Читать книгу Pieces of You. - Ella Harper - Страница 15

June, eight years earlier

‘Please come,’ Dee pleaded. We were sitting in the tiny garden of her flat on the outskirts of Bath drinking very strong gin and tonics. ‘It’s a party; what’s not to like?’

‘Whose party?’

I adjusted my chair. It was one of those fold-up things that made one’s backside sweaty and one’s posture inelegant. Recently boyfriend-less, I wasn’t in the mood to hear about a party, let alone go to it. I berated myself for being so grumpy.

‘Liberty’s.’ Dee pulled a face. ‘She’s pretentious, I know, but her parties are fabulous, Luce. Champagne in the bath, trendy live music.’

I glanced at her. There had to be more to it than that. Champagne and trendy live music were two a penny in the circles Dee moved in, even if Liberty’s parents did own a gorgeous stately home thing just outside Bath. There was a man involved; there had to be.

I pulled at my hair, which was in desperate need of some sort of hair product. Heat made it frizz up like those bright orange crisps, Nik Naks. My hair wasn’t orange, you understand. Just … full of kinks.

‘Who’s going?’ I asked. It was a pointed question.

‘Dan Sheppard,’ Dee admitted, knowing there was no point in denying it.

I smiled. Dan Sheppard was an arty type Dee had recently met at her brother’s barbecue. Usually cool about men she had a thing for, she’d talked about him non-stop since they’d met and that meant that Dee was serious about him.

I gulped down my gin and tonic. I knew I’d be going to the party, because my friend needed a wing-woman. But I was feeling rather low right now. Lack of boyfriend aside, I’d been working in a book shop for almost a year at this point and the literary degree I’d finished seven years ago felt like a distant memory. I felt as if I had lost my way a bit because, even though I wasn’t overly ambitious, I did want to do something fulfilling with my life, something I enjoyed.

‘I don’t have anything to wear,’ I offered lamely.

Dee leapt out of her fold-up chair – no mean feat – and kissed my cheek. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you! And I have plenty of clothes you can borrow. Let’s go and find you a dress …’

And so it was that I found myself at Liberty’s party, wearing a too-short, black-and-white-striped dress of Dee’s that had me yanking the almost-pointless hem down over my bottom every two minutes. I made suitable murmurs of appreciation at the magnums of Moët nestling in ice in the marble bath, and I dutifully agreed that the rather shouty live band Liberty had hired would be fantastic at Dee’s brother’s wedding in the autumn.

Sitting outside clutching a glass of champagne, even though I would have preferred a gin and slimline or one of Dee’s Salt ‘n’ Peppa Vodkas, I nudged her. Liberty was heading over with a brown-haired man wearing slouchy Levi’s and a Foo Fighters T-shirt. Whoever he was, he wasn’t Dan Sheppard. I sighed. I was terrible at small talk.

‘This is Luke Harte,’ Liberty announced, pushing him forward like some sort of trophy wife. ‘He’s funny, charming and ridiculously clever, so I knew you’d both want to meet him.’

Luke Harte pulled a face. ‘Holy shit. I’ll never live up to that introduction. I’m not even remotely funny, for starters.’ He grinned, Dee laughed and Liberty melted away, job done.

Luke Harte had managed to commandeer a beer, despite everyone else being forced to drink champagne, I noted rather sourly. He looked unabashed. ‘Sorry about that. Liberty always says such embarrassing things. Hey, do you really think she’s called Liberty?’

Dee eyed him approvingly and straightened the bold, off-the-shoulder floral dress she was wearing. ‘I’m Dee. Delilah, actually,’ she said. She held her hand out.

Amused, he took it, giving it a firm, non-flirtatious shake. ‘You’re shitting me. Parents Tom Jones fans?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You must get fed up with people chorusing ‘Why, why, why’ at you when they’re drunk. A bit like being called Eileen when “Come On, Eileen” comes on. Nightmare.’

Dee was eying Luke appraisingly, almost as though she was wondering if he might be a better option than the elusive Dan Sheppard.

Luke’s eyes drifted to me. ‘What about you? Are you named after a song as well?’

