Seductive Viennese Whirl (29 page)

My hand shakes a little as he passes me my glass; his solid, masculine presence causing my throat to constrict with nerves. He drinks down his wine in one gulp, sets down the glass and then, fringe tumbling into his eyes, starts to pick some dirt out from under his thumbnail (charming manners, I don't think!). Despite his obvious lack of interest in my presence I shift closer, poised to ask him the question that's been gnawing at me ever since he confessed he wrote those letters. Like how he had the gall to pretend to be someone else.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," I say. He looks up from gouging dirt out from under his nail, says he's just remembered we need more firewood, and scurries off, leaving me staring at his retreating back and shaking my head. While he's scooting out the door, Ravi parks himself on the divan. Grabbing my hands in his he beams me a smile. "All of us are so very excited to know we are to begin this tremendous project." With an expression of naked ambition in his eyes, he lowers his voice to a whisper. "I am very much hoping Eva will be in this film. In fact, I am counting on it. She will be delighted, no?"

"Oh Gosh, maybe, I don't know," I say, pulling my hands away with a jolt, suddenly choked up with guilt. "I can't believe I've been sitting here drinking wine while those two are outside, staggering around, lost in the snow or God knows what else." I jump up. "I'm going to go and find them." I peer out of the window, but the snow's very thick and there's no sign of human life.

"Do you think that is wise?" says Ravi, but I barely hear him. I'm too busy whizzing off on another fantasy. One in which Alex and I set off to search for Eva and McManus, except that we don't. Find them, I mean. Almost defeated by the blizzard, we end up getting lost ourselves and having to spend the night in a cave, huddled tightly together, like two kittens in a basket, his warm breath blowing life into my frozen ears.

Just then Alex comes in. "I was thinking of going out to search for Eva and McManus. And since I don't know my way around I was hoping you'd come with me." I lower my eyes to the floor, hoping he'll pick up on my damsel in distress vibes.

He chuckles, looking down at my bare feet. "Nice idea, but you won't get far without boots."

Feeling like a prize dunce I dash over to the stove, sit down with a thud and am just pulling on one still damp sock when he comes over and gives me a smile. "Actually, that won't be necessary," he says, clattering the logs to the floor. "I found them sitting in my truck. Looked pretty steamy in there."

I trail back to the sofa, niggled by his comments without knowing why. I mean, I know we barged in on him unexpectedly, but can't he just try to be nice? After all, he did lure Eva here on false pretences.

Soon Eva and McManus come in, all flushed, and we all gobble up huge bowls of stew, apart from Ravi who picks at some veggie stuff he brought with him in a Tupperware box.

After McManus has apologized profusely for thumping Alex he turns his attention to more important matters. "I say, superb Grüner Veltliner," he says, after he's swiped my wine glass, stuck his nose in it and taken a liberal swig. "Tropical fruit, liquorice, a hint of floral. Can only be a ‘98. Am I right?"

"Spot on," says Alex.

"Where'd you get it?"

Alex shrugs. "Grown here in my very own vineyard."

"Impressive. Wouldn't mind buying a few crates, what do you say?"

"Don't see why not."

"Any chance of another sample?"

"Tomorrow might be better, darling, I think," says Eva, tugging at McManus' arm. "Right now you need some kip. Is there somewhere we can doss for the night?" Alex sighs. "Follow me."

After he's finished escorting them up to the attic bedroom, he returns and, somewhat inexplicably sits down beside me on the sofa. I say inexplicably, because he could have sat beside Ravi on the divan, or on a chair, or even on the floor for God's sake. I mean, really, this sofa is seriously uncomfortable, and if it weren't for the fact that Alex happens to be on it, and if it weren't for the fact that Alex is hot, in a primitive, grow-your-own-grapes, ravishme-farmhand type of way, well, frankly, I'd rather park my bum on hot coals. And the only reason Alex is sitting here, right now, his leg just touching mine, is because he, well, because he has a low pain threshold. Didn't he tell you to get
comfortable
on this very sofa? Yes, Alex has skin with the sensitivity of rhino hide. It's a perfectly simple explanation.

Unless. Unless what? Unless he fancies me?

Don't be ridiculous.

