Chapter 45
He couldn't forget how her body trembled in his arms like the leaf and he couldn't forget the heat on her lips kissing him back. His linen shirt was still carrying the wrinkles from her grasping at the fabric. There was no escape from those images and feelings even if he had wished there was one. They had been imprinted in his mind like footprints on wet cement that had dried on the same instance they were created.
He couldn't also forget how he run back the stairs with his breath lost and his eyes falling to where he had left Candy, only not to see her there. He run all the way to the entrance of the theatre and had flunk the doors open, appearing on the pavement as sudden as apparitions did, startling all the walkers by. He looked around. She was nowhere.
She had left after all...
Candy had run out of the theatre, with the paths of tears visible down her red cheeks. When she stepped outside, she took a deep breath and she hurried down the street. By the time Terry burst out the theatre doors, she had seen him while hidden at the street corner. Her heart jumped at his sight, his eyes scanning the area. She stepped backwards, behind the safety of the building corner. She turned completely with her back on the wall, having her eyes closed. The whole scene replaying behind her eyelids.
"And God forbid if I kiss you again, you'll lock yourself with Christian to fuck his brains for a week just to forget about how you felt that night..."
"What I felt that night?...You know what I felt that night Terry?"
"I felt nothing! Not a single damn thing!"
"Look at me."
"Tell me you feel nothing for me..."
The ghost of their conversation played in her head, each sentence making her breathing feel harder. She hugged herself, touching with her fingers where his hands were just a few moments ago. The sensation of his body on hers still so vivid. She felt a hand over her shoulder and she jumped almost out her skin. She opened her eyes and looked at the man who had stopped in front of her, as if he was from another planet.
"Are you alright miss?" He asked her. She blinked a couple of times till she realised she could talk.
"I'm fine, thank you." She said and cleared her voice. She smiled weakly and left the safety of the wall. She stood upright and passed her hands over her eyes and cheeks, in an attempt to feel herself again. It didn't work but she started walking. Stopped a cab and went home.
Later when Christian passed by her place at seven, she looked completely different from the smiley girl he had kissed on his bed. She wasn't feeling well. Perhaps it was hay fever, because her eyes had looked inflamed. She was sorry for cancelling the dinner, and he was ok with it. He would stay with her. She insisted for him to go home. She was sure, it was only a temporary indisposition. It would have gone by the next day.
They kissed but she didn't hold his lips for long on hers. He commented how her forehead was warm. There was a feverish glow in her eyes. He decided to stay and wouldn't take no for answer. They ate at her house, left overs from the previous day. There were long pauses, silences inside the stares. He had asked her if there was anything else a problem because she had been well in the morning. But she said no.
Was it the disagreement they had earlier about Sunday?
She jumped almost, refusing it, perhaps with a little more passion that it was necessary. In fact, she was certain she didn't want to join them on Sunday. She and Christian had been together for ten days now - he would have been desperate for some time with mates instead of having his girlfriend around.
I love to have you around...
Stare of love and fingers caressing her cheeks.
Her eyes softened. Tears pushed over the edges. So overly emotional she was. She had no idea what was happening to her.
It's been a stressing time...
He looked worried. He shouldn't be she said. Tomorrow was Saturday. She'd go to the Good Samaritans. It would be the best remedy. She's meet with Marion and the rest of the girls. It would be good.
The night found them in bed. She slept in his arms. A restless sleep.
Look at me...
Tell me you feel nothing for me...
The dawn had found her with her eyes wide open and Christian sleeping by her side. He looked peaceful. She wasn't. She knew the reason all too well. What to do though, it wasn't so easy for her to figure out.
5th of July 1925 (Sunday)
With the weather as hot as it was that Sunday, it was a blessing and a curse for painting outdoors. At least he wasn't caged in some random office, Christian had thought. He had taken a couple of canvasses and everything else he needed, packed them on his motorbike and headed for the green hills of Hampstead Heath.
Not that he was alone. The warm summer sunshine had driven a lot of Londoners outside the confines of central London. There had been not just a few walkers, families, couples strolling under frilly parasols, people lying down on the grass, sharing cucumber sandwiches and some warm beer on a spread blanket.
He had left his motorbike parked close to a tree, on a country lane and walked for quite some time, searching for the right spot, that wasn't as crowded and had a nice view of the grassy fields that spread in front of him. He climbed a little further up and stopped. He had got tired. He certainly hadn't regained his strength one hundred percent as yet.
