The Wedding Invite (Lakeview) (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 6) (32 page)

“Laura Fanning?” enquired an efficient British voice.

“Speaking.” It wasn’t a business call, then, Laura deduced, not when the caller was using her maiden name.

“Can you hold for a call, please?”

“Sure.”

Laura listened expectantly to ‘Candle in the Wind’ as she waited for the call to be picked up.

Then another – Irish – voice came on the line. “Laura?”

“Yes, hello.”

“Hi, it’s Amanda Verveen here, we met recently.”

Amanda Verveen? The
Irish fashion designer
Amanda Verveen? What? Laura had
never
met her.

“I’m sorry, I – are you sure you have the right number?”

The other woman gave a little laugh. “Well, I’m pretty sure – you do handcrafted jewellery, right?”

“Well, yes.” Laura’s thoughts were going a mile a minute. How on earth would someone like Amanda Verveen have heard about her jewellery? She wouldn’t have been at the Crafts Exhibition. International fashion designers with customers the likes of Halle Berry and Catherine Zeta Jones wouldn’t be attending lowly crafts exhibitions. She’d be mobbed! And didn’t Nicole Kidman wear an Amanda Verveen dress at last year’s Golden Globes?

Laura wrinkled her nose. This was obviously some kind of joke.

Despite her misgivings, her heart kept racing.

“You really don’t remember me?” Amanda asked.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t.”

“I was there the day you and your bridesmaids were at Brid Cassidy’s for your final fitting. Brid’s a good friend of mine, we were at college together.”

Brid, her wedding dress designer? Then it hit her. Brid’s assistant. Well, Laura had presumed she was her assistant – she had no idea that ‘Amanda’ was actually
The
Amanda Verveen. Laura could pinpoint any of Amanda’s designs in seconds, but had never known what the woman actually looked like. Unbelievable. But what … what did she want with Laura?

“Well, I know you’re probably very busy, but I was hoping you might consider doing some work for me.”

For a long moment, Laura couldn’t move. This
had
to be a joke, a dream – something!

“Work?” was all she could say.

Amanda laughed again. “Yes, I’m sorry but did I catch you at a bad time?”

Laura quickly recollected herself. Was this was really happening? No, no, you’re fine. It’s just …well, I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest.”

“Well, that makes two of us then, because I was completely overwhelmed by your work that day.”

“Really?” Laura could feel the beginnings of tears in her eyes
.
Then she sat up straight in her chair. For goodness sake stop sounding so bloody pathetic, she admonished herself. “Well, thank you – thank you very much,” she said, in the calmest voice she could muster.

“You’re welcome.” Amanda sounded all business. “Now, I was wondering, could you pop over to the Pembroke Street office sometime soon? I’m in London at the moment, but I’ll be back in Dublin later this week. The thing is, next season I’m doing something with a heavy ethnic influence while at same time keeping my gothic signature, and I’d love to incorporate some of your jewellery. I know this might be a little last-minute for you but … ”

Next season? Was she talking about next season’s
collection
? London, Milan, Paris?

“No, no, it’s not last-minute at all, I’d be delighted – I’d –”

Amanda went on, talking a mile a minute. “The thing is, Laura, I was hoping we could vary the materials to suit the fabric. Would you or your staff have any problems working with soft metal instead of silver? And it would be great if we could use, well, not quite ivory, but possibly something equally primitive – wood or stone, perhaps?”

Laura felt her mouth moving, but it was as though someone else was uttering the words. “Well, I’ve already worked with those materials, Amanda. In fact I’ve already come up with a few ideas incorporating variations of black metal and stone and I think they might work well. I’d have to take a look at your own concepts of course, but I could pop over maybe Thursday or Friday?”

“Terrific. I’ll give you the number for Jan – he’s my personal assistant and he’ll give you all the details and arrange the appointment. Now, I’m sorry I can’t chat for longer, I’ve a meeting with Harvey Nicks which should have taken place … oh, about half an hour ago.”

If anyone had been watching, they would have been convinced by Laura’s terrified expression that she was being given the worst news of her life.

“No problem.”

“But we’ll talk soon?” Amanda trilled.

