Authors: Thérèse
“S’pose so,” she slurred.
“Okay … Indie?”
“Yes?”
“I really miss you. I’m sorry.”
“Goodnight,” she mumbled, tears streaming down her cheeks.
India kept the phone in her hand and stared at the wall. She felt oddly calm. She thought back to their very first date in Malibu, how she had been carried away trying to make herself sound intriguing and fascinating. How she had always felt she was never “enough,” had tried on so many different personas over the years.
“No more pretending,” she said out loud. “No more.”
India repeated one of the mantras she planned on using in her book and then appraised herself in the long mirror attached to the back of her wardrobe. “Sophisticated, yet classic,” she pronounced, admiring her new YSL black trouser suit and sparkly platform Louboutins. “A look that will take me from day to night.” Then she repeated the other mantra also pasted onto the mirror.
I am indeed a woman of supreme courage.
I am indeed a woman of supreme courage.
I am indeed a woman of supreme courage.
As India climbed carefully out of the pantsuit, she thought how quickly the last few weeks had gone by. Contracts had been signed, deadlines agreed on, foreign rights negotiated, copious amounts of champagne drunk. Many new clothes had been bought with her shiny new Amex card. Although she had learned she had only ten months before she would be expected to deliver the manuscript (Omygod) and another six months after that before publication and a book tour, India knew it was time for a whole new image. She had been thinking “French, with a twist.” Unsure what the twist would be, she decided to buy everything in black. Monochrome would be the way to go for this entirely grown-up persona.
One of the many reasons for India’s newfound confidence was the emergence of another YouTube video, titled INDIANA Butler, in which she came across as heroic, leading a team of teenagers across thirty feet of burning cinders. She was extremely proud of this, even though it had only been viewed a couple of hundred times and she herself probably accounted for most of the views.
Larry had amazed her by explaining that the YouTube videos were a brilliant hook for a book. They could spin the whole issue of how you build good relationships out of a crisis. That kind of story was inspirational, apparently. It seemed the old adage was true – there was no such thing as bad publicity. It was all about what you made of it.
Pulling on an old pair of jeans and a cashmere cardigan, India went across to the fridge. She took her yogurt to the kitchen table and began sifting through the mounds of paperwork and correspondence. She had taken Sarah’s advice about waiting until everything was properly signed before resigning from school, but now she could send that letter to Dr. White, letting him know that she would not be returning in January. She would take great pleasure in explaining that she would be visiting New York instead.
India still had to fulfill the terms of her temporary school contract, but that was fine. She was building up a decent rapport with some of the kids and didn’t want to add her name to the long list of supply teachers who just failed to return without warning. Even though she would not be there for long, she knew she was making a difference and felt she owed it to them to be a rare fixed point in their lives. From her new vantage point she was able to see where money and indulgence helped and where it didn’t. She decided the common denominator had to be helping kids to discover where their true talents lay, building up their self-esteem, and opening up their worlds. Too little choice was as bad as too many choices, she decided. It was all material for her book.
And there was Adam. He called most days now, and, over the course of the last several weeks, they had become close again. India was unsure where this was going or if she would ever allow herself to trust him again, but there was no denying the intensity of their connection. She licked the last of the Dulce de Latte off the back of her spoon and sighed. Despite being happier and busier than she had been for the longest time, India was still a little miffed that the occasion of her fortieth birthday would now be marked at the Cat and Lion Public House rather than the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.
“I’m still a bit broken up that Annie and I won’t get to be together on our birthday after all,” she’d told Sarah. “But you’ve managed to book Thursday off work, haven’t you?”
“Of course, my dear. Yes, it’s a pity you can’t be with her, but isn’t it fantastic you have so much to celebrate? We’ll call her from the pub.”
“You’re right,” India answered. “After all, yes, there’s a lot to celebrate.”
That showed maturity, she thought. I mean, who needs a cake and candles and tons of presents and a huge fuss made over them at my age, anyway?
