Page 61 of A Summer Scandal

It had been over a week since they’d hooked up but tonight at least, she had plans. It was Friday night and she had a date; a dinner date with a rather distinguished man in his eighties. She’d bumped into Barty downstairs that morning and invited him up for a bite to eat, hoping to take her mind off Cal by hearing more about her grandparents from someone who actually knew them at the time. She’d made shepherd’s pie, splashed out on a decent bottle of red, and she painted a welcoming smile on her face for him when he knocked the door right on time.

It wasn’t Barty.

‘Cal,’ she said, her heart starting to race. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

His eyes moved over her, taking in the slick of mascara and lip-gloss, her skinny jeans and pretty pink and black blouse. ‘Did you? Who?’

Vi looked at the floor, suddenly unwilling to confess that her effort was just for Barty. ‘Does it matter?’

He sighed, then nodded and looked away towards the beach outside the landing window. ‘Can we talk?’

She was glad of a genuine reason to say no. ‘I can’t, Cal.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’

‘Does it even matter?’ she said, needled, keeping her voice low in case Ursula was in his apartment, already hating the extra layer of illicitness it added to things. ‘Your wife came home, Cal. It changes things.’

‘This isn’t her home, she never lived here,’ he said. ‘Please, Violet,’ he said. ‘Talk to me.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

‘Well I’ve got plenty to say to you,’ he said, quiet and urgent, glancing over his shoulder like any self-respecting unfaithful husband might.

‘I don’t want to hear it, Cal,’ she said, making a point of glancing at her watch.

He stared at her, breathing a little too fast.

‘Fine. Don’t listen to me,’ he said, then he stepped in to her and kissed her hard on the mouth, making her gasp, making her ache. Relief and frustration rushed through Violet’s bloodstream undammed. Relief at the taste of him, frustration because he was turning her into someone she didn’t want to be.

‘I won’t be the other woman,’ she said, choked up, wanting him with every traitorous bone in her body as he backed her against the door, his hand in her hair, his mouth agonisingly gentle now as he kissed her slow and deep.

‘I wouldn’t let you be,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t go out with someone else tonight.’

It was thrillingly possessive. ‘You have no right to ask that of me,’ she said softly.

He held her face between his hands, looking into her eyes even as they heard footsteps heading up towards the top floor.

‘Don’t you think I know that?’

They stared silently at each other for a few long seconds before he stepped back, pulling himself together, giving her a moment to do the same before her date arrived. Barty chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs, clutching his chest and rolling his eyes.

‘I hope you have something suitably strong in there to revive me, young woman, those stairs are enough to kill a lesser man.’ He leaned on the bannister. ‘If I didn’t do Zumba twice a week I’d be a goner.’

Cal looked at Barty and then back at Violet. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, something like relief in his eyes. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

Vi watched him go, dully aware that she’d never felt more akin to her gran.

‘Someone looks as if he’s swallowed a hornet,’ Barty said, following her through into the apartment. And then he paused, and laid his hand on his heart as he looked around, taking it all in.

‘Just as I recall it.’ He shook his head, a nostalgic beam on his face. ‘You haven’t changed a thing?’

Vi shook her head. ‘Not yet at least. It still feels more like theirs than mine.’

‘These things take time,’ Barty said, patting the dining table like an old friend as he walked into the living room. ‘She had fabulous taste, didn’t she.’

‘My grandmother?’ Vi said, pulling a chair out for him and pouring him a glass of red.

Barty didn’t answer straight away. His eyes had settled on the collection of framed photos on the sideboard, some with their colour faded, some black and white.

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