He sat down for a while, just letting his mind wander. With the worry of MacDonald having taken the backseat for the time being, his relationship with Rose had taken a more prominent place in his mind. When he visited Terry in his dressing room at the theatre, he hadn't so much an intention to grill him on the matter of whether or not he fancied his girlfriend. It was rather the thought of Terry having been so ready and willing to help him that, that no matter how much of an altruist he thought of him, somehow it wasn't adding up.
Christian was an excellent poker player. So he bluffed when he pretended to Terry that he knew he fancied Rose. Sure, it could have been a possibility but not one that Christian had given that much thought overall before.
It was true. Terry's presence, since he had showed up with the theatre troupe in London, and happened to drop in Christian's gallery opening, had been almost continuous. Everywhere he and Rose had gone at those couple of weeks, before the theatre premiere, he was there too with them. Marion of course had the hots for him and Archie...
If Marion hadn't been on Terry's side, and Archie was not so "crazy in love" with Isabel - Rose's exact words - Christian's perception would have been that there was something between Archie and Terry. They always kept the banter in the quiet between them, in a way you would think not only that those were acquaintances from a long ago, but they actually shared a common past, tied together by a some thread that Christian did not have knowledge of.
Rose on the other side, she really hadn't given him any reason to believe she was falling for the actor's charms. On the contrary, if nothing else, her attention had been exclusively on Christian. She had been attentive, passionate, everything someone would describe a woman-in-love to be. Christian remembered how she had refused him point-blank to end their relationship just one a week ago, when he suggested it, based on his fears for her safety.
No, in his mind, there was no doubt about Rose's feelings towards him and their relationship. She always had been a warm woman, in her manners, her kisses, her lovemaking, but since she finally had confessed she was in love with him on the night of the gallery opening, she had been transformed with a fire he hadn't seen before inside her eyes and felt inside her body.
Christian had enough drama in his life at that moment, to last him for a whole lifetime. To turn all possessive and jealous - though if Terry had truly Rose on his sights, he wouldn't hesitate to confront him - but for the moment, he preferred to take a step back and observe. He may have been living his life on a day to day basis, without giving a second thought for the future, but impulsive fellow he wasn't. He avoided a lot of trouble by biding his time, watching and planning. That was how Black Feathers had become such a legend.
It was getting late. The sun was still warm but the shadows had started getting longer. Not as many people were still about. The beginnings of a new painting had started to take shape on the white canvas. Progress had been slow but then again, a lot had been going in his mind. And he took his time resting too. He packed everything on the saddle bags of his motorbike and headed back to where he had left his bike.
He attached the saddle bags on his motorbike. The shadow of the chestnut tree had grown and had stretched beyond his motorbike. The breeze, cool and light, caressed his damp neck. He leaned on his motorbike and took his smokes out of his pocket. He was rolling a cigarette when he heard a rustling sound. Someone was already there from the other side of the thick tree trunk. He straightened his body as he got up from his motorbike.
"I suggest you stay where you are..." He heard a woman's voice. He knew to whom the voice belonged. He stopped on the spot and looked back on the half rolled cigarette. He resumed finishing the rolling. He lit the cigarette in the quiet. Took its first drag. She came out from behind the tree. She was wearing long flared white linen trousers and a beige vest. She looked taller somehow. Tanned, athletic, strong. If there was a woman that could stand up to MacDonald, Christian was looking at her. She held a parasol open and glanced at him. He took another drag. She greeted him and he did the same. She passed in front of him with her hand inside her trousers' pocket. Took out a piece of paper and let it drop to the ground. She smiled to Christian and continued walking. He had one more drag from his cigarette, glanced at her as she had passed him by without a second look, and picked up the paper, opened it up and read it. The change on his face was immediate. He threw the cigarette down. He run past her and stood in front of her. She stopped.
"What is this?" He asked her. He could hardly control his anger. There was fire in his stare.
"It is what it is." She said back.
"Can you please explain why I know of this now?" He really tried to keep his voice down.
"I couldn't reach you. You were shacked up with your missus at her place." She said calmly. "I'm sorry...you need to sort it out, I can't." She added.
Despite her words, he didn't budge. He stayed in front of her, fuming.
"Let me pass...you're making a scene. Are you stupid?" She said between her teeth.
"You - lost - my - knife - and you call me stupid?" He hissed.
A hard slap came across his face. His eyes sparkled with rage, matching hers as he clenched his fist, crushing the piece of paper in it.
"That is so rude sir! Now let me go or I'll ask for assistance." She raised her voice, while her stare was hard on his face.
"You know you may be followed..." She whispered between her clenched teeth as he stepped aside.
"Brute!" She yelled as she passed him, bringing the parasol close to her head, dropping it to the front, covering her face.
