A Year of Chasing Love Page 4
Chapter 4
‘So, you fly off to Malta next week? Lucky you!’ said Hollie, crossing her ankles to make herself comfortable on the overstuffed sofa in Harvey’s wine bar, their regular post-work haunt.
‘You think?’ Olivia counted out her so-called ‘luck’ on her fingers. ‘I’ve been publicly humiliated by a rat-faced process server announcing to the whole world that my marriage has crumbled, I’ve been expelled from my office for the next ten months, and then, probably worst of all, I’ve been arm-wrestled by my oldest friend into becoming her new research assistant. You call that “lucky”?’
Olivia saw a flicker of remorse glide across Hollie’s features when she tossed her copper waves from her eyes and she instantly regretted her outburst. Hollie was her best friend, a fellow warrior on the battlefield of legal causes and volunteer at the local soup kitchen, and someone she knew shared her pain as well as her love of cocktails.
‘Sorry, Hol, my nerves are like a jangling tambourine at the moment. Look, there’s Matteo. I’ll get the drinks and you can fill him in on the next exciting instalment in my crappy life story.’
With colour pulsing at her cheeks, Olivia grabbed her handbag and ploughed her way towards the highly polished oak and brass bar, her stiletto heels click-clacking on the marble-veined floor. As she waited, purse in hand, for the impeccably groomed bartender to perform the famous scene from Cocktail, she glanced at her chipped nail varnish. Her manicure had lasted only two days this time. She must try that new Korean place in the basement of the fast food shop next to the bank – the one Hollie had recommended despite her anxieties that it was a front for human trafficking.
Harvey’s attracted a myriad of local professionals. It was the watering hole of choice for the burnt-out office worker to douse their anxiety with as much liquor as it took to eradicate the pent-up pressure. At six o’clock the noise level was set at ‘low hum’ but as the scotch and prosecco hit the spot Olivia knew the volume would quickly ratchet up to ‘screech’ – competitive bragging became increasingly outrageous as alcohol oiled both vocal cords and egos. By chewing over that day’s events at the coalface of British business, boasting about their expanding list of wealthy Russian clients, the value of their holiday homes in Cornwall, or their last all-expenses-paid foreign business trip, the bar’s patrons were able to delay their return to empty homes where not even a cat waited to welcome them – their lifestyle was too cruel for a pet.
Well, that was true of herself and Hollie; Matteo didn’t know what stress was. And if he did, he would probably regale them with the unwelcome advice that it caused wrinkles and a bad complexion and that it should be avoided at all costs. He would laugh and inform them that wine merchants had an inbuilt defence mechanism to stress hormones – or was it just easy access to the antidote?
As she watched the barman pour their cocktails into gold-rimmed glasses with a theatrical flourish, she felt disconnected from the ambient throng, as though she was on board a drone hovering against the ceiling observing the theatre unfolding below. But the dislocation was fleeting. She plastered a smile onto her lips in thanks to the barman before shuffling back to their table with three glasses balanced between her fingers.
What would Matteo’s take be on her unplanned sabbatical? she wondered, glancing across to the alcove where two of her best friends waited for their drinks to arrive. Her heavy heart lightened at the sight of their heads bent together in conversation, ebony mingled with shards of ginger.
‘Hi, Liv!’ Matteo relieved her of two of the glasses before air-kissing her cheeks. The aroma of Chanel’s ‘Pour Monsieur’ floated like a soothing balm in the air between them as he took an experimental sip and smacked his lips. ‘Ahhhh, Chianti is heaven in a glass! You do know those Piña Coladas don’t count as one of your “five-a-day”, don’t you?’
He smoothed a palm over his hair, perched his gym-toned buttocks back onto the sofa and crossed his ankle over his knee. ‘So, how many hours has “London’s Top Divorce Lawyer” put in this week, then? Seventy? Eighty?’
‘Very funny, Matt. You know I’ve been frantically trying to tidy up my clients’ files.’
‘So, you favour the grey look for that kind of strenuous work, do you?’
‘Hey, this is Karen Millen I’ll have you know!’
