Page 63 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘Such sublime songs… what a voice.’

His hand shook as he poured the liquor into a small crystal glass and passed it to her. He was nervous. Twenty years down the line and he was courting her again. Maybe he wasn’t going to be able to perform… He needed Frank to help him out. Stir him up. He sat next to her and sank into the lyrics as the singer crooned his favourite song.

Kate stared ahead.

Nicholas tentatively made his first move… He slid his arm round her shoulder. ‘It’s funny, Kate – it’s like being on our first date again. Come on, let’s dance.’

He scooped her up and held her round her waist.

‘Nicholas, you’re being soppy. You know I’m not the romantic kind.’

‘Come on, Kate. We haven’t done this for years. Do you remember before we had the kids we loved to dance?’

‘Okay,’ she said.

He pulled her closer, swayed her back and forth, crooning in unison with his idol, but Kate was getting very dizzy.

‘Stop… please! It’s like being on a boat. I feel seasick… I can’t dance any more. Come on, let’s go to bed…’

Nicholas was quite happy to acquiesce and they went upstairs. Kate waited, fully dressed, lying on top of the floral duvet, relieved to have a breather while Nicholas undressed down to his spotted boxers and navy socks.

‘Alexa, play“When a Man Loves a Woman”…Percy Sledge.’

Alexa complied.

‘Good girl, Alexa.’ Nicholas slipped onto the bed and, nestling against Kate, shifted his left leg over hers and moved in for a kiss.

‘Oh, can we just cuddle for a bit more? You know how much I don’t… you know… Kissing isn’t my thing… It makes me feel queasy… Sorry.’ Kate turned her face away.

‘No worries.’ Nicholas slid his hand down to her waist. ‘Oh, Kate… Kate…’ He sighed ‘Where have we been… ? It’s time to reinvent ourselves. Please, Kate… I need you. I love you.’

He tugged at the zip of her jeans. He pulled and she wriggled, but it just wouldn’t budge.

‘Ow,’ he yelped.

‘What now?’

‘I’ve nicked my finger… It’s bleeding.’

‘Oh no, please don’t get it on the sheets. I only changed them yesterday.’

‘Okay.’ He rolled off her like a bale of hay. ‘It’s only a prick.’ He sucked the tip.

‘Well, put a plaster on it.’

‘Will do… And while I’m about it I’ll get some Vaseline to unstick the zip…’

‘No, you’ll get grease on my new jeans. Better to use soap.I can do it.’ She bounced out of bed, all hope of a graceful seduction over.

Chapter 16

Friends’ connections, online dating, cocktail and dinner parties, evening classes, yoga and pilates sessions and especially art exhibitions. Now that Damien had flown, Anna intended to explore them all.

She started with an early morning trip to the National Gallery before the crowds descended. Exquisite in a white lace dress, her long dark hair tied up in a black velvet bow, she sat on a bench, gazing at Goya’s lush portrait of the actress Antonia Zarate.

And along came James, early fifties, just about sexy and still willing to have another shot after two divorces. Seeing the lovely Anna, he was ready to throw her a line and reel her in with an arty chat-up.

He settled himself next to her at a respectable distance and surreptitiously googled a quick critique of Goya’s painting on his mobile.

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