Almost Forever Page 19

  ‘I wore this dress at my engagement party. It’s perfect for the occasion and perfect on you,’ she said and I suddenly felt a little apprehensive about wearing something so precious, even more because of the significance of her choice. I wasn’t just wearing a borrowed dress; I was wearing a statement. She was publicly blessing my relationship with Paul.

  She knew, as well as I did, that whoever recognised the dress would read the not-so-veiled message Josephine was sending out. My hands started to shake.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said solemnly. ‘You are meant for each other. The stars decided that an eternity ago and no one can change the course that’s already mapped out for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, hugging her tightly. Her words meant so much to me. She kissed my forehead and lowered herself on the mound of pillows. She said she was a little tired and needed some rest. I pulled the curtains, so she was now bathed in the misty glow of another day coming to an end. When she closed her eyes, I left her room, shutting the door softly behind me.

  I knew she wanted this day to be special for Paul and I, but I also knew she did it for herself, in case she didn’t live long enough to see us on our wedding day. The thought made me extremely sad, so I pretended that Josephine was going to be fine.

  I walked along the corridor, started down the stairs, and I froze on the first step.

  Paul was at the bottom of the staircase looking incredibly handsome. His hair was styled for once, and he was wearing a black tuxedo that was perfectly tailored to his body. My heart skipped a beat when he looked up and smiled.

  Holding my breath, I walked carefully down the staircase without taking my eyes off his. When I reached the final step, I held the hand he offered and felt my composure crumbling under the weight of my nerves. His gaze was intense when he said, ‘You look more than stunning; you’re absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, Francesca. I can’t quite find the right words. I can’t find any words.’ He was trembling slightly when he bent to touch my lips with a delicate kiss.

  The love that sprang from deep inside me, at that simple gesture, shook me from head to toe. He smiled at my reaction and, still holding my hand, he pulled me a few steps down the corridor. He stopped when we reached the rococo loveseat. It was a lovely piece made out of walnut wood, carved into roses that framed a rich pastel fabric.

  This was one of Josephine’s beloved heirlooms; incidentally it was also the most romantic setting in the entire villa. We sat there, in the dim light of the sun that was already low on the horizon, while its rays filtered through the window that faced the little alcove.

  ‘God, Fran, I’ll miss you so much,’ he said, stroking my cheek gently.

  ‘Me too,’ I answered him with a suffocating knot in my throat. When I closed my eyes a lonely tear found its way through my eyelashes and wetted his fingers.

  ‘I know it’s unfair to ask you to commit to a long-distance relationship but I want us to be together.’

  ‘I want that too,’ I said.

  ‘It may not work out,’ he said pragmatically.

  ‘I know it will. Because I’ve loved you since I was eight and now that we are together there is nothing that will keep us apart. Never again,’ I answered without having to think about it. He took a deep breath as if he had been holding one for some time, then he smiled.

  When he kissed me softly, I shivered, knowing that it would take a while for the novelty to wear off.

  ‘Maybe we should get married,’ he said, knocking the wind out of me.

  Stunned into silence, I stared at him. He had the most confident smile flashing on his face now, all nerves gone. I wanted to say something but my mouth was too dry and my brain too wired to formulate any sensible thought, so I just grinned at him – not quite sure if he really meant it. There was a sudden change of energy between us and then he said, ‘The party is starting.’

  He stood up, offered me his hand. ‘Shall we?’ he asked. I was still in shock. My head was swimming in a sea of strong emotions and my legs were a little unstable when we walked into the garden. The sun was glowing warm somewhere behind the trees. The cool air of the evening was already starting to settle onto the ground and I felt wonderfully happy.

  Tall torches were lit everywhere. Lanterns decorated the gazebo and lots of beautifully dressed couples danced on the patio.

  ‘What’s the theme – 1920s?’ I asked, confused by the tails for the men and the unusual hairstyles for the ladies.

