The Unexpected Consequences of Love (18 page)

“Well, I wrote the first novel as my way of escaping a miserable marriage. My first husband was so jealous of other men, he wouldn't let me go to the library. I was so bored with no books to read, I started writing one of my own.”

“I can't imagine you being married to a man who told you what you could or couldn't do.”

“I know. I was young and incredibly stupid.” Marguerite refilled both their glasses. “And I thought it meant he really loved me. Don't worry, it didn't take me long to come to my senses. As soon as I got my first publishing contract, I upped and left the bastard.”

“And then?” He knew she'd been married three times but had never paid close attention before.

“Oh well. A couple years later, I found husband number two. And because I was determined not to make the same mistake again, this time I made sure I married a man who was the complete opposite of number one.”

“Ah.” Lawrence nodded, acknowledging the error.

“Exactly,” said Marguerite. “Jeremy was a complete wimp. He wasn't kind and thoughtful, just weak and spineless. It was a whole new kind of nightmare, and entirely my own fault. Of course I lost all respect for him. And he knew it. Three years we lasted. God only knows how. Cost me a fortune, that one.”

Lawrence cut himself a wedge of the oozing Camembert she'd brought to the table. “And how long was it before you met number three?”

“Oh, a while.” Marguerite shook her head at the memory of him. “Third and worst of the lot,” she said drily. “But again, I should have known better. Basically, when you meet a man sliding piles of chips across the roulette table in a casino, you pretty much know what to expect.”

Lawrence vaguely recalled Nathan. Several years younger than Marguerite, he'd been the quintessential playboy, good-looking and charming on the surface but essentially selfish and incapable of loving his new wife more than he loved gambling and bedding other, younger women.

“I can't remember how long you and Nathan were married.”

“Eighteen months. It was good fun for at least the first fortnight. The shine tends to go off a relationship,” Marguerite drawled, “when you come back from an author tour to find another woman's empty pill packet in your en suite bathroom trash.”

“Where is he now?”

“Austria. Currently living with someone far older and richer than me. They have his 'n' hers matching face-lifts. And he's lost almost all his hair,” she added with a flicker of satisfaction.

“Poor chap.”

“I know. So there you go. That's when I gave up collecting marriage certificates. Jolly expensive, and frankly they're more trouble than they're worth. I might be great at writing books, but when it comes to husband-picking, I'm a lost cause.”

“Are you happy being single?”

“I'm used to it. And at least I have Riley here. Not quite the same kind of companion, but it's better than rattling around this place on my own.”

“Do you ever get lonely?” said Lawrence.

“What do you think?” Marguerite raised an eyebrow. “Why else did I go along to Val and Trevor's smug-fest anniversary party the other night?”

He shrugged. They were in the same boat.

“I wonder if it's worse for you.” Marguerite was watching him.

“In what way?”

“I chose three bad husbands. You chose one perfect wife.”

Lawrence took another drink; did she think she was telling him something he didn't already know? He nodded and said, “So true.”

“And? Do you regret what you did?”

“At the time I didn't feel I had any choice. I just couldn't help myself. We had to be together. Of course, we didn't know how little time we'd have.”

“And you've paid the price ever since,” said Marguerite.

Lawrence nodded. “Oh yes. The ultimate karma.”

“Do you still love Dot?”

“I never stopped loving her. Hard as that may be for some people to believe.”

“And now Antoine's back on the scene. What's going on there, then?”

“I have no idea.” Lawrence spoke with feeling, then saw the way she was looking at him. “Oh God, are you going to put my story into your next book?”

“Maybe I already have.” Marguerite smiled slightly, her eyes bright. “You wouldn't know. You've never read any of them.”

“Touché.”

“How does it make you feel, Antoine paying all this attention to your ex-wife?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Poor Lawrence. You made your bed and you've been lying in it on your own ever since. It's a hard life,” she observed. “Especially knowing that everyone's thinking it serves you bloody well right.”

“Thanks.” He lifted his glass to her. “Kind of you to point it out.”

“Sorry, I'm a bit blunt sometimes.”

“Really?” Lawrence raised his eyebrows at her. “I hadn't noticed.”

