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It was warm today, warmer than it had been for months. The cold and rain stretched on for so long in England that sometimes I wondered if summer had forgotten about our little island. Then, one day, the sun would come and you’d marvel that our skies could ever be grey and the air ever foggy. The feeling began to return to your fingertips, and you would relish wearing only one pair of socks instead of two and being able to leave the house without an umbrella. It was a marvellously free feeling.
I turned my face up to the sun and it kissed me, whispering to me that new life was coming. Everywhere, plants would be reawakening, springing to life. Fresh shoots, buds and roots, starting all over again, or starting for the first time. It reminded me of my mum. The plants kept her memory alive and I loved them for it.
My sunny mood darkened a little as Alfie’s new car pulled into view, the valet behind the wheel looking happy as a clam.Even though I now knew it had just been a test, I still hated the sight of it. It taunted me with its newness, its very existence a reminder that Alfie’s interest could shift at the drop of a hat.
He pressed a button and Vivaldi filled the car. I settled back into my seat, relaxing under the gentle caresses of the violin.
This morning, I had woken up on edge and it wasn’t until Alfie’s alarm went off that I realised what the problem was. Alfie had agreed, by some miracle, to allow me to make this decision on my own, but one thing was clear—whether I went with him or I followed my dream to London, my time at Rosie’s was over. The thought had tears welling in my eyes.
What would I tell her? Could I tell her about college? I definitely couldn’t tell her about Alfie.
I was so consumed by the impending guilt that would come today that I barely noticed Alfie turning the music down.
“What is it, Lola?” He glanced at me as he drove. Keeping any thoughts to myself around him was practically impossible. It was like he was wired into my body, my mind. If there was the slightest change in me he was instantly alert.
“It’s nothing, I was just in my thoughts.” I wanted to tell him the truth, but, as with anything linked to whether or not I would leave with him, I couldn’t trust him with it. I would tell him later, after it was done.
“Share them.” My brain scrambled for something to say other than the truth. I jumped on the first thing that came to me.
“What happened to the Never Tell parties?” He stiffened, probably wondering if I was going to ask for details of his debauchery, but he needn’t have worried. I didn’t want those images in my head. “Do they still happen, I mean?” I amended and he relaxed a little. Good. We were on safe ground.
“Yes, I believe so.” He brought us to a slow stop at a red light.
“You believe so? Why do I get the feeling you’re omitting a whole lot of information there?”
He caught my eye and gave me a small smile. I was reassured to see it. He stared back out the window, his brows knitting together as he figured out how much to tell me. When most people were on the spot, they showed it. They fidgeted, drummed their fingers, tapped their foot, but not Alfie. Alfie went as still as a statue. The light turned green and we were off again.
“Yes, they still happen, though they’re very discreet. I haven’t attended a Never Tell event in ten years. I still own part of the company, of course, although I sold most of the shares to my friends?—”
“Your Tellers?” I’d learnt that name from the article I’d first read about him.‘Tellers’was the name he’d given to a very select group of friends, his fellow debauchees. I had no doubt that they knew everything there was to know about Alfie during that time.
“Yes. One of them bought the majority and he runs it now. He kept the name for obvious reasons.” Obvious reasons being that, after all of these years, Alfie’s name still carried certain connotations. I wanted to know where Riley fit into all of this. Had he been a Teller?
“So, which of your Tellers bought it?”
“Damien Marx. Before you get any ideas, don’t bother Googling the club. You won’t find anything. No website, no social media.”
“What? Why?”
“As I said, it is very discreet.” His tone stiffened and I got the feeling my window for questions was closing fast. Which only meant one thing—I was getting close to something he wanted to keep hidden.
“But, how do you get members if you can’t even Google the club?”
“Because no one who wants to be a member needs Google in order to know what a Never Tell party is. Besides, you can’tbecome a member by filling out a form online. You have to be recommended by someone who’s already a member.” His words stunned me. He hadn’t been kidding, it really was discreet.
“Does he run it well? Your friend?”
“He wouldn’t still be running it if he didn’t. Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it right.”
“So, you?—”
“Lola, I answered your question,” he snapped and I shrank back in my seat. I guess the Never Tell Club was more of a sore point than I’d thought. “Never Tell still runs, parties are still thrown, but I don’t attend and you will never be going to any of them so it’s not of any concern to you.”
He pulled into the car park, choosing a fairly secluded spot where I would be unlikely to be seen getting out of his car. He switched the engine off and turned to me.
“Any more questions?” There was an edge in his voice that dared me to ask another, but a softness in his eyes that told me he wouldn’t kill me if I did. I leaned over the gear shift and put my mouth close to his.
“Just one,” I whispered. “What’s a Never Tell party without the Tell?”