“Sod’s law, this will be the first book of mine he reads.”
“It’ll be the best book you’ve ever written.”
“So I suppose you want a dedication?”
He chuckled, but she thought she saw sorrow in his eyes. “No, I just want to see you again before I leave.”
“You’ll be coming back, won’t you?”
He shrugged. “Who knows where life will take us? I don’t want to take any chances. Please, Angelica. I won’t pounce, I swear it.”
“Maybe.”
He grinned in that roguish way of his, and Angelica wondered whether she had imagined the sorrow.
They parted in the street. He hailed a cab, and she watched him wave through the back window until he was swallowed by traffic. She turned and set off towards Kensington, the scent of his cologne still fresh on her skin.
Gray clouds now moved across the sky, driven by a chilly wind that whipped through the trees, causing the orange leaves to fall to the pavement like rain. Their morning together seemed nothing now but a sunny dream. It must have drizzled while they were in the café, for the tarmac glistened and the air was damp. Autumn had snatched the magic that had been theirs so briefly. Now that they had parted, she longed for him with every fiber in her body. She regretted her reluctance to see him one last time before he left for South Africa and wanted to text him to reassure him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But as she approached the school, she remembered once again who she was and where she belonged.
She met her friends with a heavy heart, knowing that she was unable to share her predicament. Candace noticed it at once. “Are you all right, Angelica?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, shrugging it off. “I went out last night, so I’m a bit tired.”
“You don’t look tired.”
“Makeup.”
She wasn’t convinced. “I didn’t see you at Pilates this morning.”
“God, I totally forgot!”
“You were missed.”
“I’m going mad.”
Candace looked at her friend suspiciously. “So what were you doing?”
“Trying to write my book.”
“How’s it going?”
“I’ve begun at least. A meager plot that seemed good at the time, but now, on reflection, is rather old hat.”
“Well, at least you’ve started. It’s more important to write than work out.”
“I know.”
Candace raised her eyes to see Jenna striding towards them. “Oh Lord, it’s a gaucho. Doesn’t that girl ever take off her sunglasses?”
“Hi!” Jenna gave a little wave. “Isn’t it cold all of a sudden?” She didn’t look in the slightest bit cold in her cowboy hat, cashmere poncho, and riding boots.
“It was lovely this morning,” said Angelica.
“I’ve already begun,” said Jenna with a triumphant smile.
“Begun what?” asked Candace.
“My novel. Didn’t Angelica tell you? I’m writing a novel based on my life.”
“Wow! Best seller,” said Candace flatly.
“I didn’t realize how easy it is to write a book. I always thought of you toiling away, Angelica, fighting to get it done before your deadline. It’s a piece of cake.” She gave a little sniff. “At least for me.”
“Well, you’re not quite Tolstoy,” said Candace, her jaw tensing with irritation.
“No, it’s more like a modern Edith Wharton.”
“I can’t wait to read it,” said Angelica, trying to keep a straight face.
“You will read it, then you can put me in touch with that delicious publisher of yours . . . what was he called? Leighton something.”
“Leighton,” said Angelica with a blush. She couldn’t remember what he had said his last name was. “Jenna met him when we were having lunch at Daphne’s,” she said to Candace, whose bewildered expression was replaced by a knowing smile.
“Oh, him,” she said. “He is delicious. Such a shame he’s gay.”
“Gay?” Jenna was appalled.
“Yes. He breaks hearts all over the world. Only a man can win him.”
“God, I would never have guessed!” Jenna had gone pale.
“Good luck with the book,” said Candace, tapping her arm. “We could all do with a little Edith Wharton.”
The big doors opened and one by one the children were handed over to their mothers or nannies. Jenna pushed her way to the front of the queue.
“I don’t think we’ll ever see that book of hers,” said Candace. “Shame!”
“I forgot to tell you I’d bumped into her!”