The Three Loves of Sebastian Cooper, page 24
‘Coming!’ he hollered cheerfully.
He looked at the clock on the wall as he walked past the open door to the living room. It was 12.45 p.m. on a Saturday lunchtime in a cold January.
She’s early.
He ran his hands through his hair and straightened his burgundy sweatshirt before opening the front door with a nervous anticipation in his stomach.
‘Oh.’
It wasn’t Desiree.
‘Why you take so long?’ Noemie admonished, her accent thick and her voice soft, jarring with the snappiness of the words that came out of her mouth. ‘I got you a coffee, it’s goin fuckin’ cold me standing here!’ Noemie walked in, thrusting a hot lidded cup in Seb’s hand.
‘Oh, thanks,’ he said, a bit befuddled. The cup made him feel even hotter after he’d been zipping around the house. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Oui, why?’
‘I just wasn’t expecting you.’
Noemie pressed Seb up against the wall and kissed him, hot coffee burning in each of their hands; the smell permeating the tips of their touching noses as they kissed.
‘My class is cancelled. A toilet flooded at the gym and there’s shit everywhere, apparently.’
‘Nice.’
‘Aurelie has the kids… I hoped you’d be in!’
Noemie had managed to secure another shy French girl through her mum’s friend network, which meant Noemie could date Seb freely. She started to rub his groin as his cheeks flushed red.
‘Oh, man, I can’t. I’ve got loads of stuff to sort out…’
‘Oh, are your kids coming?’ Noemie looked excited, keen to meet them. She kicked off her UGG boots and walked through to the kitchen in her bamboo yoga wear.
‘No, they’re coming tomorrow,’ Seb said, following her in. ‘But my, er, my ex is coming over, to get the rest of her stuff.’
‘Why don’t you just give it to the kids?’
‘Not my ex ex. Desiree.’ Seb mumbled slightly. ‘She’s coming from London, to get the rest of her things.’ Seb tried not to look at the clock on the oven behind Noemie, nervous that Desiree would be here in a few minutes.
‘Oh.’
Her face dropped. Seb had mentioned Desiree a couple of times – only when he had to explain who he’d been to Costa Rica with or why there were prints from the McQueen Savage Beauty exhibition at the V&A on the wall. She hadn’t liked the way the letters formed and came out of his mouth. He carried a world of emotion in two simple syllables.
Des-ray.
The name sounded too exotic, even though it was French.
Des-ray.
She was sure he lingered over the word.
Des-ray.
The way he said it hurt her.
Noemie could just about stomach the sound of Clair – as mothers they had something in common, plus she was getting married again so she must be over Seb. But surely this other woman – Des-ray – Noemie knew she wouldn’t be over a man like Seb.
‘Actually, she’ll be here quite soon.’ Seb winced.
‘You’re kidding!’ Noemie half laughed in a half whisper, her beautiful nose scrunching in disappointment as she tried to conceal her anger. ‘You have to be in?’
‘She doesn’t have a key any more, and I can’t just leave her stuff on the doorstep.’
‘Yes, you can. Anyway, it’s OK, I got rid of some of it when you went to work. Made it easier for you.’
‘What?’
‘Her suits were ugly anyway.’ Noemie smiled at him as if she was expecting praise for a good deed done, so Seb concluded she must be joking. Still, a redness crept up his face and his smile faltered. Nothing about Desiree had been ugly, and he didn’t like hearing it, even in jest.
‘You are joking… right?’
Noemie looked unrepentant and shook her head from side to side as if it were the perfectly normal thing to do.
‘Shit, man, she’s going to go mad! She’ll think I threw them out!’
Desiree wasn’t a throwaway sort of person. She was messy as hell, but she treasured those piles of clothes scattered around – the cashmere, silk and luxuriant leathers; all of her clothes were investment pieces.
‘Well, if she notices, I’ll tell her it was me.’ Noemie shrugged helpfully.
‘What?’ Seb still couldn’t believe she wasn’t joking.
‘It was just a couple of things, Seb! Honestly! You make more fuss than Mila! Tell her you gave them to the charity.’
