It Felt Like A Kiss

Chapter Twenty-three




Ellie didn’t hear what Ruth thought about this, but she looked over at David, who treated her to a chilly smile. ‘Sorry to drag you away, but if we’d stayed any longer, I think they’d have started making plans to adopt you.’

‘They were really nice,’ Ellie said, as he held the gate open for her. ‘Considering I turned up uninvited, they made me feel very welcome.’

‘Duly noted, Pollyanna.’

‘How do you even know about Pollyanna?’

‘Younger sister,’ he said obliquely. ‘I used to charge her fifty pence a time to read her a bedtime story.’

‘When I hear stories like that, I’m glad I’m an only child,’ Ellie told him as they crossed over the road and walked through the gap in the hedge that led back onto the Heath extension. Then she remembered that technically she wasn’t an only child; technically, she had two half-sisters.


Ellie risked a glance sideways at her father’s lawyer, sure he was going to spend the walk back to Highgate being cold and distant, but instead he smiled at her. He was stuck halfway between the Inns of Court and Glastonbury tonight. It was very unsettling. ‘Well, despite the financial advantages, there were lots of times that I wished I was an only child too. Particularly during the Care Bear years.’

‘Ari would never let me have Care Bears or Barbies or even a Polly Pocket,’ Ellie said, and as they came to the first dip in the path, which involved scrambling down a small but steep slope, he was already holding out his hand to help her.

‘Was that because she was a single parent? You notice I didn’t say anything about being on benefits,’ he added drily.

‘Except you just have, and not having those things was nothing to do with lack of funds and more to do with Ari being terrified that I’d be one of those girls who was obsessed with everything pink and princessy.’

‘Did her cunning masterplan work?’ David gave her an appraising look. ‘I’ve yet to see you wear anything pink, but you have filled my bathroom with what seems like an excessive amount of hair products.’

Ellie was in the middle of telling David that Sadie would buy her whatever toys her pink, princess-loving heart desired as long as she did well in her weekly spelling tests and would keep them hidden at her house away from Ari’s disapproval, when she was interrupted by his phone ringing.

‘I should probably get this,’ he said, looking at his phone, but he said it without much enthusiasm, as if he’d much rather listen to the denouement of her story, in which Ari had discovered a contraband Barbie bangle in her weekend case and had gone on an hour’s rant that contained words like ‘body fascism’ and ‘third-wave feminism’, then made Ellie write out fifty times, ‘Barbie is a toxic plastic tool of a patriarchal culture.’

‘Hello. How are you?’ he asked tonelessly.

It wasn’t dark yet but dusk was settling in, softening the light and lengthening the shadows. The heat was becoming more humid and it was so quiet and still on the Heath that Ellie could hear the high-pitched, garbled voice of David’s caller.

She took a step away when he said, ‘You could have just called me at work, Jess, if you were worried I had squatters in my flat.’

The ice in his voice cut through the humidity. Ellie trembled.

The tinny voice on the phone sounded more hectoring now and Ellie dreaded to think what it might be saying. She also couldn’t bear to look at David’s face for clues on how the conversation was proceeding. There was a wooden bench a few metres away, so she wasn’t in earshot, though she could imagine only too well what Jessica was saying to him.

David was pacing up and down as he talked, long legs covering the same well-worn path again and again. Ellie had to stop looking at him, stealing glances that he didn’t even know she was taking. Like she was trying to commit the shape and size and measure of him to memory. It was silly when she still wasn’t sure that she even liked him that much, and he was certainly going to like her even less once he’d finished talking to Jessica.

Now was definitely the time to start planning her speedy getaway again. The Universe obviously agreed with her because when she checked her phone, there was an email from her friend Esme in Paris.

Sweetness!

So good to hear from you. Of course the offer of our sofabed still stands, except you need to know a few things.



In Paris it has rained for seven days straight.

On Monday, it will be 1 August. Paris decamps to the country and the coast for the whole of August so everywhere that’s fabulous will be shut.

Sue and I are going to St Tropez to stay with friends on Monday. You’re welcome to come along too. Said friends live in a freaking chateau. They’re bound to have a spare room.

