The Exciting Life (17 page)

She
slept well, but awoke with a pounding head. The room seemed far too
bright, and as she opened her eyes, she saw that the curtains were
wide open, letting the sun stream in. Wincing, she laid back down,
pulling the covers over her head.

‘
You can’t stay there all day,’ a voice said, and as she
ventured out again, she saw that Patrick was standing in front of
the wardrobe in the corner, doing up his shirt.

‘
What time is it?’ she groaned.

‘
Half nine.’

There
was something abrasive about his tone that concerned Annie. Last
night was fresh in her mind, and while it hadn’t been the fairy
tale encounter she’d envisaged; they’d made love and their
relationship had changed. Perhaps she could split up with Eddie and
he could dump Iris. Surely anyone could see her and Patrick
belonged together.

‘
Come back to bed for a while,’ she said, trying to sound
seductive, which was difficult with a hangover and a terribly
scratchy throat.

He
turned and looked at her, and to her horror, she could see he was
embarrassed. Was she that terrible a sight? Had making love to her
been that horrible?

‘
I’ve got a meeting in town,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a lift
home.’

‘
Do you regret last night?’ she asked.

He
paused, then came over to the bed and sat beside her. He smiled
sadly and reached out, stroking back her hair.

‘
Of course I don’t. But you and I could never work. What about
Eddie? He’s mad about you. And I love Iris. I know you think she’s
a bitch, but there’s something about her that keeps me hooked. Look
at you Annie, you’re a lady. I’m never going to be anything more
than a villain’s son. I deserve someone like Iris.’

His
words were like daggers to Annie’s heart. How could he think this
way?

‘
Don’t be silly. You’re going to be a film producer. But even
if you carried on working for Bernie, I wouldn’t care. You deserve
so much better than Iris bloody Lindholm.’

‘
Maybe I do,’ he shrugged. ‘But she’s what I feel comfortable
with. I was with Trixie when you met me don’t forget. Tarty blondes
have always been my type. Also, you’re mad about Eddie.’

‘
I’m not,’ she whined.

‘
I saw your face yesterday when you’d had a row with him. You
were devastated. He’s the one you want. Not me.’

‘
You’re wrong,’ she cried, grasping his arm. ‘I want
you.’

‘
No Annie. Let’s put last night down to a mistake, okay. Now
get dressed, I’ll drop you home.’

Seeing
as she had no money on her, Annie had no choice but to accept his
lift. As they drove down to Central London, he chatted away as if
nothing had happened. He laughed about the men they’d spoken to in
the pub and joked about Annie’s dancing. His coldness was wounding
and Annie couldn’t wait to get away from him. Why couldn’t he see
that he was worthy of so much more than busty blonde tarts? She was
so hurt, for a while she made up her mind that his father could
have Bruno’s. It would be too painful to be Patrick’s business
partner, knowing she was never going to be anything more than that.
But the more she thought about it, the more she decided not to. She
knew she hadn’t been imagining things last night. He’d been loving
towards her. He’d said sweet words and held her like she was the
most precious thing in the world. She was perfectly aware that men
would do anything to get you into bed. But her instinct told her
that deep down, Patrick wanted her too. And while she held onto
Bruno’s, she held onto the hope of one day winning him
round.

He
dropped her back at Regent Street and she got out of the car
without giving him a kiss on the cheek or barely acknowledging him.
It was taking all her strength not to cry. She went into the
building and up to her flat, and as she put the key in the door and
opened it she groaned on smelling The Overnighter – Eddie’s
aftershave. He was the last person she wanted to see.

She
walked into the flat to find him on the sofa, covered in blankets,
asleep. She wondered if she could sneak into the bedroom and get
into bed without him hearing, but he suddenly sat up, running his
hand through his thick, dark hair.

‘
There you are,’ he gasped. ‘Where have you been?’

‘
I got a lift back to Barking Station and I took the tube to
town and stayed at The Villiers Marble Arch.’

