Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks. Кейт Хьюит

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘NOW that you’ve been back nearly two weeks, I think it’s time we went out and had a good time. I’m heading back to America next Wednesday and I can’t bear the thought of leaving you alone here when you’re so miserable.’

      Rose looked at her sister and tried to imagine whether she was capable of ever having a good time again. Not a word from Nick since they had returned to England. Not a phone call, not a message left on the answering machine, nothing. It was as though she had never existed in his eyes.

      For Lily’s sake, she had played down her feelings, but her talents as an actor must have been less successful than she had thought because here was her sister now, looking at her worriedly, in fact the way she had looked at Lily many a time in the past. The shoe was very securely on the other foot.

      ‘I’m not miserable, Lily. I’m tired. And, besides, I haven’t got time to have a good time.’ Rose looked at her sister over the rim of her mug.

      ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

      ‘Sure it does. I mean, I’ve only been back at my old job a few days and you wouldn’t believe the stack of work that was waiting for me. A lovely little collection of jobs no one else wanted to do.’ Every single one of which was utterly boring, she was tempted to add, but didn’t because she was determined, after her initial confession and shameful blubbing down the phone, not to make a fuss. She had lost her head and had her moment of madness and now was time to pick up the pieces and not wallow in a tide of self-pity. At least, not in public.

      ‘But it’s a Saturday, Rose.’ Lily sighed dramatically.

      ‘Don’t worry about me, I want you to go out and have fun. As you said, Lily, you’ll be heading back in a few days. You want to catch up with all your fans before you go.’ Rose smiled at her sister. The phone had not stopped ringing since Lily had arrived back. Friends wanting to meet up and, according to Lily, who had developed a healthy streak of cynicism since working in America, not-nearly-friends who wanted to rub shoulders with someone in the movie business.

      ‘No. You and I are going to go out tonight. Nice little jazz club in the West End. You can get your glad rags on and I’ll ask a couple of people I met when I was in America who are over here as well. We’ll make it a cosy evening.’ Lily was not about to take no for an answer. She had promised herself that she would make sure that Rose was just fine by the time she returned to America and she wasn’t about to jettison that goal. She gave her a coaxing but implacable smile.

      Several hours later and Rose wasn’t sure whether to be amused or alarmed by her sister’s newly acquired ability to chivvy.

      Chivvied from shop to shop because retail therapy was, apparently, the best form of therapy. Then from shop to beauty parlour where Rose’s short nails were turned into works of art with pearly pink nail polish. Then onward from the beauty parlour to the hairdresser’s, conveniently and suspiciously pre-booked, where her naturally curly hair underwent some weird metamorphosis and emerged a fabulous tumble of windblown curls rather than her usual unkempt, unmanageable mess. And brilliantly gold, thanks to some clever mixing of dyes. Lots of highlights everywhere.

      Lily pronounced herself satisfied and they returned to the house energised with several carrier bags and, in Rose’s case, a complete makeover.

      Course, she thought, she would never be lean and glamorous like her sister, but she hadn’t exactly looked fat in the dressing rooms.

      ‘You’ve lost weight,’ Lily announced airily, not for the first time reading her sister’s mind as she dumped the bags on the kitchen table. She poured Rose a glass of wine to get her in the mood, and plonked herself down on one of the chairs. ‘I kinda liked the old you,’ Lily said wistfully. ‘Cuddly and comfortable.’

      Rose wondered whether that was how Nick had seen her. As cuddly and comfortable, like an old cushion that was just right for sleeping with when nothing better was available. She rescued herself from pointlessly worrying the thought and smiled as Lily went on to talk about the people she had met in America, and their obsession with food. They either seemed to eat too much or eat too little. Doughnut emporiums squatted alongside organic health food shops and she had seen people leaving their gyms, still perspiring from their workouts, to head directly to the nearest hot-dog stand where they would proceed to order the largest of everything.

      Rose was quietly convinced that Lily would return to England. She had confided on more than one occasion, looking over her shoulder as though one of those Bigwigs she kept mentioning might pop out from behind a bush, that there was too much pressure in America to be thin, to be competitive, to suck up to the right people. Lily, having inherited Tony and Flora’s basic bohemian disregard for personal wealth, couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so willing to jump through hoops for yet more money, which they obviously didn’t need.

      ‘Anyway, you’re sick of me going on about this.’ She grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll just return to London when I’m done there. My CV will be a whole lot healthier, thanks to Nick, and I can just get a nice little job in a soap opera.’

      Nick. Not once had she asked her sister whether she had seen Nick. She had told herself that she wasn’t interested, that the past was the past, but she knew, really, that she was just scared. Scared that she might want her sister to tell her too much. Scared that the floodgates, which she was trying hard to close, would crash open again and she would be lost.

      ‘Right.’ All assertive once again, Lily stood up, topped Rose’s glass of wine with a fraction more, and ordered her to go and get changed but to do absolutely nothing with her make-up because she, Lily, would do it for her.

      ‘You wouldn’t believe the tips I’ve got from the girls who make me up.’ She laughed. ‘Believe me, it’s all in the brush strokes.’

      ‘You’re chivvying again.’ But Rose laughed because it was just so good not to be on her own. She had missed Lily, but only now was she realising by how much.

      ‘And it feels good. Now I can understand why you spent your life chivvying me around as a kid.’

      There was no rush and Rose took her time getting dressed. Yes, she really had lost weight and it suited her. She had also been coerced into buying a little black number that she would never have dared to have worn a few months ago. It had a plunging neckline, one of her great no-noes previously, and exposed more than a generous eyeful of cleavage. With high heels, she felt quite pleased with herself. The dress fitted snugly to the waist, then flared out to just above the knees.

      By the time Lily had sorted out her costume jewellery and applied the make-up, Rose felt her spirits lift. She could almost believe her own mantra that she was well rid of Nick, that life was just about to begin, that all experience, in hindsight, was good experience, that he was little more than a dot on her learning curve brought on by temporary insanity. Of course, the two and a half glasses of white wine helped.

      They took a taxi and just when Rose was beginning to warm to the idea of not staying in, Lily dropped the bombshell.

      Nick СКАЧАТЬ