***

Lawrence left Moor Court at midnight. Marguerite had dismissed the idea that Riley might drop him home, saying, “Don't bother asking; once he's engrossed in those films of his, it's best to just leave him to it. I'll call a taxi.”

And now it was waiting outside the front door. He gave Marguerite a hug and kissed her good-bye on each cheek. “Thanks for a fantastic meal. You were right about being a great cook.”

“I'm always right. About everything.” Her tone was playful. “Pretty much.”

“Apart from deciding who might be good to marry.”

“Well, there definitely aren't going to be any more weddings. I've learned
that
lesson.” Marguerite paused. “But I've had a nice time tonight. Better than I expected.”

“So you thought this evening was going to be a complete disaster?”

“Stop it. I thought it would be good.” Her eyes glinted with amusement. “I'm just saying, it exceeded expectations.”

“Right.” Wondering how to proceed, Lawrence found himself briefly at a loss for words.

Marguerite, who wasn't, said, “Want to do it again?”

“Could do.”

“Such enthusiasm.”

“Sorry. I mean yes, I'd like that.” Lawrence smiled as he said it. “I've enjoyed myself too, I really have.”

***

The taxi departed with Lawrence in it. Marguerite surveyed the mess in the kitchen and made the decision to leave it for now; she'd clean up tomorrow.

Before heading upstairs, she popped her head around the door to say good night to Riley.

He glanced around at her. “How was that, then? Have a good time?”

“Surprisingly good. Are you going to be staying up all night?”

“Most likely.” He pushed his fingers through his disheveled hair and nodded. “You off to bed now?”

“Yes.” She crossed the room, rested a hand on his shoulder, and dropped a kiss on top of his blond head. “Night, sweetheart. Keep on doing what you're doing.”

But she'd lost his attention; Riley's gaze had already slid back to the screen. She was evidently interrupting a good bit. Distractedly he nodded and said, “Yeah, don't worry, I will.”

It was no good; like a dentist's appointment you'd been trying hard not to think about, the date of the wedding was almost upon them, and the time had come for Tula to do something about it.

She found Dot working behind the reception desk. “Hi, I've asked Carol and she's fine with it, so is it okay if we swap shifts this weekend?”

“No problem, my darling.” Dot reached for a pen and pulled the shift planner across the desk toward her. “So she'll be working on Saturday, yes? And you'll do Sunday.”

“That's it.” Tula watched as the schedule was altered accordingly.

“Off somewhere nice?”

“Yes. Well, kind of. It's an old friend's wedding.”

“Ooh, nothing lovelier than a wedding.” Dot looked sideways at her. “Except I can't help noticing you're not looking that enthralled.”

“I know. And it
will
be lovely.” Hesitating, Tula pulled a face. “It's this girl I used to work with. She was always better than everyone else, you know what I mean? The kind who makes you feel a bit inferior?”

“Oh no!” Dot looked appalled. “Really? How
mean
.”

“She's actually really nice. It's the thing about her being so pretty and lovely that probably makes me feel second best. I was thrilled she included me as one of her friends,” Tula explained. “She didn't have to. Some of the others were a bit iffy like that, but Imi never was.”

“And who's she marrying?”

“Someone equally perfect in every way. Of course. Good-looking, heaps of money, adores her. They're getting married in the middle of Wales at this amazing hotel.”

“Well, I think it sounds wonderful,” said Dot. “But there's still something not quite right. Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Honestly, was she a witch?

“It's all my own fault.” Tula heaved a gusty sigh and began unwinding a paper clip. “I've always been a bit rubbish when it comes to boyfriends. Imi and her crowd used to joke about it. Her best friend said it was like a sum that didn't add up; I was pretty enough to get someone decent but somehow it never happened.”

“Well,
she
definitely sounds mean,” Dot announced.

Tula bit her lip; the comments had always been made in such a way that if she'd gotten upset, everyone would have said,
But we didn't mean it like
that
. It was just a bit of fun!

Even though the implication had been that there must be some deep-down attribute she was lacking in, something she was getting badly wrong.