He stayed for a moment there, touched his left cheek that was still throbbing. He looked around. There were a couple of curious stares from a distance. He put his head down. Walked back to his motorbike. Bitch had dropped his knife the night of the stabbing, possibly on Lord Wooster's garden grounds as she run to escape. Hadn't realised till much later. Of course, it was impossible for her to return there. It was too hot for her. He could have, but he was in bed all those days. He would have to visit the premises tomorrow first thing in the morning. That bloody fateful night wouldn't leave him alone. The wheel of the bike span on the country lane, spewing a cloud of dust in the air.
A quick stop at home, read the message one more time.
"Fuck..." He talked on his own as he went into the bedroom to get ready for meeting up with Terry in an hour's time. This was something he hadn't planned for and he wasn't happy at all about it.
July had entered and so far the weather had been almost Mediterranean as the Met office was announcing. Candy considered herself a sun-child, she worshipped the sun and the abundance of fresh freckles on her sun kissed skin were her witnesses but over the weekend, she felt she was boiling hot. Windows had been open all day but it didn't feel like there were offering much comfort. She lifted the straw fan from her dressing table and waved it frantically in front of her. She could feel the sweat cooling on her flustered face.
Saturday she had spent at the Good Samaritans. Not only she wanted to go, because she craved to do something useful for a change, instead of wallowing in self-pity about her love life but she also had to see Marion again. By the end of the day, she had felt much better. At least, as long as she wasn't to meet with Terry.
Tuesday morning it was, when Marion had passed from her house, and she hadn't even the courtesy to invite her in; instead she had left her talk non-stop for ten minutes at her front steps and then hurriedly she stopped her yapping, by telling her she was too busy with taking care of Christian.
It would only be natural for Marion to wonder what about her friend's erratic mood. She'd start gossiping with Audrey and their combination could be dangerous to say the least. Them two could come up with such absurd theories about the comings and goings of everyone in their circle. However, she herself, didn't think she had done anything out of the ordinary, and the fact that Christian had been stabbed - although she would have wished this hadn't happened - it gave an alibi that could be used to explain her anxious, erratic, at time frustrated and absent minded behaviour.
Christian was in high spirits and kept her close. At points, she had to remind the drama they went through only a week before. After their work at the charity, he had come to pick Rose with his motorbike. Both girls had come out together and the three of them had started chatting, since Marion hadn't seen Christian since the weekend in the hospital. She marvelled at how good he looked and agreed that her friend must be a first-grade nurse and carer for him to be as good as he looked.
Marion, on the other hand had a pretty quiet week. With Rose and Christian out of the scene, and Terry every day busy with the theatre...She had Audrey and several other friends to go out with, but then again since Tuesday, after her meeting with Terry, she felt a bit blue.
"What you two will be doing on Sunday evening?" Marion had asked.
"Oh, I thought of going for da.." Rose had said, but
"You friend here had insisted to join me for a pint with Terry and after, you girls, to go for dancing while Terry and I to continue for a poker game...blokes night out" He had stopped Rose midway.
"But she seems like she has changed her mind..." He had added while he stared at her. Rose had felt her cheeks warm up.
Marion's look on her face had been one of astonishment. "A pint with Terry?!"
"I was planning to invite you Marion...Wasn't I Christian?" She had turned to Christian for help.
"She did Marion...She did say how you fancied Terry..." He had smiled wickedly to her.
"Oh stop it!" Marion had laughed and pushed Christian back.
When she had turned back to Rose, there wasn't saying no to Marion. "So, we meet Audrey and the rest at the Kit Kat club later while us four can enjoy a pint at..." She had said and turned to Christian for clarification.
"At Cittie of York at Holborn" He had said.
"There!" She had exclaimed.
Any objections Rose had tried to bring, they were drowned in Marion's excitement.
"I really cannot believe you Rose!" She had said. "Throwing away the chance to go out as couples!"
They had arrived in front of Christian's motorbike. Rose was putting her helmet on. "Is that why you went to the theatre on Friday?" Marion asked her with a smile.
"You went to the theatre?" Christian repeated Marion's question. His eyes had narrowed when he looked at her.
There was a moment of panic inside Rose, a flight-or-fight response that made her hear the thumbing of a frantic heartbeat inside her ears. This weather had been too hot. Years of practise thinking on her feet to avoid difficult situations saved her skin.
"Great Marion!" She had raised her voice, sounding disappointed. Marion had looked puzzled. Rose turned to Christian who was still waiting to hear what had happened.
"I went to see whether I could get us some tickets, love" She had said. "But I was going to keep it a surprise."