  ‘No, 1940s, I think,’ he answered, sounding a little unsure. ‘You are dressed for it?’ he said, looking at my beautiful silver gown with feathers and sequins. ‘Great choice by the way,’ he whispered, tickling my ear with his lips.

  ‘Your mother chose it for me,’ I said, blushing. ‘It’s the dress she wore at her engagement party.’

  ‘How appropriate – I should have known she would think of something special,’ he said, smiling. ‘I like the hair up as well; it really suits you. Unexpectedly sophisticated.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I answered, punching him gently on the side of his arm, for the slightly backhanded compliment. ‘You look really good too. Expectedly sophisticated. As always,’ I said wittily.

  We both laughed, then he turned around and, taking my hand up to his lips, he kissed my fingers in an old-fashioned manner that suited the already movie-like atmosphere.

  I looked at him and I knew my eyes were dreamy. Everything seemed so perfect that for a moment I allowed myself to believe that this was really our beginning, that we would be together against all odds, against all difficulties, forever just as Josephine had predicted.

  Lady Cordelia and a few of her friends were a few steps away and heading straight towards us. Unfortunately, they were too near for us to be able to avoid them.

  Paul and I looked at each other knowing that we needed to play nice.

  I greeted them with the most charming smile, and polite words, I could find. Unsurprisingly, they dismissed me with a quick hello. Paul was holding my hand firmly and that gave me the strength to stomach the two minutes’ conversation we owed to all guests.

  ‘Mingle, my boy, you’ve been planted here for a while now. You have guests to attend to,’ said Lady Cordelia in such a pompous tone that I almost burst out with laughter. I caught myself just in time but I wondered if she knew my cough was just a cover-up for the giggles. At the end of the day she had a loud bark but she wouldn’t bite.

  ‘We were just about to make a round to find you, Aunt Cordelia,’ Paul said, kissing her cheek and squeezing my hand at the same time.

  This time the cough was not enough to hide my chuckle and one of the youngest in Cordelia’s entourage noticed.

  ‘Isn’t that Josephine’s gown you are wearing?’ Cordelia asked, but before I could answer Paul got there first.

  ‘Yes, it’s the very same one my mother wore at her engagement party,’ he said, looking straight at her defiantly.

  She pursed her lips and hissed, ‘Nobody should be allowed at a party in a borrowed dress.’

  Her words almost made me cry. I felt Paul’s hand squeezing mine and when I looked up at him he had fury in his eyes. Luckily, Albert reached us before Paul could do something he might regret.

  Harry followed, and their arrival came at the perfect time to disrupt the tense dynamic around us.

  ‘Aunt Cordelia, what a fantastic gown – is that vintage?’ Albert asked with a perfectly sincere tone that completely covered the sarcasm in his statement. The glint in his eyes gave him away and I suddenly felt as if we were again playing the advantage.

  Lady Cordelia snorted – a very unladylike sound – and walked away with her back straight like an arrow. Her entourage very quickly followed.

  ‘Good old Auntie Cordelia,’ said Harry. I turned to him and he raised his glass to me. He was wearing a full black-tie suit as well and looked unrecognisably tamed and civilised. I raised my glass to him, idly wondering how long his immaculate image would last, and right on cue, he started to loosen his
bow tie, with a sigh of relief. When his eyes met mine, he winked in complicity and I knew this was going to be an amazing night.

  Paul turned to Albert, and said with gratitude, ‘Thanks, Dad, she was horrible to Fran.’

  Albert turned to look at me with an apologetic smile.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I answered. It wasn’t Albert fault so there was nothing for him to apologise for.

  ‘We just won a little battle, son; the war with that woman is still very much in full swing.’ He patted Paul on the shoulder, then, returning his attention to me, he added, ‘We will fight it together, all right?’

  I nodded, feeling strong on my feet again.

