Page 53 of A Colourful Country Escape
‘You said fortune cookies weren’t authentic.’
‘They’re not, but I like them. Much like you, you big faker.’
‘Duly noted.’ He nodded. ‘But don’t give up on your fortune cookie just yet. As for the fakery, Miss Summers, we’re all just winging it. In life, money, business. There’s no real magic.’
She considered it for a moment. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better for being the only one in the room in a seven-year-old tube dress and wildly scuffed pixie boots. His efforts were touching, nonetheless.
‘And in love, Mr Carrington? Are we all just winging it there too?’
‘Love.’ Did his smile just tighten? ‘I’d never been a believer. Perhaps now it’s a luxury I can’t afford.’
He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his Manhattan, in a ‘case closed’ kind of gesture. By the time he’d got the attention of the barman and ordered more drinks, Lexie felt there was no way of clawing the conversation back.
Chapter 27
As the barman strode off to make two Singapore slings, Lexie gave Ben a low whistle. ‘Get you and your cocktails from around the globe.’
‘After spending half of dinner being mocked for the lack of action in my passport, I thought I’d try and look a bit worldly. Have you been to Singapore?’
‘Yes, way back in a different lifetime.’ She exhaled, wishing it hadn’t been with Inkie, the complete waste of epidermis, and regretting the artwork she’d let him adorn her with. Not that it wasn’t beautiful in its own way, just that it was meant to be symbolic of something she always seemed so far from achieving. Now the tattoo just reminded her she was perpetually stuck in the mud.
‘You should go. At night, parts of it look almost like this.’ She waved an arm towards the vista beyond the window, the deep purple fading to black. The curiously shaped skyscrapers stood like dark dominoes, blinking with electrical bulbs. ‘Singapore’s a quirky little island with a mix of Asian influences. Some say it’s where Buddha keeps his teeth.’
‘Handy. I must drop by. Is there anywhere you haven’t been with that tatty suitcase of yours?’
‘Plenty of places! You know, I’ve never actually been out in London, so this is a first. You’re broadening my horizons too.’ She gave him a wink.
‘Am I really? I like that idea. Where else could we go that you haven’t been?’
‘Nowhere! I’m saving up. I can’t go squandering my hard-earned money on jolly holidays. I’m a person with an ISA now. Does that make me boring?’ She laughed. She’d set one up after Grace’s small stop-repelling-money kick up the butt, although she still hadn’t done much with it.
‘Yes, completely. I’ll be forced to start calling you beige.’
Lexie gasped in fake horror and put a hand to her chest.
‘Looks like I’ll have to do all this research for the travel-inspired paint ranges myself,’ he joked. ‘What was it we talked about in Tom’s garden? Souks, spices … ?’
‘Don’t you dare go to Morocco without me! I haven’t been.’ Oh hell, had she just invited herself on an imaginary vacation with him? These cocktails were strong. She picked up the glass from her previous Manhattan and swished around the dregs.
Ben took it from her and held it up to the candlelight. ‘It’s a tempting colour. Maybe we could do a range of cocktail-inspired paints.’
She joined him in inspecting the beautifully rich shade.
‘Amber,’ she said, more to herself than anything. Not far from red and yet a world away from green. She shook her head. ‘Anyway, did you just have an idea? As in, an artistic one, and nothing to do with spreadsheets or profit and loss?’
‘Mmm,’ he said, as they continued to let the tawny, candlelit liquid mesmerise them. ‘I’ve started having the odd one lately. It’s a bit strange. Like there’s been something in the air, inspiring me.’
She could see the corners of a cheeky smile twitching on his face, and she gave his arm a nudge. ‘Idiot!’
The barman placed two rose-pink Singapore slings on serviettes in front of them and backed away.
‘It’s not a terrible idea,’ Lexie continued. ‘We could have luxurious Espresso Martini shades, bright Fuzzy Navels … ’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Or we could just keep it as beige as a Mad Monk Milkshake.’
He nodded. ‘We’re not a bad team when the ideas start flowing. Although you’re going to have to accept I’m not responsible for the beige walls of Nutgrass Hall.’