I shook my head. ‘Sorry, no. Nothing nearly as exciting.’

I didn’t offer up my name at this juncture; what was the point? You know – we all know – when you’ve met someone who is out of your league.

Luke Harte was good looking. A nice chin, lovely eyes. I couldn’t see the colour; it was too dark outside, but they looked friendly, sexy. He wouldn’t be interested in me. Or was that my low self-esteem talking? My last boyfriend hadn’t been a nice chap, as it turns out. Controlling and arrogant, I had recently struggled to work out why I had been attracted to him in the first place. I hadn’t expected him to cheat on me twice, or for him to finish with me citing my ‘anal retentiveness’ as the reason.

That said, I possessed enough self-awareness to know that I was pretty enough. But I wasn’t dazzling. And Luke Harte was one of life’s dazzlers. It wasn’t really about his looks – he exuded good humour and his wide smile and chatty style suggested he was used to being the life and soul of the party. Judging by the way he was leaning against the wooden post of the gazebo with a wide, chilled out smile, Luke Harte was totally at ease in social situations and, if not arrogant, then he was confident in the extreme.

Luke looked genuinely disappointed though. ‘That’s a shame,’ he responded lightly. Well, if you won’t tell me your name, I’ll just have to give you one. I hereby name you … Stripes.’ He made the announcement rather grandly and gestured to my absurd dress.

I looked down, feeling self-conscious. ‘This? It’s too short and it’s not even …’

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Dee interrupted, getting to her feet. ‘Doesn’t it suit her? I told her it shows off all her best assets.’

‘It certainly does.’ Luke’s eyes didn’t leave my face.

I felt like a fraud. The dress wasn’t even mine. Liberty had been right about Luke. He was certainly charming.

‘Oooh, there’s Dan.’ Dee adjusted her dress. ‘I’ll go and say hi and grab us some more drinks.’ She teetered away in the high heels that always gave her crippling blisters and we heard her loudly introducing herself.

‘Right. That’s my cue to leave.’ I put my now-warm glass of champagne on the table and mustered up a polite smile.

‘You’re not serious, Stripes.’ Luke straightened and placed his beer can on the table next to my champagne flute. The two drinks looked curiously intimate together.

‘We’ve only just met,’ Luke added. ‘Stay. Talk to me.’ He sounded almost flirtatious.

I wasn’t equal to the task. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very good company tonight.’

‘Really?’ He regarded me, seemingly concerned. ‘What’s up?’

I shrugged. I was sure Luke Harte didn’t want to hear about my relationship issues. ‘Oh, you know. Men.’

He smiled and rubbed his chin gravely. ‘Ah, men. I’m familiar with this topic. I have a younger sister, Nell. She’s told me some horrific tales about these beings.’

I couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Yes, well. I’m sure there are some nice ones out there, but my last boyfriend wasn’t one of them.’ To my surprise, I found myself giving Luke a quick run through of key events, culminating in the humiliating confession-of-cheating-but-you’re-dumped-anyway saga.

Luke frowned. ‘What an idiot your ex is. I can only apologise on behalf of my species. We’re not all like that, I promise.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’ I glanced over my shoulder to check on Dee and found her sitting on Dan’s lap. She was fine, job done.

‘I can prove it if you like,’ Luke offered, his eyes creasing at the edges.

‘Prove what?’

‘That we’re not all like him. Like your idiot of an ex-boyfriend.’

Was he asking me out? Surely not. I felt panicked. I wasn’t ready for another relationship … or even a date. And with Luke Harte? I stared at him, realising he was younger than me, perhaps by five years or so. Dee would think it was brilliant if I dated a younger man, but I really wasn’t sure I was up to it.

The romantic in me gave me an inner nudge. Was this one of those moments? One of life’s opportunities that shouldn’t be missed? I just didn’t want to get hurt again.

‘Come out with me,’ Luke said, meeting my eyes. ‘For a drink. Dinner. The cinema. Bowling, if you’re feeling competitive. I’m a master bowler.’