“Yes, thanks for the call.”

“Great. I’m really looking forward to meeting you again, Laura. I feel that you and I have a very similar approach to contemporary design and I think we’ll work well together. Bye!”

Amanda disconnected, and Laura sat staring at the receiver for seemed like an age, unable to think, not sure what to
feel.
Amanda Verveen, award-winning and highly revered international fashion designer, wanted to work with her – with
her
, dull uninteresting, Laura Fanning from Glengarrah.

She had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real.

Laura picked up the handset again, and with trembling hands dialled Neil’s work number.

“Hey, hon, how are you?” Neil asked cheerfully.

It was then that it hit her. Hearing him on the other end, hearing her husband’s voice like that, brought Laura out of her awestruck trance.

Laura bawled into the phone. “I did it, Neil,” she cried. “I finally did it.”

N
icola awoke
to the sound of the telephone ringing in her ears. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was six thirty in the morning. She groaned. This meant that someone had called in sick at Motiv8, and she would need to arrange cover or do the job herself. It took every amount of willpower Nicola had to drag herself out of the bed. She had had a restless night, waking in fits and starts and had just begun to drift off to sleep again when duty called.

Her car had begun to give her trouble. The hand controls, particularly the brakes, weren’t as responsive as they should be and Nicola wasn’t prepared to take any chances with it. The garage was due to collect it sometime this week, although judging from past experiences, it was unlikely she would get it back for some time. As she wasn’t an ideal candidate for a courtesy car, Nicola knew that she would be relying on taxis until at least the following week.

Ken should have been back last night from his few days in Galway, and no doubt would be tired after it all, so she wouldn’t dream of calling on him at this hour for a lift. She hated that, not having the independence to drive where she felt like, whenever she felt like it. And it wasn’t all that easy to get a wheelchair-access taxi at early hours of the morning, which is why she was at that very moment still waiting in her kitchen when she should have been at work. Not to mention the fact that she would have to use her manual chair instead of her new power-wheelchair, the one she had laughingly referred to as ‘her new wheels’ that time Laura had called to tell her about her plans to go into business. That seemed like years ago, back long before all the hullabaloo with Dan and his new fiancée. She was glad that was all over and done with now and that Dan was
finally
out of her life.

Poor old Chloe – she had got such a shock when she arrived at the house. Although by now Nicola was well used to that. Most people’s reactions to her and her wheelchair generally swung somewhere between discomfort and terror. Nicola let it wash over her now, but it hadn’t always been that easy.

Switching on her PC, she gave a little smile and recalled how difficult it had been to get used to that in the beginning, to get used to people’s attitudes. But, she thought wryly, she had a head start on most, because the very first person to panic had been Dan.

A
t first
, Nicola had been relieved that she was still alive, her specialist assuring her that she had been very lucky.

“With the speed you were hit and particularly the weight of your fall, it’s a miracle that you didn’t do more damage,” he had said. “It could have been a lot worse.”

It was true, and at the time it sounded reasonable. Nicola knew that there would be a lot of hardship and struggle ahead, particularly when she wasn’t used to being inactive but, she believed, she was ready for it.

Throughout the three months she had spent lying on her back in the hospital, she had plenty time to think about how she was going to approach her disability. She could lie there crying and feeling sorry for herself, and the loss of her previous way of life (as she did on many occasions) or she could make the best of it. For Nicola there was no choice to make. Of course she would get on with it, of course she would make the best of it. She was only twenty-six, there was no question of her giving in and as far as she was concerned she had only lost the use of her legs, not the use of her life.

For a time, this was enough to keep her going. Yes, she was flat on her back in hospital – but she was still alive.

Inevitably, there were times – particularly throughout her difficult rehabilitation – that Nicola didn’t feel quite so upbeat about her future, but what could she do? There was no changing her situation, there was no going back to normal, so there was no point being miserable about it. Oh, she had her moments – boy, did she have her moments, days, nights, even
weeks
whereby she’d lash out at the driver, lash out the useless doctors and the even more useless nurses. But what was the point? She couldn’t turn back the clock, she couldn’t change her situation. Nicola recalled how lost, how desolate she had felt immediately after her miscarriage, and how she had all but withdrawn from day-to-day life, consumed by her sorrow. She was determined never to let that happen again.

