‘Grass?’ She frowned.
‘Yeah, I didn’t know what that was either. I was afraid to walk on it.’
Claire drank some more champagne, letting her hair fall over her face to hide the tears that had welled in her eyes. She couldn’t bear to think of Luca as that deprived, frightened little boy who’d never heard of the sea nor felt grass beneath his feet. It made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight, as if she could absorb all the hurt. It was no wonder he was a bit screwed up – it was amazing he could function at all.
‘Top-up?’ he asked, holding up the bottle.
Claire realised she had drained her glass. She turned to him, holding it out.
‘Claire?’ His smile faded as he saw the tears in her eyes. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to upset you. It was supposed to be a funny story.’
‘Hilarious,’ she said drily, as he filled her glass.
‘Sorry.’ He hugged her, kissing her forehead. ‘No more stories about Little Orphan Luca.’
The food was laid out as a buffet in the sunroom, and Claire was relieved that when they had loaded their plates Luca found them seats at the opposite end of the long table from his parents. She knew she was an awful coward, but she would be happy if she never had to face Jacqueline again, and was determined to avoid her for the rest of the night – though she felt her eyes on her sometimes during the meal, watching her and Luca with that perplexed expression.
They sat near a group of Ali’s friends whom Luca knew well. They were welcoming and fun, and she was glad that Luca had relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself as they talked and laughed.
When they dimmed the lights and everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’, Claire saw Luca watching Jacqueline as she carried a cake covered with candles to the table, her smiling face illuminated in their glow. Something in his expression struck her like a knife to the heart, and it hit her with devastating clarity why he was so truculent, defensive and cold with Jacqueline. It wasn’t because he hated her: it was because he loved her and knew she didn’t love him back. Maybe there was a bit of him that wanted to hurt her, but mostly, she thought, he just wanted to protecthimself from being hurt any more than he already had been. So he pretended he didn’t care, that he didn’t love her any more than she loved him, that he didn’t want or need anything from her. Maybe that was why he kept all women at a distance.
Later, as Bono and Andrea Corr sang ‘When The Stars Go Blue’, she spun in Luca’s arms beneath the canopy of stars, the music drifting out across the bay, drowning the crash of the waves below. Sky and sea bled into one in the darkness, and Claire’s head, on Luca’s shoulder, was pleasantly fuzzy from the champagne. The party was winding down around them.
‘Tired?’ he asked her, when the song finished.
She lifted her head. ‘I’m still up for a few teenage fantasies, if you are.’
‘Hold that thought.’ He clasped her hand and led her towards the house.
She followed him into his bedroom, but when he turned to her, she pushed him down onto the bed, locked the door and leant against it. Holding his gaze, she unzipped her dress all the way down the back and pushed it off, letting it slide down her legs to pool at her feet.
‘What’s all this?’ Luca asked, his eyes dark and hungry as Claire reached around to unclip her strapless bra.
‘Call it my end-of-term showcase.’ She smiled, looking right at him as she removed her bra and tossed it aside, not squirming even when his eyes dropped to her chest. She was happy for him to look as she walked slowly to him in nothing but her knickers and high-heeled shoes.
‘You are so getting an A,’ he muttered, as she crawled over him on the bed.
25
When Luca woke early the next morning, Claire was still sleeping soundly in his arms, her head nestled into the crook of his neck. He’d missed waking up with her like this since her mother had got out of hospital and she no longer stayed over at his place: the warmth of her body snuggled against his; the softness of her skin; kissing her slowly awake in the morning and making love to her gently, languorously, when they were both barely conscious. He hadn’t wanted to stay here last night – he’d wanted to get away as quickly as possible – but he was glad now that they had. It was different with her here.
He loved the way she had defended him to Jacqueline and replayed the things she had said about him over and over in his mind. He knew he shouldn’t feel good about it because the row had upset her, but he couldn’t help it. It meant a lot to him that she had overcome her shyness to stand up for him like that. And later, when they were alone, she had shed all her inhibitions along with her clothes and seduced him until every lonely, horny ghost of his teenageself had been well and truly laid to rest. She had been magnificent.
He was tempted to kiss her awake now, but they hadn’t had much sleep last night. He should let her rest. And, much as he’d like to lie there with her until she woke up, he was gasping for something to drink. So he extricated himself gently and slid out of bed, careful not to disturb her, then pulled on last night’s clothes and went downstairs.
He made coffee, took it out on the deck and sat at the table, watching as the sun rose over the bay.
‘Good morning! You’re up early.’ His father shuffled onto the deck in his dressing-gown and slippers, coffee in hand.
‘Morning. So are you,’ he said, as Jonathan sat down opposite him.
‘I don’t sleep much, these days. One of the perks of getting older.’
‘Is it a perk?’
‘Well, it is today. I get to spend some time with my favourite son before everyone else is up. It’s good to see you, Luca. How are you?’
‘Fine.’
