Happily Never After, page 14
‘Damn. See, this is what happens when you try to arrange things for authors,’ he quips.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’ve taken my vague idea, instantly coloured in all the detail and the final picture is completely different from the original. Now I feel like a total failure. I mean, what kind of man forgets a parasol and his linen trousers on a trip like this?’ He slaps his forehead. ‘Shit. I’ve just realised I’ve forgotten my full-body woollen bathing costume as well. We’re doomed.’
‘Are you having a nice time?’ I ask him.
He grins. ‘I am, actually. Now, despite my abject failures, shall we go and see a man about a boat?’
There’s a short queue at the boat hire kiosk, and I’m intrigued by the different ability levels of the other customers as they set off. Some are obviously experienced rowers, pulling away confidently from the jetty and gliding smoothly out towards the middle of the lake, but others are finding it more of a struggle, and one unfortunate guy has veered straight into the bank and appears to be stuck. One of the kiosk staff is shouting instructions to him, but he’s either unable to hear or doesn’t speak French, as not much seems to be happening.
I turn to Finn. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is your rowing better than that?’
He blushes slightly. ‘Umm. It’s not something I have much experience in,’ he admits. ‘But I’m sure I can work it out.’
‘Let’s take a pedalo.’
‘What? I thought we were doing the full 1920s experience.’
‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I’m not sure being repeatedly rammed into the bank and shouted at by irate Frenchmen is really going to conjure up the right vibe. At least we have a vague chance of going in the right direction with a pedalo.’
He sighs. ‘You’re right. OK, pedalo it is.’
Any final hope of recreating a scene Evelyn Waugh would have been proud of is dashed by the bright orange lifejackets we’re given before we’re allowed anywhere near the water.
‘Vous devez aller a droite et rester loin des nageurs,’ the attendant tells us firmly as he helps us onto the pedalo.
‘Oui, Monsieur. Merci,’ Finn replies as he lets go of the rope and we start to drift away from the jetty.
‘Any idea what he said?’ Finn asks as we start to turn the pedals.
‘I think we need to keep right and keep away from the nageurs, whatever they are?’
‘Aren’t they clouds?’
‘That doesn’t make sense though. How would we keep away from the clouds?’
‘Snow?’
‘No, that’s neige. Got it. They’re swimmers.’
‘That makes more sense. How did you figure it out?’
I smile. ‘There’s a sign over there that says Nageurs interdit au-delà de ce point, and there’s a picture of a swimmer with a line through. Pretty big clue, wouldn’t you say?’
‘So, I did have an idea about your show last night, but it’s probably no good,’ I tell him some time later. We returned the pedalo once the heat started to build and we’re now sitting at our table in the shade with the remnants of Cara’s picnic around us, although the word ‘picnic’ doesn’t do any justice to the banquet that we found inside the cool box. As well as the cold meats, pâté and cheese that you’d expect to go with the obligatory baguette, there was a selection of salads, a bottle of white wine that we haven’t opened, and some pastries for pudding that wouldn’t have looked out of place at Maison Olivia.
‘Go on. Any ideas at all are more than welcome.’
‘As I said, I’m no auction expert, but Liv is a sucker for Antiques Roadshow on TV. We watch it every week when it’s on, and it occurred to me that it meets one of your criteria for a game show.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘OK, so people bring their stuff to the experts, hoping against hope that the tatty teapot or whatever that they’ve inherited from Great-Aunt Mildred actually turns out to be worth millions.’
‘I’m not sure all of them think like that.’
‘Of course they do. You can see it in their eyes on the rare occasion that their junk does actually turn out to be worth something. They say things like “Oh, I could never part with it. It’s my only connection to Great-Aunt Mildred”, but you can practically hear them thinking, “Yes! I’m totally flogging this at the first opportunity.”’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it. How does this tie in to my show?’
‘Have a ringer in each round. So, there was one week when someone brought this really tatty watch to be valued. I mean, the thing looked like it was barely worth a tenner, but it turned out to be some really rare Rolex that was actually worth tens of thousands. So, you include something like that in every round, with some kind of reward or penalty depending on whether the contestants correctly identify it.’
He thinks for a while, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. ‘I like it. No, actually, that’s genius,’ he says with a smile. ‘Although I might adapt it slightly, as I think it could be difficult to find something that could do that in every round.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘Have one ringer item per episode, like a joker in the pack. The contestants know it will appear at some point, but it could be in any round. If they guess it correctly, it doubles their prize fund, providing they make it to the final round.’
‘Potentially expensive.’
‘Oh, prize money is the least of the producer’s worries on a show like this. The audience will love it too.’
‘What about the jeopardy aspect?’
He thinks a little more. ‘Firstly, we don’t reveal whether any of them have correctly identified the rogue item until the very end. That introduces tension because even the winner won’t know in the final round if their fund is going to be doubled or not. Furthermore, if they choose an item that turns out not to be the joker in the pack or don’t choose one at all, their prize fund is halved. We could also reveal the item to the audience at home at the start, instructing them to look away if they don’t want to know what it is. I’ll say it again, Laura. You’re a bloody genius. That’s absolutely brilliant!’
