‘I wanted to surprise you and Mum,’ she says. ‘I wanted to have a picture done as a present.’
On the canvas I can see an outline of what is clearly Alice’s face, made up from abstract colours that will all blend in eventually, to make the perfect composition. It’s more than just a couple of hours’ work. I’ve seen enough of Luke’s paintings to know that what is in front of me didn’t just appear in the last hour. ‘How long have you been working on this surprise?’ I ask, emphasising the last word.
‘Just tonight and last night,’ says Luke. He taps the end of the brush against the palm of his hand. There’s an awkward silence. I gaze at the canvas, but I’m not taking in the detail. I’m using it as a diversion for the anger I’m trying to tamp down; that green-eyed monster which makes me so angry. ‘What do you think?’ asks Luke eventually.
What do I think? He so doesn’t want to know what I think. ‘It’s nice,’ I say, unable to inject any enthusiasm into the word.
‘Erm, I think I’ll go to bed now,’ says Alice. ‘I’m suddenly feeling really tired.’ She smiles at Luke in that awkward way when someone is trying to pretend everything is okay, when it clearly isn’t. ‘Goodnight, Clare.’ She pauses, as if she wants to say something but then changes her mind and walks over to the door.
‘Yeah, night.’ I can’t bring myself to say her name. The door closes and I wait until I hear the creak of the stairs and I’m confident she has gone to her room.
‘Look, Babe,’ says Luke before I can say anything. ‘She genuinely came down last night and asked if I would do this as a surprise for you and your Mum.’
‘She may have done, but I tell you what, Luke, you’re letting a bit of flattery from a young woman go to your head.’ The seed that Tom planted earlier somehow has not just taken root but grown into a great big fucking tree without me even realising. Luke looks incredulously at me.
‘Are you serious?’ he laughs. ‘You can’t be. Fuck, you are. Oh, come on, Clare, what’s got into you? I was just taking the piss the other night about you being jealous, but you really are.’
‘What do you expect?’ I ask. ‘All this cloak and dagger over a flaming portrait. I don’t like it.’
‘The portrait?’
‘No! You two. I don’t like you two being all sneaky.’ I look at Luke and he has a small smile on his face. ‘And I don’t like the portrait either, now you come to mention it.’ I stick out my bottom lip like a child. Luke’s mock look of disappointment is making it difficult to stay cross with him.
He comes over and wraps his arms around me and kisses me, nuzzling my neck. ‘Are you saying you don’t like it?’
I make a half-hearted attempt to push him away. I want to be cross with him, but he makes it very difficult. ‘No. I don’t.’
‘Not even this?’ He takes his kisses down the side of my neck and moves the shoulder of my dressing gown over, where he kisses my bare skin.
I wriggle free and rearrange my robe. ‘That’s cheating.’ I look over at the canvas. ‘I still don’t like it.’
‘Clare, you’re overreacting. Look, I’ll wash up and then I’ll come up to bed.’
I know sulking is such a childish act, but I can’t help it as I retreat out of the room and back up to bed. When Luke comes up some ten minutes later I pretend to be asleep. I’m on my side with my back to him. He gets into bed and leans over and kisses the back of my head.
‘Night, Babe. I love you and don’t you forget it.’ He turns over and pulls the quilt up around his shoulder. It’s not long before his breathing slips into the deep rhythm of sleep, leaving me wide awake, battling the green-eyed monster again. How the hell did I become such an irrational and jealous person?
Chapter 11
It’s Saturday morning and although I’ve been really busy with work and helping Mum and Alice prepare for the little get-together we’re having this afternoon, I haven’t been able to stop replaying Alice’s confession in my mind. It’s not so much what she said but the way she said it and her body language. I just can’t make it all tie in together. And then, in the next thought, I’m chastising myself for being suspicious and reminding myself that Alice has already been through a lot in her life; maybe she has developed a coping mechanism and I’ve just become far too cynical in my job.
I’m also aware that I may have overreacted slightly about the portrait. I didn’t get a chance to apologise yesterday; Luke kept himself shut in his studio for most of the evening and I ended up going to bed alone. He’d come up some time in the night and I vaguely remember cuddling up to him.
When I wake up I can hear him in the shower, so I wait for him to come out and apologise for overreacting.
‘Hey, don’t worry,’ he says generously. ‘You’ve had a tough week emotionally and, I promise you, it was all totally innocent.’
‘I love you,’ I say, appreciating his forgiving nature. I stop in the bedroom doorway and kiss him.