He's smiling at me, making my insides go all hot and runny like melted toffee, as he refills my glass. I think he likes me. As a friend. He simply doesn't think I'm sexy, or remotely alluring. Which is fine. I'm used to that.

And as soon as I've convinced myself he doesn't like me, in that way, I feel like I'm able, for the first time since I clapped eyes on him, to really be myself. Time zooms by, wine is drunk, and if you asked me now I wouldn't be able to tell you what we talked about. It was mainly Ravi telling funny stories, but I seem to remember being pretty amusing too, or at least Alex thought so. In any case we all giggled a lot and I gradually felt myself relax, despite the spring that was wedged between my buttocks. Soon Ravi's yawning and Alex tells him to just go ahead and sleep on the divan, which he promptly does.

Alex and I are sitting thigh against thigh, listening to Ravi's raspy snoring. Alex is turning a wine glass round in his fingers. My mouth has gone dry and I feel awkward again, now that it's just us. I should really go to bed, but I daren't ask where there's a spare one. I'm intimidated by him, and shy for once. The clock strikes twelve.

"Merry Christmas," says Alex, his eyes shutting drowsily, his head falling back against a pile of cushions. He seems different to when we first met; softer, fuzzier at the edges. Definitely not the Neanderthal creature wading through water, all naked chest and pheromones, inflaming my primitive lusts. Not that I hadn't been attracted to the cave man. Just that I was now getting an inkling that his somewhat abrupt manner was nothing but a front. A front to detract from the fact that he was just a nice guy with a squishy centre.

"Merry Christmas," I reply, looking at the bruise McManus inflicted on his eye. I feel kind of bad about it, although it beats me how McManus knew about Eva's fling with the original Alex. I make a mental note to ask Eva about it.

"After getting a black eye and all, I bet you wish you'd never written those letters."

He opens his eyes. "No, actually, it gave me something to do, relieved the boredom. In case you hadn't noticed, there's not exactly much going on around here. What I don't get is who gave Eva my address."

I fill him in on the Marquis and the Count, but although he wracks his brain, he can't think of anyone who fits their descriptions.

"It's too weird. They must know me or else how would they know my sister had drug problems?"

"Oh I don't think they did. The Count had a sister who was abusing drugs. It's just a coincidence."

He's quiet for such a long time that eventually I just come out with it.

"You know, you have quite a talent for impersonating people. Eva and I really believed we were writing to this other Alex. I mean, tell me to shut up if you like, but why did you do it?"

"It's complicated. I don't think I'd have replied at all, would have just thrown the letter away, apart from this mention of a girl, with drug problems. That started me thinking about things, things I hadn't thought about in years." He shifts his leg away from mine, looks at his nails. "You don't really want to hear about this do you?"

"Actually, I do." "Well, that first letter started me thinking about my sister, about Anya, about how she used to be. And when I replied it wasn't hard at all, it only required a little exaggeration, but mainly I just wrote about the old days, before mum died, before Anya …" his voice trails off.

"She's all right now, isn't she?"

He shakes his head. "No, not really. That's the part I made up. I wrote the story like I got her some professional help. I should have done. But I didn't."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," I say, taking his hand and giving it a motherly pat. Wrong move. He flinches, pulling his hand away. For long drawn out minutes there's silence, until he says he's tired and needs to go to bed.

He gets up, stretches and yawns. Then he walks over to the doorway to the adjacent room, and hesitates.

Turning around he smiles. "I wouldn't recommend sleeping on that thing. It's like a medieval torture device. You'll wake up aching with every bone in your body." So he doesn't have skin like a rhino after all.

"I'll be fine," I say, stretching out on the sofa. Besides, there's nowhere else to sleep is there, unless I curl up with him, and I don't think that's what he's hinting at. He's still staring at me, lying there like a beached whale, and I feel acutely self-conscious, so I jolt upright. I've just remembered that I badly need to pee.

The bathroom turns out to be a tiny room off the other side of the kitchen. I sit on the toilet, looking about me, at the narrow shower stall, tiny but functional. I'm about to wash my hands, but when I turn on the sink tap no water comes out. Look, I know his mum probably squandered all the family money on her balls and furnishing the Schloss and all, but really, there are limits. How can Alex live in a place this basic?