Or you can apartment-sit. Would be totes totes totes lovely to see you before we go or can leave keys avec concierge who is staying in Paris because she’s très, très, très old et boring.

Also! So many straight men I can set you up with either in Paris or St Trop.



Holla once you’ve booked your tickets.

Love you, mean it,

Esme

David was still pacing with phone clamped to his ear. From the set of his shoulders and the speed of his strides, it didn’t appear that he was anywhere close to ending his chat with Jessica.

That made it easier to act decisively. Ellie called Madeleine Jones, who sorted out all the gallery travel requirements, and if she minded being called so late on a Friday evening she didn’t mention it. She simply agreed to Ellie’s request for a seat on the next available Eurostar heading to Paris ‘even if it’s first thing tomorrow morning. In fact, first thing tomorrow morning would be great’, and promised to email her the ticket details.

Ellie didn’t have the guts to call Vaughn. Also, Grace took a very dim view of work-related phone calls after eight p.m. so she emailed him with a fait accompli.

David was still on the phone and dusk was quickly becoming dark. Then he looked straight at her. ‘Ellie?’ He was off the phone before she even realised the call was over, and marching towards her.

She stood up and brushed down the skirt of her dress nervously. ‘Everything all right, then?’

‘No, everything is not all right.’ He was standing in front of her now and even the faltering light and the long shadows couldn’t disguise the tight, angry lines of his face. ‘Were you going to tell me that Jess came over?’ His voice was tight and angry to match.

‘Well, of course I was! I did try when you first came home.’

‘You didn’t try very hard.’

‘There never seemed to be a right moment.’ Ellie risked looking up at David, but got as far as his chin, before she averted her gaze down to a scrubby patch of withered grass. ‘Look, she came round. She didn’t like me; I didn’t like her. And she shouldn’t have just come barging in like that. It was an invasion of my privacy. It was an invasion of your privacy.’ That sounded all wrong, like she was on the defensive, on the attack: all things that would prolong an argument. ‘She insinuated … no, she said some really offensive things to me and ordinarily I’d have just let it go, but even I have my limits.’ David hadn’t moved. Half a step nearer and technically he’d be right up in her face. Ellie needed to do better. ‘She was really hostile.’

‘Oh, she speaks very highly of you too,’ he said, his breathing slightly ragged. ‘Said you gave her some very useful relationship advice.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m sure she didn’t tell you—’

‘Just drop the act, Ellie!’ He took that half-step nearer and Ellie couldn’t take a half-step back because the bench was in the way. ‘That nice-girl routine is wearing paper thin now. That’s how you ingratiated yourself with my mother, wasn’t it? God knows what you said to her!’

She didn’t recognise herself in the bitter words that he was flinging at her. ‘I don’t ingratiate myself. Before this all started, this business in the papers, people liked me! They would open up to me. I have one of those faces. I’m a people person.’ She flung up her hands but really she wanted to grab his shirtfront and shake some sense into him.

‘You’re not a people person, you’re a people pleaser. There’s a huge difference.’ Ellie flinched, eyes blinking, air in short supply when he cupped her chin, turned her face up to catch what was left of the light, touched her. ‘I know who you really are behind that sweet smile,’ he told her simply, as if everything she showed the world was a fa?ade that he needed to rip down. ‘You have that wide-eyed ingénue act almost note-perfect, but it is just an act, isn’t it, Ellie? I saw you last night after Billy phoned. Inside you’re as dark and f*cked up as the rest of us.’


‘No I’m not!’ It was one of the worst things he could have said. ‘Just because you’ve seen me during the most awful, extraordinary days of my life doesn’t mean you know the real me!’ Ellie wrenched herself out of his grasp, nearly giving herself whiplash in the process. Her hands were clenched into fists, which she used to beat him back, because he was still far too close. ‘Get away from me!’

He stepped back, held up his hands to ward off any more blows. ‘Everyone’s got an angle. Even you. Especially you.’

‘My angle? My angle is that I’ve always been stupid enough to believe that people are fundamentally good,’ Ellie spat. ‘And as for you … You …’

‘What about me?’ David asked. He didn’t sound angry any more, but expectant.