Seb’s red rash crept higher to his cheeks, and Noemie realised to her surprise that he was actually annoyed with her.
‘Hey hey, don’t worry. She obviously wasn’t that bothered about her clothes if it’s taken this long to get them, huh? How long since you split? Ages, non?’
‘Six months.’
‘Well, come on—’ Noemie walked around the kitchen table to put her arms around Seb’s neck.
‘No, no…’ he said pulling back and rubbing his temples. ‘I don’t think you should be here.’
You’re not going to be here.
Seb knew that would be a disaster.
Noemie pouted and her eyes welled up.
‘You don’t want me?’
Seb felt terrible. She had just brought him a coffee and he really did want to get naked with her.
‘I do, but not right now. That wouldn’t help anything.’
Noemie stalked nearer, like a compact big cat, sea-green eyes glistening.
‘You don’t want to fuck me? Give your ex a nice little show through the window?’ She stuck her tongue out flirtily from between her white teeth.
12.58 p.m.
‘Shi-i-i-it, Noemie.’ Seb blushed. ‘You’d really better go.’
Desiree
‘Well, obviously it’s gone to shit since I left…’ Desiree joked apprehensively as she looked around the neat living room. Without her mess of expensive bags, shiny shoes, impeccable clothes; without her piles of papers and box files; without her copies of Red, Vogue and Wallpaper she didn’t ever get round to reading, the living room felt light and airy, as if the house were about to be photographed to go on the market.
Except it wasn’t going on the market. Seb had bought Desiree out of her half of the house and she had moved back into her Clapham flat, this time on her own, after spending two months in her brother’s flat in Chelsea while the tenants served their notice.
Seb laughed. He didn’t say out loud that he didn’t miss her shit lying everywhere, even though he had missed her. He wanted to kiss her neck and hold her tight but thought of how he had been kissing Noemie only minutes earlier, before he had to bundle her out of the back door. He felt a guilty pang towards both women.
Desiree perched on one end of the sofa and looked at the storage boxes and Ziploc bags Seb had carefully packaged up, lined up on the geometric tiles of the hearth. Bin bags would have felt too brutal, her stuff too nice to stuff away in sacks, so he’d bought a load of boxes and clothing storage bags from Ikea and duly packed everything up, trying not to think about how Desiree filled each item of clothing, how they smelled of her, as he'd carefully folded her things into them the night before.
‘Sorry to do it here,’ she said, businesslike and friendly. ‘It’s just too embarrassing to chuck a load of bags into the boot outside The Blue Bell. Not that you put it in bags…’ Desiree gave Seb a grateful, dimpled smile.
‘Of course. That would have been horrid. And it’s… it’s nice to see you.’ Seb lingered in the doorway.
‘It’s nice to see the house,’ Desiree countered. ‘And you.’
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘No, thanks. Well, maybe yes. Hang on, I’ll get these out of your way and in the car first,’ she replied, scouring the boxes with eager eyes.
‘I’ll help—’
‘Is that all of it?’ she asked, looking at the assortment of belongings she’d left behind. ‘I thought there’d be more.’
Seb rubbed the back of his head while he tried to push Noemie to the outer echelons of his brain.
‘Yeah, I got a new cleaner – I think she might have taken a couple of things. I thought there had been more too.’
Desiree frowned.
‘Oh.’
‘Have a look through it and let me know if there’s anything missing. It might be in the loft…’
Desiree crouched down and peered through semi-opaque plastic.
‘As long as she didn’t take my cream Reiss coat; I’ve missed it this winter…’ she said, rubbing her arms. ‘But that’s a bit shit.’
‘Yeah, I know. Check through it and I’ll have a word…’
‘It’s not really the clothes I was missing anyway.’ Desiree looked surprisingly relaxed. Seb had thought she might go mental, but, her favourite coat aside, her bronze eyes were glowing and her dimples were sunken. ‘It’s the irreplaceable things I was worried about. Stuff from Granny and my parents. The postcards you sent me.’
You.
