Flo went the other and, without even trying, outdid her. In contrast to the tracksuit, Jessica felt buttoned up tight in skinny black trousers and a too-revealing green top. Flo’s hair messily awry; Jessica’s sleek and swept up with a tiny
beehive. She wanted to go to the Ladies’ and take all the pins out, mess it up, and scrunch it till the curls came back.

‘You lot going out after?’ asked Miles, clearly noting Jessica’s outfit.

‘No,’ said Jake, ‘just chilling at Dex’s parents’ place. Have you been there? Jesus, it’s unbelievable. There’s an actual cinema.’

Jessica had stared down at her drink. She’d felt Miles watching.

The drinks had flowed. She’d started to get light-headed, drinking more than usual. She’d heard her voice getting louder. Then a song had come on that she and Miles adored, had lain on his bed for hours listening to it on repeat, over and over. She hadn’t heard it for years. She caught his eye and he smiled. He started to sing along softly; she joined in. Not loud, just above a hum. Word for word. Not a song anyone else would know. She loved it; felt her body tingle; felt for one second the familiarity and connection that they had shared for the pre-Flo years. And suddenly she didn’t want Miles to notice her get-up and her new look, she just wanted this. A little moment to treasure.

‘Oh god, please, no singing. You’re so embarrassing,’ said Flo, bashing Miles on the arm. ‘I can’t take him anywhere,’ she’d laughed.

Jessica had snapped. ‘Why? Why can’t you just piss off for a minute?’

The whole table had stared at her, and the one next to them.

Flo had sat back, stunned like she’d been slapped.

‘Why do you always have to take everything? You won, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t you just let us have this one thing? This one little thing? It was nothing to do with you. Just piss off,’ she’d said almost shouting, standing up all in a hurry, knocking her drink, trying to get her bag, knowing she was about to cry. Immediately regretting her outburst. Red-faced with brewing embarrassment. ‘You won,’ she’d said again in a mutter under her breath. ‘You sodding won, you stupid cow.’ And then she had left, pushing her way past the rubber-necking onlookers on the adjacent table.

The moment she had left the bar she’d hated herself. Shame pooled inside her like honey, sticky and warm and inescapable. She couldn’t believe she’d said it; couldn’t believe she’d been so mean on the eve of their wedding. Couldn’t believe the fury that had been growing inside her, and for what? Had she really expected Miles to jump up and say, ‘How could I have been so blind? I choose Jessica.’ But that was exactly what she had wanted. And a tiny part of her was holding out the hope of hearing his footsteps on the pavement behind her, ready to grab her arm and spin her round and tell her she was his.

But there had been no sound of footsteps. Just the hiss of car brakes, laughter and chat in snippets from
the opening and closing of restaurant doors, her own stupid new high heels clicking on the sidewalk, and the hundred mile an hour thumping of her mortified heart.

Stepping back out on the Limoncello terrace, Jessica chucked Libby a cardigan. ‘Is that one OK?’ she asked.

Libby nodded as she slipped it on.

‘You’ve been ages,’ said Dex.

‘No I haven’t.’ Jessica heard the defensive snap in her voice.

Dex raised a brow.

Miles glanced over, eyes thoughtful as he watched her.

There were more drinks on the table.

‘We got you another beer,’ said Libby.

‘Thanks,’ Jessica said, trying her best to soften her voice.

She reached forward to grab the new bottle and unexpectedly caught Bruno’s eye. He was watching her with his calm, untroubled self-assurance. A tiny flicker of competition, challenge, in his eyes.

She arched a brow at him in question.

A hidden smile toyed on his lips. He was leaning back, ankle of one leg crossed over his knee, the lines by his eyes as deep as ravines.

The thought popped into her head that he knew nothing about her. Nothing about all of their past
together as friends. He was a completely clean slate. In the flicker of the outside light he looked easy, raggedly attractive, uncomplicated.

‘You need help tomorrow?’ he said to Libby, breaking off eye contact with Jessica to ask the question.

‘Oh, definitely.’ Libby nodded. ‘I always need help at the moment.’

‘Then I will help,’ he said, taking a swig of beer.

Jessica laughed without even thinking about it. Caught off guard by his decisiveness. No dilly dallying, no maybes or polite are you sures, just exactly what he thought. He turned back to look at her; she could just make out the wink in the darkness. To her surprise it made her want to giggle. It made her feel like there was a bubble of light inside her desperate to float to the surface.

‘Anyone fancy a swim?’ asked Dex, finishing his beer and smacking it down on the table.

‘No chance,’ Libby said, her feet tucked up underneath her on her chair, her cardigan wrapped tight around her.

‘I’ll swim,’ said Miles.

‘Good man.’ Dex clapped and started to stand up.

‘You’re drunk, you might drown,’ said Jessica.