  ‘Can I have a minute with Paul?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Of course,’ I said with a smile and walked off with Harry, who had just declared he was famished. We went straight for the buffet, which held the most fantastic spread of food, and then we walked around to chat with our friends. We danced and drank more champagne. Hours went by quickly even though I spent the entire time trying to find Paul in the crowd. He was nowhere to be seen. Why did he keep vanishing on me? And how did he get so good at disappearing without leaving a trace?

  It was almost midnight, my head was fuzzy, and my feet hurt, so I said goodnight to Harry and our little crew, and headed upstairs.

  When I reached the landing, I found Paul sitting in front of my bedroom door.

  ‘Hey,’ I said tentatively when he looked up. He didn’t smile or say anything; he just looked at me as if he was seeing me for the very last time. His expression scared me.

  ‘Where were you?’ I asked him in an easy tone, trying not to show my worry.

  He shook his head without giving a real answer. His behaviour was frightening, odd. I could tell that something wasn’t right but I didn’t want to press him for answers, just yet.

  ‘How long have you been sitting there?’ I asked, looking at him.

  ‘A while,’ he answered, sounding tired.

  I stepped closer to him and stroked his hair softly. ‘Did you eat anything?’

  ‘I’m not hungry, but thanks.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine … I’ll be fine.’

  He didn’t look fine so I crouched down next to him and touched his shoulder. ‘Come with me,’ I whispered. I grabbed his jacket from the floor and led him into my room.

  I didn’t bother to fix the mess of clothes and shoes and books that were scattered all over the floor; I merely put his jacket neatly at the end of the bed as he sat on the creased sheets.

  In all the summers that I had spent at the FitzRoys’ villa, this was the first time Paul and I had been alone in my room. It felt strange and, at the same time, undeniably exciting.

  I walked to the dresser, pulling off my earrings and jewellery. I could see Paul’s reflection in the mirror. He looked miserable. To give him a minute to find his balance, I started to undo my hair, which was trapped by what seemed to be a thousand metal pins. When that was done, I went to the sink and splashed a little water on my wrists and the back of my neck, trying to clear my head from the fumes of too much alcohol. When I was ready to face whatever was bothering Paul, I walked towards the bed and went to sit next to him. He looked beaten.

  I wanted to ask him what had happened to make him so unhappy, but from the expression on his face I knew he wasn’t ready to speak about it. So I sat quietly with my hands resting on my knees, looking at him and waiting for him to say something, while I tried not to think of all the possible causes of such a change in his mood.

  It was a mild summer evening. From the open window the delicate breeze was blowing in through the lace curtains, transporting the sweet notes of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ in the silence around us.

  The party downstairs was still in full swing and someone was singing slightly off key. I kept listening to the charming lyrics with my eyes closed and my heart pining, unable to stop worrying about what had happened.

  ‘They dropped the 1940s theme.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, opening my eyes.

  ‘This song,’ he said, ‘was recorded in 1954.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise that,’ I said, feeling guilty for bundling every song written before the ’90s under a category labelled ‘Old Stuff’. I was not proud of that, especially as I was aspiring to become a Classicist, but I couldn’t help it if my thing was literature not music.

  ‘You are such a clever clog, Paul,’ I said in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. I pushed the shoes off my feet and kneeled on the bed. I reached for his hands and gently took them in mine. He held mine in response and slowly started to stroke the backs of them with his thumbs.

  ‘Fran, I love so much,’ he said softly.

  He moved his hands up my wrists and gently stroked the skin on the inside of my arms, running his fingertips all the way to my shoulders and then down again. I shivered at his touch.

  ‘There is only you for me. Always you. Since … I don’t know, forever ago. I love you, really love you.’

  My heart stopped at his words. He had said them to me already but I’d waited a lifetime to hear him say them, so every time was as powerful as the first. Maybe more, because of his despondent tone.

  ‘I love you too. Nothing and no one will keep us apart again,’ I said simply, leaning forward and kissing his lips.

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘I have fought an internal battle with myself and lost. Even though I know how selfish it is to ask you to wait for me, Fran, I’m asking you. I despise myself for it, but, at the same time, I can’t leave you again without knowing if you will still love when I get back.’