‘
Why didn’t you come home?’

‘
Because I guessed it would be the first place you’d come
looking for me.’

He got
up off the sofa and came over to her, grasping her by the shoulders
and giving her that hapless smile.

‘
Don’t say it like that sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about
what I said. I was unreasonable. Of course it makes sense to hold
onto as many assets as you possibly can.’

‘
That was what I was trying to tell you.’

‘
And I’m a thoughtless oaf. Do you forgive me?’

‘
Of course I do,’ she smiled. ‘Now let me go and have a bath
and get changed. I look a mess.’

‘
No you don’t. You look perfect, as you always do.’

Chapter Eleven

Iris
stepped off The Queen Victoria at Southampton and felt as though
she was entering a different universe. After a week of sun, sand,
sex, and hobnobbing with society’s richest and most debauched; to
suddenly be back under England’s grey skies, and surrounded by
dreary looking people, felt like the most enormous jolt. Leo
carried their cases down the ramp and joined her at the jetty,
quickly finding a porter to put the bags onto a trolley.

‘
England’s so boring,’ Iris sighed. ‘Let’s turn around and run
back to France.’

‘
I would in a jiffy,’ Leo replied. ‘But it’s you who’s been
going on about having responsibilities.’

‘
We can’t all be carefree like you,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a job
and a boyfriend to think of.’

He
slipped his hand under her swing coat and ran his hand over her
backside, giving it a discreet but firm squeeze.

‘
You’re not going back to boring Patrick now are you?’ he said
quietly. ‘You’ll be falling asleep under him.’

She
looked up at him and smiled and moved away from his
hand.

‘
I love Patrick,’ she said. ‘I don’t love you.’

‘
But you love what I can give you. You love the danger, and
don’t deny it.’

She
couldn’t deny it. The past week had been the most amazing of her
life, but there had been times when all she’d been able to think
about was Patrick. She wished she could tear herself in two, and
the part of her who loved danger and excitement could stay with Leo
and the other part of her who craved love and stability could be
with Patrick forever.

‘
Come on,’ Leo said, taking her hand. ‘Let’s go and find my
car.’

He drove
them back to London, and as the car sped along the A3, Iris felt
the strangest of sensations. It felt as though her stomach was
somewhere back behind them in the road, and this made her feel
shaky and dizzy. She tried to put it down to the shock of being
back in cold, old England after the heat of Cannes. But it didn’t
sit well with her. She remembered feeling this way once before. She
hoped to God it wasn’t the same thing this time. It would make her
life even more nightmarish than it already was.

‘
You’re quiet old girl,’ Leo said. ‘I meant what I said back
there. We can turn around and head back to France. I’ve nothing on
that can’t wait.’

‘
No, I can’t do that to Patrick.’

Leo took
his hand off the steering wheel and stroked her cheek.

‘
Well let me do something to cheer you up. Let me buy you
something.’

‘
I don’t need anything,’ she said. ‘You’ve just given me the
most wonderful week of my life. I’m happy with that.’

‘
If you’d be mine all the time, we could live half the year in
the South of France and half the year in Austria, skiing. Imagine
that.’

‘
I can’t ski,’ she quipped.

‘
I’ll pay for you to learn.’

‘
We’ll see. Just take me home Leo. I can’t escape
forever.’

Streatham looked grey, dirty and hideous compared to the
South of France, and Iris wished she lived somewhere more
glamorous. It was the first time Leo had seen her home and she
wished he hadn’t. It was so suburban and boring.

‘
This is where you live then?’ he said, looking up at her
little flat at the top of a terraced, three storey
house.

‘
Yes,’ she sulked. ‘Don’t come in. It needs a tidy
up.’

‘
Okay. Well, I am going to see you again aren’t I? Please don’t
say Cannes was ‘it’.’

‘
You’ll see me,’ she said. ‘I just need some time to get used
to being back in London.’

