Part 20 (1/2)
”No,” said Nick, trying not to smile. ”She's a very elegant lady from a very expensive agency, and I'm terrified of her.” He handed her a gla.s.s of wine. ”Charles persuaded me.”
”To ask her to do a picnic?” said Laura incredulously.
”Yes,” said Nick. ”I know. Pathetic.”
”A bit,” said Laura. She laughed. ”I don't get it.”
”What?” said Nick.
”Your relations.h.i.+p with him, I really don't. If I was him, I'd have cleared out long ago.”
”Relations.h.i.+ps are funny things,” said Nick. ”Now, have some wine.”
He clinked her gla.s.s.
”Talking of relations.h.i.+ps...” said Laura carefully.
Nick looked up. ”What?” he said.
”It's stupid of me to ask,” said Laura, hating herself for remembering in the first place. ”My mum mentioned it-when we were coming back from Chartley, after I'd just met you.”
”Yes?” said Nick. He put his hand on her ankle, which was the bit of her nearest to him.
”She read it in the paper,” said Laura. ”Believe me, I don't read that kind of thing. She loves it. It's none of my business anyway.”
”What on earth are you talking about?” said Nick, rolling over so he was facing her.
”You've got a girlfriend, haven't you?” Laura said.
”Laura,” said Nick. ”Don't.”
”It was Cecilia something, wasn't it? Oh, G.o.d. I shouldn't have mentioned it.”
Nick shook his head. ”Cecilia Thorson. It's not true.” He drank some wine.
Laura said uncertainly, ”But Mum said she saw a picture of Cecilia Whatsis and the Marquis of Ranelagh in the paper, and it said they were going to get engaged.”
”That's what she thinks,” said Nick roughly. ”Let's not talk about it, please, Laura?”
She was silent, a worm of fear crawling through her, turning the wine in her stomach into vinegar. This was how it was going to be, wasn't it? Did she really not matter at all to him? Was she just a holiday fling while his posh girlfriend was away? Already things were different, were altered, because of who he was. It was unfair-and it wasn't right, most of all.
”No, Nick,” she said suddenly. ”Tell me. I can't help knowing it, can I? You owe me that much, after all. Come on. I know it's hard for you-but it's hard for me, too, having just found out. And really”-she flung up her hands in a fleeting gesture-”it's not as if we're married. We've only just met.”
His face softened. ”You're right,” he said. ”It's ridiculous, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be even bothering you with all that stuff.” He put his hand on her ankle again, and she put her hand on top of his and moved closer.
”Cecilia-she thinks she's seeing me. But she's not.”
”Right,” said Laura, confused. ”What the h.e.l.l does that mean?”
Nick sat up. ”It doesn't mean anything. I'm single. I swear to you. But she-we were set up, by my sister Rose. Her husband, Malcolm-he works in the City. He knows Cecilia's parents, the Thorsons. When Dad died two years ago, he was very helpful when I had to move to Chartley, take over the house.”
”How?” said Laura.
”Dad-well, he hadn't been the same since my mother left. You know. Things were starting to slide, and he'd left some significant debts. Malcolm was very helpful; so was Lars Thorson. They gave me advice, helped make some investments, so I could get things on an even keel again, or begin to.”
Laura felt a rush of admiration for him, again. ”It's only been two years?”
”Yes,” Nick said. He waved it aside. ”Anyway. Cecilia. They set us up, and we went out on a few dates, to a few parties in town, that sort of thing. Charity dos, you know. But that's it.”
Charity dos. Parties in town. It sounded hilariously unlike Laura's life; the gap was so wide, she could have laughed-perhaps that would have got rid of the sick feeling she had. ”So you haven't slept together or anything,” she said, trying to be calm.
Nick looked uncertain. ”Well,” he said. ”Yes, we slept together, of course.”
Boys, Laura thought. I love the way their idea of not going out with people is completely different from girls'. ”Right,” she said.
”But she's-um. I finished it with her, last month. Not that there was anything to finish, but I didn't want her getting the wrong idea.”
”The wrong idea?”
”We're not compatible,” Nick said. ”She's obsessed with the house, all that. Having a t.i.tle. And I can't stand that kind of stuff. It's tacky.”
”Oh, I don't know,” Laura said, feeling some sympathy for Cecilia. ”The old me-wow, I'd have loved that.”
”Who's the old me?” said Nick. He topped up her gla.s.s. ”Is this something else you haven't told me? Do you have two personalities?”
”No,” said Laura, trying to think how best to explain herself. ”No, it's stupid. Just-the old me, well...” She ran her hand through her hair. ”Nothing.”
”Go on,” said Nick. ”I won't laugh, I promise.”
”Well, I was a bit...head in the clouds,” Laura said. ”Fairy tales and all that. I wanted to meet Prince Charming. It got me into a lot of trouble.”
”Really.”
”Yes, it did. Well, not anymore. I threw away all my videos. There,” she said fervently. ”I haven't told anyone that.”
”What videos?” said Nick, bewildered.
Laura reddened. ”Forget it. Just...stupid films and stuff. And books and things. I only read improving books now. And I watch interesting foreign-language films.”
”You do?” said Nick. ”What interesting foreign-language films have you seen recently?”
”Er. I haven't yet. But I'm going to when I get back to town. You know what it's like. Well, you don't,” she said, wondering if Nick ever went to the cinema. Perhaps he had his own private cinema. No, he didn't seem the type, really. Suddenly a mental image of him dressed like the postcard of his ancestor, all medals and morning dress, striding into the King's Lynn multiplex popped into her head, and she laughed. The wine in her gla.s.s slopped over onto the blanket and her arm. ”Sorry,” she said, and knelt up to reach for a napkin.
”Here,” Nick said. He leaned over her, caught her arm, and wiped it with a tea towel, rubbing the bare skin gently. They looked at each other, saying nothing, and Laura sat back down again.
”So,” he said. ”We're okay, then? The Cecilia thing? I'm not avoiding it, it's just that it's nothing.”