Midsummer Magic

Tatiana heard the phone go as she knelt on the floor, checking and rechecking the contents of her suitcase: passport, plane tickets, clothes, bikinis, sunglasses, suntan lotion – not that she’d get much time to sunbathe probably. By all accounts the workload on Sail for the Sun was phenomenal, but you never knew.

The phone was still ringing as she finally zipped up her suitcase, and placed her tickets and passport in her handbag, but she decided to ignore it. It would only be Bron, begging her to come back. God knows why he’d suddenly turned so needy after all these years. Who’d have thought?

Walking out on a five-year relationship hadn’t been quite as easy as she’d imagined. Bron had half his stuff at her flat for a start, and she wasn’t quite angry enough to dump it all out in the corridor for him to collect. So instead she’d endured several excruciating visits, when he’d begged her to change her mind.

‘I know the last few months haven’t been easy,’ he’d said.

‘Who for, you? Don’t make me laugh.’ Fear that she might crumble made her cruel. She knew he’d been hurting too, but she pushed the thought to one side. She needed this. She needed to get away, if she had any hope of surviving.

‘No, you,’ he mumbled, his face creased with guilt and pain. He stood underneath the hall light looking forlorn, a little boy lost – a familiar tug pulled at her heart but she ignored it. ‘Of course, for you, they’ve been tough. And I haven’t helped, I know.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ said Tati, then, briskly changing the subject, ‘We seem to have two copies of Rumours, do you want one?’

She went into overdrive, tidying, cleaning, sorting, organising. Anything to stop herself from actually talking to him. All those months, and all she’d wanted was for Bron to listen, to hold her, to share it with her. And now he was ready to, and it was too late. If she let him pull her back now, she’d be lost again, and this opportunity would be gone.

‘Can’t I at least hope?’ Bron had pleaded on his last visit, the one where she’d eventually banned him from seeing her again.

‘You can hope,’ she said, hardening her heart, ‘but it probably won’t do you any good.’

Hearing the catch in his voice as he left made her stronger once more, particularly when she could see tears in his eyes. It meant she was able to resist the heart-melting hug he gave her as he left. She’d cried a river over him, time for him to cry one over her.

Tatiana had spent so long in thrall to Bron it was quite satisfying to discover that while she could manage perfectly well without him (she ignored the painful little twist of her heart that still persisted whenever she thought of him), Bron was finding it difficult to do without her. Well, he’d have to manage, wouldn’t he? Her contract on Sail for the Sun was only three months, to be extended if her character proved popular. When she came back, Bron might be suitably sorry. Then she could think perhaps about having him back.

The beeping of a horn outside signalled the arrival of her taxi, while the beep from the answerphone told her that Bron had left his latest message. Well, he could wait. She’d wasted enough time on Bron. Time to seize her future. Time for Tatiana Okeby to have her day in the sun. Taking one last look at the small flat where she and Bron had shared so many happy times (she felt that familiar twist again, and reminded herself they’d had their fair share of bitter times too), she picked up her suitcase, strode through the door, and locked it for the last time. She was on her way. The future was bright and shining and golden.

As she got into the taxi and sped off, the phone in her flat rang again.

‘Tati – I know you’re there. Pick up, please. I’ve got some great news. Illusions is going to be on TV. And we can have equal shares this time. I promise. Tati? Are you there? Tati?’

Chapter Four (#ulink_8370d03d-9758-547f-b986-4e2f7f2a058b)

The pub was heaving, when they got to it. It was a lovely whitewashed old building with a thatched roof, wisteria growing up the sides, and hanging baskets tumbling down with bright red geraniums, blue and purple lobelia and yellow petunias. There was a pretty beer garden overlooking the harbour, and Diana was hugely relieved when the boys elbowed their way to the bar, and Josie suggested going outside. They managed to squeeze into a wobbly wooden table in the farthest corner of the beer garden, by a low granite wall, with a great view of the harbour. The sea was a turquoise green, and the sun was bright and warm. There was the constant humming of sails as the summer breeze danced its way through the myriad of boats bobbing in the harbour. On any other day it would have been perfect. But Ant’s presence had unsettled Diana more than she would have liked to admit. Dammit. How bloody typical of her pathetic little life, that Harry’s best mate should turn out to be Tony. The only man she’d ever let close enough to break her heart …

Christmas 2005 had found a twenty-two-year-old Diana working a season in the Alps as a chalet girl. She’d loved it. She was out of England, and therefore away from the ever-present sense of her father’s disappointment that she hadn’t made more of herself, and her mother’s rueful comments about ‘If only I’d had the opportunities you’ve had’; Diana’s decision to not go to uni and saddle herself with a load of debt having gone down badly with her parents.

But she was good at what she did. She enjoyed the challenge of organising skiing parties, plus she loved the outdoor life, and the partying hard aspect of the job. Life was for living, and the young Diana had wanted to seize it with both hands. She was earning good money, and unlike her peers, independent of her parents. She couldn’t see what their problem was.