But Dan was a different story. She could see the change in him; she could sense the fear and despair every time he came to visit her. He brushed it off, protesting that he was worried about the insurance and the hospital bills, but Nicola knew it was something more. Dan was losing faith

Immediately after the accident, he had tried his best to pretend that it was OK, that
they
would be OK, but Nicola could see it in his eyes that he didn’t believe it himself.

And soon she found that Dan’s sullen visits and stilted conversation were beginning to wear down her early optimism.

When she was finally released from the Rehabilitation Hospital, she went to stay with her mother – the reasoning being that she couldn’t possibly stay in a three-story apartment block, not when she could barely use her new wheelchair. And at the time she needed full-time care, something that Dan wasn’t able to provide and something Carmel Peters had insisted upon.

Nicola shook her head, remembering those first few weeks in the chair. That was definitely the lowest point on her road to recovery – to normality. She had regained a lot of strength by then as a result of her rehab, but her arms tired easily while trying to manoeuvre from place to place, and her bedsores stung desperately – all the things doctors had warned her about, but still she hadn’t expected. Because she was trying so hard and progressing little, Nicola became easily frustrated and hated the fact that she couldn’t do anything for herself – her mother doing all the simple things, carrying her, bathing her, getting her in and out of bed.

Still, Dan visited every day, but Nicola knew by then that they had already grown apart. They were uneasy around one another, Dan trying hard not to say the wrong thing, Nicola becoming easily annoyed by what he did say. She was sick of his self-pity, his lack of support, his glum appearance. Nicola needed positives, she needed her husband to reassure her that she would be okay, that he would be there for her, that of course everything would be fine. But there was never any talk of what might happen in the future, of where they would live, or what they would do when eventually Nicola regained her independence.

One particular day, Dan called to see her after work. He was tired and harassed-looking, and simply because he didn’t greet her with a kiss Nicola accused him of being selfish.

Something in Dan snapped.

“Did you ever,” he asked, pronouncing his words slowly and clearly, “ever once think about how all of this might be affecting me?”

“You?” Nicola laughed resentfully. “You’re not the one sitting here day after day unable to do anything for yourself, relying on other people to do the simplest things for you.”

“I know how hard it is for you, love, I can only imagine – but it’s hard for me too. I don’t know what to say to you anymore – I don’t know how to help. You seem to resent the fact that I’m not here with you, yet you know you couldn’t cope on your own in the apartment.”

“If you really wanted to, you could take time off work to look after me.” Nicola knew was being petulant but she couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. She didn’t really want that, she would have hated Dan having to do everything for her and she longed for the day she would be strong enough to look after herself. But, at the time, that day seemed very far away.

“Take time off? Nicola, do you have any idea how much money we owe the hospital?” Although their health insurance covered most of the hospital bills, it didn’t cover the cost of her rehabilitation. “We still don’t know the outcome of the insurance with that driver – it could take years to sort out, if ever. I might have to sell out my share of the company to drum up the cash.”

“Money, insurance …do you think any of those things matter to me at this very moment, Dan? Do you think I give one stuff how much we owe the hospital?”

Dan ran a hand through his hair. “Nicola, I don’t think I can go on like this,” he said eventually. “It’s been months, and I still don’t know what you want me to do, what you want me to say. Of course it’s hard for you, I know that, but it’s bloody hard for me too. I never expected things to turn out like this!”

Nicola’s heart galloped with fear – a new fear. “What does that mean, Dan?”

“It means …” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “it means that I don’t know what to do. Our life has been turned upside down by this, I don’t know how we’re supposed to get out of it, I can’t see an end to it. You’re coping as best you can, I know that, but there’s nothing in the information booklets telling
me
how to cope.” He looked at her, his eyes filled with desperation. “Can you tell me? Can somebody please tell me what I’m supposed to do to stop myself feeling like this?”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I just think that – that maybe we should spend some time apart.”

“What?” she whispered, stunned.

