‘You have no idea who she is, have you?’ Her laughter burbled from her.
‘None whatsoever!’
‘So, what are you doing in London? Working?’ She looked at his leather bag.
‘Kind of, I’m teaching at an international school for foreign students, subbing, if you like, for the holidays. Feel more than a bit guilty; lots of my mates are on a three-day week and there’s me getting paid ridiculous sums of money to teach maths to hopeless young men who have about as much chance of becoming mathematicians as I do of winning the Grand National. And I’ve never been on a horse.’
‘Oh dear. Poor, hopeless things.’
‘Yep, but good for me. A lovely boost to the coffers, given to me by these parents with more money than sense.’ He pulled a flat Golden Virginia tin from his pocket and began to roll a smoke.
‘You don’t think it’s deceiving them, taking money under false pretences?’ she teased.
‘Nope.’ He pinched the loose tobacco and laid it in a scattered, wispy sausage across the width of the Rizla paper which rested on his leg. ‘I figured the ninnies are going to give their pound notes away anyway, and so why not to me? And besides – their truth is that they are doing the best for their sons, throwing money at a problem and hoping cash can fix it. They don’t feel like it’s a waste of time, they think they’re solving an issue.’
‘Their truth . . .’
‘Exactly.’ He grinned at her.
‘You should come along to the ... the erm ... the exhibition opening. Only if ... if you ...’ The words had taken courage, the painful and awkward aftermath as she awaited his response almost unbearable. I mean, who was she? Some girl he’d met on the towpath – what was she thinking!
‘Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll come along.’
‘Great!’ She tried and failed to sound a little aloof, a little indifferent, knowing she was neither when it came to spending time and conversing with this man. ‘You should probably do your research first though, try and learn as much as you can about Lucie Rie.’
‘Really?’ he asked, sounding more than a little concerned.
‘No, of course not! Just come and look at the art, meet Bertie Barnes, my boss, and drink champagne. That’s it!’
‘I can do that. Probably.’
‘Probably ...’ She smiled, sensing a connection already, a shared thing, and how lovely it was! ‘How long are you in town?’ she enquired as casually as she was able. It felt prudent to ask.
‘Few weeks, maybe more. I mean, if I’m having a good time, I might be tempted to stay longer.’
‘And what might possibly tempt you?’ She threw her hair over one shoulder to expose her decolletage and positioned her legs just so to show off her skin, wanting him to want her in the way she wanted him, and knowing that if Glenda were to witness such shenanigans, even she might just pray for her. It was playing a part, adopting this persona, and she liked it very much. She felt sexy, grown-up and invincible all at once!
‘You are quite lovely, Elizabeth-Roberta.’ His tone was sincere now as he stared at her, and she felt the pulse of want in the base of her throat. His words had the biggest effect – swooning, almost, she feared she might fall off her perch.
‘Am I?’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘Yes. You really are.’ He stood and came close to her. ‘I was thinking about you all the way here, trying to figure out, if you were a season, which season you would be.’ He narrowed his eyes as if still undecided.
‘I hope summer.’ She liked the idea of it, all that warmth and light.
Wilkie shook his head. ‘Summer is too predictable. I think you’d be spring.’
‘Spring?’ She bit her lip, trying to work out if this was a good or bad thing.
‘Yep, spring. Secretly, quietly powerful, having to fight to break through hardened soil to bloom, to be noticed, but once you do, you dazzle, absolutely dazzle! Delivering colour, fragrance and hope that has been missing for the longest time!’ Reaching out, he ran the pad of his index finger over her cheek and her whole body shuddered, tightening and aching for more of it. ‘And hope is surely the greatest gift, is it not?’
‘I’ll take it. Spring,’ she managed, almost breathless.
‘And beauty ... beauty, too, let’s not forget that. The intoxicating flush of pure beauty after a bleak and dull winter.’
‘I’m not and never have been considered beautiful.’ She shook her hair over her face once more, feeling suddenly self-conscious, wanting to hide.
‘What a ridiculous statement.’ He withdrew his hand. ‘How could you possibly know how you’ve been perceived by everyone who has ever encountered you?’
