Page 53 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I flick my cigarette onto the window ledge with all my other butts that have collected there because Dr.Kane still refuses to buy an ashtray in hopes that will get me to stop. He says, if he buys one, then he’s enabling it which is silly because now I’m just littering which is way worse.
“Same time next week?” I turn to him, grabbing my bag and coat from the sofa.
He glances down at his watch. “We still have twenty-five minutes left.”
“I know,” I pout. “But I have a nail appointment at Harrods followed by a hot stone massage at Espa—take an early lunch.”
He rolls his eyes, smiling a little bit as he opens his office door for me. “Will do. Have a good day, Phoebe.”
When I exit the lift, my phone rings. It’s Athena.
“Happy National Shag Day!”
“Sorry?”
“It’s like the one day of the year when you know everyone is getting laid. Absolutely fuck all romantic about Valentines.”
“Right—why are you calling?”
“Oh, George is taking me to pick up a horse—a throughbred or something—”
“Thoroughbred.”
“Yeah, whatever the expensive ones are. Anyway, George wanted to know if you still know that trainer from Epsom?”
“I’ll send her details to him.”
“Thanks, chick. Make sure you get laid today. Bye, love you.”
Digby and I go to The Ledbury in Notting Hill for dinner. I hate to be a bitch but I’m kind of annoyed. It’s a tasting menu. A bunch of ‘small plates’ with foods I don’t actually like despite my prestigious upbringing. People are always so shocked to find out I don’t actually eat oysters for breakfast and caviar for lunch. How dare a girl from a privileged background prefer Crunchy Nut and pasta.
Don’t get me wrong, I have somewhat of an expansive palette given who my dad is and all but at every restaurant I order the same thing. Chicken, some kind of cooked fish, pasta or soup.
All that aside, I do actually really appreciate the sentiment. I’ve never celebrated Valentines before Digby. This is our third together and for each one, he’s woken me up with a hundred red roses, a piece of jewellery—this year's was the Folie des Prés necklace in 18K white gold with Diamond and Sapphire from Van Cleef and Arpels—and dinner. You’re probably thinking I’d prefer baby’s breath and a new handbag but I’d take anything. Knowing he loves me enough to do that, is fine with me. Unfortunately, it’s more than what Arthur did for me on any Valentine’s.
Speaking of flowers, actually, I have decided to go back to Digby’s. After Connie’s art show, he was so devastated that I didn’t go home with him that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Like usual, I caved. After all, he does love me. The least I can do is sleep in the same bed as him. I’m still a tiny bit pissed at his lies but I can tell he’s sorry. However, now that I am staying at his, that meant I did have to buy him something today so I got George to find me some vintage Day-Date Rolex he’d been after.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Digby gestures at me with his wine glass.
I nod, pushing my food around the plate.
“Look, Phoebe,” he starts, putting his glass down. “I want to say sorry.”
I frown. “For what?”
He swallows, looks down, leans in closer to me across the table. “For everything. The way I’ve behaved with your friends, Arthur, the lying—I’m really, really sorry.”
I reach across the table, take his hand. “Me too.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I was mean to you.”
He smiles, shakes his head. “It was deserved. I was acting like a right dick. I just really don’t want to fuck this up.” He stares at me, deeply. “I love you.”
Instead of saying it back, I lean across the table and press my lips to his. It’s different from Arthur’s kisses but a kiss nonetheless. To be honest, I’m glad he’s saying all of this. I want him to tell me he loves me, I want him to say sorry, I want him to be kind and loving and caring. I want him to remind me that I can’t go back to Arthur.
Digby isn’t a bad guy. He really isn’t. He left St Andrews to study medicine as an undergraduate at Kings. He said it was because he didn’t like being far away from his family but he left so quickly after I did that I can’t help but think he moved back to London because of me. His parents had an apartment, gave it to him, we moved in together very quickly. As in, too quickly that my friends started raising eyebrows. Fine, his family has a bit of a bad name in the press but these days, who doesn’t? As for Digby, there hasn’t been a single bad write up about him. All everyone does is love him. They love taking pictures of us together.