Before I know what’s happening, he’s taken my head in his hands and planted a full-on smacker of a kiss on my lips.
‘Oh, shit,’ he exclaims, suddenly realising what he’s done and turning crimson with embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry, I got caught up in the moment.’
‘It’s fine,’ I tell him, eager to defuse the sudden tension in the air. ‘I’m just glad I could help.’
What I’m not going to tell Finn is that it’s rather more than fine. It’s a long time since anyone has kissed me as uncomplicatedly and joyously as that, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.
18
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ I ask Finn. Although the afternoon has been enjoyable, it hasn’t been as relaxed as the morning was. We swam in the lake, which turned out not to be rocky on the bottom after all, and then lay on our towels, letting the afternoon sun bake us dry. On the surface, Finn has been just the same as he always is, but I know him well enough by now to pick up that something is bugging him. We’re in the car on the way back to L’Ancien Presbytère but, instead of talking about the view, his show or my book, like he normally would, Finn is uncharacteristically quiet.
‘Fine,’ he says flatly. ‘Just, you know, thinking.’
‘Do you want to share? Is it something to do with your show?’
‘No.’ He sighs deeply. ‘Look, can we talk about what happened earlier?’
So that’s what this is about. ‘Do you mean when you kissed me?’
‘Yes. I know you said it was fine, but it wasn’t, was it. I really like you, Laura, and I love spending time with you, and I’m just worried this thing is going to hang in the air and ruin the rest of our retreat.’
‘Why would it do that? It’s a kiss, Finn. It’s not like you groped me or anything.’ I risk a glance away from the road down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. He’s got nice hands. They may be soft, but I bet they’d feel incredible against my skin. I do generally go for more manly men, but gnarly hands are a bit of a turn-off. I’m horrified to find that the thought of Finn putting his hands on me is actually rather nice, and hurriedly switch my attention back to the road.
‘I know, but I crossed a line. I really am sorry, Laura. I’m not that kind of man, honestly. I don’t know what came over me. It was a moment of madness, that’s all I can say… What are you doing?’
I’ve swerved off the road onto the verge, braking hard and causing the Fiat to skid a little, kicking up a cloud of dust as we come to a stop.
‘For God’s sake,’ I growl as I take his face in my hands and lean towards him, planting an equally, if not slightly more, full-on kiss on his lips.
‘Right,’ I tell him firmly once I’ve released him. ‘That’s one all. Better now?’
‘What was that for?’ he asks as I put the car back into gear and ease out onto the road.
‘I don’t know. To say thank you for all your help with my plotting. To stop you torturing yourself. Because I wanted to. Any of those do?’
‘You wanted to,’ he repeats in a slightly stunned voice.
‘Yes. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I’m not expecting you to propose, just because I kissed you. But if it stops you beating yourself up and brings you back out of yourself, then that’s a good thing. Let me ask you this. When you kissed me, were you coming on to me, or was it just a physical expression of the joy you felt at unlocking the secret of your show?’
He laughs and, to my relief, it’s a genuine one that seems to come from the core of him, rather than the more superficial laughs I’ve had so far this afternoon.
‘Oh, Laura,’ he breathes. ‘I’d never dare come on to you.’
‘What? Why not? I’m not that revolting, am I?’
He obviously realises his mistake, as his expression turns serious. ‘Quite the reverse. You’re so far out of my league that I probably wouldn’t have dared speak to you that first morning if I hadn’t been desperate.’
I don’t think anyone has ever described me as out of their league before and, although I know he means it as a compliment, it’s caught me completely by surprise. I’m most honestly described as ‘incredibly average’. There’s a scene in one of my favourite books by Jane Austen where the Morland family are described rather scathingly as having ‘heads and arms and legs enough for the number’, and that’s what I would say about myself. I’m not hideous, but I’m certainly never going to be scouted to be a model.
‘I think you need to reassess your league,’ I tell him with a smile.
He says nothing, but I’m aware of him staring at me. ‘What?’ I ask eventually.
‘You’re either delusional and genuinely have no idea how attractive you are, or you’re fishing for compliments,’ he says. ‘I’m just trying to work out which it is.’
‘And you patently need glasses,’ I retort. ‘Now, stop staring at me. You’re putting me off my driving.’
Although he does as instructed, and returns his gaze to looking out of the windscreen, the atmosphere in here has clearly shifted again. He’s no longer miserable, which is a good thing, but my mind is a whirlwind. Finn is, on paper at least, not at all the kind of man I would normally go for, so why has him telling me he finds me attractive got me all stirred up? Today has been a weird day: First there was the way the whole mental image of him when we were talking about the rowing boat made me feel, then him kissing me, me kissing him back, and the strangely erotic thoughts that I had when I was looking at his hands just now. To be fair, Angus wasn’t my normal type either, and we lasted ten years despite his hands being nowhere near as nice as Finn’s. Oh, get a grip, for goodness’ sake, Laura. This is a moment of madness, probably caused by spending too much time in the sun. Stop reading more into it than there is.