“Anyway, so I kind of hinted that I was seeing someone gorgeous now and Imi said I must bring him along with me to the wedding. Which made things kind of tricky, but it was a while back. I kind of hoped that by the time the day came around, I might have found myself a gorgeous boyfriend,” said Tula. “Except now it has. And I haven't.”

“Ah.” Dot nodded sagely. “The perennial single-girl problem. Well, you'll just have to say he can't make it; he's had to fly off to Amsterdam on some hugely important business trip.”

“I know, that was my plan too. Except I texted Imi last night to say I'd be coming to the wedding on my own because my boyfriend couldn't make it. She was out with her friends at the time.” Tula flinched at the memory. “Imi called me back and was saying oh no, what a shame, but I could hear the other girls laughing in the background, making jokes about my imaginary boyfriend. One said, ‘I'll feel bad if he really does have to work,' and someone else said, ‘Oh, come on. Don't be so gullible. He doesn't
exist
.'”

“That's so cruel!” Dot was indignant on her behalf.

“I know.” Tula had fashioned the paper clip into an agitated spiral. She said gloomily, “So cruel. But also true.”

The next moment Dot clapped her hands and said, “Luckily, I'm a genius!”

“Oh?” Tula didn't get her hopes up; her own last idea had been to wonder if she could stick a mustache on Sophie and pass her off as a man.

“Josh,” Dot exclaimed. “He'd do, wouldn't he?”

Okay, this was possibly
the
most rhetorical question in the world.

“Apart from anything else,” Tula reminded her, “he's up in London this weekend.”

“Ah, but that's the thing; he isn't going anymore. His friend's father died last night so the party's been canceled. Which is sad, obviously,” said Dot, “but could be brilliantly handy for you.”

It was a thrilling prospect, but realistically not likely to happen. Tula wondered how much Dot knew about her unreciprocated crush on Josh. She unwound the paper clip and shaped it into an angsty zigzag. “He wouldn't do it.”

“Why ever not?”

Tula shrugged. “Just wouldn't want to.”

“He might,” said Dot, “if I ask him.”

Oh God, imagine their faces if she were to turn up at the wedding with Josh. It would be the best moment of her whole life. Her mind working overtime, Tula realized it was like the storyline in that film
The
Wedding
Date
where the girl from
Will
& Grace
ended up falling for Dermot Mulroney and they had their own happily ever after.

Because that was the magical thing about weddings, wasn't it?
Anything
could happen…

“Let me go and talk to him now,” said Dot.

She could be awfully persuasive when she set her mind to something.

“Go on then.” A Disney squiggle of excitement bubbled up inside Tula's chest. “Doesn't hurt to ask.”

***

“No,” said Josh when she'd finished outlining her plan. He knew from experience that the thing with Dot and her powers of persuasion was to stand firm and not show a moment's weakness.

“Don't just say it like that. You'd be doing a tremendous favor for a friend.”

He carried on replying to emails on his laptop. “Still no.”

“But, darling, you'd be doing
me
a favor. And I'm your grandmother.”

“Come on. Emotional blackmail?” He looked up and raised his eyebrows, marveling at her wily skills. “Really?”

“I like Tula,” said Dot. “She's one of those girls who means so well and always manages to land up in awkward situations. And you're not doing anything else on Saturday.” She tilted her head. “Why can't you help her out?”

“Because then I'd be the one in the awkward situation.” He gave up on the emails and shook his head. “It wouldn't be fair on Tula either. Do you know she has a crush on me?”

“Does she?”

“Quite a big crush.”

“Oh. Well, you're not
ugly
,” Dot conceded. “I imagine lots of girls do.”

“But it would make things…awkward. Embarrassing. Especially if everyone thinks we're a couple. They'd expect us to be…you know…”

“Honestly, I can't believe you're being so selfish. Poor Tula. Trust me, there's nothing worse than having to turn up at an event without a partner.”

“Okay, that's more emotional blackmail,” said Josh. This was what she was like; no tactics were off-limits.

“But she doesn't want to go on her own.” Dot's light blue eyes were pleading with him now. “Can't you understand that?”

“I can. It's just that it shouldn't be me. Bad idea all around. Plus, Riley wouldn't like it. He's pretty keen on Tula…” The beginnings of the idea unfolded as the words were coming out of his mouth.

