The Last Kiss Goodbye (21 page)

‘Left to his own devices, he isn’t going to change. Why should he? But he has to know that he can’t have his cake and eat it,’ said Victoria decisively.

Ros admitted she had a point. Of course she had been apprehensive about Dominic’s popularity with women. Every time he went out was a reason to get suspicious. London, Paris, Monaco – they were stuffed with beautiful women. There was temptation at every corner, every bar, restaurant and party, and Ros knew that many of those temptations were far more attractive than she was.

‘What if I bring it up? What if I tell him he can’t go careering to the furthest corners of the globe any more, or to every party he’s invited to? What if he chooses his old life? What if he chooses not to change? What if he doesn’t choose
me
?’

‘Then at least you’ll know,’ replied Victoria bluntly. ‘And at least you can decide if that’s an arrangement you are prepared to accept.’

Ros was glad her sunglasses were hiding her tears.

‘Darling, don’t get upset. You’re a strong woman who won’t be walked all over. Let him know that.’

Victoria held out her hand and pulled Ros to her feet. They walked back in silence. Ros had a lot to think about, and she didn’t even glance at the view – the wooded hillside that fell steeply down to the cliffs, and beyond that, the bay sparkling silver and blue.

The men were back by the time they reached Les Cyprès. Dominic was still discussing the Ferrari and wanted to share his excitement with Ros. Although she did not care for cars, she tried to get involved, listening with manufactured enthusiasm to the history of the car and how it had won the race at Le Mans.

They went to change and Ros delighted in their bedroom. It was decorated in shades of cream and pale blue that reminded her of hydrangeas; French windows trimmed with wisteria led out on to a small balcony.

Dom was in a particularly good mood and seemed to relax even more when Bellinis were served on the terrace. Victoria had also changed for dinner and looked ravishing in a salmon-coloured knee-length gown that showed off her waist and her tan. Ros discreetly observed her boyfriend’s reaction, but if she was expecting him to cast lascivious glances in Victoria’s direction, she did not see any.

They ate dinner outside, on a round table underneath a citrus tree.

‘Just the four of us tonight, Vee?’ asked Dominic as he dug into cold avocado mousse.

‘Aren’t you glad? I thought you’d had enough polite conversation in Monaco.’

Ros laughed, thinking about the countless drinks receptions they’d had to attend both before and after the Grand Prix.

‘You know what I’m saying, don’t you, Ros? Free parties? They come at a price.’

‘Dom did spend half the time drumming up business for the
Capital
ad team, but still, I was happy to people-watch.’

‘Well now is the time for close friends,’ said Victoria, and Ros gave her a grateful glance, remembering the last time she had met Dominic’s friends en masse.

Victoria and Tony were happy to talk about politics and the issues of the day, but not in the confrontational way they had been discussed at Jonathon Soames’s house. Victoria conveyed her distress that a bus carrying civil activist Freedom Fighters had been fire-bombed in Alabama, and Dominic predicted that this would lead to race riots.

‘Dom tells me you run your own pressure group,’ said Tony as the starter was cleared away.

‘I’ve scaled it back a little recently,’ replied Ros.

‘How so?’ asked Victoria with interest.

‘We didn’t seem to be pressurising anyone into doing anything.’ She meant it as a joke, but Tony and Victoria looked at her seriously.

‘What was your cause?’ asked Tony, lighting a cigar.

‘Lots of things. Anything we cared about.’

‘Perhaps that’s your problem,’ said Victoria.

‘That we lacked focus? You might have a point.’

‘Never spread your interests too thinly,’ nodded Tony. ‘Always worked for me in business.’

He looked at Dominic.

‘You need to promote Ros to editor of
Capital
.’

‘
Capital
has an editor, Robert Webb.’

‘He’s a decent guy, but the two of you heading up that magazine would be dynamite.’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix business with pleasure too much, Tony,’ said Victoria.

‘But you’re never in the office, are you, Dom?’

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘Vee says you’re off to the Amazon. Where are you thinking of going after that? Harbord Industries could chip in a few dollars if it was somewhere interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ grinned Dominic.

‘Go on, give me your ultimate challenge.’

He looked thoughtful for a minute.

‘I’ve always fancied trying the Bering Strait. Crossing the water when it’s covered in ice. You know it’s only sixty-five miles from Alaska to Siberia, although the Russians won’t let a Westerner anywhere near their borders. Not officially, anyway.’

Tony laughed. ‘Would they notice one man and his husky? You could go, plant the old Union Jack and come home.’

