Florien waited. He sulked behind his fringe, spoke little and barely smiled at all. Even Leonora was unable to reach him. Each day her heart bled. Drop by drop as she watched his dark gypsy eyes gaze through her to Alicia, who was constantly in his thoughts, mesmerizing him with her dark allure. She pretended she didn’t notice when he ignored her or when he snapped at her but later she curled into a ball on her bed and licked her wounds like a dog. She knew she should leave and go somewhere else where she wasn’t reminded every day of his rejection, but she couldn’t. She might not have his love but she had his company and that was better than not having him at all.
She wanted so much to talk to her mother about her aching soul, but she knew she wouldn’t understand. She had never loved like this nor longed like this and besides, it had been years since she had confided in her. The lines of communication between them were no longer as open as they had once been. Grace had taken her place.
When Alicia returned, tanned and more beautiful than before, she picked Florien up as if he were a pet she had left with the neighbours. They made love once again in the barn and in the pool house until Alicia bored of the tedium of those places and preferred to take him into the woods or the fields and make love there beneath the sky. Once again Florien emerged from his sulk, his eyes blinked away the dust and shone and his smile lit up his face and turned his cheeks a healthy pink. He noticed Leonora because his spirits lifted and he suddenly noticed everything around him. But he wasn’t thinking of her when he talked to her or when he laughed with her. He was drunk with love and his happiness was because of Alicia.
But Leonora’s spirits lifted too. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t because of her that he now chatted jovially and chuckled for no reason. If he was happy then she was happy too.
The countryside bored Alicia. There was nothing to do. So she moved to London where she stayed with her friend Mattie, in her parents’ spacious apartment in Kensington. Mattie didn’t dare ask for rent, she knew her friend would baulk at the suggestion. Alicia was used to being given whatever she wanted. She had that effect on people. Even shopkeepers found it hard to take money from such a beautiful young woman and often gave her discounts. She knew when to be gracious but the rest of the time she didn’t bother trying. Her moods swung from excitement to irritability with no prior warning. There was no reason for her petulance. She lived off her adrenaline. Without thrill she sunk into boredom and lashed out at the people closest to her.
It would have been easy for Alicia to finish with Florien. She saw him only at weekends or for a little longer in the summertime when the weather was too stifling to remain in the city. London was brimming with eligible young men in search of beautiful wives and Alicia was entertained like a princess. She toyed with them all, taking her pleasure when she wanted it, avoiding their calls when she had tired of them. But Florien remained a constant fixture in her changeable life. She began to grow fond of him in spite of herself. The more his confidence grew the bigger his personality became. She discovered that there was more to him than the smouldering dark looks of his gypsy heritage. He was witty and playful, intelligent and perceptive. Alicia’s love was all used up on herself so she didn’t have much left for anyone else, even Florien. But there was something about him that drew her to him so that she found herself returning to Dorset most weekends like a homing pigeon. While in the arms of her more sophisticated city lovers she always resolved to leave her country friend. Yet, she had never seemed able to. Until now.
‘I’m sorry, Florien. I just don’t love you any more,’ she repeated. It was springtime, the woods vibrated with the clamour of birds and the vitality of growing foliage and plants, giving them a soft mattress of bluebells to lie on. They hadn’t made love for Alicia felt uncomfortable. She desired Florien, but he was too poor. It was as simple as that.
‘Yes, you do,’ he retaliated, shaking his head, unable to come to terms with her sudden change of heart. ‘I’m not grand enough for you, that’s all.’ She listened to him speak with his coarse country accent and cringed. She could never share her life with him for his was going nowhere. She envisaged private yachts and aeroplanes. The fast life of the rich and famous. The open road of the privileged. Holidays on the French Riviera, skiing in St Moritz, shopping in Paris. She gazed at him with regret. She would miss him, but he was right. He wasn’t grand enough for her.
‘Florien, it’s not that. You’re lovely but we’re just not right for each other. I want to spend more time in London. It’s not convenient.’