“Someone called Jane-n-n-y.” I’ve never found it harder to pronounce a word.
His face stills for a moment and looks guilty.
“She’s…umm… Okay.” He nods his head and doesn’t say more.
A sharp, cutting jealousy twists through me.
Brandon turns around to push the cap back on the bottle and slide it back on the shelf. Then he takes a sip. “I went out into the garden, then down to the Helen’s Hemingway House. You’re right. It is beautiful down there. Hal is thinking about expanding it.”
Brandon has never shown interest before. I guess he doesn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room either. Although, for all I know, Janey might be a very pretty, shapely woman, unfair to call her an elephant. Or a gorilla or any kind of beast.
I need to change the subject. “When do you start the new job?”
This time when he faces me, his face is stony. “What did Clive Smith want?”
I study my fingernails, hating the question, hating the way he doesn’t want to talk about his job, as if it’s none of my business. He confided so much in me before, but that was before he hooked up with Janey again. Now she is the one he confides in, presumably.
“He wants you back, I suppose.” Brandon makes the sentence like half a question, half an accusation. “He thinks he can put you down, then pick you up when it suits him.”
Yes, Mr-holier-than-thou, Clive wants me. As much as Janey apparently wants you. Or you want her.
“You’re not going back to him, are you?” His voice is heavy with disbelief.
Suddenly, I’m angry, really angry. “Not that I owe you any answers, but if you must know, I’m thinking about it.”
I’m not thinking about it; not at all. Clive begged me to try again, to come back so we could live together. He said he’d given up having a family before with Viv; now he wants a real relationship.
I listened, but my heart remained unmoved.
“Do you believe him?” Brandon asks from across the kitchen.
“That he wants me back?”
“That he didn’t know; that it wasn’t his fault.”
“Not sure.”
I might never know. But I know politics. It’s the most addictive drug there is. People have lied, cheated, stolen, spied, and started wars for political power. Compared to all this, Sir Alan keeping the truth from Clive is a small, necessary deception. The man has poured years into nurturing his protégé as the new star MP. I’d be naïve to expect him to watch all his work wash down the drain for an affair that might not even last.
And Sir Alan was very nearly right. Because our relationship didn’t survive. Half an hour ago, I was thinking of how to turn Clive down. Before I found out about Janey.
“He’s lying to you.” Brandon starts too loud then forces himself to lower his voice. “I love you, I thought of you every day, I missed you, I was busy,” Brandon mimics bitterly. “I don’t believe him.”
“Then it’s a good thing he’s not askingyouto marry him.”
The glass drops from Bandon’s hand and shatters on the floor making us both jump.
“He asked you tomarryhim?” Brandon steps over the broken glass and comes to stand over my chair. “You can’t trust him.”
No more than I can trust you, it seems.
He was supposed to be my best friend, yet not a word about his plans, he just walked out this morning and spent most of the day discussing it with Janey. Now, he’s reprimanding me to avoid answering questions about his own actions. They do this in politics all the time, going on the attack to hide guilt.
I’d almost forgotten all those tricks, but an hour with Clive seems to have taken me right back to that world.
“Lessa, you can’t be thinking of saying ‘yes.’ You can’t”
I’m so finished with this discussion. I push myself out of the chair. This isn’t an easy or dignified move in a rocking chair, especially with a baby in my arms.