Marion apologised on the spot. Terry had actually told Rose she had just missed Marion but since she had visited him to see whether she could get some tickets for a surprise to Christian, she had kept quiet.
"You know how difficult it is to get tickets..." She had said.
"So when are we going?" Christian had asked her once they had said their goodbyes to Marion and she had climbed behind him, arms wrapped around his chest.
"Oh...I don't know. Terry said he's look out for me." She had said. "Perhaps he'll let us know on Sunday." She added and shut her eyes tight while Christian sped with the bike, clenching her teeth, ordering her heart to slow down, the way their bodies had been in such close proximity.
And there it was. Sunday...
She was already dressed to go out much to her reluctance. She had picked one of her most light dresses to wear. Its cotton was all beaded, a shimmering cream colour and repeated patterns of pink flowers over the bust and the skirt. She loved how it swished and swirled around her as she walked. It was light as a feather the way it hung from her body.
She had spent all morning lazing about her house, sitting at the sun lounger, out at the back garden, reading her book. Christian having been busy with painting at some park. Between lunch, a couple of glasses of wine, the warmth of the sun and the book, she had fallen asleep and had woken up at approximately 5pm, decidedly a couple of shades redder than her normal skin tone, freckles a-riot, spreading not only on her face, but her arms and décolletage too. The green of her eyes had such an intense glow, you'd think it was radioactive. She had taken a shower to bring the heat on her skin down, and spread some almond cream to soothe the redness. She was unsure whether the cream did much but she sure smelled like marzipan.
Oh what the heck...
Her hair was still damp, so she side parted them, combed them all back and secured them with hair pins at the nape of her neck. She slipped over them a deep green chiffon long thin scarf and tied it like a hairband. She wanted to keep her neck naked. After spending an afternoon under the sun, she could hardly bear anything touching her skin. She kept her make up minimum. Just some kohl over her eyes and her scarlet red lippy.
They may have been going through a heatwave, but sitting there watching the minutes ticking away, knowing that Marion would pass by to pick her up at any point now - seeing Terry again after her visit on the theatre...her stomach was twisting and turning, exploding into a myriad of butterflies inside her body, flapping their wings down to the tips of her fingers and toes. Her chest was jumping every time she was taking a deep breath. She really was at a loss what to do.
If she was to think of things rationally and calmly, the right thing to do would have been to put an end to whatever is going on between her and Terry. She was with someone else now, whom she loved, perhaps without the same intensity she had loved Terry once, but she loved Christian nevertheless. She was grateful he had showed up in her life when he did.
Two stolen kisses...stood between her and Terry however and the situation had turned complicated and it shouldn't have been so. There were two more weeks of the Hamlet play and the troupe would move back to New York. Terry would have to leave and return back to his life and she would stay back to live her life and that would be that. The promise they had given to each other, they had kept, each with their own way. She had to change her life's perspective, in order to achiever her happiness, and if it had meant she had to draw a line over her past, because it was too difficult for her to deal with, then that's how it had to be done. Terry seemed happy too, in his own life. He had achieved artistic success and recognition, he had matured beyond any of her expectations. Love wouldn't take long to show up in his life...
That was when the complications were taking precedence nevertheless. If that love had showed up in New York for him, way away from her life, perhaps with some temporary melancholia, she would have been able to take it or so she assumed. But when things were unfolding in front of her own eyes, considering Marion's advances and Terry's reciprocation to them...well, she should be damn honest and say it out loud, it bothered her. She was jealous. With Terry's second kiss...he wasn't letting their past to be gone. By force, he had turned her to face her own feelings and now she stood terrified knowing how real and alive they still were.
She heard a car engine turned off in front of her house. A door closing. Marion was here. She took her bag, just as her heart was thumbing against her chest.
It was too hot a day to be nervous...
Given this was his day off from the theatre, Terry had the whole day free to do as he pleased.
What he had done, was his favourite past time. Walk around the city. He did that often enough in New York and he had managed to walk a couple of times around London city already. For such an introvert, walking had been the time he kept exclusively his own. He let his mind fill up with the noises of city life as he walked the streets, a mere spectator of the comings and going of other human beings around him. He'd examine attitudes and stares, words he'd heard in passing conversations. Soon his own thoughts would melt into this chaotic urban soundtrack he listened and would disappear for as long as he kept walking. He had found this utterly therapeutic and much healthier than being locked up in a pub, soaking his troubles in alcohol.
