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“Liar,” she laughed. “I might get Rebecca to make it up as an art print for you, when’s your birthday?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Sorry?”
“Your birthday, when is it?” Her smile was sweet and unsuspecting. Interested. Only Rebecca knew my birthday, if she even remembered. Maybe my sisters, if they could ever be arsed to send a birthday card.
“June Nineteenth.”
“Gemini,” she said. “The twins. Multifaceted and complex.”
The beast burnt beneath my shirt. She had no fucking idea. “Yes, I’m a Gemini. If you want to believe in all that mumbo-jumbo.”
“I’m a Scorpio. Born on Halloween.”
“I really did pick the right housemate for the lovely Rebecca, then, didn’t I? It doesn’t get much more goth than a Halloween birthday.”
“Quite true.”
“Aren’t Scorpios supposed to be the weirdo star sign? You don’t seem all that weird to me, Lydia Marsh, I think it’s all baloney.”
A sly smile lit up her face, hitting me straight in the dick. “Looks can be deceiving, James Clarke.”
I raised my glass. “Quite true, Cat, quite true.”
Once again she had no fucking idea.
I drank quickly and Lydia matched my pace. We’d retired to a table at the far end of the restaurant, nestled amongst some oversized ornamental plants, and the dim lighting dilated her pupils perfectly. She looked divine, naturally sexy, dazzling with life, a different girl entirely to the one I’d found in the kitchen all those weeks ago. The conversation flowed much more easily than I was accustomed to, glossing over anything too personal and landing on a healthy dollop of work talk mixed with personal history, ambitions, funny stories.Shewas funny, and sharp, and interesting, battering me with questions without being invasive. I found myself sucked into her, compelled by her strange green eyes.
We ate heartily, and happily, complementing the chef on his fine culinary talents, but after dessert Lydia’s demeanour shifted a gear. She became nervous somehow, edgy. Her dainty little fingers played with her wine glass, twirling it round and round in front of her. She was a puzzle I’d love to solve, an enigma that vexed me, snaking up my backbone like a creeping vine.
“Is something troubling you?”
Her eyes widened as they met mine, and she swallowed nervously. She smiled to hide it, but I caught it anyway. “I’m fine.”
I let it drop, pouring out the final dregs of wine between our glasses. “I’ve enjoyed this evening,” I said, in an attempt to smoothen her disposition.
“Me, too, very much. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You deserve it.”
She seemed to be about to say something, edging a little closer and pursing her lips in that way she does when she concentrates. I knew her mannerisms far too well, too many hours spent studying her in the guise of professionalism. I waited for it, but her mobile cut us off, chirping away with some generically irritating ring-tone.
Her face paled, and for a horrible moment I figured it was Stuart or someone equally unwelcome.
“It’s my mum. I need to take this.” Her face was apologetic, even though it shouldn’t have been.
“Take your time, I’ll get another bottle,” I smiled. I took our empty glasses back to the bar, moving slowly. She held back, avoiding conversation until she was certain I was out of earshot. I made sure to head for the side of the bar out of her eyeline, so she wouldn’t observe my return, I ordered quickly before taking up position at the side of some foliage by our table. I could just about see Lydia, but was positive she’d never see me. I could hear her just fine from my location. I soaked up every word.
“Calm down, Mum. Just breathe... breathe, Mum, I can’t hear you... Colin? You mean the new Colin? Left where...? Oh, Mum! He did what...? Well, how could he?” She leant forward against the table, fisting a hand in her hair. She looked pained, agitated, scared. My tongue felt too big for my mouth. “Please say you didn’t give him all of it? Oh God, Mum. Why? You’ll be ok, I promise, just calm down, okay? We’ll sort it out.I’llsort it out. I’ll call them tomorrow, I’ll set something up... they aren’t going to throw you out, not over a few arrears. How many?! Jesus, Mum, why didn’t you tell me?”
So, Rebecca was right. Lydia looked around, clearly keeping an eye out for me. She returned to her call, satisfied I was still at the bar. “You’ll get over him, Mum, you will... Don’t say that! He wasn’t right for you, if he was he wouldn’t have done this... He’s just another loser, ok? You’ll meet someone better... You said you wouldn’t give him any money, you promised after Steve! I’m not angry... I’m not shouting... Mum, I’m not, I promise. I’ll sort it out, I’m away with work right now, but I’ll try and get some time in the morning... It’s not like that! I can’t come home right now, you know I can’t, I have meetings tomorrow, but soon, I promise... Don’t be like that, you know I care! Mum... Mum? Mum?” She sat with her face in her hands, shoulders hunched in misery for long, slow seconds before she pulled herself together and looked around again. Her breathing was frantic. I watched her chest rise and fall in short bursts. She tried her phone again, calling and recalling over and over. I found I was burning up, gripping the wine bottle in a vice, our two fresh glasses clamped tight in my fingers. I composed myself, pasting on a smile before I reappeared, as though I’d just sauntered back from the bar.
“Sorry, they had to go to the cellar,” I said. She smiled but it was empty, fragile. She looked on the edge, a delicate little sparrow dithering on a twig. “Are you ok, Lydia? What’s happened?”
“It’s um... it’s nothing,” she pretended, waving away my question. Her breathing was still shallow. “My mum is having some problems.”
“Nothing serious I hope?”
She smiled a horribly sad smile. “It’salwayssomething serious.”
