“Well, so am I, for that matter. Who needs one, anyway? We get luxury bus travel to all the cities of Europe.”
“I do love you.”
He squeezed her tight. “I know. I know you do. And I never stopped loving you. That night… God, I thought I’d never breathe again. Mind you, it was worse for you. At least I didn’t get arrested.”
“Another lovely addition to my CV. Evil husband, check. Mad rebound affairs, check. Night in the police cells, check, check, check.”
“Brilliant, confident, sexy woman. You tick all those boxes too.”
“Not feeling it much at the moment.” She laughed, a little shiver going through it.
“You’ve had a knock. It’ll come back. Think of that woman I saw, that woman I was immediately obsessed with, playing her drums like a boss on the day of my audition. You’re still her. She’s still you.”
She stood in Ben’s arms, embracing him, wet snow streaking their hair and cheeks. Who would be first to break the moment of hope?
“She didn’t know what was coming,” said Vanessa quietly.
“But she knows what’s still here. What will always be here, if she wants it to be.”
“Ben, do you really think…?”
He pressed his knuckles against her jawbone, tilting her head upwards. Their lips, when they met, were freezing and numb, but the warm breath behind soon gave them life and tingle.
“Tell you what,” he whispered, breaking apart. His hair was plastered down now by the wet snowflakes. “I could murder a beer. Shall we go to that underground place before we turn blue?”
“That’s my romantic boy,” said Vanessa with a broad grin. “Yes, a beer would hit the spot now. Not sure I’m that keen on Glühwein.”
* * * *
In Auerbach’s, with its dark wood panelling and exquisitely painted ceiling depicting scenes from Faust and loud clamour of German conversation, they found a quiet-ish corner and sat, thighs touching, with their tankards of foaming ale.
“Would you consider selling your soul to the devil?” asked Ben, looking at one panel of the frescoes that surrounded them.
“That’s what they always say about Milan, isn’t it?” said Vanessa. “Which he loves, of course, because it puts him in direct lineage from Paganini.”
“He does have that vibe about him, doesn’t he?” Ben made a rueful grimace and sipped from his tankard. “Good stuff,” he commented, raising an eyebrow.
“Lydia has my permission to tell me to fuck off if I ever attempt to lecture her again on her love life. Especially now it all seems to be working out for her.”
“It can work out for you too. Let’s lay our cards on the table. Not real cards. I don’t have any of them.”
“Oh God,” said Vanessa nervously.
“The night Dafydd turned up and it all kicked off, I asked you to marry me. My reasons for doing that were because I loved you and because I thought there couldn’t be anything better than spending the rest of my life with you. When Dafydd sent that stupid text photo and, and all that, it was like falling off a cliff. I mean, for a moment, the ground fell completely away from under me. Everything I’d hoped for and dreamed of…but I shouldn’t have thought like that. I should have kept my head and stayed calm and then I’d have realised that it must have been some kind of game he was playing. I knew it within a few minutes of storming out, and I thought about storming back, but the police…anyway, you know all that.”
“You had a shock. Anyone would have reacted the same.”
“I’m not sure. I feel terrible about it. I should never have doubted you.”
Vanessa put her hand over his. He didn’t pull away.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I felt so guilty and so unworthy of you that I sort of slunk off into my cave for a while. I knew you’d need a bit of time for the Dafydd stuff to get sorted out. I knew you had Lydia and Karl-Heinz and Milan with you, helping you through it. I rang a couple of times, to apologise, but you had your phone turned off.”
“I was scared Dafydd might try to get in touch.”
“Of course. I thought it was that. And then you took that time off from rehearsals, so I didn’t see you when I thought I would.”
“Thanks for picking up the slack for me. Sorry to leave you in the lurch.”