‘No, Liv, I meant your skin tone. You look like you haven’t ventured out into the natural light for weeks. When are you going to slow down and ditch the workaholic tedium? Why not delegate some of your workload to Miles? You pay too high a price for your career success. You too, Hols.’
Olivia knew Hollie was just as time-squeezed as every one of the patrons in Harvey’s, if not more so, with multiple demands on her time, but whenever Matteo asked her why she crammed her life with such a plethora of pursuits her retort was a well-rehearsed – ‘Sanity in diversity, Matt darling!’
‘Well, we can’t all work in the crushed grape business, can we?’ Hollie snapped, defensive of her troubled friend.
‘Rather an alcoholic than a workaholic! Anyway, Liv, Hollie has filled me in on your mission. And whilst I think it’s an excellent idea to go travelling, I’m not convinced by the whole “love makes the world go round” premise.’
Olivia watched him twist his lips into a grimace and she wondered whether he had used cosmetics to enhance their perfect shape? There was not a shadow of a doubt in her addled mind that his Mediterranean-toned skin had been assisted to produce such a healthy glow, but looking good had always been a priority for Matteo, like many of those of Italian descent.
‘Why not ditch the project, and the trip to Malta, and come to Tuscany with me next month? I’m staying with Dad and Uncle Gino in Florence, then touring the local vineyards to sample some of the best wines Italy has to offer. I could introduce you to one of my cousins?’ His mahogany eyes twinkled as he sipped his glass of Chianti and waited for Olivia’s reaction with interest.
‘Matt …’ began Hollie, shooting a warning glare in his direction, but Matteo was clearly on a roll and had no intention of listening.
‘Why do this “work” project when you’re supposed to be on holiday? Isn’t the whole point of a “holiday” to kick back and chill? God knows the two of you could do with a slice of relaxation. You girls are so tightly screwed that you’d need a power tool to unwind. And why is it so important to find out “what love’s got to do with it”? Isn’t that a tad insensitive of our Rachel when … well … in your current position?’ Matteo squeezed Olivia’s hand, his expression reflecting his absolute sincerity. She rolled her eyes at him – Matteo knew that practised gaze could smoulder granite. ‘Never mind, Liv, now you can be more like me. Look at all the gorgeous girls I’ve dated. If I’d been married just think what I would have missed out on!’
A splutter of derision erupted from Hollie’s mouth.
‘Isn’t it more a case of you can’t keep a girlfriend for any longer than four dates!’ She smirked, wiping away a dribble of prosecco from her frosted lips with the back of her hand.
‘Hey, Holls, that is so not true! And highly defamatory, I might add. Liv darling, can I sue her for slander? Do you still do “no win, no fee”? Anyway, too much of a good thing can be overwhelming. For the sake of humankind, I have to spread this glorious body and dashing charisma around. Share the lerve.’ Matteo grinned as Hollie tutted, re-crossing her slender legs, a gesture that caused her skirt to rise further up her thighs. ‘Anyway, I had six dates with Bianca. A nun’s existence like you’ve got going on, darling, is not part of my life’s golden-paved pathway. It gets so exhausting to feign interest in someone when the initial attraction has worn off, delicious as Bianca was. Variety is the spice of life.’
‘Yes, you’d know! Anyway, chance would be a fine thing. There’re no decent guys around to date.’
Pointedly, Hollie swept her eyes over her shoulder and around the wine bar. Olivia followed her concentrated beam as it encompassed the whole battalion of professionals at varying degrees of inebri
ation; all, without exception, pale-skinned, red-eyed, and scrawny from the long hours spent behind their desks and in front of their flashing computer screens.
‘Well, it’s not as though I haven’t told you, and told you again, the reasons for that, Holls.’
Olivia sat back in her chair, smiling at her friends’ familiar bickering. She was acutely aware of Hollie’s fruitless search for ‘the one’.
‘You do know there’s no such thing as “Happily Ever After”, don’t you?’ Matteo continued. ‘Your dreams of fragranced bouquets and hand-made confectionery and never-ending romance, as depicted in those Mills & Boon-style romances you devour, are completely unattainable in twenty-first-century London. How can such an intelligent, accomplished woman as you read such drivel anyway, let alone believe in it? The rippling six-packs of the guys on the front covers are enough to make anyone vomit!’
