A Little Love (23 page)

‘Yes, of course, but that will all happen in time. You can ask me anything, anything at all, whenever you wish. I have nothing to hide.’

Unlike me. I have to hide my whole life.
‘I don’t know what to ask you.’

Christopher sipped at his foggy glass of chilled wine. ‘We are not in any hurry, Pru.’

‘I guess.’

Christopher reached out and took her hand again. She stroked her fingers against the back of his hand and marvelled at the warmth of this one small act.

‘Right, don’t know about you, but I’m shattered. Think I’ll have a quick shower and we can call it a night.’ Christopher raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers before climbing back through the window.

Pru nodded and sipped at her wine, glad of the encroaching darkness.
Oh my God, nearly bedtime.
She felt a shiver of nerves running along her limbs. It had been a long time and never, ever like this. Her palms were damp with sweat and her hands shook. ‘Get a grip, woman,’ she whispered to herself as she stood up and watched the horizon. The sky had turned a very particular mauve and the sinking sun seemed to make everything it touched instantly more beautiful.

She scrambled inelegantly through the window as Christopher emerged from the shower in his dressing gown. His hair was damp and curled around his neck and she noticed for the first time the tufts of grey that sprouted at the top of his chest and poked from his dressing gown. It made him look older, yet also masculine, sexy. She felt shy of the man standing in front of her.

‘It’s a little cramped in there, but a good temperature. Shall I get it running for you?’

Pru nodded. No one had ever prepared her shower for her before. She let the water wash away the grime of the busy day and scrubbed her face until her skin glowed, then slipped into her vintage silk kimono with its swirling turquoise patterns and pink flowers. It had once belonged to Trudy and Pru treasured it. With a towel around her head, she left the safety of the cubicle.

Christopher was on the balcony. She watched him scrolling through the news pages on his phone, his equivalent of a quick call to Milly, no doubt. Pru patted her legs dry and tousled her wet hair with her fingertips, raking it into its bob shape. Goose bumps peppered her warm flesh as she felt his gaze on her through the open window. She was unsure why she wanted him to see her, really see her and yet she was certain that she did – the real Pru, the Pru without worry, without history, stripped.

She completed her routine as if she were alone. Rubbing lotion into her limbs and torso, she managed to reach her lower back by moving her hands inside her beautiful kimono. She was glad of the cool silk against her skin. She turned to look at Christopher; he was a handsome man and in the dying Mediterranean light his eyes looked bright and his skin olive. She imagined looking at him every night while she got ready for bed and she liked the idea very much. Knowing there was someone to chat to in those final minutes of the day would make her feel less lonely. This thought surprised her: for the first time, she realised that, despite being surrounded by people and having a full and busy life, she was indeed lonely.

She decided against underwear and ducked out of the window to where Christopher now sat in deep contemplation. Without speaking, he pulled the overstuffed cushion from the wicker chair and threw it on the floor between his splayed bare feet. He gestured for her to sit on it. As she lowered herself down, he twisted her shoulders gently so that she was facing away from him. She knelt on the cushion, arranging the kimono over her lap to preserve her modesty. When he was happy with her position, he returned to the studio, leaving her alone.

‘Is this where I’m sleeping?’ she called through the window.

He placed his finger on his lips, the universal sign for hush.

Pru felt her heart rate increase with a combination of nerves, anticipation and embarrassment. What was he doing?

He re-emerged quickly, holding her jar of body cream. Then he retook his seat and pulled her backwards slightly, until she sat snugly in the space between his knees. Placing his hands inside the neck of her kimono, he gently eased the fabric down over her shoulders. The slippery silk fell instantly down to her waist, anchored only by the tie belt about her midriff. Pru wished she hadn’t fastened it so tightly, aware of the smallest bulge of fat that sat over it. The material billowed over her forearms and pooled in her lap. Her upper body was naked, skin exposed to the evening air. Modesty felt pointless and so she simply closed her eyes, thinking herself away, a habit she had perfected in her younger days. She couldn’t quite identify what she was feeling, at first. She felt reckless, daring and expectant. And then she recognised that delicious combination – she felt young! This was how it had felt in the days before Plum Patisserie, when she had planned and pictured her future; a time when the world had been hers to discover and everything felt possible.