‘We’re not going to drown. I’m not that pissed.’ Dex shook his head. ‘And if you’re worried you can come and watch.’

Jessica stood up with an unexpected sway, taking her beer with her, quite keen suddenly for an adventure. Anything that kept her fixed in the present.

‘You coming, Libby?’ Miles asked.

Libby made a face. ‘I suppose so. Bruno?’

‘I’m going back that way anyway.’

Dex clapped his hands. ‘Right then, let’s go!’

Eve let Jimmy lead the way through the lemon grove down to the water’s edge. Every step she could smell the chinotto mingling with the lemon.

She paused for a second. ‘That’s it.’ The chinotto was the little kick her fragrance needed.

‘What’s it? What are you doing?’ Jimmy asked at her sudden stop.

‘Nothing.’ Eve shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said again when he looked at her, curious, so he shrugged and carried on.

Eve followed behind without really thinking about it, her mind filling with a cacophony of smells and scents. She could see the bottle even. It wasn’t going to be lemons, they were just a big, blowsy distraction, it was all about this little chinotto and her lovely pine trees.

The tangy bitterness seeped into her as the loose stones and branches crunched underfoot. She was imagining the white box printed with bright little oranges. She was thinking of the colour of it in the
bottle—an amber hue to the liquid. She was thinking about marketing—about whether anyone would understand the word chinotto or if she would need ‘orange’ in there somewhere.

All this she was thinking about instead of thinking about the fact she was walking down to the water’s edge with Jimmy.

As a little girl, every time she’d been left alone with the other festival goers or partiers in their group, when her parents went off to do whatever it was they did to be free, she would employ this same technique. She would be able to fill her mind so full with other thoughts that she didn’t have to worry about who she was left with and whether they would ever come back. The year they took her to Roskilde Festival in Copenhagen and both spun out for twelve hours on some bad mushrooms, Eve had sat in the tent with the two of them being alternately sick and wildly tripping. As they clawed at giant ants on their legs then laughed at the whiskers sprouting from her cheeks, Eve planned her entire seventh birthday party in her head complete with a possible trip to the petting zoo and a five-tiered Victoria sponge.

Now, as Jimmy had his arm around her shoulders and was pointing to where the last rays of the sinking sun were bouncing off the white boathouse walls, Eve had her entire new fragrance range packaged up and ready for the shelves.

‘I’ve missed having you in my life,’ Jimmy said as only a fingernail width of sun was peeking out above the lake. ‘I’ve missed your independence. I liked how we lived side by side. Stupidly, I didn’t realise that that doesn’t happen a lot—not expecting anything of each other—just being.’

His hand moved from her shoulder down her back, settling on her waist. His fingers felt warm through her t-shirt.

Eve thought about the times she had lain on his bed, the two of them entwined, laughing about their night, acting as mirrors for the other’s arrogance and good looks, getting high off their own self-adoration. And they would kiss and touch and fall asleep. Living like two little caterpillars zipped in the same cocoon.

Of course
they expected nothing of each other, she thought; they got everything they needed from elsewhere and just poured it into their shared pool. You could do that when you were twenty-one and ravishing.

She wanted to say, ‘But you can’t do that when you have kids, Jimmy.’ You can’t do that when you want something more. Some sense of the other person wanting to mesh as well as walk side by side.

The sun was just a whisper now.

She could feel the pressure of his hand on her hip, moving her round so they were face to face.

She had kissed him a hundred times for fun. But she had never stood opposite him and kissed him properly, never as a moment. Never serious.

And this was serious. Suddenly really serious. This was her marriage and her children. This was succumbing to a youthful addiction, acting on a zing of electricity that made her body shiver, stepping into the excitement of a first kiss after kissing the same person for five years, basking in the glow of feeling beautiful again.

His eyes looked almost white in the moonlight.

She thought about what Jimmy was looking for in a person. Had always looked for—no ties, no labels. Criteria so rigid for something that was meant to be so freeing. Was that independence, she wondered, desperately wanting one’s other half to comply?

When he stepped forward she could feel the heat of his whole body against her. He smelt the same as he always had. Of skin and soap and the earth.

‘Ow, shit!’ Jimmy jumped away, bashing at his leg. ‘Something’s just bitten me. Jesus.’ He swiped his hand against his skin, then held it there for a second, recovering from the shock and pain. ‘The little shit.’

Eve stayed where she was. Holding in a snigger. She watched as he grimaced, breathed out slowly and then, shaking himself, stood up and said, ‘OK, I’m OK now.’

‘You think you should see a doctor?’ she asked.

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ he said, really serious. ‘Just some bug. Probably just a massive mozzie. It’s fine. I’m fine.’ He stepped closer again; reached forward and took her hand again in his.

An image of Peter’s wry half-laugh came into her head. He would have assumed the moment had gone the minute he’d yelped from the insect bite.

Jimmy leant forward to kiss her.