Matteo gave a theatrical shudder before becoming more serious.
‘Why not pursue your musical career? You were amazing when I saw you play lead clarinet for your orchestra last month. And didn’t Nathan’s brother, Dan, say that if you just practised a tad more often, you’d definitely qualify for the Ladies’ County Golf Team when they play in Dubai next year? If you stopped spending all your time frequenting those dreary corridors of the local Magistrates’ Court with those grumbling criminals panting in your fragrant slipstream, then you’d have a better chance of seeing what you’re missing out on.’
Matteo’s upper lip curled in distaste at the people Hollie dealt with as a criminal defence advocate.
‘If you spent as much time chatting with any one of these guys—’ he flung his perfectly manicured hand over to a group of suits laughing uproariously at the bar ‘—as you do with those scumbags you represent, then maybe you could be as lucky as me, darling!’
‘Well, the words “pot”, “kettle” and “black” spring to mind, Matteo. A serial dater who shies away from the merest sniff of commitment is not in any position to …’ Hollie stopped short in her circuitous retort, obviously realising she was at the top of a slippery slope towards childish squabbling.
For the first time, Olivia felt a smidgeon of envy for Hollie and Matteo’s easy relationship. Matteo was Elliot’s childhood best friend and therefore Hollie had known him most of her life. Ever since their carefree teens on the beaches of Cornwall, they had argued like brother and sister over steaming bowls of hand-made pasta at his parents’ pizzeria or freshly caught fish and chips at her family’s fish restaurant in Newquay. Hollie had even put her chosen career as a criminal defence lawyer down to her enduring love of a good argument with Matteo. Although he often infuriated her, sometimes purposely, Olivia knew Hollie loved sparring with him. It meant she could continue to hone her advocacy skills for her daily attendance at the City of London Magistrates’ Court.
Olivia tuned out and sunk beneath a drape of sadness, content to listen to her friends squabble because it diverted their attention away from her own issues. Unfortunately, her sojourn of solitude didn’t last long because it seemed Hollie and Matteo were determined to include her in their conversation and bolster her spirits.
‘Well, I think a trip is an excellent idea, Liv,’ said Hollie, a smirk playing around her lips as she examined her apricot manicure to avoid Matteo’s indignant stare. ‘In fact, not only will your research provide valuable insight for Rachel’s research paper, but for me, too. And you, Matt. I, for one, would love to know what makes love last forever! Hey, Liv, you could use Matt’s love life as your control sample of what not to do.’
Hollie’s eyes widened with excitement as she tossed her marmalade waves over her shoulder and scooted to the edge of the sofa, her freckled cheeks reddening at the idea that had just dinged into her brain.
‘In fact, I want you to send me regular bulletins from your travels. A list of “Olivia’s Lessons in Love”! The hard evidence, as you gather it on your journey around the world in the crazy pursuit of the mechanics of “True Love”. Yes! Yes! Yes! I’ll follow every missive avidly, and maybe I could even try putting some of them into practice!’
Olivia had to laugh as Hollie bounced in her seat like Tigger’s more energetic sister, as her animation increased. She saw Matteo rolling his eyes in disgust, especially when Hollie had used the words true love, but his lukewarm reaction only served to encourage Hollie to continue outlining her master plan.
‘So, every time you stumble across a little gem of romantic wisdom, you have to email me, and Matteo, a sort of “lesson in love”, a “directive of desire”, a “bulletin of adoration” – whatever you want to call it.’
‘Bulletin of Baloney, if you ask me,’ muttered Matteo, an expression of complete incredulity written boldly across his handsome face.
However, Hollie simply ignored him as she warmed to her theme.
‘Then, I’m going to diligently collate everything and come up with a personality portrait of what to look for in an ideal partner! So, Malta is your first stopover on the whistle-stop tour of everlasting love, is it? One of the lowest divorce rates in Europe, Rachel reckons? Now, whilst I don’t profess to know much about the country, I think it still boasts a culture of close-knit families, so I bet that will be the first of “Livvie Hamilton’s lessons in love”.’