Sunday was all his and he had no intention of passing by Candy's place again. He had learned his lesson the hard way. This time, if and when there was something she wanted to say or discuss with him, he let her decide it for herself, rather than him trying to find out, or forcing it out of her. When he kissed her the second time, he sought an answer so much. How could she say she hadn't felt a thing when they kissed on her front door after all those years? It was wrong of him, the way he sought that answer but he had to find out. She had kissed him back, second time round...with as much passion his kiss had. Had his mind been reading things that weren't there? Terry had never been a guy full of himself. He did have some confidence as a man and he wasn't afraid to speak his mind, but he never assumed things, feelings that any woman with who he came close to, had.
With Candy however, he was as good as being blind. And that was because he had never felt himself worthy to be loved by someone like her. He had so many weaknesses and she had so many strengths, she sometimes felt like a saint to him. So many things had changed since he had felt like that back to when they were teenagers.
He must had walked for a good couple of hours. He was wearing a navy three piece linen suit but in the end, he had taken the jacket off and had shoved it under his arm. He walked with the sleeves of his shirt folded up to his elbows, enjoying the summer heat, warming his body down to the marrow of his bones.
He walked down to Whitechapel and stopped in front of the Gallery. It was closed. Not that he would go in. He had already examined Christian's infamous painting down to its every detail. Instead, he continued his walk. Instead he turned on his right, heading down Commercial Street. The street was rather crowded. On his left, there was a bunch of smaller streets, brimming with people. Stalls with everything and anything someone could think of, were spreading as far as he could see. The noise was such, you could not hear yourself think. Terry was intrigued.
This was Petticoat Lane. In his youth, he had visited a few times, buying interesting knick-knacks for a penny or two. The market was not legal of course. A lot of things that were sold there, had dubious histories behind them, at best. Police was known to raid the place more often than not. Judging from the noise, the packed crowds and the contents of the stalls as he started going down Middlesex Street, no much had changed since he had been here as a St. Paul's college student.
That's where he had bought from, that brown tweed newsboy cap he couldn't stop wearing when he had moved to New York. He decided to buy another one, as he moved from stall to stall, looking for a merchant selling those caps. About half way down the road, and with the sweat dripping down his neck, he thought perhaps it had been too hot for a stroll in such a busy street on a day London was getting backed under a relentless sun. He turned towards where he had come from, with the intent to return back.
A small lane was on his left hand side. A quieter place with not as much punters inspecting the goods of several stalls set up there. His eyes smiled when he saw the newsboy caps he was looking for. He tried on a few and ended up on buying one, the colour of charcoal this time. Just as he was leaving Gravel Lane, a man shouted from behind the stall, advertising his merchandise. He was standing between big wooden crates that had been placed one next to the other, on the road, each full with frameless paintings. Some of the paintings, he had pulled out, and had placed on a long wooden table, face up, in an attempt to entice any potential customers. Terry stopped and glanced for a moment, thinking of Christian. But all his thoughts vanished into thin air, when his eyes fell on a small painting, at best twenty by ten inches, perhaps a little bigger but not by a lot.
His eyes had been so fixed on that little painting of this house with the high tower in the middle, the big stained glass window and the cross on the tip of its roof. The yard at the front. He could hear the bell as clear as he had heard it that day when he was approaching Candy's home for the first time, a very long time ago. Though he had visited during the winter and the old church-turned-to-orphanage had been covered in layers of pristine white snow.
But if it had been looking majestic inside spring's green grass and blooming flowers, it was what he thought it was without a shadow of a doubt. The artist had even painted Pony's Home from the hill, he himself had stood back then, when he laid eyes on the place Candy had loved with every cell of her body and had described it so many times to him when they were in London.
He took the painting between his hands. It was like the past was looking back at him and he was looking at the past through that painting. The artist had signed it with his name, Slim. He had no knowledge who Slim would be but whatever the price, this painting was coming with him. The man had approached him and it took Terry a good few moments, to actually say something. It had been that unexpected to him. The hair at the back of his neck stood up.
Candy would faint with happiness if he gave her that painting. He took a bunch of bank notes from his wallet, not even bothering to count them, and gave them to an equally startled seller. Terry was certain that whatever he had given the man was more than enough and the look on the man's face as he counted the money, when Terry asked if they were ok, confirmed that.
He had returned to his hotel with a wave of euphoria overtaking his senses. He wasn't a religious man, but as a theatre actor he had a certain affinity on taking into consideration, the workings of fate. Hadn't fate steered his life up till then? Other people called it luck, and others thought it was the stars they had born under.