Dot perked up too. “He is? And how does she feel about him?”

“Thinks he's a lazy bum. Can't imagine why.” Reaching for his phone, Josh said, “Although this could be the chance he needs to come to her rescue.”

“And he's good-looking enough to impress the other guests. Oh, this is an excellent idea,” Dot said brightly. “They wouldn't need to know he's a lazy bum.”

“Exactly,” said Josh.
Hallelujah!
Now he was off the hook.

Having punched out Riley's number, Josh waited. And waited. Finally he said, “Hey, lazy bum, it's midday. Don't tell me I woke you up.”

***

Tula, covering reception, felt her mouth go dry as she watched Dot making her way back down the staircase. Oh wow, she'd spoken to Josh and now she was smiling. That could only mean one thing…

“Don't look so nervous,” Dot said gaily. “You have a date for the wedding!”

Yaaaay!
“Really?”

“Really. Except…it's not Josh.”

Oh.
Flump
went Tula's heart, like a deflated soufflé.

“He couldn't make it after all,” Dot went on, “but he's found someone else to do it instead.”

Okay, Lawrence was a lovely man, but please don't let it be him. Almost scared to hear the answer, Tula said, “Who?”

“Riley! Which is actually better, when you come to think of it. If you want to make those other girls jealous, Riley's far more the kind of boyfriend to do it. He's so much fun, and he'll charm the socks off them!” She was saying it like a mum persuading a small child that the sandwiches were actually
much
nicer than the cakes.

“Okay.” Tula exhaled, awash with disappointment. Dot might be right in one way, but she'd so badly wanted it to be Josh.

“Oh dear. Don't you want to go with Riley?”

She gathered herself. “Sorry, I know he's fun. It's just when they ask him what he does for a living, he'll say, ‘As little as possible,' and look pleased with himself. He's not bothered that other people might look down on him for not caring that he doesn't have a job. And then they'd be secretly laughing at me for going out with such a loser.”

“Darling, it's only for one day. Tell everyone he's a merchant banker or a physicist or something! Anyway”—Dot reached for the mouse and refreshed the computer screen—“Josh can't make it on Saturday. He called Riley and Riley said he's happy to go along with you, but if you'd rather not…”

Tula was no longer listening; she was staring at the screen, now showing the most recent bookings. One name was leaping out at her, the name of someone booked into the hotel next week. Surely,
surely
it couldn't be him. Oh God, but what if it was?

“Hello?” Sensing she'd lost her attention, Dot waved a hand in front of Tula's face. “All okay?”

“I'm not sure. This one.” Tula pointed to the screen. “T. Pargeter, booked into room seven. Any idea what the T stands for?”

“Oh, do you think it might be someone you know? I booked him in myself last night. Hang on a moment, let me have a think…” Dot tapped her index finger on the desk and closed her eyes. “It's almost there…”

“Theo?” Tula blurted the name out, her voice a bit high. “Is it Theo?” Because if Sophie's ex-husband was booked into the hotel…well, Sophie definitely needed to know.

“Terence! That's it.”

“Terence? You're sure?”

“Oh yes. I can picture him now. He stayed with us a few months back.” Dot mimed a huge stomach with her arms. “Quite overweight. Twinkly eyes, big red nose… I was terrified I might accidentally call him Toby, like the jug. But his name isn't Theo,” she concluded. “Definitely. My word, you do look relieved!”

“I am.” Tula fanned herself.

“One of your exes?”

“Not mine, someone else's. Let's just say I'm glad it isn't him.” She grinned. “Could have been awkward.”

Changing the subject, Dot said, “So what are you going to do about this wedding, then? Take Riley along or just go on your own?”

The phone on the desk began to ring and Dot waited for her to reply before picking up the receiver.

Tula mentally ran through the options. Riley had offered himself, and if she turned him down, it wasn't as if Josh would suddenly change his mind and decide to accompany her. Plus, she did hate turning up at social events as a singleton.

“I'll go with Riley,” she said, and saw the look of satisfaction on Dot's face.

“Excellent.”

“And thanks,” Tula added.

In a situation like this, let's face it, any fake boyfriend was better than no fake boyfriend at all.