  ‘I will, Paul, and not because you are asking me, but because I can never stop loving you. I’ve tried to get over you before; I did my very best to succeed but it didn’t work. I don’t want to be without you ever again.’

  ‘I’m leaving tomorrow,’ he said, resigned to a cruel destiny that seemed to be always pulling us apart.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ I asked surprised.

  He nodded. ‘I’m on the first flight back in the morning. I have a connecting flight in Paris. I’ll be back in California by the end of the day and, realistically, I know it won’t be earlier than Thanksgiving before I can come home. Maybe you can come over for the Christmas holidays? We could go to Canada? Go skiing? Enjoy the scenery?’

  He held my hands but I felt so connected to him that he could have been holding my soul in his fingers instead. ‘What do you say?’ he asked, lowering his head to mine.

  ‘I say yes but on one condition: we go to Hawaii. I don’t want to ski; I want to sunbathe,’ I said to lighten the mood, impressed by the thought he had already put into how we could make our relationship work.

  ‘Deal,’ he said, kissing me softly. ‘I think I’ll prefer watching you in a bikini than tumbling down a mountain.’

  ‘Hey! I’m very good on the half pipe,’ I said in a whiny voice.

  ‘Yes, you are, especially when sliding on your bottom.’ He laughed and kissed me again, and when he locked eyes with me, I watched a storm brewing in them.

  ‘I’ll miss you so much, Fran, and I want you to know it. I keep saying it but you have to understand if I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t. We haven’t had enough time together to feel I can leave tomorrow. Although, I don’t know if there’s enough time in the world to spend with you – a lifetime certainly won’t be enough.’ His tone had become sad and melancholic.

  ‘I’m still here; we’re still together. Let’s not waste tonight,’ I whispered. ‘We’ll have tomorrow to worry about tomorrow,’ I added, eager to spend the little time we had left to give us something happy to think of while we would be apart.

  ‘You promised me a dance,’ I teased him with a pout.

  Bringing my hands to his lips, as he had done at the party a few hours before, he kissed my fingers softly. ‘Did I?’ he asked. A shiver radiated from my fingers, and enveloped my entire body. I didn’t want to think of how littl
e time we had before he needed to leave. Tonight was ours.

  ‘You certainly did,’ I declared.

  ‘What are we going to do about it then?’ he said, leaning in to kiss me. This time there was no insecurity and our lips came together with untamed passion. He wrapped his arms around me. With one hand around my shoulder and the other pressed on my back, he lowered me down until my head touched the pillow. Our bodies, separated only by the soft material of my dress and his shirt and trousers, were on fire.

  I was struggling to keep my breathing even, and when I started to shiver, he gently slid his hand from under me and put some distance between us. He exhaled loudly and closed his eyes, trying to relax. I rested my head on his shoulder and reached for his hand.

  ‘I’m not an expert but I don’t think you can call this dancing,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood. He caressed my hair and my cheek and then kissed my forehead. The breeze was cooler now and the music outside sounded mellow and romantic.

  ‘I like this song – it will remind me of you from now on,’ Paul said as we lay there in each other’s arms.

  I smiled shyly and asked, ‘What is it?’

  ‘“The Way You Look Tonight”.’

  ‘Oh yes! Is it Frank Sinatra?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

  He pulled me gently off the bed. I laughed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Dancing with you. You’re my date tonight and I made you a promise,’ he said very seriously. ‘I always keep my promises.’

  I giggled when he lifted my arms over his shoulders and secured them around his neck. ‘Do you really always keep your promises?’ I asked.

  ‘Always,’ he whispered as he held my waist and moved us slowly towards the middle of the room. ‘Forever.’

  He lowered his cheek to my ear as we swung slowly side by side. Then, he started singing the lyrics quietly, so close to my skin that goose bumps shot up all over my arms. I danced, floating in his arms while we spun around, holding each other.