Twenties Girl

Twenties Girl Page 145

“No, you don’t need me.” He smiles ruefully. “You’re doing just fine.”

“OK.” I hesitate. “Maybe I don’t need you. But… I want you.”

For a moment neither of us speaks. His eyes are locked on mine. My heart is thumping so hard, I’m sure he can hear it.

“Go away, Ed!” Sadie suddenly screeches in Ed’s ear. “Do this later!”

I can see Ed flinch at the sound of her, and I feel a familiar foreboding. If Sadie messes this up for me, I will, I will…

“Leave!” Sadie is shrieking incessantly at him. “Tell her you’ll call later! Go away! Go home!”

I’m aching with anger at her. Stop! I want to yell. Leave him alone! But I’m powerless. I just have to watch the light come on in Ed’s eyes as he hears her and registers what she’s saying. It’s like Josh all over again. She’s ruined everything again.

“You know, sometimes you hear a voice in your head,” Ed says, as though the thought has just occurred to him. “Like… an instinct.”

“I know you do,” I say miserably. “You hear a voice and it has a message and it’s telling you to go away. I understand.”

“It’s telling me the opposite.” Ed moves forward and firmly takes hold of my shoulders. “It’s telling me not to let you go. It’s telling me you’re the best thing that’s happened to me and I better not fuck this one up.”

And before I can even take a breath, he leans down and kisses me. His arms wrap around me, strong and secure and resolute.

I’m in a state of total disbelief. He’s not walking away. He’s not listening to Sadie. Whatever voice is in his head… it’s not hers.

At last he draws away and smiles down at me, pushing a strand of hair gently off my face. I smile back, breathless, resisting the temptation to pull him down straightaway for another snog.

“Would you like to dance, twenties girl?” he says.

I want to dance. I want to do more than dance. I want to spend all evening and all night with him.

I shoot a surreptitious glance at Sadie. She’s moved away a few feet and is studying her shoes, her shoulders hunched over, her hands twisted together in a complicated knot. She looks up and shrugs, with a tiny sad smile of defeat.

“Dance with him,” she says. “It’s all right. I’ll wait.”

She’s waited years and years and years to find out the truth about Stephen. And now she’s willing to wait even longer, just so I can dance with Ed.

There’s a tugging in my heart. If I could, I’d throw my arms around her.

“No.” I shake my head firmly. “It’s your turn. Ed…” I turn to him with a deep breath. “I have to tell you about my great-aunt. She died recently.”

“Oh. OK. Sure. I didn’t know.” He looks puzzled. “You want to talk over dinner?”

“No. I need to talk about it right now.” I drag him to the edge of the dance floor, away from the band. “It’s really important. Her name was Sadie, and she was in love with this guy Stephen in the 1920s. And she thought he was a bastard who used her and forgot about her. But he loved her. I know he did. Even after he went to France, he loved her.”

My words are spilling out in an urgent stream. I’m looking directly at Sadie. I have to get my message across. She has to believe me.

“How do you know?” Her chin is as haughty as ever, but her voice has a giveaway tremble. “What are you talking about?”

“I know because he wrote letters to her from France.” I speak across Ed to Sadie. “And because he put himself in the necklace. And because he never painted another portrait, his whole life. People begged him to, but he would always say, ‘J’ai peint celui que j’ai voulu peinare.’ ‘I have painted the one I wanted to paint.’ And when you see the painting, you realize why. Because why would he ever want to paint anyone else after Sadie?” My throat is suddenly thick. “She was the most beautiful thing you ever saw. She was radiant. And she was wearing this necklace… When you see the necklace in the painting, it all makes sense. He loved her. Even if she lived her whole life without knowing it. Even if she lived to one hundred and five without ever getting an answer.” I brush away a tear from my cheek.

Ed looks lost for words. Which is hardly a surprise. One minute we’re snogging. The next I’m downloading some random torrent of family history on him.

“Where did you see the painting? Where is it?” Sadie takes a step toward me, quivering all over, her face pale. “It was lost. It was burned.”