Seb was taken aback as Desiree looked disappointed in herself, as if she’d let herself down. She’d made such good progress at healing her broken heart. She’d been running again; she’d started boxing; she was loving her work, and she’d started dating, feeling positive that she might fall in love again one day.
‘Oh, yeah, everything’s there. Obviously I didn’t go through all your personal stuff, but anything that didn’t look like it was mine or the kids’… I bubble-wrapped the McQueens and Long Distance Relationships… Thought you would want that.’ He pointed to the cardboard-covered rectangles propped under the sash windows.
Desiree nodded and smiled.
‘Shall we?’
Politely passing each other up and down the short path they quickly loaded Desiree’s belongings into the boot of her black Smart car parked at the kerb and closed it, lingering in the road as Saturday afternoon shoppers passed in the winter chill, not taking any notice of this major thing that was happening because it looked so innocuous. They both spoke at once.
‘Are they kids O—?’
‘How’s Rennie—?’
They laughed nervously.
‘Hey, shall we go to The Blue Bell?’ Seb asked, hands in his pockets, his fuck it shoulders dropping.
Desiree looked conflicted, as if it might not be the best idea.
‘One for old times’ sake…?’ Seb smiled hopefully.
‘That would be lovely.’
Sipping hot winter Pimm’s by the fireplace, Desiree brought Seb up to speed on all the Rennie + Byrd projects, the office gossip (omitting the recent development between her and Tarek), Shirlie and Timothy’s news, and how Granny was doing at the old people’s home on Spice Island.
Seb told Desiree about architectural life in Oxford – he’d just recruited a sixth architect and had started a project in the grounds of Magdalen College, and he was about to pitch for some work back in London on the South Bank, his Rennie + Byrd credentials helping Curtis + Cooper get an invitation to pitch.
By talking about work and the kids, they conveniently avoided the elephant in the room: that they were both dating.
‘Millie won an award for her Black History Month project – the one Violeta helped her with,’ Seb said keenly.
‘Yes! She told me. I was over the moon for her.’
Seb looked heartened. He was worried the kids wouldn’t stay in contact with Desiree, but he knew Jasper wanted to post her some photos he had developed in the dark room at school, and Millie had her own phone, so Seb hoped they would text each other from time to time.
‘Thanks so much for that. You didn’t need to.’
‘Oh, it was a pleasure! You know how Granny likes to talk.’ Desiree took a sip of her hot syrupy drink and licked her lips. ‘Although less so now. And it was gorgeous to see Millie on FaceTime. We’ve had a couple of calls. I’ve missed them.’
‘They miss you.’
There was a pause as they both stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace. Desiree had an idea, but stopped herself from hitting Seb on the arm as she thought it.
‘You know, you should bring them to Kew! It’s so cool, not just for little kids with the play park, there’s so much there. And – inside scoop – there’s a Dale Chihuly exhibition coming in spring. Stunning installations. Jasper would take amazing pictures of them, I’m sure.’
‘Wow. Yeah, I’ll bring them. I miss the cafe we had breakfast meetings in.’
‘The Orangery?’
‘Ah, the sausage rolls!’ Seb said dreamily.
‘It’s still a bit of a schlep from Clapham, not as much as Northill though.’
‘Well, there you go,’ Seb said, as if splitting up was a good idea. Desiree laughed, then looked cautiously across at Seb for a second as he smiled at the flames.
‘I might be moving a bit further though…’
‘Oh, right,’ Seb said, finishing his glass. ‘Where?’
‘Jill wants me to go to New York, to open an office there. Head up the Williamsburg project, lead a few more.’
‘Wow, they’re going back to New York?’
‘Well, they’re not. They still want to be London based, they just want fingers in both pies and thought I would be best to lead it.’
Seb beamed from ear to ear, a smile of pride and panic as the realisation set in.
‘You would be,’ he said, trying to veil any mournful tone. ‘And it sounds great!’ he forced.
‘You think?’
‘Yeah,’ he enthused. ‘Do you not?’
‘I do… I’m just a bit, torn. Do I jump ship again? Williamsburg is going to be amazing, and the projects beyond that look so exciting. And I think I can head up a team—’
‘I know you can.’
