Camilla shook her head with the overemphasis of someone
unused to four glasses of wine in quick succession.
Taking
Nico’s drink from him and
placing it on the table beside her
own,
she caught his hand and rose, slightly unsteadily, to her
feet.
‘Come on, you can chop the garlic and keep me company in
the kitchen. I haven’t had spaghetti carbonara for so long I’ve probably
forgotten how to make it.’
’You’re far too thin,’ Nico scolded her as he dropped the slivers
of garlic
into the pan of melted butter and turned up the heat. In
the steamy,
fragrant warmth of the tiny kitchen he felt he could say almost anything now.
Camilla turned to him and grinned.
‘
So my daughter informed
me not so long ago. She said that
if Matt was watching from heaven he’d
be shouting at me to put some weight on.’
It reassured him that she could speak
so easily of Matt.
‘Well, I’m watching
you too,’ he said with mock severity, eyeing
her
narrow hips and slender thighs in their faded Levis and
observing the white leather belt pulled in to the
last notch in
order to hold them up. ‘And I agree. A few more curves are
definitely in order. They suit you. You aren’t the same without them.’
The garlic was golden brown now.
Camilla stirred in half a
pint of
double cream and added the strips of cured ham.
‘I’m not the same anyway,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought I
was
devastated when Jack and I split up; it
seemed the worst thing
in the world that could possibly have happened.
Oh, but losing
Matt was so very much worse. I
really didn’t know if I could
carry on without him.’
‘
And now?’ asked Nico,
taking the motionless wooden
spatula from her hand and stirring the
sauce in the pan.
She sighed. ‘And now . . . I’ve begun
to realize that I can.
Life isn’t
much fun at the moment, everything seems such hard work. And when something interesting
or funny does happen, I
keep wishing that
Matt could be here to share it, to make it
more
fun. Like now,
for instance,’ she added with a weak smile.
‘It’s
so lovely to see you. If Matt was here as well, the three of
us could
have such a great evening . .
‘
I’m having a great
evening,’ interrupted Nico firmly,
reaching for her fingers and giving
them a squeeze. ‘You mustn’t feel as if you’re only half a person, Cami. The
two of us arehaving a great evening together and I’m very,
very
glad I
came
here. I shall be even more glad,’ he
went on, ‘when you drain
that spaghetti, hand me those eggs and pour me
another glass of wine.’
‘
Slave driver,’ she complained, laughing. ‘Really,
some ex-employers
never
change.’
Together they demolished the creamy,
garlicky carbonara and
the second
bottle of St Emilion. Nico enthralled Camilla with
wickedly exaggerated tales of his show-business friends’
antics, agreed with her that Loulou could do far
better for
herself than Simon, whom she was still seeing, and brought
her
up to date with Mac’s relationship with
Cecilia. They still
had not married,
but although their arguments were legendary
– last week at the Hard Rock Café she had thrown a bowl of
green salad over Mac and flounced out on the arm of
a
celebrated actor – they were still
living together. Camilla and
Nico were
both of the opinion that Mac and Loulou were
crazy about each other, but
that both of them were too stubborn
and proud
to admit it. It was quite infuriating to know it, yet
be unable to do
anything about it.
Camilla talked about the children and
marvelled at their
resilience.
She avoided mentioning Matt as much as possible,
since she always felt she was in
danger of boring people when
she spoke
of him, but Nico brought his name into the conversation from time to time so
naturally that eventually she stopped worrying.
‘
I don’t think I ever
thanked you for the flowers you sent to
the funeral,’ she said suddenly,
remembering and covering her mouth with dismay. Nico had written her a letter
of condolence, she now recalled, and sent a beautiful wreath of white lilies.
‘
And your letter. It
was so nice of you to take the trouble to
write.’
‘I am nice,’ teased Nico, to lighten her mood, but tears
were
welling in her eyes once more at the
memory of the funeral.
They were
sitting close together now and he slipped a com
forting arm around her
shoulder. Camilla produced a handkerchief and wiped her cheeks.
‘
I’m sorry, here I go
again. This is what I’m like. It just
happens .
‘
Don’t worry about it.
I think you’re very brave,’ he
assured
her, breathing in her subtle scent and telling himself
he was a complete animal because despite everything
her
closeness was arousing him. ‘I
haven’t any idea how you
must have
felt. I can’t even imagine what it must have been
like for you.’
Turning her head and gazing up at
him, Camilla said, ‘Just
think how you’d feel if you lost Caroline. If suddenly you were
on your own, knowing that you’d never see her again.’
She watched those famous slanting green eyes of his grow
cloudy, like jade. His fingers absently rubbed the
soft skin on
the inside of her elbow
as he considered her words, and she
realized belatedly with something
close to shock that although they had talked non-stop since his arrival,
Caroline had scarcely been mentioned all evening.
‘I think,’ said Nico finally, his voice low and toneless, ‘that
what I would feel in those circumstances would be far less than you felt. You
and Matt were happily married. You loved each other. Caroline and I are just .
. . married. Unfortunately, not all marriages are happy ones.’
‘
Oh, Nico,’ whispered
Camilla, appalled. ‘That’s terrible.
I’m so sorry.’
He allowed himself a half-smile. ‘There you go,
apologizing again. It’s my fault, not yours.’
‘But it’s so sad,’ she exclaimed, her eyes wide with
dismay.