‘If anyone hides behind a smile, it’s you,’ she flung at him. ‘Yeah, you can be really smooth and persuasive, but underneath you’re calculating and as cold as the grave.’ There was so much more to be said on the subject, and Ellie couldn’t sort out the mass of words ricocheting around in her head, so she settled for snatching up the apple strudel still warm in its tinfoil shroud and throwing it at him. ‘I’ll give you darkness, you sanctimonious f*cker!’

She stumbled away, as fast as she could in her unsuitable footwear, veering off the gravel to follow an overgrown footpath that plunged her deep into the heart of the Heath, where overhanging trees made strange shapes in the gloom and the undergrowth brushed against her legs. She’d have been terrified if the anger hadn’t seized hold of her and refused to let go.

After ten minutes or so, Ellie started to calm down, pulse slowing, footsteps faltering. She came to a halt and tried to get her bearings. Her bearings proved elusive. She was lost, but it was impossible to retrace her steps when her steps hadn’t followed any recognisable pattern and had just been about getting as far away from David Gold as possible.

Now she could hear her own erratic breaths, the thud of her frantic heart. There were other sounds. Nature sounds. Things skittering through the bushes. Though it was too hot for a breeze, there was rustling, and she was a city kid, born and bred, who didn’t do nature. Nature was far more scary than being on your own on Dalston High Street at three in the morning.

With fumbling fingers, Ellie managed to find her iPhone, go to Google Maps and pray she had enough of a 3G signal to navigate her way out of this mess. She was peering at the screen, willing the page to load, when a hand gripped her shoulder. Her heart spasmed painfully and she honest-to-goodness screamed until a voice said, ‘Thank God, you’re wearing white. I’d never have found you otherwise. Somehow I didn’t think you’d answer your phone.’

Ellie shook off David’s hand. The anger was back and she had to fight against it; curling her toes, tensing every muscle, forcing herself to take deep breaths before she trusted herself to turn round.

He was standing there, adjusting the strap of the cool bag, and was that a smile? Did he think that he could say horrible, hurtful things to her and then it wouldn’t matter because he’d rescued her from a terrifying, lonely night on the Heath?

She wanted to kill him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she managed to say, though she wasn’t remotely sorry, but she couldn’t bear to feel this unhinged for even a second longer. ‘If it’s any consolation, I’ve never called anyone a f*cker before.’

‘Not really, no.’ He shook his head. ‘You got angry, Ellie. Why can’t you just stay with it? Own it. Just stop pretending to be so bloody perfect because you’re not. No one is.’

Ellie could feel her face begin to droop, to fold, her eyes start smarting, and before she could even tell herself not to cry, she’d burst into tears that were long overdue. It had been one hell of a week and she needed to cry it out. But to be crying because David had the wrong idea about her was pathetic.

She didn’t want the tears to turn into a big, ugly cry, but all she could do was hang her head as her shoulders shook and, God no, she was flapping her hands in front of her face.

Why did girls do that? Why was she doing that?

‘Ellie? There’s no need to cry,’ David said more sharply than was necessary, when he was responsible for a lot of the tears that she was currently shedding.

She turned her back on him and wished that he had enough tact and consideration to hide behind a tree until she’d got the tears reined in. Instead, he just stood there, looking at her. ‘Please go away!’ she said in between sobs. ‘Give me some privacy.’

But he didn’t give her privacy. She felt his hand on her shoulder again, trying to turn her round to face him. She batted him away with a flailing arm.

‘For God’s sake, Ellie. Tears aren’t going to make me feel sorry for you,’ he said, because he was f*cking relentless.

‘I thought you wanted me to show an honest emotion,’ she spluttered. ‘Well, I’m crying. I’m owning my crying. Why isn’t that good enough for you?’

‘Don’t do this to me,’ David said softly, so softly that she wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t been close enough that he could suddenly wrap his arms around her.

Ellie’s first instinct was to panic and struggle free. Her second instinct was to stiffen and go completely still so the message penetrated his incredibly dense brain that his touch was unwelcome and unwanted, but then he smoothed back her hair from her hot, damp face and he pressed his lips to her equally hot and damp forehead so fleetingly that Ellie thought that she’d imagined it.