India went to shut down her computer and there it was, the long-awaited e-mail.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Good to hear from youHi India,
Thank you for your letter. It was a lovely card. I really appreciated it and the flowers too. Freesia, my favorite, you remembered. I’m sorry that we didn’t get a chance to talk things over. Thank you for the check and don’t worry, it wasn’t that big a deal to return the fees. I spoke to Annie and understand you had her best interests at heart by leaving town quickly. I can also see how the video happened and that everything was taken out of context. We all have our off days and it’s a pity yours was made so public. I hope life in London is being kinder to you.
Things at home are improving. I have a new contract (which is why it took me a while to get back to you). I’ve applied to serve as a judge. It won’t happen for another couple of years yet (if it does) and in the meantime I’m easing my way back into the working world.
Stan and I are working things through. It’ll take time but I’m strangely hopeful.
Sophie came back from Malibu more together and seems determined to try and focus. Joan remembered your advice about her dancing and signed her up for some arts activities on the understanding she has to keep up her grade point average. Thank you for that. You did a lot of good while you were here – hang onto that.
I hope it won’t be too long before you decide to pay us another visit.
Love Lizzie xx
India read the e-mail several times. Was it her imagination? Did it seem a little cold … distant? It was “cautious” she decided, cautious, but with any luck the beginnings of a conversation.
She decided to reply immediately, then stopped midsentence when her phone rang. It was Adam.
“I have a plan,” he said. “How does this sound…?”
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
India was up at six the morning before her birthday. The last day of my thirties, she thought as she brushed her teeth and then recited the mantra on the Post-it on her bathroom mirror:
I am a powerful and beautiful woman.
I am a powerful and beautiful woman.
I am a powerful and beautiful woman.
She changed the bedding and went into the kitchen, where she pulled tall-stemmed sunflowers out of a sink full of water and arranged them in two flea market jugs on either end of the mantelpiece. She opened her fridge to admire the Sancerre, French cheeses, olives, and tapenades. She was giddy with excitement. She showered and clasped on her black La Perla bra with matching lacy pants, her dark-wash J Brand jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and a pair of Comptoir des Cotonniers ankle boots. She threw on her new black cashmere Max Mara coat and her leopard-print cloche hat, dashed outside to her MINI, and screeched off. Drumming the steering wheel impatiently as she reached the Uxbridge Road, she finally eased onto the motorway and turned up the volume on her sound system.
Non! Rien de rien…
Non! Je ne regrette rien…
Avec mes souvenirs
J’ai allumé le feu,
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n’ai plus besoin d’eux!
She made the turn into the short-term car park at Heathrow, slammed the door, and raced across the road to Terminal Three.
Pushing her way through the heaving crowds in the arrivals hall, she joined the crush at the barrier. Holding her breath she watched as one by one the trickle of passengers turned the corner of the carpeted entranceway. It seemed like an age. As the guy in the navy wool peacoat with the collar turned up came toward her she took a deep breath. Suddenly she was in his arms. As he kissed her, she felt the months melt away.
Adam stepped back to look at her properly.
“Indie, you look amazing. You even look great with all those clothes on.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
They walked toward the exit slowly, pausing every few minutes to hold onto each other again. Then Adam stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute. I’ve forgotten something. Stay right here … by this newsstand. I’ll only be a minute. Hang onto my trolley.”
Before she had a chance to say anything Adam had disappeared into the crowd. India’s eye caught a large table of piled books displayed underneath a banner announcing “New Hardbacks.”
One day soon, my very own book will be on sale here, she thought. It’s going to have a nice red cover just like this one, so people will notice it first.
She lifted up the book and practiced glancing at it casually. She then put it down casually and casually picked it up again.
I shall come back here when it’s mine and do exactly this, she decided.
Lost in this little reverie for a few minutes India only gradually became aware of someone standing close by her side. She looked up. There was something familiar about the woman next to her with the black leather cap pulled way down, her face hardly visible under huge dark Chanel sunglasses. It took a second before it registered, before she could even let in the thought, but yes, yes. It was Annabelle. It was Annie. And standing right behind her was Joss.