Dom grinned. ‘As I said. Not officially.’

‘It sounds absolutely treacherous,’ said Ros, sensing an opportunity to make her feelings known. ‘Anyone doing that alone would be signing their death warrant.’

‘In this case, I think you’d have to,’ replied Dominic. ‘It would be the only way to go under the radar.’

‘Besides, I thought you preferred solo adventures these days,’ added Tony. ‘What was it you said about the romance, the peace of discovering the undiscovered all by yourself? I can’t remember his exact words.’ He turned his attention to Ros. ‘Your boyfriend’s the wordsmith. I’m just a dull finance guy. Still, it made me want to run off to Tangiers all by myself and have a religious experience.’

‘Religious experience?’ scoffed Victoria, sipping her wine. ‘If you went to Tangiers, you’d get drunk and find the nearest socialite throwing a party.’

Ros was determined to hold her ground, safe in the knowledge that she had an ally in Victoria.

‘Dom, I just worry about you. The Amazon adventure is bad enough.’

‘Bad enough?’ he said with surprise.

‘One man and his canoe, in the heart of the Amazon. I mean, I was reading about Percy Fawcett the other day. The adventurer who went looking for the Lost City of Z, not far from where you’re going. He went missing and was never found again, and he was one of the celebrated adventurers of his day. No one knows what happened to him. People say he was eaten by cannibals or murdered by one of the jungle tribes . . .’

‘I’m aware of Fawcett’s disappearance and the theories surrounding it,’ said Dominic more coolly.

‘I just don’t want it happening to you,’ said Ros, getting more worked up at the idea of him leaving. Already he was in the final stages of preparation, his flat littered with boxes and equipment, making the prospect of his departure seem very real.

‘What are you saying, Ros?’ He sat back in his chair and studied her.

‘I’m saying I don’t like it. I know the Amazon trip is arranged, but for your next adventure can’t we go away on safari or something?’

‘You’re saying you don’t want me to do any more expeditions?’

‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ she said, folding her arms in front of her.

An awkward silence settled around the table.

‘We should talk about this later,’ said Dominic quickly.

‘Good idea,’ replied Victoria.

Glancing across at her host, Ros was upset that Victoria hadn’t backed her up, hadn’t offered anything to the conversation to support her. Their heart-to-heart, the female solidarity she had felt on their clifftop walk, suddenly seemed hollow.

Ros didn’t feel hungry for the rest of the meal. She struggled through the main course of
Beef Provençal
, and her apricot tart went untouched.

Tony steered the conversation towards their new house in the Hamptons, and when the sky had finally turned dark and the stars started glittering above them, Ros took it as an excuse to say good night.

Dominic got up to join her, but she shook her head.

‘You stay,’ she said as light-heartedly as she could.

‘No, I’ll come.’

‘Don’t be silly. You three have a proper catch-up.’

This time he didn’t object.

Victoria got out of her seat to give her a hug.

‘I hope you don’t think we are too bohemian putting you in the same room,’ she giggled. ‘But it is the best suite in the house.’

‘I’ll be up soon,’ promised Dominic.

Ros nodded and left them to it.

The bed was incredibly comfy, and the wine with dinner and the heat of the day conspired to make her fall asleep very quickly.

When she opened her eyes again, she was momentarily disorientated. It was still dark, just faint silvery light creeping through a crack in the shutters. Rolling over, she saw that the space beside her had not yet been slept in.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was just after midnight. Her mouth was dry and the alcohol had given her a headache. She got out of bed to get some water, knowing this was really an excuse to see where Dominic was.

Opening the bedroom door, she could hear Tony’s deep baritone coming from the study to the left of the hall. The thought of Dominic and Victoria left alone sent shivers of dread around her body.

Dominic loves me, she reassured herself. Victoria, one of his oldest friends, had noticed it too.

She went to the bathroom and filled a tooth glass with water, enjoying the sensation of the cold liquid sliding down her throat. It was a warm, clammy evening, so she went to open the French windows and stepped out on to the balcony.

The Mediterranean shimmered in the distance – a dark blanket threaded with silver – and she sighed at its beauty. Closing her eyes, she let the soft evening breeze stroke her face.

She knew that you were meant to remember moments like this for the rest of your life, but she felt too unsettled to take in its magic.

The South of France was a place to fall in love. Oh, and she had. She had ignored the voices in her head, the voices that had warned her from the start that it was unwise to lose her heart to Dominic Blake. That blind optimism that had made her think she could change the world had convinced her they could be happy and grow old together.