Christopher dotted the cream into his palms and rubbed them together to warm the lotion and grease his hands. Placing his flattened palms against her exposed shoulder blades, he waited for her to stop shivering and for their temperatures to sync before he started to massage her skin. His fingers kneaded the knots from the muscles at the nape of her neck. Working his hands down and around her back, he covered every inch of skin with circular movements of his palm. Using his fingertips, he probed and manipulated her spine with his fingers. Pru fell into an almost trance-like state of bliss, not wanting him to stop. Despite her near nakedness and the level of physical contact, the whole encounter was far from sexual. It was instead deeply moving; personal without any of the shorter-lived instant gratification she associated with sex.

The pleasure for Pru was intense. Christopher pushed her head forward and exposed her neck. He massaged up under her hairline and behind her ears, it was wonderfully unhurried. Pru felt herself slump as sleep tried to envelop her; she felt his hands gently restore the kimono over her shoulders as he helped her stand and led her through the open window. In a dream-like state she lay on the vast bed and Christopher covered her legs with a soft grey blanket.

Pru lay face down in the favoured pose of the inebriated or exhausted and welcomed the heat of his hand through the thin fabric of her gown. His touch was lighter now. Gone were the small deft strokes; instead, his hands worked in long sweeping gestures, caressing her skin through the slippery gossamer silk. She couldn’t fight the deep sleep that pulled her into another world – and she didn’t want to fight it. She welcomed the tunnel of escape that had appeared before her. It felt wonderful to sleep with someone watching over her, just as she had always dreamed of.

Pru woke the next morning to find Christopher propped up on one elbow, staring at her.

‘You look lovely when you’re asleep, very young.’ He traced a finger across her cheek.

She stretched her arms over her head. ‘Oh no! Don’t say you’ve been watching me. I’m torn now between the embarrassment of being watched and wanting to repeat it, if it makes me look young! Was I drooling or snoring?’

‘Both. I’ve just had complaints from the neighbours on both sides; they wondered if I had a camel in here. You were very loud and drooly.’

‘That’s so embarrassing! I hope you apologised on my behalf – the poor neighbours. Was it me or did you actually have a camel in here?’

‘You got me! I had two camels in here actually; they’ve just left.’

‘I can see the headlines now:
Prominent Politician Caught with Two Camels in Spanish Loft!
’

‘Oh, I rather like the idea of that – gives me an air of eccentricity, rather than the dull truth.’

‘I don’t think you’re dull.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Actually, I know I don’t snore, you fibber. Milly would have told me – in all these years she’s never held back from pointing out my many faults and failings. The list of which is long and ever changing.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘It’s true.’ She nodded.

‘You did say “Bobby”, though, just as you were waking up. I think you must miss her in your sleep as well.’

‘Yes, I think I do. She’s on my mind all the time; maybe she always will be. I think my loss of her will be like a tiny stone that I carry in my shoe, always there and never letting me forget. And now I worry about Meg, or more specifically, Milly and Meg. I do hope she’ll be okay. The poor love’s been knocked for six and her baby is nearly due. I know that taking her in might have seemed irrational and, according to Milly, disloyal, but it felt like the right thing to do.’

‘I can understand that. She’s lucky to have you.’ He stoked her arm.

‘Oh, on the contrary. She’s a lovely addition to my life and I’m loving every minute of having her around. Even if it doesn’t exactly make me flavour of the month.’

‘That was an extraordinary thing to do, bringing her into your home. I’m still amazed by it.’

‘D’you think I was wrong?’

‘No, not at all. I just don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who would reach out like that to a complete stranger. It’s remarkable. I’m not sure I could have done it, and William was my nephew, so it was probably more my responsibility, thinking about it. I still don’t know what he was playing at. It’s dreadful, isn’t it? It’s the level of deceit that’s so shocking. I can cope with most things, but deceit for me is the worst.’

Pru pulled the sheet up over her shoulder. ‘When it first came to light, I felt like I hated him, seeing the mess and hurt he’d caused. But now, even just a few weeks later, I don’t feel like that any more. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I’m not condoning his behaviour or forgiving it in any way, but I can see how if you are weak and scared, then you might only do what pleases others and not yourself. You might not be able to follow your heart and that is very sad.’