When I get back into the kitchen the door to his room creaks open and he pops his head out.

"I was thinking that you might be more comfortable in here."

"To tell you the truth, I'm afraid."

He steps towards me and the door swings closed behind him. "Of what?"

I swallow. "Afraid that you have a rather warped definition of the word ‘comfortable'. That sofa for example. I'm sure I'm covered in red welts."

He laughs. "Seriously, I can't promise much but, well, at least it's a bed."

He stretches out his arm and with one swift movement pushes the door open.

I follow him in, heart thudding. Is he asking me to sleep with him? The guy's got a nerve, after all, I hardly know him. And yet. I want to. Normally I'd just dive in and to hell with the consequences, but this is different. It's not like he's just a disposable bit of man flesh like Ricky or the Weasel. No, this feels serious. Don't ask me why, it just does. In any case, maybe he just wants to take it slow. Maybe he'll just want to kiss me a bit before we fall asleep in each other's arms. It'll all be terribly chaste.

And then he flicks on the light.

The bedroom is sparsely furnished, apart from two single beds at either end of the room.

Of course. Separate beds. Silly me. Hanky panky or chaste kissing or anything remotely carnal never crossed his mind.

We each slip into our beds. I suddenly feel deathly cold, despite the fact I'm under a blanket and wearing all my clothes.

The eery light of the moon bleeds into the room. There's no drape at the dirty window, which is loose and rattles all night in the wind. As I toss from side to side, two fevered voices argue it out inside my head.

"He likes you. Not just as a friend. He
fancies
you. You know he does."

While the other voice counters, "Don't be stupid. How could I guy like that even notice a girl like you?"

"But in those letters, we made a connection. I know we did."

"Even if you did, it's not worth pursuing. He'll just dump you eventually when something better comes along. Like Ben did."

The voices continue for a good part of the night, until finally my brain is too tired to keep the conflict going. Instead I watch his chest rise and fall beneath the blankets, feeling more and more drawn to him as the hours pass. As the soupy dawn light filters in, I begin to feel panicky, afraid of that rush of emotion that knocked me for six, when we first locked eyes. I will snap myself out of this, I tell myself sharply. There's no way I can allow myself to open up again. You do understand? It's quite impossible.

At some point I must have fallen asleep. When I'm shocked awake by Ravi firing up his van outside the window I'm groggy and disorientated. Alex is sitting up in bed, looking at me. Self consciously, I run my hands over my hair, hoping it doesn't look too bad. I get the feeling he's been watching me for some time. It's unnerving

"It's pretty early," he says. "I'm getting up but you should try and get a bit more sleep." I doze for a while, then go into the kitchen. I warm myself by the grate, filled with festively crackling logs and sizzling pine needles.

When he offers me a plate of scrambled eggs and ham I suddenly don't feel hungry, but I force a little down so as not to seem rude. My throat feels parched, however much coffee I drink and I'm jumpy, anxious to get going so I can feel like my old self again: self-pitying, bitter.

"Sorry to have turned up like this. I expect you have plans for Christmas Day. We'll get out of your hair as soon as those two get up."

He runs his fingertips along his bruised eye socket, now the brown-blue of a thundery sky. "Hey look, don't worry about it. Stay for lunch if you like."

"You were going to spend Christmas day on your own?"

He shrugs. "I'm used to it. My parents are dead. Who would I spend it with?"

"Anya?"

"We don't keep in touch."

"Other siblings?"

"My brother and I fell out, over this place. After mum died ten years ago, he said I should sell it. I refused. We no longer talk. I could never sell this place, it's so full of good memories, of when I was a kid."

"You've lived here your whole life?"

"God no. During my twenties I was a stockbroker in Frankfurt. I thought I was happy." He chuckles, but his eyes look terribly sad. "But I kept having this fantasy, that I'd start making wine again in the grounds of the Schloss. So I jacked in my job and gave it a shot, rebuilding the place as an organic vineyard. Poured all my savings into it. For a while it was quite a success."

"What happened?"

"This place, it started crumbling. I spent all the profits on renovation and in the end the workers left because I had no money to pay them. My last harvest was in `98."