“Your birthday present!” Adam announced, seeming to appear from nowhere.
India’s jaw dropped, her mouth fell wide open, and she gasped. She was completely overwhelmed. She kept staring from one to the other and back to Adam speechless. Then she started to cry and began hugging them.
“Omygod. How? What?” She was still unable to get a complete sentence out. “Adam?”
“Yep. Your birthday present,” he said, then turning to Joss he smiled with satisfaction. “Seems to have gone down okay. We did it. Put it there.”
“Slam dunk,” Joss agreed, high-fiving him. “Great teamwork, yeah. We’re staying at Brown’s,” he said, turning back to India. “I’ve a wonderful evening lined up for you girls tomorrow. But we can’t hang around here. I’m not in the mood to sign autographs.”
India could see a small crowd of women gathering around Joss, who, despite wearing aviator glasses and a parka, was somehow still managing to convey “rock star.”
“I don’t want to rush this moment,” he said, taking Annabelle’s hand, “But I should think you two want to be together. Our driver’s waiting. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you later, darling,” Annabelle said, giving her yet another hug. “You look fabulous. I’m so happy. Your face was an absolute picture – I wish we’d had a camera.”
“You know, I’m kind of relieved you didn’t.” India laughed.
“We’re here for a week; so much to catch up on. I’ll call you later,” Annie said over her shoulder.
India grabbed Adam’s hands.
“Thank you. Thank you. This is so wonderful. How on Earth did you keep this to yourself? I’ve been going on and on to you all week about how I wished Annie and I could be together for tomorrow. You kept sympathizing. You’re good.” It’s a bit worrying, she thought. What else have you been hiding from me again?
“It’s been hard. But Sarah’s been great. In fact, I think I’ve spoken to her more in the last few weeks than I have to you. I bribed her with an introduction to her crush – you know, Michael Mulholland, who hit on you at Fred’s party.”
“Sarah? She knew? Sarah knew too?”
“She most certainly did.” He smiled complacently as they maneuvered their way through the crowds. “And Mr. Smooth will indeed be putting in an appearance at dinner tomorrow night.”
“Oh my God, she must be beyond excited,” India said gleefully.
“Yes… Well, she doesn’t know. We’ll keep that our little secret, shall we?”
“I can’t wait to see her face. Adam, this is fantastic. It’s almost too much to take in all at once. You are amazing.” And a bit too good at keeping secrets, she thought.
“Well, it wasn’t all just my idea. I was telling Joss that I start shooting in London next week before we go to St. Petersburg and that I was coming out early to see you. We kind of got talking and just hit on the idea you two had to be together for your birthday.”
“This is perfect,” India said, reaching up and kissing his cheek. “You’ve all been plotting away and I hadn’t a clue.”
“Payback, Indie. Let’s face it, if you can get away with telling the entire universe I have ADHD, you deserve to be set up.”
India blushed. “You promised never to mention that again. You promised.”
“You have no idea just how lucky you were you also called me cute!” he answered. “Very lucky indeed.”
And you have no idea how lucky you are that I’m giving us a second chance, she thought. Very lucky indeed.
“So are we even now?” she shouted to him as the trunk sprang open.
“I guess,” he said, tossing in his two buffalo leather bags. “Though I’d like an opportunity to show you how focused I can be.” He grinned.
“There are several parts of me I’d like you to focus on, now I think of it,” she said, laughing.
“Let’s start here,” he said, closing the door. Leaning across to kiss her he slid his hand underneath her sweater.
“Okay, Mr. Brooks, let’s get out of here,” she said, turning the key in the ignition. “Hang onto that thought. I’ll have us home in no time.”
“Ta-da!” India said, opening her front door and leading him into her sitting room.
“It’s just as I imagined, very cozy, very you,” he said, nodding toward the squashy couch, the piles of books, and the open fireplace.