“Ooh, the oracle of doom,” teased Lydia, thinking he needed taking down a peg. “Come on, Milan. He’s good.”
“Better than me, I guess,” he said moodily.
“He isn’t drunk, for one thing,” she snapped, but she followed it up with a swift apology. Perhaps that was going too far.
“Oh, God, trouble in paradise?” drawled Sarah. “I hate public tiffs—so uncool.”
Lydia glared at her, then lifted her eyes to where Vanessa and Ben sat on the other side of the patio garden, studiedly avoiding them.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I just want to have a word…”
She made her way over to them.
“Let me buy you a drink,” she opened. “I don’t want us to fight. Please?”
Ben smiled in a friendly way, but Vanessa simply pursed her lips.
“C’mon, Ness,” said Ben, nudging her shoulder. “I don’t want to be a bone of contention. I’m thin enough as it is.”
Vanessa’s mouth twisted into a grudging smile.
“Stupid boy,” she growled, but then she looked at Lydia and nodded.
“Okay. Bygones. Mine’s a gin and lime. Ben’ll have a lager.”
At the bar, Lydia drew a huge breath and enjoyed the novel sensation of everything being right with the world. She had Milan for a lover, Vanessa for a friend and the orchestra was back on track.
She enjoyed picking apart von Ritter and his techniques with Vanessa and Ben so much that she didn’t notice the others rising to leave. Leonard tapped her on the shoulder on their way out.
“We’re going back to Milan’s,” he said. “Are you coming?”
“Oh…can I meet you there? I might stay for another.”
“Great. See you later.”
She looked around to wave at Milan, but he had disappeared already.
It was a beautiful, late spring evening and even the London air smelt sweet and beguiling. She sat in the garden, drinking cloudy lemonade and feeling the promise of summer on her skin.
Something nagged at the back of her mind, though. What was it?
Oh. Yes. A memory—the first time she had been to Milan’s apartment. A sex party in full swing, involving a good number of the orchestra’s string section. As far as she knew, Milan was out of that scene now, but he had never said so. Since Evgeny’s death…
Suddenly the lemonade was too bitter on her tongue.
“I might go home, actually,” she said to Vanessa.
“Milan’s home.”
“And mine.”
“Okay, love. See you tomorrow.” Lydia sensed the resignation in her friend’s tone.
When she looked back at Vanessa and Ben, they were kissing.
* * * *
She heard loud voices all the way down the corridor—booming laughter and shouts. It sounded like quite a party. The nagging feeling was stuck in the pit of her stomach.