‘I’m … I’m not very good at bowling.’ It was lame, but I didn’t know what else to say. I had a feeling I was blushing madly and wished I could duck out of the bright light that hung above us.

‘Dinner then,’ he said lightly. ‘Surely you’re good at eating dinner?’

He was mocking me, but only gently. I bit my lip. ‘We’d have absolutely nothing in common,’ I blurted out. I was mortified. Why had I said that? I sounded ridiculous.

He burst out laughing, unruffled. ‘And what, pray tell, brings you to that conclusion?’

I had to justify myself after such a statement. ‘Well … I’m shy, you’re outgoing. I alphabetise my books; you probably stuff them into bookshelves any-old-how. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,’ I added to soften the blow.

Luke Harte held his hands up. ‘Wow. You’ve definitely got me pegged. I do shove all my books on to the shelves in random order. How did you know that? Do I look like a messy, couldn’t-care-less kind of a guy?’

As he moved under the gazebo light, I noticed that his eyes were a very nice shade of blue.

‘Erm. I don’t know. I just guessed about the books. Or rather, I just know that I’m weird compared to most people when it comes to these things.’

‘Quirky, not weird. And opposites attract, remember. Clichés are clichés for a reason, as a very wise man once told me.’

I noted a wobble in his voice and I was intrigued. ‘A wise man?’

‘My father. He … he died a few years ago. We’re all still reeling from it. My family, I mean. It’s literally the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.’

‘Gosh. I’m so sorry.’

Luke nodded. ‘Thanks. It was grim, but we’re all moving on now. Mostly. Anyway, are you close to your parents?’

‘Not at all, unfortunately. I’m an only child … not planned, I think. I always felt a bit … superfluous.’ I rolled my shoulders. ‘But hey. They’re okay, really. They live in Scotland now.’

‘That’s a shame.’ He seemed genuinely sympathetic. ‘Are you going to tell me your name now? I feel at a disadvantage. Especially now that we’ve … you know. Shared things.’

I managed a teasing glance. ‘I don’t think I will. Besides, there are plenty of other, prettier girls here for you to chat to.’

‘Is that so?’ A furrow appeared in his brow. ‘What if I said I liked girls in short, stripy dresses who alphabetise their books?’

I felt laughter approaching. ‘I’d tell you it was a phase. One I’m sure you’ll grow out of very soon.’ A giggle escaped.

‘Ouch! That hurt, Stripes.’ Luke clapped his hands to his chest, miming pain. ‘But that just shows that you haven’t got me pegged, after all.’

‘Oh?’

Luke leaned against the post and folded his arms across his chest, decapitating the Foo Fighters. ‘Because if you knew me better, you’d know that I don’t go in for phases. Things I care about, I stick with. My family and my career, to give you a couple of examples.’

I considered him. He was definitely younger than me, in his early twenties, I would say at a guess.

‘I’m a paramedic, for my sins.’ Luke’s mouth twitched. ‘Soon to be, anyway. I know, I know; you think I’m doing it for the glory. I expect you think I support Man United, too.’

I was impressed; I admit it. Which was ridiculous. He saved lives, but so did lots of people. It suited him though. It gave his good looks and charming patter credibility. Which made him seem even more attractive. Dammit. How very annoying.

‘If you’d seen some of the things I’ve seen … injured children, domestic abuse, stuff like that.’ He looked serious for the first time, his mouth settling into a sober line. ‘But enough about me … what do you do?’

‘I work in this book shop.’ I cringed, thinking this must sound rather rubbish compared to being a paramedic. Luke looked interested, however, so I carried on. ‘It’s lovely and my boss is this sweet, old guy who’s really nice to me and pays me far too much, but it’s not necessarily my vocation, you know?’

‘Do you know what that is?’

I shook my head and laughed. ‘No! Not exactly. I studied literature, but I’d really just be happy to do something that made me feel … uplifted. It doesn’t have to be something incredible like being a paramedic, but something fun. Something … positive. That probably sounds strange. Sorry.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

Luke’s mouth curled up as if he was thinking about something and he drummed his fingers on his arm. I wondered if it was a habit that might become annoying, then decided that it wasn’t. And that I was getting ahead of myself.