For him, it was Fate, a capricious goddess who enjoyed turning people's lives upside down and then waiting to see how they would react. If they reacted in a good and wise way, she was happy, their actions appeased her, and for a while she left those alone to do as they pleased. But if the recipients of her games weren't rising to the occasion, they could sink down a very dark hole of misfortune and suffering, their lives having taken a turn for the worse. He knew by personal experience. He was lost and then was found.
Wasn't it Fate that had pushed his steps towards that unexpected find that Sunday afternoon? Out of all the places he could have been, out of all the Sunday markets that spread their merchandise to sell, and out of all the stalls in that particular market in Petticoat Lane, the paintings in the wooden crates, to find a painting of Pony's Home, a small orphanage in the middle of nowhere...Candy's home...
The coincidences were so great, that even a sceptic would have scratched his head while taking paper and a pencil to do the math. This finding was indeed close to a miracle. Perhaps as close as it could get for Terry.
Candy may had changed her name to Rose, wanting to distance herself from a life that was. She became daring and pleasure seeking, not giving a thought to consequences as much, but she would never turn her back to the place she grew up.
Terry reached Claridge's. Went up to his suite while wondering when would the right time be, to give the painting to her. He jumped to the shower to cool down from having walked for the most part of Sunday's late afternoon. He too looked somewhat sun kissed from having wandered under the summer sun. There was colour on his cheeks and a glow in his turquoise eyes that looked more green than blue when he looked at the mirror as he shaved. He wore a clean pale blue shirt, trousers and the waistcoat the colour of grey slate, while he threw the jacket on the passenger seat when he took his car to drive towards Holborn.
It was 7pm on the dot. Terry had already been at the Cittie of York for the last fifteen-twenty minutes or so. He had been early but he didn't mind. He liked the idea of having a first drink on his own. He nursed a pint of bitter while he was thinking this was the place he first sought refuge after his shock of seeing Candy for the first time in the gallery, together with Christian...
Hard to think that was three weeks back. It felt like a lifetime ago now. As his eyes were skimming through the groups of people enjoying themselves, part of him was taking stock of everything that happened till then. He may had tasted her lips twice and had become her friend from whom she felt compelled to run away every time making him feel he was chasing dreams. He hated to admit it but it felt those weeks had been a hole in the water. He wished he could just talk himself into give up and have a good time with Marion for a couple of weeks that remained.
He couldn't do that though. Candy's presence acted like a magnet to every fibre of his body and mind. Erasing everyone else in her path. There was still an unresolved question he had put to her. If it wasn't for Robert being cross with him and his mixing the "personal" with the play, Terry would have kept Candy locked between his arms till she would give him an answer. The memory of them kissing under the low lights of the theatre backstage corridor...his stare was lost behind the people in front of him, behind the walls of the pub, had crossed streets and buildings till it reached her, the warmth of her body still on his...
He felt a hand drop over his shoulder. The memory dispersed into thin air.
"Daydreaming there, my friend?"
Terry turned to face the man. "Christian."
"I'm not very late." He said with a smile and pulled a stool close for him to lean on.
"No, you're not. I was early." Terry said back and pushed the empty glass that was in front of him to the side.
He examined Christian as he took his jacket off and placed the tobacco on the bar. Terry may have been daydreaming a minute ago, but he could tell, something occupied Christian's mind too, the way he had scanned the place around him.
"Everything ok?" He asked Christian.
Christian turned his face and looked at him. He smiled. "Nothing that cannot be solved." He replied and asked him what he was drinking.
"Hmm...Anything like a brown ale mate...have missed that!", Terry replied not wanting to hit the hard liquor from early on.
"Two bottles of Newcastle Brown ale then", he turned and ordered their drinks to the bartender that was sweeping the bench with a damp cloth.
"Play goes well as I heard." He commented with his head bowed down over the cigarette paper, where he had put some tobacco to roll, while waiting for those bottles of ale.
"Yes!" Terry replied. "With Barrymore as Hamlet, I wasn't expecting anything less"
"Londoners love Hamlet and Barrymore is one of the best the reviews say." Christian said with the cigarette between his lips, ready to light it up. The bartender handed them the Newcastle Browns, poured inside the pint glasses.
They clinked them. "Here's to a great stay in London - what has been left of it, anyhow" Said Christian.
Terry cheered too, and thanked him. "Two more weeks of performances and a week to get packed, settle everything else..." He took his cigarette case out of his pocket and pulled a cigarette out.
"Is it what you expected it to be?" Christian asked Terry after the guys had wetted their throats by taking gulps of ale from their glasses. Terry raised his brows. "London, I meant." Christian explained his question.
"Ah!" Terry exclaimed after realising Christian's question, "Yes and no, I guess..." He replied. "Places are the same but people have moved on...whoever I could find anyway from the old times."