‘You fool,’ she whispered out loud.

She opened her eyes and was about to go back inside when she heard a noise in the grounds, a voice, soft and low, carried on the breeze.

Stepping to the edge of the balcony, she looked around, the gardens of Les Cyprès a series of shapes and shadows in the dark.

And then she saw them, Dominic and Victoria, walking across the grass, deep in conversation. After a minute they stopped and turned to face each other. The moon had gone behind a cloud; a minute earlier and they would have been spotlit like actors on a stage, but in this light Ros could not make out any detail in their faces. She strained her ears and could hear the low grumble of conversation. Not the laughter and joking of two people trying to impress one another. It sounded serious, sombre, which at least gave Ros some small comfort. But still, they looked so perfect together, even in silhouette,
especially
in silhouette.

They turned to face the house and Ros retreated quickly inside, not wanting to be seen.

She returned to bed, pulling the sheet right up against her chin, and started to count sheep, desperate to fall asleep before Dominic came back into the room.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Direct Action Group had, to all intents and purposes, ceased to exist. Officially they were on a sabbatical, to regroup and refocus. Ros remembered what Tony Harbord had said, his suggestion that the group was directionless, and she had to admit he had a point. How was it possible to change anything when you wanted to change everything?

Some days she felt a fierce longing for the Brewer Street office, whose lease had long been surrendered; other times she felt ready for new challenges. She was now writing for the
Manchester Guardian
, and the
New Statesman
, whose editor John Freeman was both a journalist and a Labour politician, a CV that Ros greatly admired and aspired to.

‘Oh Ros, what’s the matter?’ said Sam, putting a steaming cup of coffee in front of her on the kitchen table.

Ros took a breath before she opened her mouth. Although she could shout louder than most people, was the first to voice her opinions, she saw herself as a private person.

‘It’s Dominic,’ she said finally, wrapping her fingers around her cup.

‘What’s wrong? Have you two had a fight?’

Ros hesitated before she spoke, knowing that she had to be sensitive. She wasn’t sure whether Sam was over her own heartbreak. Brian had disappeared off the face of the earth after the night of Jonathon Soames’s dinner party, leaving Sam utterly distraught and bewildered. Ros had been forced to explain what had gone on at the DAG office, which had led in part to Sam deciding to step back from their activities. But what had upset Sam just as much as Brian’s vanishing act, the fact that she had been lied to, and that he had put them all in danger, was that she hadn’t really known her boyfriend at all. Right now, Ros could sympathise.

‘A fight? Not exactly,’ she said quietly.

‘Then what is it? You don’t think he’s still upset about that row you had at Miss Fancy Pants’ villa in Antibes?’

Ros didn’t like to think about that. The entire holiday had been so magical, but that last night at Les Cyprès had caused unmistakable tension in the subsequent days.

‘I don’t know. He certainly doesn’t like me talking about the expedition.’

‘Because he knows you disapprove.’

‘Thanks to Victoria,’ said Ros.

Sam settled forward and looked her friend in the eye.

‘Trust no one,’ she said finally. ‘I’m not convinced Victoria had your best interests at heart when she gave you the lecture about keeping him on a leash.’

‘I don’t want him on a leash. I just don’t want him going off with other women, and I certainly don’t want him to get killed in the jungle. But you’re right, I don’t trust Victoria.’

Ros felt embarrassed to admit the next thing, but Sam was the only person she could talk to.

‘Victoria warned me that Dominic might stray,’ she said, voicing the suspicion she had kept down inside her. ‘But I think he might be straying with her.’

Sam gasped. ‘Surely they wouldn’t be that brazen?’

‘Who knows what people are capable of.’ She cast her friend a glance, and they both knew they were thinking about Brian.

‘Something just doesn’t feel right,’ Ros said finally. ‘He hates taking phone calls when I’m around. And on at least half a dozen occasions I’ve picked up the phone and the person at the other end has just hung up. I’ve brought it up with him but he dismisses it as wrong numbers and crank callers. Apparently he gets a lot of those at the
Capital
office because of the polemics they run.’

‘I can understand that,’ shrugged Sam.

‘The other day I wanted to meet him for coffee. He was very cagey. One minute he said he had to go to a meeting. An hour later he mentioned he was going somewhere else. So I followed him.’

‘Ros, you didn’t.’

‘Look, I’m not exactly proud of myself, but if he’s having an affair with someone, with
her,
I have to know.’

