She shakes her head. “I’ve called my sister and parents yesterday from an anonymous WhatsApp account. As for…” She doesn’t say his name, but it’s clear whom she means. “I can’t risk it. Any enterprising snoop can hack into phones these days. But he knows I am thinking of him.”
So, we stand in the shadows, count with everyone, sing Auld Lang Syne, then I place my hands on her face and give her a chaste kiss on her cheek, near the corner of her mouth but not too near. She kisses my cheek, and then we hug.
“Happy New Year.” I squeeze her a little.
“To you, too, my dear friend.” She hugs me back.
My thoughts and feelings, everything inside me is mixed and jumbled up. I can’t remember when I felt so…discombobulated? Is that a word?
Without sex, this disturbing energy inside me has nowhere to go.
The sound of a knife tinkling against a glass makes us break away to look. Lord M holds up a glass of champagne.
“I beg your indulgence. I know you all want to dance the welcome of the new year with Ed Sheeran or some such. Forgive this old man for forcing his old-fashioned taste on you.”
We watch him not sure what to expect, then the music starts, and all is made clear. It’s Frank Sinatra’sStrangers in The Night.
We dance like everyone else. What the hell else could we do?
“Miss him?” I ask Lessa a little later, holding her close but not too close.
“A bit. New Year’s was always going to be difficult.”
As Sinatra sings about two lonely people in the night, she moves in closer and rests her head on my shoulder.
“It’s not long now,” I tell her quietly.
“Not long,” she repeats, brushing a hand down my arm. “When does your celibacy year en–?”
“October.” I say before she’s finished asking.
The speed of my answer makes her laugh. “You must be counting the days.”
“And the hours and the minutes.” I sigh into her hair.
“And in October, you can date again?”
“Date?” I scoff. “I’d settle for a furtive quickie on the stairs.”
We smile about this for a long time while Frank Sinatra gives way to other oldies, all of them slow and romantic. She’s the only woman in my life at the moment. The only woman in my arms on the dance floor. But with my brother’s words in my head, the things he did and said to Pierre, I manage not to kiss Lessa. Not even when we walk home, holding her hand in the dark so she doesn’t slip on the icy lane, with no chaperone but the candles flickering against the snow.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lessa
The first of January, a new year and a new plan.
It starts when I’m standing in front of the mirror towelling my hair after a shower. My phone dings with a message.
LEWIS CARROLL.
It’s the code name I’ve given to Viv Smith’s safe number because Lewis Carroll wroteAlice through the Looking Glass.
LEWIS CARROLL: zoom meeting ID 45532100863
My heart leaps. I only messaged yesterday saying I need to speak to him and hadn’t really expected Clive to answer this soon.
Dragging clothes on, I run to my desk and open my laptop with trembling hands, log into Zoom then wait for it to connect.
