Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ladies, there is nothing in the world quite like the first kiss of a new romance. It is a crucial moment in a burgeoning relationship and, if done correctly, can decide your entire future together. Prepare your lips with a soft balm the evening before the intended kiss. Be passionate, but respectful. French kissing or nibbling is not advised at this stage.

Matilda Beam’s Guide to Love and Romance, 1955

By the time I meet Leo that evening, my head is full of romance and kissing and Burt Lancaster, who was actually really mega hot in his prime. I didn’t even get chance to sneak up to the attic to search for any Mum clues because the entire freaking day was filled with Grandma’s favourite sappy romance movies, pausing and rewinding and replaying the moment that the hero and heroine kiss so that I could learn how it’s done. It was ridiculous. I am the queen of kissing. I have probably done more kissing than anyone else in all of London. And even if I wasn’t an expert kisser, people kiss loads differently nowadays. They don’t Hollywood Kiss. They snog and grab arses and, you know, slip in a bit of tongue.

While I’m waiting outside Ladbroke Grove for Leo to arrive, my mind flits to Jamie. He tried to catch me on my way out of the house tonight. He dived out of the clinic door in his white doctor’s coat, stethoscope dangling from one ear, and said in this unusual anguished sort of voice, ‘Jess, we need to talk.’

But I pretended I didn’t hear him and legged it past and out onto the street, where I ran and ran until I reached the Tube station. Now is so not the time to deal with Jamie and his misapprehension about what ‘casual shag’ means. Especially not now that I have to speed up the project so that Grandma doesn’t get turfed out of her home.

I smell Leo before I see him. The scent of ginger and rosewood mixed with freshly laundered cotton.

Keep cool, Jess. Think of the women he trampled on before you. You are a warrior, remember.

‘You look amazing,’ Leo grins, shaking his head slightly as if he can’t believe his eyes.

Tonight I’m wearing a dress that I think has been inspired by a sailor. It’s a white shift dress with a pleated skirt, gold buttons and a blue anchor-patterned scarf tied round the collar, which accentuates my ridiculously sticky-out boobs. My hair has been gathered up into a white ribbon-tied ponytail that swings and bounces chirpily as I move. And, on account of it being the hottest day of the year so far and the fact that I must not, under any circumstance, catch any semblance of a tan, Grandma has insisted I use her white antique lace parasol to shield myself from the scorching rays. A fucking parasol. A member of the public has absolutely got to point and laugh at me tonight. If they don’t then something very wrong is going on in this world.

Leo doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at the dorky parasol. He probably thinks it’s part of my ‘alternative’ style.

‘Hi.’ I give a simpering wave and try not to notice that he’s wearing a faded Van Halen T-shirt beneath the sharp navy blazer. Leo Frost likes Van Halen too? I assumed he’d be into gentle piano jazz or Savage Garden or some crap.

I do not like Leo Frost. I don’t. I don’t.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask pleasantly as we walk together down Lancaster Road.

‘There’s a showing of Grease 2 on at the Electric Cinema,’ Leo informs me. ‘That’s where we’re going. I know it’s a bit niche, but I always thought it was a far superior film to Grease 1. And it’s a really cool cinema.’

Must. Remain. Ladylike.

Grease 2is only in my all-time top list of favourite films. I cannot believe he’s taking me to a showing of Grease Fucking 2.

‘I love 80s films,’ I say, marvelling at how much better this is going to be than a boring old dinner, and then feeling confused that I’m so excited about this date.

‘80s films are the best films,’ Leo agrees as we walk down Portobello Road. ‘I have this huge collection of DVDs.’ He pulls an over-the-top cocky face. ‘I’m actually a bit of an expert, you know.’

‘Oh really. Have you seen The Breakfast Club?’ I ask.

‘Standard.’

‘Better Off Dead?’

‘That film made me take up skiing.’

‘OK . . .’ I narrow my eyes. ‘You can’t possibly have watched . . . Teen Witch.’

‘Au contraire.’ He rubs his hands together. ‘Check it out.’ And then, to my utter surprise, Leo Frost starts to do the horrendously painful ‘Top That’ rap from Teen Witch, complete with ridiculous dance moves.

‘I’m hot, and you’re not, but if you wanna hang with me, I’ll give you one shot, top that!’

Oh my God. What is he doing? He looks like an absolute loser!

But it’s really, really funny.