She’d been having a ball, and then Anthony sodding Lambert had walked into her life and ruined it all. He’d knocked her sideways from the minute they met. For a while there, she – cynical, hard-bitten Di, who was never going to let a man near enough to break her heart – had even considered he might be the one person to make her change her mind about settling down. Which just goes to show how wrong you can be …

‘So go on then,’ Josie cut bluntly into Diana’s reverie. ‘What’s the story with you and Ant?’

‘There is no story with me and Ant,’ said Diana. ‘We worked together once. It was years ago.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Josie said. ‘Which is why you both looked as though you’d seen a ghost when you met.’

Diana had been dreading Josie’s interrogation since the morning. Josie had clearly given her some leeway about Ant, and not asked too many questions so far. Besides, she was happy to chat for England about what kind of flowers she was having, and Diana had kept her talking for as long as she was able. But it was clear Josie wasn’t prepared to be fobbed off anymore.

‘It was just a shock to see him,’ mumbled Diana. ‘It was years ago.’

‘Spill,’ said Josie, looking accusatory.

‘There is nothing to spill,’ protested Diana. ‘I worked with him one Christmas when I was doing the ski chalet thing. I barely know him. There is nothing to tell.’

‘Oh my God!’ Recognition suddenly dawned on Josie’s face. ‘Ant’s Teflon Tone, isn’t he?’

Diana felt the bottom fall out of her world. She really didn’t want to have this conversation.

‘No,’ she said unconvincingly.

‘You don’t fool me,’ continued Josie mercilessly. ‘Ant, Teflon Tone. No way.’

‘Yes, way,’ said Diana, realising there was no point denying it any longer. ‘Now can you see why I’m so freaked?’

‘He’s the one who —?’

‘Yes,’ said Diana. ‘That’s him. The bastard of all bastards.’

‘Oh bloody hell,’ said Josie. ‘If I’d had any idea, I’d have told Harry not to have him as best man, and I certainly wouldn’t have invited him for the weekend. God, Di, I’m so sorry. I’ll tell Harry he has to get another best man. It’s not as if Ant’s even that interested in the job.’

‘Not your fault. You weren’t to know,’ said Diana. ‘Just my godawful luck, as usual. Besides, whatever’s happened between Tony and me, it’s nothing to do with you two. Harry has to choose his own best man. I’ll cope.’

Josie sat looking thoughtful.

‘I still can’t get over Ant being Teflon Tone. What on earth possessed you? Or was he different when he was out there? At uni he always had a terrible reputation with women.’

‘Youth, stupidity, vodka?’ said Di. There’d been more to it than that of course. But she couldn’t bear to let her friend know quite how foolish she’d been. She’d heard Josie rant often enough about the idiocy of women who’d fallen for Ant’s charms and didn’t want to admit quite how easily she had done the same. It had all seemed so different back then …

‘Anyway, it was ages ago. All forgotten now.’ Diana looked round, desperate to change the subject; when talking to Josie about Tony in the past, she’d always played up the bad stuff, never mentioned any of the good, but there had been a reason why she was in love.‘Where are the boys with those drinks? The bar isn’t that packed.’

‘Oh,’ said Josie. ‘Look. Seems like we’ve got more than one local celebrity.’

Di looked to where Josie was pointing, to see Harry and Ant standing on the patio, deep in conversation with none other than Freddie Puck, the famous TV illusionist.

‘So go on,’ Ant was saying, clearly puppishly in awe of his childhood hero. ‘Spill the beans. How does the candle trick work? Is it sleight of hand, a false candle, what?’

‘You should know by now that I never speak of how the show works,’ said Freddie with a mischievous smile. ‘Shh, it will spoil the magic.’

‘He said it!’ Ant roared in delight.

‘Shh, it will spoil the magic,’ had been Freddie Puck’s catchphrase back in the day, solemnly chanted in playgrounds up and down the country every Monday morning after the show was aired the previous Saturday.

‘Yes, brilliant,’ said Harry, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his friend. He was beginning to wonder if he’d made a big mistake bringing Ant with him this weekend. He’d forgotten in the two years that Ant had been away, just how loud, how forward, how full of hot air, how thrusting, his best friend could be. They’d been mates a long, long time, and Harry had always felt slightly overshadowed by his funnier, more confident, better-looking friend. And today, as Ant grew more expansive, Harry felt himself shrivel a bit, partly from embarrassment (Ant would insist on talking to Freddie Puck), partly from an old and familiar feeling that in Ant’s presence no one was interested in what he had to say. Luckily Freddie seemed to have an ego to match Ant’s and was revelling in the attention.

‘I’ll just get the drinks to the girls, shall I?’ Harry muttered as Ant went into an interminable discussion about how he’d watched Illusions week after week, and tried to work out how they did the tricks. Freddie just smiled enigmatically as Ant came up with ever more outlandish theories about how they were done.

Sensing they didn’t really need him, Harry took the tray of drinks over to the girls.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, sliding gratefully into his seat. ‘Ant would insist on holding court with Freddie Puck. Honestly, he’s incorrigible.’