“I don’t see any other way,” Dan said quietly. “Maybe you might be able to come to terms with this easier if I wasn’t around so much. Nicola, sometimes you look at me like you hate me. I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m not made of stone.”

“Well, poor you,” she said, her voice hardening, “poor, poor Dan. What did you expect? That as soon as I got the chair I’d be back to normal and buzzing cheerfully around the place, playing the part of the happy little wife that you want me to be?” She was crying now, warm tears racing down both cheeks. “Well, what about
you
? What happened to ‘for better or worse’, Dan – didn’t you say those words once, didn’t you promise to be there in both
sickness
and in health?
You
did and I did – so what happened? ”

“I didn’t know,” Dan said finally, tears glistening in his eyes. “I just didn’t know it would be so hard.”

And that was the end.

Nicola stayed on with her mother and Dan’s visits became less frequent until eventually he stopped coming altogether. When he did come there was very little to say, the resentment and hurt between them too strong to overcome.

Their eventual separation was an epiphany for Nicola. One morning shortly afterwards, she woke up and felt a sense of unbelievable clarity, as if her mind had been purged of some huge, negative tumour. Although hurt deeply by Dan’s rejection of her, Nicola decided to regain control of her life and in order to do this, she knew she needed time away – from everything.

She took up an early offer made by her mother’s sister Ellen to spend some time with her in the UK. Her aunt lived near Fulham and was insistent that coming to stay for a while would be the best thing for Nicola. “It’ll do you good to get away,” Ellen, a jolly fifty-five-year-old had said, “and I’m sure your mother will be delighted to get rid of you!”

That was what Nicola loved about living with Ellen. There was no sitting around and feeling sorry for herself where her aunt was concerned. They talked a lot, slow easy conversations about life, love – and Dan.

Nicola had (a little unfairly she realised now) left for London without telling him. For months she had heard nothing, until one morning Ellen handed her a letter with a Bray postmark. In the letter Dan tried to explain how he had been feeling, and about how sorry he was that they couldn’t make it work. The letter had a kind of cleansing effect on her, and Nicola sensed it was his way of saying that it was over – over for good. It had been odd at the time, but strangely liberating.

Was it just them, she wondered, or was there a breaking point in every marriage – a point from which there was no going back, no matter how strong the relationship might be? She and Dan had overcome a lot together, but maybe there was only so much a marriage could take.

A week later she contacted a solicitor.

Of course, Nicola thought now, getting over Dan and coming to terms with life in a wheelchair was only the beginning and she’d been totally unprepared for the reaction she got from the outside world. It was as though she was no longer a person, but rather a
disabled
person. The qualifier was of course inevitable, but brought with it connotations that she had never expected. When she had become used to the wheelchair, and had begun going out and about on her own, she had been unprepared for people’s attitudes. People treated her sometimes like she had lost not just the use of her legs but also the use of her brain, like Miss Reporter Fidelma that time at work: ‘
I have to ask – isn’t it unusual for someone like yourself to be involved in this type of industry?’
She had seen the discomfort in people’s eyes at Laura’s wedding, when as bridesmaid she wheeled up the aisle ahead of the bride. In fairness, she wouldn’t have dreamed of turning Laura down and the bridal designer had done a wonderful job with the dress but it still felt strange.

At times, other people’s attitudes were soul-destroying, but at other times they could be quite comical. It wasn’t something she thought she would ever get used to, but eventually she had learned not to let people’s attitudes bother her.

Still, all in all, Nicola couldn’t really complain. Yes, it was a huge blow at the beginning and yes, it was a massive change in lifestyle but she had eventually come to see it as just that – a change in lifestyle. There was very little she
couldn’t
do. Sure, she had to put a lot more thought into getting from place to place and occasionally she missed being so active – missed her bike rides into the mountains and sometimes silly things like boogeying on the dance-floor.

But once she had learned to use it properly, the chair simply became an extension of herself. She had a great job, great friends, her own fully wheelchair-customised house, and of course, she had her beloved Barney to keep an eye on her.

Not to mention the wonderful Ken Harris. Nicola smiled. After Dan, falling in love again was the last thing she’d expected.