I laugh out loud as Leo raps super enthusiastically. Members of the general public cross the street to avoid him and a student starts filming him on her phone. I laugh so hard that I feel like my corset’s going to burst. Leo notices me clutched over with laughter and a flicker of pride flits over his face. Then he makes his moves even more hammy and outrageous.

I try hard to collect myself, to stop laughing and hold on to what Valentina said this morning, to be a warrior, to think about all the women Leo fooled before me. But the more he raps and dances and completely embarrasses himself in the pursuit of making me laugh, the more her warning sort of fades away.

* * *

Leo snuggles up to me in one of the Electric Cinema’s back-row sofas. At first I feel awkward sitting so close to him, the lengths of our bodies squished up against one another, but with one of my favourite films playing and Leo’s arm slung round my shoulder, I eventually relax into it. During ‘Cool Rider’, Leo runs his hand over my thigh, sparking off some very particular feelings in my lady business.

I do not like Leo Frost. I do not.

I grab hold of his hand tightly so that at least I know where it is, but then he moves his thumb across my palm in a very suggestive way and that feels awesome too.

I do not fucking like Leo Frost.

I spend the rest of the film twitchy and on edge about the fact that I’m squashed up next to Leo in the dark, and nervous about the moment when I have to kiss him and the worrying suspicion that I might actually like it.

* * *

When the end credits roll, I jump up from the cinema sofa in relief. Leo suggests we take a pleasant stroll through nearby Holland Park, and I agree wholeheartedly. A nice boring walk in the daylight. Much safer than a cosy, low-lit cinema.

On the way to the park, Leo dives into a nearby off-licence, where he picks up a bottle of Chianti and a tube of plastic cups. The sun is still quite high in the sky, and so I flip open my parasol and twirl it around as we wander into the park’s entrance. I spot a family of squirrels darting about near a huge oak tree, and a baby one scrambling up the tree with a nut so big that it keeps dropping it. We laugh, take the mick out of the squirrel and mosey past the young families and couples enjoying the last dregs of the day’s sunshine.

‘So,’ Leo says brightly as we walk side by side down a tree-lined path. ‘Tell me more things about you, Lucille.’

Fuck! With everything that happened with Jamie last night, and Grandma being upset today, I totally forgot to ask about what my fake job should be. Shit. I can’t fudge this again!

Think, Jess. What the chuff would a well-to-do girl from Kensington with impeccable manners and enough time to wear a hairstyle that takes over two and a half hours to prepare do for a job?

‘I’m . . . a socialite!’ I blurt out.

Why? Why didn’t I just think on it a little longer. Fucking socialite?

‘Gosh, really?’ Leo raises his eyebrows sharply in astonishment. ‘I haven’t heard of the Darling family.’

Shit. He knows all the socialites in London. They’re probably all his mates. He knows I’m not one of them.

‘Oh, the Darlings are based in Lancashire,’ I say as confidently as I can. ‘Farmers, you know. I—’

‘Farmers? My best friend Alistair is in farming! What kind of farming?’

‘. . . Cows?’

‘Alistair breeds cows! Sadly, he’s just had to put his favourite one out to pasture. She was getting a bit old.’

Hmm. Something about that rings a bell. The thing Leo said about ‘getting rid of a fat old cow’ at the funfair.

‘Was the cow fat too?’ I ask.

‘Yes, actually! How did you know?’

‘Oh, um, it’s common.’

Oh my God. Leo was not being sexist at the funfair. He was talking to his friend about an actual old fat cow. I peer at him, eyes narrowed.

‘So what do you enjoy doing with your time, Lucille?’ he asks.

‘Oh, well, I like to read,’ I reply. Which is true. ‘And . . .

Dancing, pear cider, copping off, rock concerts, Pot Noodles, stand-up comedy, sexy times, Netflix, partying like a champ . . .

I run through my list of favourite things, but none of my real hobbies are very socialitey at all. What the hell do socialites like to do? I squint and search my brain for ideas. And then I get a vision of the end pages in one of Summer’s celebrity tat magazines. Socialites are always hanging out at fancy events for charity.

‘I’m . . . a philanthropist.’

Leo stops mid-walk and gives me an astounded look. ‘Wow. I had no idea. That’s fantastic.’

‘Yes,’ I say nobly. Leo is mega impressed by my good grace, my selflessness. ‘I’m passionate about charities.’

‘What charities do you aid?’ He takes hold of my hand and swings it as we walk past a young family having a picnic.

