Page 74 of A Sky Painted Gold

“Happy birthdayyyy toooooo youuuuuuuuu.” The raucous singing draws to a close and the orchard erupts into cheers.

“Happy birthday, Lou.” Caitlin squeezes my shoulders. “Now, make a wish.”

I blow out the candles.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

The rest of the evening is a blur. I sit with Caitlin and eat birthday cake, I chat and I laugh, and I dance. And all the time, in spite of myself, I know that my traitorous eyes are searching for Robert.

Now that I have looked my feelings squarely in the face, can I go back to hiding them, even from myself? Can’t I make myself want something else, someone else? Can’t I make my own heart see sense? I did just kiss Charlie, after all … and what a kiss it was. Truly, the knee-trembling, swoon-inducing stuff of great romance novels. It was a kiss so full of promise and yearning and something else, something deeper. It was perfect. So why did I have to start thinking about Robert? I try to examine my feelings but they are so swirling and confused that I don’t even know where to start.

Except, perhaps, with the fact that Robert is getting married to someone else. And that the person he is marrying is my friend. That small wrinkle. So why am I even thinking about kissing him? Why does the thought of being near him and spending time with him fill me with a kind of happiness so big and brilliant that I can’t bear to look directly at it?

I don’t know what time it is when I find myself sitting in one of the plush black chairs in the sitting room, listening to the pianist play something melancholy and nursing a glass of something alcoholic. Two o’clock? Perhaps three? I have no idea. The key, I realize, is to keep myself occupied, just enough so that I don’t have to think about the trouble I am in. So that thoughts of Robert and Caitlin and Alice and the rest of my messy, unresolved life are kept to a gentle whisper, rather than a deafening roar.

I lost track of Caitlin and the others a while ago, I can’t quite remember when. I know that they are around somewhere, and that I should go and find them, but for now I am feeling languid and I am enjoying the feel of the music washing over me. My mind is pleasantly empty, as if it is full of the kind of static you hear on the wireless, or the sound of champagne bubbles fizzing. Another girl is sitting at the table with me, but I have no idea who she is. She keeps calling me Cynthia, and I have accepted that it is easier just to let her do so. She is speaking now.

“The thing is,” she mutters, her eyes trying to focus on mine. “The thing is, Cynthia,” she tries again. I wait. “The thing is, I told him, you know?”

I nod. I have also discovered that it is easier to nod than to question her pronouncements.

“Knew you would,” she mumbles, pulling out a cigarette case. “Want one?” she asks.

“Why not?” I say, taking the cigarette and leaning forward for her to light it. Either she is swaying around a bit, or I am, or we both are, because the operation takes some time. I inhale and choke a little. I have smoked before, but I don’t really care for it. I feel light-headed and I lean back in my chair, waiting for the world to steady itself.

My new friend has gone back to muttering darkly into her glass. “I told him,” I hear her hiss once more. It is then that I spot Caitlin. She is running in from the garden, her hair dishevelled and one shoe in her hand. The other is nowhere to be seen. She is laughing. I recognize that laugh, her too-bright laugh, her high-as-a-kite laugh.

Stumbling after her is Charlie, his powdered wig askew, showing his tousled blond hair underneath. He is wearing a white domino mask. No, I frown. That is wrong. His mask is black, isn’t it? I shake my head, trying to remember. He is laughing too, catching at Caitlin’s arm as she dances away from him. I stand unsteadily, and begin making my way towards them. Perhaps we can dance some more, I think. It would be nice to dance.

They have disappeared through the door, into the hallway, and I follow after them, dodging through the crowd.

“Wait,” I call, but my voice gets lost in the noise. They are turning down the corridor towards the library now. Caitlin has put luxurious red love seats into all the alcoves along the hallway, where various busts and artworks usually sit, and there are plenty of amorous couples making the most of them. I hurry along, trailing behind Caitlin and Charlie. I can still hear them laughing together. Finally, they come to a stop outside the library door, and instead of calling after them again, I too grind to a halt.

Caitlin is standing with her back against the door frame, and Charlie has his arm resting on the wall above her head. He leans over her until their faces are only a few centimetres apart. I feel my breath catch in my chest. Caitlin reaches up and runs her finger along the side of his cheek, and the space between them closes until they are kissing.

I am still frozen to the spot, unable to look away as their kiss deepens. When they finally break apart, Charlie mutters something in her ear and Caitlin giggles. Then, with a knowing look at him, she reaches one hand behind her back and opens the door. Her other hand is grabbing on to his jacket, pulling him towards her, and Charlie is kissing her again as they fall into the library. The door swings shut. My head is buzzing, my heart pounding.

What does this mean? Caitlin and Charlie. How long has this been going on? Does she know that he kissed me only a couple of hours ago? Is this something else she’s been holding back from me? More secrets? And what about Lucky? What about all the love that they feel for each other? My stomach lurches as I think about Lucky’s face when he left the house in London. I realize that my sense of outrage is all for him. I have no claim on Charlie, have never felt anything more than friendship for him… But what Lucky and Caitlin had … that was something real. I saw the depth of their feelings so clearly – even when both of them were in pain. How could Caitlin just turn her back on that?

“Lou?” a voice says from behind me, and I turn to find Laurie ensconced on one of the sofas. And she isn’t alone. Elodie is sitting with her, her arm thrown around the back of the sofa behind Laurie’s head. Her hat lies tumbled on the cushions beside them, and her long dark hair is falling from its pins. The charcoal moustache has been badly smudged and so has Laurie’s lipstick. It is obvious that I am interrupting something. My heart clatters in my chest.

Laurie seems completely unperturbed by my intrusion and, judging by the sympathetic face she is making, she also saw Charlie and Caitlin disappear into the library.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says gently, shrugging her shoulders. “They’ll have forgotten all about it in the morning. These things don’t often mean anything.”

I stand still for a moment, considering this. I think about Caitlin and Lucky, and I think about Robert. “They mean something to me,” I say quietly. I may not want exactly what my sister has, but I know that her love for Jack is real. It’s honest and precious, and she values it above anything. And that’s what I want. Not this game, not this refusal to care properly about anything. It’s heartless. It makes people disposable. People like me.

“Don’t be silly, honey, we all have our little affaires.” She speaks in a soft, teasing voice.

“Come on,” Elodie joins in, her voice coaxing. “Don’t let it spoil your party.” As if I am a child who hasn’t got the present she was hoping for.

In the end I say nothing; I just turn and walk away.

I wander outside and stand at the front of the house, listening to the sounds of the party still filling the air. I need to be quite alone, I realize, and I slip towards the crumbling stone steps that lead down towards the beach. The moon still hangs above the water, but the sky is already beginning to lighten. Down here in the cove all is quiet and still. The only sound is the gentle rush of the sea as it ripples on to the shore; scrabbling white fingers of foam clutch at the sand before being pulled back, once more, into the inky water. I stand for a moment, looking out, and trying to calm the noise inside my mind.

I untie my mask and drop it by my side. I pull the beautiful green dress from my shoulders so that it slides down, pooling on the sand at my feet, and I step out of it, walking towards the sea in my shell-pink slip. Slowly, I wade into the water, my fingers trailing on the surface. Thanks to the alcohol I barely register the cold. Instead, the waves washing over me feel like silk ribbons being drawn across my feverish skin. I swim out a little way and then turn on to my back, spreading my arms and legs wide, just as Alice and I used to do when we were little. “We are starfish,” Alice would say, as we floated side by side, and her fingers would wrap around mine, keeping us tethered together, suspended between the sea and the sky.