‘And here I’ve been whingeing on
about my own problems
when you’ve got enough of your own to worry about.
When did
things start to go wrong? Maybe if
you tell me about it we
could find a
way to sort everything out for you. If you want to
talk about it, of course,’ she concluded with an
apologetic
gesture. ‘If it’s too
personal and you don’t want to, I’ll
understand.’
Nico laughed and lit a cigarette.
Camilla was sounding
exactly like her old self now, using the same ploys and
mannerisms to get him to talk as she
had always done when
they had shared the house and he had come home with a
problem. Whether that problem had been Monty Barton or a
persistent female, a recording contract or
disagreements over
how a new album
should be produced, Camilla had urged him
to talk it through and even if
she didn’t always understand the technicalities she came up with enough new
ideas to make the talking worthwhile.
She had always been the best listener
he had ever known,
and never having
discussed the problem of his marriage with
another
living soul, Nico felt a great wave of relief wash over
him. If anyone could understand, it would be
Camilla. So long,
he added carefully,
as he left out her unwitting involvement in
the whole sad affair.
Outside, the soft breaking of waves on
the beach could just
be heard.
The sky, inky black now, was dotted with bright stars.
The curtains at the windows remained open because there was
no
need to close them. They were completely and utterly alone together, and Nico
felt more at peace than he had for years.
He regretted now having allowed such
a length of time to
elapse
before coming to see Camilla. She was definitely good
for him, he decided, on any terms. And
if he couldn’t have her
as a lover
then he would accept her as a true friend. It was, after all, far better than
nothing at all.
‘
When did it begin to
go wrong?’ Idly he repeated her
question.
‘Probably the moment I met her. I was homesick in
Vegas and she took my mind off it. When Roz
hassled me,
Caroline simply suggested that we get married. I had a free
day, so we did.’
‘
An impulsive gesture,’
observed Camilla, nodding wisely,
‘but some impulsive gestures have
happy endings, so what went wrong after that?’
‘
I didn’t love her,’ he
said simply, stubbing out his cigarette.
‘I tried, God knows, but it
wouldn’t happen. And I don’t honestly know whether Caroline loves me, which
just goes to show what
terrific lines of
communication there are between us. She says
she does, but maybe she feels she
has
to say it . . . Christ, we
can’t
even talk to each other without sounding like a couple of strangers thrown
together at some awful dinner party. I listen to us and wonder why the hell we’re
bothering, but Caroline keeps
on trying. She
tries so hard, Cami, but that’s just what it seems
like – trying. And it
doesn’t ring true. So you see, we’ve never
really
had the kind of relationship you and Matt shared. But
what am I supposed
to do? Caroline hasn’t done anything wrong
and
she refuses to admit that anything
is
wrong. And since I’m
the one who got us into this mess, I feel obliged
to try and stick
it out, even though I know it’s hopeless.’
Camilla allowed herself time to think and Nico
watched
her, admiring the sweeping twin curves of her eye
lashes and the high
cheekbones which her loss of weight had
accentuated. She bit her lower lip, considering his words, and he wanted
suddenly, desperately, to kiss her soft, pink mouth.
The urge was so
great that he had to look away and was slightly disconcerted to find Rocky
gazing straight at him, as if the dog knew exactly what was on his mind.
‘
Before, you were impetuous,’ she announced, tilting her
head to one
side in order to gauge his expression. ‘Impetuous is
exciting, irresistible almost. Now, though, you’re being noble
and it’s about the most boring thing anyone can
possibly be.
And since I went
through a brief phase of it myself I can promise
you that it’s a bloody
hard state to snap out of. Before you know it, it’s become a habit and everyone
gets sick to death of you.’
‘
I’m not noble, I’m
just guilty,’ he protested, shying away
from the idea that he might be
boring.
‘
So you’ve assumed all
the responsibility for that guilt,’
Camilla
told him with wicked accuracy. ‘And I bet poor
Caroline’s bored to
tears. You’re no fun any more – when you’re with her, I mean,’ she added
hastily, catching the mutinous glint
in his
catlike green eyes. ‘You have to snap out of it, stop
blaming yourself and make a real effort to
enjoy
yourself
instead. You have a
brilliant life, a lovely wife, and so much
money it’s coming out of your
ears. Give it a chance. Take her
away on holiday
and concentrate on all her good points instead
of your big mistake. Failed marriages are so miserable and such
a dreadful waste of time, and you’re so nice you
don’t deserve
to be unhappy.’
Deeply touched by her speech, Nico
said gently,
‘You’re
so
nice, Cami. If anyone doesn’t deserve to be unhappy it’s you,
yet you’ve had more tragedy in your
life than most people. Why
is life so
unfair?’
And it was
at that moment, when her eyes filled with
uncontrollable
tears at his tender words, that Nico kissed
her. Unthinkingly, he bent his head and found her mouth
with his own, all the emotions held in check for so long
exploding inside him as he pulled her into his arms and
felt her body trembling in response. Her hot tears touched
his cheeks, ran down and added their poignant, salty wetness
to the kiss. He no longer knew whether he was doing this
for her sake or his; the incredible rightness of holding and kissing
Camilla, the culmination of a two-year dream, was
tangled in his mind with the desperate need he felt to drive
away at least some of her terrible grief. If he could only
banish it and make her happy for a few minutes, a few hours,
a whole night, then that was all that mattered. His own
happiness
was secondary.