‘Don’t you think he was following his heart?’ He let his fingers travel down over her arm.

‘I think he thought he should marry Bobby, but I’ve listened to the things Meg says, the way she describes the little things – she really knew him. They didn’t have the flash, exciting, Mayfair life that he and Bobby did, but it seemed a bit more authentic. She told me he bought her a hot water bottle and cashmere bed socks, as there was no heating in her flat. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s the act of someone who is taking care of you, even if he was a shit.’

‘Poor William.’ Christopher looked momentarily downcast. Pru wasn’t sure whether that was at the memory of how William had died or because he hadn’t had the courage to chase happiness.

‘Poor everyone,’ she said. ‘No winners in this one, I’m afraid, least of all a little baby who will never know it’s cheating dad.’

Christopher reached across and lifted her with surprising ease, his arm muscles flexing as he did so, until she was lying on top of him. Her silk kimono covered them both. And just like that, her age, her less than perfect physique, even their future and the words that sat in her stomach like rocks, didn’t matter. Nothing did. They entered a space where only the two of them existed.

‘I don’t want to talk about William or Bobby, in fact I don’t want to talk about anything.’ He kissed her then and the anxiety of the previous day slipped from her like a second skin. Together, they were natural, at ease and blissfully, blissfully happy.

It was a hot day. Christopher donned his crumpled Panama as they reluctantly left the studio and walked hand in hand along the streets, grinning at each other as they stepped over the cobbles and stopped for coffee and pastries only minutes into their outing. Pru sat opposite Christopher at the little table on the quay and watched as he popped cubes of almond candy on to his tongue and gobbled the lightly fried fluffy round fritters that had been dusted with powdered sugar and filled with pastry cream.

‘Oh, these are delicious!’ He spoke with his mouth full, delighted and relaxed.

Pru wrinkled her nose at the greasy fare and raised her hand to decline the offer of her own little cream-filled doughnut. She had standards to uphold.

Christopher pushed his hat up on to his brow. ‘Pru! I don’t believe it! Are you a food snob?’

She shrugged. ‘I am a bit, but I promise it’s the only thing in the world I am particular about.’ Pru rather liked the idea of being thought of as discerning and she decided not to confess to her love of sweets and junk food, especially pink shrimps and strawberry laces, dandelion and burdock pop and, most shameful of all, her occasional craving for a Pot Noodle.

‘You must be easy to live with.’ Christopher’s face coloured and he coughed, embarrassed at having voiced his thoughts and worried it might have frightened her.

‘Well, apart from my snoring, drooling and singing “Hey Jude” off key, I suppose I am.’ She watched as he stared at her, smiling. ‘What?’ she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and laughed. ‘Nothing. I just like looking at you and I am happy, really happy!’

‘Me too.’

‘I haven’t even thought about the mountain of paperwork on my desk, or worried about the job once – not once! It’s a bloody revelation!’

‘Where are we heading?’ She looked up and down the long, tree-lined street.

‘Do you mean in life or in the next hour?’

‘The next hour, clever clogs.’ She sipped at the minuscule bitter espresso, which jolted nearly every one of her senses.

‘I thought we could take in the National Art Museum of Catalonia.’ Christopher pulled a pamphlet from his pocket and perched his reading glasses on his nose. ‘Sitting on one of the highest points in the city,’ he read, ‘the building itself is spectacular, commanding the most incredible views of Barcelona, where you can take in the elegant city sprawled out before you.’ He looked up at her and caught her eye. ‘How does that sound?’

‘It sounds lovely.’ Truth was, she would have been just as happy to sit in that little café and chat to him all day. Anywhere with him by her side was precisely where she wanted to be.

Pru felt a swell of nervous anticipation as they climbed the steps and entered the rather grand building. It was a bit intimidating entering an art gallery with someone clever like Christopher. She had very particular taste and was sure of what she liked and didn’t like, but her preferences weren’t based on any deep artistic knowledge and she hoped that she wouldn’t embarrass herself.