Clearly deciding that if you can’t beat them, join them, Matteo leaned forward to press the case for Olivia accompanying him on his work trip to Tuscany’s picturesque vineyards and wineries.
‘Italy has a similar culture of “family first”! Liv can just as easily come with me to see how we Italians maintain long-lasting and love-filled relationships. Dad was married to Mum for forty years before that cruel bastard that is breast cancer stole her from us.’
It had been two years since Matteo had lost his mother, and he and his father, Antonio, had continued to feel the gaping chasm left by her loss every day. Antonio had been unable to continue to run their restaurant without his soulmate by his side, and he had sold up so he could return to his native Florence and be consoled in the bosom of his extended family. Matteo’s Uncle Gino, Antonio’s elder brother, had drawn him into his wine business, keeping his hands busy and his mind occupied, but Olivia knew that Matteo fretted for his father as the raw agony in his chocolate brown eyes had not diminished.
Hollie reached over and covered Matteo’s smooth, moisturised hand with her own, keen to offer him a silent dose of sympathy.
‘I’m sure Olivia would love to visit your family, Matt, but she already has the airline ticket for Malta, and you’re not going to Italy until next month.’
Then, still clutching his palm in hers, she swung her gaze back to Olivia to resume what had now become her pet theme.
‘I think two or three bulletins per trip should suffice. That should make around twelve by the end of your sabbatical – enough to build up a corpulent body of evidence, I’d say – then I intend to apply the criteria to every single guy I know and see what it throws up. I have high hopes for a long and happy marriage thanks to your timely research.’
Olivia smiled at her best friend’s effervescent demeanour. The grey smudges in the hollows beneath her eyes had disappeared, or maybe that had something to do with the three champagne cocktails she’d devoured before her Piña Colada arrived.
‘You too, Matt. I’m sure Livvie’s research will apply just as well to guys. We’ll take the findings and match them to all the girls you’ve dated – although a computer programme may be needed to cope with all that data!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never heard you spout such a load of garbage, Hollie. Lots of things cause marriages to end!’
Matt’s eyes darkened as a spasm of pain shot across his face, causing his forehead to crease and a contrite Hollie to rein in her enthusiasm.
‘Yes, and that might be what Rachel’s research is about, but Livvie’s task, on the other hand, is to explore what makes marriages last, enduring relationships, ever-lasting love – and I need to hear that advice.’
‘Well, would you believe it’s a strike from my bucket list? Although, actually, I had expected to go there with Nathan at some point …’
A sharp spasm of pain shot through her chest as she thought back to the plans she and Nathan had made when they were first married to visit the tropical island, surf the waves on the famous Waikiki Beach, sample the exotic cocktails and generally chill out to recharge their depleted batteries. Now she was facing making the dream trip on her own and a deep chasm of loneliness opened up before her, whipping the breath from her lungs.
She realised that Hollie and Matteo were watching her closely and the sympathy on their faces almost caused her to crumble, but with effort, she managed to squash her emotions back into their dark, pain-filled box and snapped the lid tightly shut. There was a time and place for self-recrimination, and Harvey’s wine bar wasn’t it.
‘Where did you expect to go?’ pressed Hollie.
‘Hawaii!’
‘What? Wow! That’s fantastic! But why Hawaii? How is that part of the mix?’
‘I asked the same question. Rachel did have New York on her list as one of the US states with the lowest divorce rates. I know, I didn’t believe it either, but it’s true. I’ve been to Manhattan and the place is frenetic; a workaholic’s paradise! But Rach has a friend, a former postgrad student at UCL, who lives in Hawaii and who’s been issuing invitations for her to visit for years, and the US state of Hawaii is up there in the top five.’
‘I bet I know which state has the highest divorce rate. And why!’
Matteo had adored a recent stag jaunt to Las Vegas and still raved about the brash, over-the-top, in-your-face metropolis where couples could exchange their wedding vows in a drive-through chapel in front of Elvis, Tom Jones or the Blues Brothers. It wasn’t a city that ranked high on Olivia’s wish list, though, especially after Matteo had regaled them with the details of his friends’ alcohol-fuelled exploits.