‘I know this might sound a bit weird, but if you really want a change, my mum could do with an extra pair of hands in the family business. It’s a florist.’

A florist? I faltered. I thought about it. I supposed it could be rather lovely working with flowers. Apart from condolence ones, presumably. I had always loved flowers, but I was relatively clueless about the different kinds.

‘Think about it,’ Luke said. He added a casual shrug. ‘It’s in the centre of town and the pay isn’t bad at all. I know my mum could do with some help, so if you’re really pushed, it’s an option.’

‘Okay. Thanks. That’s really kind of you.’

‘I’m not being kind, if I’m honest. The job is real, but I’m also trying to engineer a situation where you won’t be able to reject my advances so easily.’

That lovely smile again. I was seriously in danger of becoming smitten with Luke Harte.

‘I should go … Dee’s calling me over …’ My voice registered my regret.

Luke stopped me by taking my hand. ‘Listen. Stripes. You’re the most fascinating girl I’ve met in ages. You’re funny, you’re super-organised – which I love, incidentally – and you’re beautiful. Quirky-beautiful. That’s the best kind, by the way.’

That did it for me. Luke Harte was too much for me. When had anyone told me I was beautiful, let alone ‘quirky-beautiful?’ I was scared. Petrified, in fact.

‘I – I have to go,’ I mumbled, stumbling away from him. When I reached Dee, I stole a glance over my shoulder, my heart beating a bit more quickly than usual. But Luke Harte had gone; melting into the darkness like a ghost. It was almost as if our chat hadn’t happened.

I spent the next month thinking non-stop about Luke bloody Harte. About him asking me out, about me saying no. About me telling him about my idiot of an ex-boyfriend and about him opening up about his dad. I don’t think I’d ever spoken to a stranger about myself so much.

Then one day, he just turned up. Dazzling Luke Harte turned up in the little book shop I worked in, wearing his teal paramedic’s outfit and claiming, with a mischievous smile, to be in the mood for book-buying.

‘Fill your boots,’ I said, delighted to see him. I watched in amusement as he carefully selected books about caring for gladioli, the Second World War and the practicalities of owning a greenhouse.

‘Actually, I’m not really here to buy books,’ Luke sheepishly confessed after presenting my boss with a twenty pound note, with the change to go in the charity box on the desk. My boss gazed at him adoringly.

‘No?’ I said.

‘No. I’m here to ask you out again and I’m not taking no for an answer.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll stage a sit-in, if I have to.’

‘Goodness. A sit-in. How passionate you are.’

‘You have no idea.’ Luke laughed at his own awful joke. ‘Seriously. You name it, we’ll do it, date-wise. Decorating cupcakes, feeding monkeys at the zoo … shopping for clothes.’ He covered his face. ‘God. That’s how desperate I am. I’m offering to go shopping for clothes. I’m a disgrace to men the world over.’

I melted. Who could resist such an advance? ‘I’m in,’ I told him with a stupid grin. In reality, I was more than ‘in.’ I was hurtling, fast-falling, utterly bowled over. Despite being terrible at bowling.

Later, Luke told me that he had spent five weeks tracking me down, the delay caused by Liberty being sent on a month-long cruise with her least favourite aunt as a punishment for the wild party.

Our love story, as Dee liked to call it, was kind of old-fashioned. Cosy dinner dates, endless chats into the early hours of the morning. A slow, heady burn between us that had taken my breath away in the early weeks and that swiftly turned into body-shuddering passion. I gave up my job in the book shop and I started working at Hartes & Flowers. I loved it and I loved this man that had come into my life like a whirlwind, with his romance and his eyes and his words.

And at the point, pretty early on, where Luke quietly said: ‘Lucy, I’m so in love with you, I can’t even bear it,’ I felt an exquisite rush of relief. I had fallen in love with him long, long before that moment and the agony of worrying that he didn’t feel the same way had almost killed me.

Being chased by a man like Luke had turned my life on its axis. Losing him really wasn’t an option.