As Iris
walked up the three flights of stairs to her flat, her legs ached
in a way she’d never experienced before. It wasn’t some injury or
exhaustion; it simply felt as though her legs were filled with
lead. Her heart began to race and she had to stop and hold onto the
banister as all her fears came up to greet her. She’d last got
pregnant when she was seventeen. It was by a punter, and she’d got
rid of it as soon as she could. The infection she’d got afterwards
had left her in hospital and she just managed to escape prison
because the doctor who cared for her was sympathetic to prostitutes
and wrote that it was an infection caused by a miscarriage. It was
the most horrible thing Iris had ever experienced and she didn’t
want to go through it again. She’d been convinced she wasn’t even
able to have kids. Most women who got infections after an abortion
were left infertile. Why was she so unlucky? And more to the point.
Who was the father?

She was
only home for ten minutes, when the street door bell rang.
Convinced it was Patrick, Iris wondered if she should ignore it. He
was the last person she wanted to see at this present time. She
felt bad enough about spending the past week with Leo as it was,
let alone the prospect that she was now having the other man’s
baby.

Suddenly
there was a call of;

‘
Are you up there you tart?’
from the
street below and she realised it was Ralf. She ran down to the
street door with an energy she couldn’t muster for the walk up and
the sudden change in feeling astounded her. Once the door was open,
Ralf practically barged his way into the hallway and went running
up the stairs. He was the only person who knew the truth about her
trip to Cannes. Iris didn’t have that many friends and those she
did have, she didn’t feel she could trust with such delicate
information. Ralf didn’t care. Being homosexual, he lived a
clandestine life himself. He’d had several affairs with men in
positions of power and knew the importance of secrets. He wasn’t
going to say a word.

‘
How was it?’ he asked as he walked into the flat and flopped
down onto her old sofa, the dust flying up and making him wince. He
looked at her and frowned in disapproval.

‘
You don’t look very tanned,’ he said.

‘
I don’t feel well,’ she replied, sitting beside him. ‘I feel
sick.’

‘
You look awful. Haven’t been over-indulging have
you?’

‘
Well, let’s just say there wasn’t much I didn’t do,’ she said
with a knowing smile.

‘
You dirty bitch. Are you going to make me a drink or
what?’

‘
What do you want?’

‘
Whatever you’ve got,’ he said, sitting back and crossing his
legs.

Iris
went into the kitchen and made him a gin and tonic. The tonic was
flat as she’d bought it before she went to France; but she knew
Ralf would care more about the gin than the mixer.

She
returned to the living room and passed Ralf his drink and sat
beside him.

‘
You not having one?’ he asked.

‘
As I said, I feel sick. I think I’ve done enough drink and
drugs to last me a lifetime.’

‘
So how was Leo?’

‘
He was Leo. He knows everyone on the Riviera and he was as
dirty and disgusting as ever. Have you ever gone with someone and
hated yourself afterwards?’

‘
Of course I have darling,’ he said, sipping his drink. He then
pulled a face. ‘Ugh, this tonic’s flat.’

‘
I know. I bought it before I went away.’

‘
Oh well, makes me able to taste the gin more.’

He
swilled it down and put the glass on the coffee table. It made her
laugh how he took care to put it on the raffia coaster; Patrick
would just put his cups and glasses down anywhere, not caring about
stains.

‘
So are you going to see Leo again?’ he asked. ‘Or are you
going back to Pretty Boy?’

‘
I love Patrick,’ she sighed. ‘That’s the one thing I’m sure
of. All the time I was in France I kept thinking about him. I don’t
know why I prefer him over Leo. He’s not even really my type; and
at first, I only started seeing him to piss Annie off. But he’s a
nice guy. And I like the fact that he’s got ambition apart from
looking after his dad’s interests. He wants to be a film producer
and get a name for himself. Leo’s in his forties and all he does is
swan around living off his trust fund. He’s got no purpose in life,
no ambition. But that makes him exciting. Sometimes I think I’m not
good enough for Pat.’