‘In London?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, that’s good, actually. That’s only a couple of hours from me. I thought you might say you lived in Scotland, or Cambridge, or Cornwall. Somewhere a million miles away from Haslemere.’
It had occurred to her that his comments about favourite breeds of dog might just be flippancies, but he really was planning how to continue to see her when they got back to the UK. Tania pressed herself against him, wrapping a knee across his leg. God, how she wanted to hold onto this moment.
‘You want us to see one another after we go home?’ she said.
He shifted further up against the pillows, tilting his face to look at her better, a frown edging onto his face. ‘You don’t?’
She extracted her hand from his and ran her fingers across his forehead, feeling the wrinkles of concerned skin beneath her touch, then pushed across, moulding herself more firmly against the side of his body.
‘What do you think?’ she said.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I mean, I hope so, obviously. But I’m kind of waiting for someone to throw open a door and yell, “Fooled you”.’
Tania pulled away from him. ‘You think this is just a joke?’
‘No, no. I don’t mean it like that.’
She could hear him huffing, he rubbed a hand across his forehead, then felt for the edge of her jaw, drawing her back towards him, before he spoke again.
‘Put it this way, I’ve spent most of today pinching myself that this is real, especially after I made such a fool of myself in that bar.’
‘And on that lift, and on the slopes, and …’
‘But not in the hot tub. At least, not yet.’
She could feel him smiling, could hear it in his voice. She smiled, too. ‘Plenty of time for that,’ she said.
‘You’re insanely attractive, Tania.’ The smile was gone, these words were serious. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say. You could have anyone, so why me?’
She didn’t answer, instead she changed the focus away from conversation by leaning into him. She allowed her fingertips to trail their way across the lines of muscles on his chest and around the curve of his ribs, her fingers splaying out and inching down his back until she met the change in angle of his buttock. She pulled him against her, feeling him grow harder against her leg as she kissed him.
‘Why me?’ he breathed the words again, and again she ignored them. Because to answer with the words Tania wanted to use was completely outside of her frame of reference. Because the feelings she had been unable to pin down, that first evening when they kissed in the light of the stars, the nebulous thoughts and washer-drier stomach which kept her awake at night all pointed towards something she wasn’t ready for. Wasn’t sure she would ever be able to cope with. That somehow, even with her limited knowledge and understanding of this man, she already wanted him to be a part of her life with an intensity she hadn’t realised was possible. Because it was just possible that she had already fallen in love with him.
She didn’t say any of that, though. Instead, she said, ‘Why not you?’
It was inadequate, but it would have to do, for now, because his fingers had found their way around her body, pulling her tightly against him again. She decided to allow her body to do the talking, to allow their new-found familiarity with one another to choreograph their movements. To hope that it would tell him everything he needed to know. Because in that moment, it was about as much truth as she was capable of giving.
Chapter 33
Clara unwrapped her bandage, peeling the final folds away with care. She turned her hand, ready to close her eyes if the cut was still oozy or otherwise difficult to view. It didn’t look too bad, the slice seemed to have knitted together quite well, although it was far from healed. She would ask Tom for a plaster, there wouldn’t be any need for another bandage.
If only her emotional existence was as easy to fix as her physical one.
She discarded the bandage, then checked her reflection, adding a little more lipstick. Clara was determined to make this evening count. Being at the lodge, being in the mountains in general, had given her the opportunity to gain a little clarity on her situation.
At the start of the week, she’d been looking for a way to hide. In a bottle, in her memories, in Mike’s music. Looking for a way to put one foot in front of the other and work out what to do with the guilt she carried. She had felt as if she should be punished, that the kindness she’d been shown wasn’t hers to claim, that the anger she had directed towards those people for their lack of understanding was unfair, even though she couldn’t control it. She wanted them to see what she’d done, wanted them to know that she’d caused her own grief. If she hadn’t been so selfish, none of it would have happened.
It seemed so trivial now, but the exhaustion had been all-consuming. The early mornings, the waking in the night. She loved Poppy more deeply than she could articulate, but there was never enough sleep. She was running on empty– and had been for a while– and then Mike began suggesting they try for another baby. She’d snapped, told him it wasn’t the right time, demanded a little space for herself. A little time to be Clara, rather than Mummy. Just a few hours so she could read a book, perhaps sit in the garden and enjoy the warmth of the sun without constant interruption.
If she’d known what those few hours would cost her– no, not her, what they would cost Mike and Poppy … She would give anything to go back and change that day. To bite back her words and instead have a proper conversation with Mike about how she was feeling.
She had wanted to explain, to make her friends understand, even if it resulted in their disgust at her actions, or the uncomfortable shifting looks she was sure would accompany her revelation about that day. But she hadn’t told anyone. She’d been unable to do that, she couldn’t tell a best friend, or a stranger. And now, she wasn’t sure it even mattered.
If things had been different, if she had become pregnant like Mike wanted, she wondered if that might have helped her through her grief. Whether having a piece of him still in her life would have absorbed some of the pain. Whether she would have been able to imagine how Poppy would have grown, whether it would have been possible to have caught glimpses of her daughter captured in the features and actions of a sibling. Perhaps the responsibility of another child would have forced her to be less introspective with her emotions. Perhaps she would have been able to soldier on. To put on a brave face. Having to put someone else’s needs and feelings in front of her own might have helped her to make the best of it.