‘Uh . . . um . . .’ My brain scrambles frantically for an idea. My brain is shit. ‘Er . . . well . . . er . . . squirrels,’ I say slowly, nodding in a meaningful way.

Cockwaffle. Of all the amazing charities I could have said, why the fuck did I make one up. About squirrels. Stupid squirrel family that I thought was so cute before. I look backwards and throw the squirrels my withering glance. They are whizzing up a tree trunk and don’t even notice.

‘Squirrels?’ Leo repeats with the raise of a ginger eyebrow.

‘Oh yes,’ I say fervently, a vague feeling of panic beginning to circle my chest. I have no blummin’ clue where I’m going with this. ‘I, um, I think squirrels are very important to . . . er . . . to this life. People think they’re cute and that’s all there is to it. But squirrels . . . um . . . they don’t always have it easy.’

What am I saying?

‘No?’ Leo asks with a great deal of interest. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, squirrels need nuts, but . . . in the winter there’s too much snow and they can’t find the nuts. Our charity . . . well, we distribute bags of nuts so that the squirrels don’t go without.’

‘What is your charity called? I’ll make a donation.’

‘Thank you!’ I breathe. ‘It’s called . . . well . . . it’s called, erm . . . Squirrel’s . . . Nut . . . Sacks? Um, Squirrel’s Nut Sacks.’

I look across to Leo and see that he is politely stifling a laugh. I act nonchalant.

Fucking hell, why is my mind so disgusting. Why is nut sack the first nut-related thing that comes into my mind? I am so gross.

‘I must say, it sounds very niche,’ Leo says with an amused chuckle. ‘I had no clue that anything like that existed, but I suppose squirrels need advocates like any other woodland creature.’

‘They really do. It’s an issue very close to my heart.’

Leo gives me a sidelong smile. ‘You certainly are one of a kind, Lucille Darling.’

I grin faux shyly and twirl my parasol some more. And then, out of nowhere, Leo properly yanks me behind a big cherry tree. What is he doing? He pulls me close to him and stands very still. Is this it? Are we going to kiss now? Did my passion for squirrel welfare get him hot?

My heart starts to hammer in my chest. What is it playing at? I look up at Leo to see if he’s going to kiss me, but he’s peeking out behind the tree, an absolutely mortified look on his aristocratic face.

Frowning, I peep round the tree too and see a tall, statuesque woman with gorgeously highlighted blonde hair jogging down the path in designer sportswear with a cute little Yorkshire Terrier attached to a lead.

Leo moves us further round the tree and out of sight as the woman jogs past. When he spots her face, his expression of terror melts away.

‘Who’s that?’

Leo gives me a grimace. ‘It’s actually no one. I thought it was an ex, but I was mistaken.’

Ah. He thought it was an ex. No wonder he wants to hide. Did he think she was one of the many women he has fucked over? Chuh. And there I was getting all wibbly about the prospect of a kiss. I mentally punch myself in the face.

‘Oh,’ I say casually. ‘Why did you hide?’

Leo runs a hand over his stubble. ‘Yeah, that was really embarrassing of me, wasn’t it? Sorry about that. I . . .’ He trails off, looking uncomfortable.

‘You can tell me,’ I purr. Let’s see him wriggle out of this one. ‘You can tell me anything. Shall we sit down?’

I point to a nearby wooden bench. We head over to it and plonk down. Leo opens up the wine and pours out two paper cups.

‘I thought it was Katie, my ex-fiancée, ’ he says eventually, watching as she jogs off out of sight. ‘I really didn’t want to her to spot me.’

Huh?

‘You were engaged?’

That juicy titbit was not on Google. And Valentina definitely didn’t mention it.

Leo takes a large gulp of his wine. ‘A long time ago.’

I look up at him curiously. ‘Why didn’t you get married?’

He inhales long and low.

‘I . . . well, I actually caught her fooling around with my father.’

What the hell? Ew. That is a concept so gross that I want to swear out loud, but I have to keep up the soothing voice.

‘Oh dear,’ I gasp. ‘That’s horrible! Why on earth would they do that? Sorry, that’s very nosy of me. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he says. ‘It’s pretty mental, isn’t it?’

‘Um, yes. Pretty mental,’ I agree, wide-eyed with horror.