‘What happened?’

‘He left his office and got the tube to South Kensington.’

‘Doesn’t she live around there?’

Ros nodded. ‘In some enormous pile on Egerton Crescent. The London house,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Is that where he went?’

‘Well, no,’ said Ros, her shoulders slumping. ‘He went into the Brompton Oratory. He was in there about ten minutes, then he came out and disappeared down Knightsbridge.’

‘Did you follow him into the Oratory?’

‘No.’

‘Then why are you suspicious?’ Sam gave a little laugh to lighten the mood. ‘Don’t say you’ve got visions of him having nooky with Victoria on a church pew.’

Ros sipped her coffee. She didn’t know whether Sam was being incredibly naïve, or whether her own feelings for Dominic were sending her mad. It was her default setting to see conspiracy everywhere. She thought the Russians were in league with the Chinese, that the World Bank was more like a global dictatorship and that, quite possibly, the Americans had had prior knowledge of the attack on Pearl Harbor but had allowed it to happen to justify an attack on the Japanese. But when it came to affairs of the heart, she had always been quite uncomplicated. Previous relationships had failed to take root because she hadn’t been in love, and she was certainly not the sort of girl to be with someone for the sake of it.

‘Look, I know it sounds silly. But he just seemed a bit shifty, a bit guilty, when he came out.’

Sam stretched her hand across the table reassuringly. ‘Ros, listen to yourself. I was expecting you to tell me that you’d spotted him necking with some blonde. He was probably lighting a candle or praying for luck for his expedition.’

‘Dominic isn’t at all religious,’ Ros said, though she knew Sam had a point.

‘He loves you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And if you think he’s being distant, I’m not convinced it’s because of an affair with Victoria Harbord.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘He’s off to the jungle. On his own,’ said Sam quietly. ‘There’s anacondas and angry pygmies. You know, pretty much everything out there can kill you.’

‘I’m not sure that’s helping me much, Sam,’ Ros said grimly

‘My point is that perhaps he’s deliberately distancing himself from you because he knows how dangerous it is. He’s trying to protect you in case he doesn’t come back.’

‘Oh Sam. That’s just what I’m scared of. I’m terrified of losing him.’

‘Then don’t give up.’

Ros scoffed. ‘Don’t you start. I followed Victoria’s advice and look where that got me. ‘

‘You’re Ros Bailey,’ said Sam firmly. ‘Everyone in the socialist movement respects you because you’re—’

‘A bitch?’

Sam shook her head.

‘Because you know what you want and you go out and get it. You’re a doer, a fighter, and we all follow you because you never say die.’

Rosamund looked down, slightly taken aback and a little embarrassed.

‘So why should Dominic be any different?’ Sam continued. ‘If you were running a campaign against the injustice of Dominic Blake ignoring his girlfriend, what would you do?’

‘Start a demonstration? Print up some posters?’

‘No, Ros,’ she said, wagging a finger. ‘That’s what other people would do; you would think of something clever. Lateral thinking, isn’t that what it’s called?’

Slowly, a smile crept over Rosamund’s face.

‘You’re right. In fact I have an idea that might just kill two birds with one stone.’

‘Then what are you waiting for, Ros Bailey? Go and get him.’

For a moment Rosamund wondered if she had walked into the wrong flat. She was tired and preoccupied and had barely paid attention to anything on the walk from the tube, so it was entirely possible. But no, it was definitely the right place; it was just that everything looked different. When she had left this morning, the narrow passageway from the front door had been crammed with boxes and equipment; now it was empty save the sideboard, which had a neat stack of envelopes and a vase of fresh flowers on it.
Flowers?

The flat even smelt different: some sort of cooking coming from the kitchen. And was that singing?

‘Hello?’ she called, walking forward uncertainly, glancing into the bedroom, which, like the hallway, was uncluttered and tidy.
What on earth?

The singing stopped and Dominic put his head around the door. ‘Hello,’ he smiled, stepping over, wiping his hands on a tea towel. He had a smear of something white on his right cheek and he was wearing an apron. He bent to kiss her on the lips.

‘Good timing,’ he said. ‘Dinner will be five minutes. I’ll just pour you a drink.’

Frowning, she peeked into the small living room.

‘Dom, where are all the boxes? What’s happened?’

‘I saw you trip over a hurricane lamp last night.’

‘Class act, aren’t I?’ she smiled.