"People grow up and change", Christian noted. "I'm sure you moved on since you were here."
"Suppose so...still, there were some people I hadn't forgotten." Terry said back, all of a sudden feeling like a daredevil. He had promised Candy not to say anything, but that didn't mean he couldn't play with words in front of Christian. In a wicked kind of way, he liked the idea.
"People like what? Old chums or old flames?" Christian added with a wink. He had told Rose, he loved having her around but in truth he had missed some guy-to-guy talk too.
Terry's eyes widened to Christian's comment. If only he knew, he thought. His reaction was to burst into laughter taking into account the funny side of the irony of his situation from the time he stepped his foot to his old city.
"Old flames? Them too, you could say." He said once his laughs died down.
"Got married, had children...right?" Christian replied as he rolled his eyes up mocking the unwritten expectations of their society.
"More or less..." Terry commented with a half-smile, his blue-green eyes lighting up by a naughty sparkle.
It was Christian's time to burst into laughing. "Oh my! Don't tell me you showed up in front of one of them, after all that time!" He said while continuing to laugh infecting Terry as well who had started laughing again after Christian's reaction. "What did she do?! Faint?! Lost her tongue?!" He added.
To talk about Candy in front of Christian without him realising it felt hilarious to Terry, right at that moment. He imagined her face if she was around. It would have been such a delight to watch. He wondered if she would pass by. Certainly Christian hadn't said anything. Between seriousness and joking, he had warned Terry about moving on to her - he'd break his legs. If only he know...twice he had taken her lips and her body in his arms. A small victory for him. He chuckled.
"Nope. I wanted to but in the end I bumped into her one day, much to my surprise. And hers also..." Terry continued his game taking much pleasure from it, feeling more daring. His eyes sparkled. His glass was almost empty already.
"Good God! I can imagine!" Christian said with a chuckle. "What happened? Had she changed?"
"Ohhh...she had actually! Very glamorous now! Daring, I may add!" He said, "She used to be much more straight laced before."
Christian took a sip from his glass. Terry ordered a couple more bottles.
"So what changed her? A man? A bad man. A bohemian fellow perhaps? Did you talk at all?" Christian asked all these questions, his grey eyes sparkling "We bohemians are a force of nature you know, apparently." he added and couldn't help it but laughing again with his comments. Terry hadn't seen Christian as relaxed and talkative before.
"There was such a fella...you are right!" Terry admitted, stepping on thin ice with the excitement of a suicidal ice skater. The night had started with a blast. If someone knew the truth, he'd mark Terry as crazy but he didn't care. It was the first time that he had regarded his story with Candy funny...for it was so twisted and unbelievable from the beginning to the end, it could very well be a famous comedy of errors.
"Anyhow...I know you're taking the mickey* (you are joking) and I hate to burst your bubble Chris, but no I don't think he changed her." Terry said sounding a bit more serious. "Bohemians are a force of nature! Please spare me!" He said with mocking despair in his voice, dragging his words, hitting his hand to the bar as his body shook from the laughing fits that came after.
"Have to admit though, your bunch is an unconventional one, I grant you that much." he added with a smile and eyes that were moist.
"Oh! ok! I might have exaggerated a bit." Christian said back with a mischievous wink.
He liked Terry, despite him confessing that he fancied Rose last Friday. Up till then, he had been more serious, sarcastic, haughty even, so to find out that this guy had a great sense of humour too was a relief.
They continued drinking and smoking right there standing by the bar, looking like old friends and as the minutes were ticking away they too felt the same. Terry told him of his rebellious past, of how he used to sneak out and hang out in pubs when he was sixteen or terrorising the college nuns when he opted to stay indoors.
Christian was more or less the same. He'd been at the Westminster college, the oldest boys-only college in London and a very austere environment at that. His father being one of the rich bourgeoisies of his time wanted to flaunt his wealth, Christian being the recipient of his actions. He hadn't liked it one bit there, it was suffocating beyond belief. Terry couldn't but just empathise with that, knowing exactly where Christian was coming from. Just like Terry, Christian created havoc when he wanted to let off steam being under such a strict lifestyle for a teenage boy of barely sixteen.
"And what did you do in the end Terry?", Christian asked him prompted by Terry's stories while he was a college student.
"Well one day I had enough...gave up...I wanted other things you know." Terry said and lit another cigarette. He felt warm to his bones as he was reminiscing of old times. He might have considered them dark back then, but now...oh the craziness of it all!
