Part 19 (2/2)

The pair of them rap away about ccs and shock absorbers and the bliss of having sea air mingling with exhaust fumes. Meanwhile Carrie does a pretty good job hacking at the ham and I hoik the cornbread out of the baking tray and on to the plates (sneakily snaffling Sasha's ham portion while I'm at it. She doesn't seem keen to ruin the mood by telling them she's a vegetarian just yet).

'I'm sorry we didn't bring any wine,' I apologize. 'Maybe I could go to a local store tomorrow?'

'Don't you worry about that,' Carrie shushes me. 'Nother Sambuca?'

'Oh go on then!'

This is great! I'm going to have all my dinner parties in pitch-blackness from now on it makes the whole thing so much fun. I gave up trying to co-ordinate my knife and fork after the first failed bite and am now picking at the food with my fingers and no one even knows!

'You want a napkin, sweetie?' Carrie offers, foiling me with her night-vision.

'Oh! Er, thank you!' I fl.u.s.ter.

'So, what's your ultimate dream for Tiger Tiger?' Sasha addresses Carrie and Ty.

Interesting. It's not like her to initiate a conversation. And she always used to wince at the mention of dreams after all, she'd lived the dream of so many girls and look where that got her. I put it down to this lack of scrutiny in the dark she doesn't have to be her normal self, or the person people expect her to be. As she responds to Ty talking about his trips to Africa and the ideas he's got for the preserve, her voice sounds warm, intimate even. Everything he says seems to strike a chord with her. At first I wonder how she can flirt with someone she's never seen but then I remember all the men I've fancied purely on a phone-call basis antique dealers, new clients, wrong numbers ... and it hits me BAM! She's having a blind date! She said she wanted to go somewhere where looks don't count and suddenly she's in a place where no one can even see her! I can't help wondering if The California Club didn't orchestrate the power cut themselves.

We stay up till midnight, Carrie and I yappering over peppermint stick ice-cream at one end of the table, Ty and Sasha sipping coffee and sighing at the other. Finally we retreat to our respective bedrooms.

'Am I detecting a slight fluttering of the heart?' I whisper as I close the wonky door behind us.

'Slight?' she reels, hoa.r.s.e with l.u.s.t. 'I've been having palpitations for the last two hours!'

'Sasha!' I gasp.

'What?'

'I've never seen you like this! Not that I can see you now.' I laugh as she spins me around the room. 'I wonder what he looks like?'

'Oh I don't care!' she sings.

'You don't?'

'Well, I'm curious of course but if I could just keep listening to his voice, I'd be happy.'

'Even if he was some spindly little worm with one leg?' I tease.

'Oh Lara!'

'Well, he could be if he's spent years around wild cats he could easily be missing a few limbs.'

Sasha grabs me and tells me again, 'I don't care!'

'I'll bet he's lying in bed now wondering what you look like.'

'D'you think so? What if he doesn't like what he sees?' Sasha frets.

I groan. 'Coming from anyone else on the planet that might be a reasonable concern, but you? Sasha, get real! The guy is going to freak when he sees you - he won't believe his luck!'

'Oh, I hope so!'

We wriggle into our sleeping bags.

'I'm thinking Indiana Jones crossed with Fabio,' I mutter.

'Stop it!' Sasha chortles.

'Or a lean Russell Crowe, maybe with an eye-patch?'

'Night!' Sasha tries to shut me up.

'Night!' I concede.

We lie still for two whole minutes before Sasha fidgets excitedly: 'I can't wait for morning!'

I think of the contrast to her earlier mood crying on the beachside bench, on the verge of taking the next flight home and experience a gratifying sense of satisfaction. We've only been gone a matter of hours and The California Club is already working.

Chapter 16.

'I can't look!'

Sasha and I are outside the kitchen, about to see Ty for the first time in hyper-bright daylight.

'Can't you go in then come back and tell me what he's like?' Sasha urges, backing away.

'Wait! I know!' I reach in my bag and pull out my compact, angling the mirror so I can see around the corner.

'Oh G.o.d, it's worse than we thought!'

'What? What?' Sasha claws at me.

'I thought you said it didn't matter what he looked like?' I give her a withering look.

'It doesn't. Just tell me!'

'Picture a young Danny De Vito.'

'Is he short?'

'Not so much short as wide. Khaki combats and a turtleneck.'

'In this heat?'

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