I’m relieved when we pull up outside L’Ancien Presbytère. The majority of the journey after Finn’s revelation was silent, which is most unlike us, but we’ve both been lost in our thoughts. I did try to get inside Finn’s head a couple of times, but he wasn’t having it. I suspect he’s concerned that he’s overstepped the mark again, but there’s nothing I can do to reassure him if he’s not prepared to talk about it. For my part, I’ve been trying to mentally reset our relationship in my mind. I realised very early on that I’d like to stay friends with Finn after the retreat ends, but I’ve never even considered the possibility of anything more than that before today. Should I? Is he? One thing is for certain. I need to talk to Liv as soon as I’ve showered off the sunscreen and changed into fresh clothes.
‘You’re a mind reader,’ I say into the handset. I barely had time to wrap my hair and body in towels before my phone rang. A glance at the caller ID told me it was Liv. ‘I was just going to call you.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘I need your advice on something.’
‘Sounds interesting. Go on.’
‘So, you know Finn, who I told you about?’
‘The TV guy you’re pally with, yes.’
‘I’m wondering if perhaps it’s more than pally.’ I tell her about everything that happened today and she listens so quietly that I have to check the screen hasn’t frozen a couple of times.
‘Hmm,’ is all she says when I finish.
‘That’s not very helpful, Liv!’ I exclaim. ‘I was hoping for a bit more than that.’
‘OK, let me summarise. This guy arrives at your retreat. You don’t fancy him physically, but he turns out to be a nice guy and you enjoy his company.’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s got friendzone written all over it. But now, after a couple of PG-rated kisses and him telling you that you’re attractive, you’re all hot under the collar.’
‘I think “hot under the collar” might be overstating it.’
‘Did you take shrunk-in-the-wash Goliath with you on this retreat?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I’m just wondering if you’re pent up, sexually, and that’s clouding your judgement. What stage of your cycle are you at?’
‘I’m not pent up and I’m not mid-cycle either. He’s not physically unattractive, I just tend to go for men who are rather more well-built than him. It’s his personality that I like most.’
‘And his hands.’ She laughs. ‘To be fair, Angus was hardly a beefcake, was he? Maybe you’re secretly attracted to scrawny men, but just haven’t had the lady-balls to admit it to yourself yet.’
‘Finn isn’t scrawny, he’s just not especially muscly either.’
‘There’s more to men than their muscles. At least, the good ones. Let’s look at this from another perspective. You could hold out for Mr Beefcake, but what is that going to get you beyond an admittedly attractive physique? In my opinion, beefcakes tend to come with a raft of unnatural habits, like gyms and protein shakes. What’s wrong with a walk or run in the fresh air and proper food? I may be generalising here, but I suspect a lot of them rely on their muscles to disguise the fact that they’re actually monumentally dull, personality wise. It’s very rare to find someone who’s the complete package.’
‘Henry Cavill is the complete package,’ I counter. ‘When he smiles, it does things to me.’
‘He’s also over ten years older than you, with a partner and baby in tow.’
‘If any of my books ever get made into films, I’m going to demand they cast him in a leading role,’ I tell her, undeterred.
‘And that’s your prerogative. But you’ll never get any further than admiring him from afar. Let’s return to planet Earth for a moment, shall we? Leave the geriatric gym addicts alone.’
‘He’s not geriatric, and what makes you think he’s a gym addict?’
‘You don’t get a physique like that without putting in the effort. I bet he spends all day in the there, drinking protein shakes and working out. Anyway, Finn. How did you feel when he kissed you?’
‘Surprised, mainly.’
‘So not disgusted or revolted. You didn’t want to brush your teeth immediately or slap him?’
‘It was just a normal kiss, Liv. There wasn’t any tongue.’
‘I know that, but even normal kisses can be revolting. There was this guy I thought I was attracted to once, but as soon as he kissed me for the first time, I knew nothing was going to happen. He had fishy breath, like cat food. I nearly threw up in his face. It doesn’t sound like Finn was like that.’
‘No. There was nothing wrong with it at all.’
‘And then you kissed him back.’
‘Yes, but only to stop him beating himself up. I thought it would help him see that I wasn’t offended.’
‘Interesting approach. And how was that one?’
‘It was nice.’
‘Nice? That’s all you’ve got?’
‘Yes. It was a couple of seconds, maximum, Liv. We’re not talking snogging here.’
‘OK, but these two very normal, apparently nice kisses have sent you into a spin. What does that tell you?’
‘I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you.’
‘I think it’s pretty simple. Finn’s basically admitted that he’s into you, so I think the choice is yours. Either you dismiss what happened today and go back to not fancying him—’
‘But how do I do that without ruining our friendship?’ I interrupt. ‘I do like him, Liv.’
‘Or,’ she continues as if I hadn’t spoken, ‘you jump his bones and see where it goes.’
‘I think we’re a long way from bone jumping. What would you do?’
‘Oh, I’d jump his bones. It’s one of Liv’s lessons for life.’
‘Dare I ask?’
‘It’s much easier to live with the regret of something you did than something you failed to do.’
I grin in spite of myself. ‘You’re like Descartes and Confucius all rolled into one. Anyway, enough about me. How are things with you? Any progress on the Donna situation?’