‘But it’s a big leap. I’d worry about Granny. I’m just starting to get everything back together. The flat is looking great. I’ve started to—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Seb burst, shaking his head.
‘Huh?’ Desiree frowned, her voice quiet, her bronze eyes calm.
As Seb looked at her he felt awash with grief and sadness and wasted opportunities.
‘I’m really fucking sorry.’
‘What for?’ She said it in a breathless whisper, the collar of her dusky pink roll neck making her feel hot in front of the fire.
‘For this,’ Seb said, nodding to the bar, where Jim was talking to two old-timer regulars. ‘That it came to this. Chatting like friends in a pub.’
‘We are friends in a pub.’
‘But that we’re not planning these things together. That I wasn’t the guy you needed me to be.’
Desiree wrapped her fingers around her glass and gently shook her head, her soft curls bouncing on her shoulders.
‘Don’t be sorry, Seb.’ As much as she wanted him to beg her not to go, she knew it was right that he didn’t. ‘What we had was wonderful. Five amazing years I wouldn’t change for the world.’
Seb smiled.
‘OK, maybe four I wouldn’t change, and one shit one at the end…’ They both gave a little laugh but the dimples in Desiree’s cheeks didn’t quite sink in this time. ‘Look, as angry as I was six months ago – as angry as I was deep down a year ago, if I’m honest – perhaps I wasn’t the woman you needed me to be either. Maybe I didn’t have both feet in the relationship.’
Desiree thought of the flat in Clapham she never sold. Her hesitancy to compromise and buy the house at the other end of Rowan Road when really she wanted something more memorable. Her reluctance to fully embrace life away from art and inspiration; living in the suburbs, away from the hotels and bars she had helped fashion.
Her constant urge to always want to jump ship. To look towards the next project. She had had a lot of time to reflect on it since their split, and she wondered if the yearning in her belly of the past couple of years, what she’d thought was a desire to have a family, was in fact a twisted way of jumping ship. Of getting out. Except as she looked at Seb in profile, facing the fire, something was pulling her back in.
When it was time for Desiree to jump ship one last time, they walked back to the house they had bought and renovated together, and lingered on the pavement by her packed car. The teasing prospect of a Saturday afternoon turning into dinner and a Sunday morning full of regrets flashed through both their minds, but neither said it. Desiree knew she had to go. Seb hadn’t begged her not to go to New York and she knew she could be happy and feel alive there. Still, as they faced each other on the pavement, she had an urge to wrap her arms around Seb’s neck; her legs around his waist.
‘Look…’
Seb’s heart pounded in his chest. He was in her command.
‘… this really hurts.’
‘I know,’ Seb said, rising and falling on the balls of his New Balance. ‘It hurts me too.’
She didn’t need to say that she wouldn’t be coming back to Northill; they both knew it. They pulled their heads in together, foreheads touching as they had that night on the pavement after the Rennie + Byrd Christmas party, just weeks before they’d got together. Their eyes longing and their lips, sweet and spiced with one glass that had turned into three, drew together as they went to bid their last goodbye with a final kiss.
The loud ring and buzz of Seb’s phone in his jeans pocket made him jump, which in turn made Desiree, and they pulled apart abruptly.
‘Shit.’
‘Argh.’
They laughed. As Seb slid his hand into his pocket to silence his phone, he already knew it was Noemie – perhaps it was the timely jolt he needed.
Seb opened his arms into a huge inviting embrace and pulled Desiree in. She slipped her hands under his arms and pressed them into his back. His strong and solid spine she would never kiss again.
As she pressed her forehead to his chest and took in his smell for one last time, Seb looked up and down the road with slight panic in his stomach, wondering if the timing of the interruption was more than a coincidence.
‘Take care, hey?’ Desiree pleaded.
‘You too,’ he said, kissing her head. ‘Send me postcards from New York?’
Desiree nodded, eyes filled and face crumpling as she pulled away from his embrace and walked round to the car door, too cut up to say another word.