Then David did it again. But it wasn’t fleeting. It was his lips firm against her forehead and her third instinct was to melt against him, limbs as pliable as warm dough, because he was touching her, properly, deliberately, for the first time since Glastonbury, right at that moment when she needed the comfort of someone else’s touch, even if that someone despised her.

The tears slowed to a crawl and Ellie was sniffing, ready to retreat, but David hugged her a little tighter and shushed her and kept his hand smoothing through her hair like a mantra as he pressed more kisses to her forehead and the bridge of her nose and her eyelids when she obligingly closed her eyes. When he reached her mouth she was already tilting her face up, raising herself on tiptoes so nothing could go wrong before it had even started.

It no longer felt like a kiss just to be near him. It was a kiss. Ellie couldn’t tell if David got to her lips first, or if she was already straining towards his mouth. All she knew was that her arms were round his neck, fingers raking through his hair and their mouths were locked together in a fierce clumsy kiss. There was a clash of teeth, then he turned his head ever so slightly and she shifted ten degrees in the other direction and then everything aligned; planets, time, space and their mouths on each other, and Ellie started to cry all over again from the sheer relief that she was kissing and being kissed by David Gold.

They were kissing and she was crying, and her nose was running and her mascara must have streaked down her cheeks, but it was still perfect. A moment that she’d thought about so many times but her dreams didn’t compare to the feeling of David’s hands framing her face like she was utterly precious, even as she could feel his tongue in her mouth, his hard cock nudging between them.

She didn’t know how much longer she could have carried on without his kisses.


Then the cool bag, which had managed to stay on David’s shoulder throughout all the excitement, slipped and banged against Ellie’s hip on its descent and the spell was broken.

They weren’t kissing any more, but standing a respectable metre apart.

It was dark and hard to see his face so Ellie wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She was tempted to get in there first, to say that it was a terrible mistake and she hadn’t been in her right state of mind all week, and that it could never happen again, when he cleared his throat. Ellie waited for David to spit out some legal disclaimer and refute any pleas of culpability that she might make.

‘I’ve thought about nothing else but kissing you ever since Glastonbury. Even after I found out who you really were.’ Ellie felt that same, blessed sweet relief again. He’d felt the same way, could sense that fierce pull tugging them closer and closer to each other. Then relief gave way to cold, grim reality, because of who she was, Billy Kay’s daughter, and who he was, Billy Kay’s right-hand man. ‘It’s why I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance. This complicates everything.’

Ellie was already fishing in her handbag for a tissue to wipe the snot and smeared make-up from her face. ‘I know,’ she agreed, because David was right. A kiss was all it could ever be and it should never have gone as far as that. ‘This is stupid. Things are already too complicated.’

‘It just so happens that I’m good at dealing with complicated,’ he said. Ellie wasn’t sure what he meant, although they were in an obscure corner of the Heath and a lot of his immediate problems could be solved by burying her in a shallow grave to be discovered by a dog walker weeks from now. ‘Complicated is actually more straightforward than crisis management.’

‘Oh, so now I’m something to be dealt with, rather than managed, am I?’ Ellie said in a hurt voice, as she finished scrubbing at her face. Her skin felt tight and sore, and her lips were stinging from his kisses.

‘I’m not arguing about this. Not when we’re in the middle of the Heath in darkness, not far away from an area popular with the local dogging community,’ he said in an amused voice, though Ellie couldn’t imagine what was funny about that. She also didn’t know why he was taking her hand and she was letting him, curling her fingers around his, squeezing so he squeezed back. She was also trying really hard not to peer and squint into the undergrowth, which was still rustling, in case some local pervert was hiding and had been getting his rocks off watching them kiss. That was not how she wanted to remember their kiss.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, with a shudder. ‘I’m sure there’s something in the bushes.’

Ellie thought that as soon as David had led them out of the woods and they could see Kenwood House in the distance like a lodestar to guide them back to the right path, he’d drop her hand.

He never did. He held her hand, even once they were walking along Hampstead Lane. Was still holding her hand, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking her knuckles as they entered his building, waited for the lift, travelled up to the fifteenth floor.

They stopped holding hands only when they were through his front door. Like the first kiss, there was an unspoken agreement about what was going to happen next.