‘No, no. The flat’s in chaos, so I’ve sorted it out. Some of the stuff has been shipped out to Peru. At least we’ll have a bit more space to sit, have dinner. Oh shit. Something’s burning.’

‘Supper?’ said Ros with a grimace.

Dom disappeared into the tiny galley kitchen and returned holding a blackened pan.

‘What was that?’ she asked, peering into its depths.

‘Chicken à la King.’

‘No longer looking too royal.’

‘Let’s go out,’ he said grabbing her hand.

Twenty minutes later, they were in a quiet French restaurant on a side street in Covent Garden. As the light outside faded and the waiter lit the candle placed between them, Ros thought she could be back in Paris.

Dom smiled at her, and his expression was so loving, she felt guilty for doubting him.

‘Thanks for cooking,’ she said as the waiter poured them glasses of crisp white wine.

‘Thanks for putting up with me,’ he replied, clinking his goblet against hers.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘The expedition?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said in France, and you’re right. For so long it has been just me. I haven’t had anyone or anything else to think about in any decision I make, except maybe the readers of
Capital
. But now there’s you. You are the most important thing in my life and I want to make some changes to accommodate that. To accommodate you.’

‘You make me sound like a four-poster bed you’ve got to squeeze into a studio room,’ she laughed. Ros never felt comfortable with compliments or emotion, but secretly she was thrilled with his words. After the tension at Les Cyprès, she had never imagined he would say them.

‘I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,’ she said, treading carefully. Half of her was still imagining it was a trick. ‘Travel, adventure, it’s your lifeblood. I don’t want to change you. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. For
us
to be happy.’

‘We could go and live in Paris. Or the South of France. Get that shack you liked the sound of, with the bed for two.’

‘What about
Capital
?’

‘We could set up a French sister publication. For English-speaking ex-pats. Robert can run the London edition, I can become international chief, and you, Rosamund Bailey, rising star of the industry, can be editor-in-chief,
Capital Paris
.’

‘Now that sounds like an adventure,’ she said grinning.

The enthusiasm on his face softened.

‘But first I need to go to Peru. I can’t pull out now.’

It was the first time she had ever heard him talk about the expedition with anything other than excitement.

‘I don’t want you to pull out,’ she said softly.

‘You don’t?’ he said with surprise.

Ros paused as the waiter brought their food. Then she took a fortifying mouthful of boeuf bourguignon and looked at Dominic.

He frowned. ‘What is it?’

‘I went to the Foreign Office today.’

‘The FO? Why?’

‘Because I’ve decided to come with you to the Amazon.’

‘You want to come with me,’ he repeated slowly.

She locked eyes with him, her expression stony. ‘I won’t come into the jungle, if that’s your decision. You are the expert on this and I will respect your opinion. But I am going out to Peru with you because there is a chance you may never come back and I want to spend every possible moment with the man I love. Is that clear?’

‘That’s not the most optimistic way to view my trip.’

‘But it’s true,’ she said frankly. ‘You know it, I know it. That’s why you want to go to Blackpool for our next holiday.’

‘Not exactly,’ he smiled.

‘I’ve been to the Royal Geographical Society, the Peruvian embassy and the Foreign Office,’ said Rosamund. ‘All the paperwork is in. I am signed on as your logistics manager.’

She gulped, trying to stay composed, knowing he had every right to be furious with her.

‘You would do that for me?’ he said finally.

‘You should have realised by now that I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl.’

‘I’ve realised that you’re even more remarkable than I thought.’

‘Stop getting mushy. I’m just protecting my investment, even if you can’t cook a meal without burning it.’

‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘Hang on. I haven’t finished my potatoes.’

He had already asked for the bill and thrown down a ten-shilling note to pay for their food.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Let’s just walk,’ he said, taking her hand.

He was quiet for a few moments, as if he was thinking. They crossed the road at Aldwych, exiting the dense streets of Covent Garden, and she felt her shoulders relax as they came within sight of the river.

‘Waterloo Bridge,’ she smiled. ‘I remember what you said about this place on our first date.’

‘Our first date?’

‘At the pub in Primrose Hill. I know it wasn’t actually a first date. I know you just wanted to talk about my article, but still . . .’

‘It was a first date,’ he said, squeezing her hand.

She gasped when she saw the view. As a former student of the nearby LSE, it was a vista she knew well, but it never ceased to astound her. The majestic Houses of Parliament, an always inspiring symbol of democracy, was to her right, whilst St Paul’s Cathedral and the twinkling lights of the City sparkled to her left.