‘It happened years ago − the summer after I’d left university,’ Leo explains, taking another gulp of his drink. ‘I had this ridiculous idea that I was going to travel Europe, try to become an artist on my own dime without the help of family money.’ He rolls his eyes and laughs mirthlessly. ‘Katie and I had been dating for about a year and she wanted me to join Dad’s company − she had her heart set on a very particular sort of lifestyle and thought me being a Frost would afford her that. When she realized that I was going to focus on art, intended to live by simple means, she completely lost interest in me. Thought she’d have a crack at my dad instead.’

‘But why would he . . .’

‘My father is many great things, but moral is not one of them.’

I think of the way Rufus Frost looked at me when we met at Leo’s office. Barf.

‘I caught the pair of them drunkenly pawing each other in the downstairs bathroom during a family barbecue,’ Leo explains, his voice low. ‘The two people in the world who I thought had my back lied to me. I had to forgive my father – I’ve not exactly got an abundance of family to pick and choose from – but we’ve never quite recovered from it.’

‘That is so, so rubbish,’ I say, taking the bottle of wine and topping up our cups. No wonder he just freaked out.

Leo’s pale face flushes crimson, the frown between his eyebrows deepening. ‘Apologies, Luce. I didn’t expect that to happen. This grimness is not what I had in mind for today.’

‘God, don’t apologize.’ I lean back against the bench. ‘It must have been a relief to go travelling after all that.’

‘I didn’t go in the end. After everything that had happened, such a romantic notion suddenly seemed idiotic and childish.’

I nod thoughtfully. ‘So . . . have you had many girlfriends since Katie?’

Leo shakes his head and drains his drink. ‘Not really.’

‘No?’

‘I mean, I’ve dated women. Lots of them. So many, in fact, that I’m painted as some sort of womanizer in the press.’ He pauses and gives me a wry smile. ‘I don’t know if I should be telling you this – not exactly helping my cause, am I?’

I do my Lucille giggle. ‘I like that you’re being honest with me. So . . . are you a womanizer?’

He shrugs. ‘I hate that word. But honestly? Yes, I was. I was a bit of a dickhead for a while, actually. Since Katie, I’ve had this issue that every woman I meet has an ulterior motive. Whether it’s my family money, or this ridiculous notoriety of being a ‘playboy’, or the column inches and being seen in the right places. God, that sounds arrogant, doesn’t it?’ He pulls a face. ‘What I mean is that it’s been easier to live up to the press and become this caricature of myself rather than to open myself up to another situation like Katie.’

‘You haven’t seemed like a caricature to me,’ I say honestly.

Leo gives me a warm smile which completely softens his aloof features. He moves closer to me on the bench and, up close, I notice that there’s a light sprinkle of freckles dusted across his patrician nose. Cute. My stomach dips.

‘That’s because you’re different, Lucille.’ He takes my paper cup from my hand and puts it, with his, on the twig-covered ground beside us. He leans sideways against the bench and pulls me towards him. ‘You knew nothing about me when we met at the funfair,’ he continues, his voice husky. ‘You had no idea who I was. No expectations or motives.’

I swallow guiltily. He hasn’t a freaking clue.

It occurs to me that the reason for Leo’s arrogance, his past behaviour is not as simple as him just being a massive twat. It’s more complex than that. He has this history, this awful thing that happened to him, that hardened him, made him push people away. I get it. Not that it’s forgivable, but maybe if Valentina knew this she’d understand it more, feel less angry at him, understand why he acted the way he did.

‘I feel like I can be myself with you,’ Leo murmurs, stroking a finger up my cheek. ‘Like I can share the real me. And I haven’t felt like that for so long.’ He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. And then, cradling my head in his other hand, he leans in and, ever so softly, plants a kiss on my lips.

As his lips make contact with mine, my eyes widen in shock.

Oh.

Leo presses my body to his and runs his hand across my lower back as the kiss deepens.

Oh no.

A sigh of pleasure escapes me, and in response Leo pulls me even closer, kisses me harder. My stupid head starts to spin wildly, my idiot heart thuds out of time, and every dumb nerve ending in my body zings and fires. What the fuck is happening? I suspected I might like it when he kissed me but . . . not like this.

I run my hands up to the back of his neck, it feels warm and soft and vulnerable and strong beneath my fingertips.

Completely losing it, I cling onto Leo and he clings onto me.

This is how the men and women kissed in Grandma’s movies.

Like they never wanted to let go.

And I think it might be the best kiss of my whole entire life.

I pull back and it takes me a few seconds to come to. Leo laughs out loud.

‘Woah,’ he says, like that might have been the best kiss of his whole entire life too.

Oh fuck.

I like Leo Frost.