But again, he counted Candy as his light and his smile in those dark memories of his. Hadn't she been there, his path would be unknown, but not of good ending. That he knew deep inside his soul.
The time was reaching almost eight. Both men were well and truly relaxed in the company of each other and seemed to be having a great time with a few ales already consumed between them. Christian's eyes lightened all of a sudden, as he stood facing the door of the pub. Terry looked at him and then turned to see what was happening.
"The girls are here..." Christian faced him and said with a smile. "Marion insisted...dragged Rose along, not that I'm complaining." He added, shrugging his shoulders. "They'll join us for some drinks but they'll go to the Kit Kat club after."
If she could grow wings and fly out of the pub she would. How she managed to walk the distance towards the two men, trying at the same time to keep it together...she herself could not comprehend it. She felt the fire under her skin. Why the hell she fell asleep in the garden?
"Hi love." She said to Christian and kissed him on the cheek, while feeling Terry's eyes like coals burning on her back. She tried to calm down her nerves. It was all in her mind. Marion had already started chatting to him. She turned to see him.
"Hi Terry." She said with as much confidence she could find in her voice.
"Hi Rose." He replied back with a controlled smile.
"What happened to you?" Christian asked her, as she and Marion were discussing what to drink.
"Oh I fell asleep in the garden." She said with a huff.
"I don't think I've seen as many freckles on a person before..." Terry observed with a wicked glint in his stare. He looked rather dashing himself in his light blue colour shirt and the charcoal waistcoat, skin sun kissed and eyes shining like the tropical seas.
"You smell good enough to eat." Christian teased her, smelling the almond cream on her red skin.
"Will you two stop it?" She complained. Terry pleaded guilty and asked them what they would drink. He then ordered a couple of gin cocktails for her and Marion. They moved to one of the 4-seater booths, ladies first. She didn't particularly enjoy having Terry on the opposite side of the table, staring at her whenever he pleased.
"Rose told me she came to see you on Friday, Terry." Christian said they as sat down.
"She did?" He asked and fixed his eyes on her. Even if she wanted to read them, he managed to hide whatever he was thinking behind them.
"Marion spoiled the surprise..." She cut in, to avoid any potential disasters.
Terry brought his brows together. Sure he had lost something that had been said between them three, he kept quiet. "I hoped whether you managed to get tickets for me and Christian for Hamlet..." Rose asked him, feeling red to the tips of her hair and thanked her sunburned skin for not showing how embarrassed she felt at that moment.
"The tickets..." He repeated as if trying to think...
She gritted her teeth. She was at his mercy and he loved every minute of it. "Can you remind me Rose...things have been hectic lately." He said slowly as he lit a cigarette and fixed his eyes through the smoke to her.
"Oh, I only stayed for like five minutes because I was busy too...I was passing by and had stopped, and came by the theatre since I had this thought..."
"Yes..." He said, as he kept smoking.
"Funny how we didn't stumble to each other Rose!" Marion butted in and said.
"You were there too Marion?" Christian asked. Then turned to Terry, "Graham, you're very popular with the ladies I see..." He remarked, narrowing his eyes.
"Anyhow, I came in and found you and asked you whether you could find us some tickets for this week perhaps..."
"Aha..." His reactions were definitely monosyllabic and she hated him right at that moment. She clenched her jaw.
"No worries though, I don't want to get you to a difficult position with your boss, since you're under his beck and call..." She said, reminding him of leaving her because of Robert.
"Is that so?" He asked her. He then turned to Christian. "I told your darling Rose, to wait for me to go check for those tickets and she left like someone was chasing her..."
"I wasn't feeling very well." She protested.
"Rose was ill that night Terry, she's not lying." Christian supported her claim.
"Hmmm..." Terry remarked. "I had noticed you looked feverish and shivered a little maybe?... now that mention it...I apologise, Rose..." He said with his eyes firmly on her.
Oh, she would have slapped him with gladness if she could. Disguising him kissing her in that way...
"Thankfully, I did find tickets for the both of you. For Wednesday." He turned and said to Christian with a wide smile. "If Rose hadn't run away, I would have given them to her there and then and unfortunately I forgot to bring them with me today too."
Oh, he loved every minute of this. He knew inside she was boiling, just as she looked hot and bothered and sunburned. She did smell good enough to eat and those eyes of hers...the same colour of the green fields inside the painting he had found at the market the day before.
"Any time you want to pass by tomorrow Christian, or you Rose..." He said to both of them and gave them both a wide innocent smile.
Unbeknown to Christian Terry also was an excellent poker player. And he could bluff and hide his hand as masterfully as the best players could. Right now, it was payback time.