‘I panicked,’ Marcus admits.
‘At the thought of spending the rest of your life with me?’
‘No. No.’ He rubs his hands over his face. ‘Well, maybe that was part of it. Christ, I saw everyone standing there waiting, waiting. There was so much expectation in their faces. They were waiting for me to do this momentous thing. I thought about what it might be like to be married and I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t, Lucy. I don’t know why. It was the thought of ending up like our parents, like the divorced guys in my office. Half of the bloody congregation sitting there were on second, even third marriages. I didn’t think that I could be a husband, after all. It was all too much.’
‘You could have waited for me outside the church and we could have talked about it,’ I say quietly.
He hangs his head. ‘That would have been the mature and sensible thing to do.’
‘Yes.’ It doesn’t occur to Marcus that I might have been having my own doubts and insecurities. Perhaps if I hadn’t had the distraction of a drugs drop with my best girls then I would have had more time to reflect on whether I actually wanted to go through with our marriage or not.
Marcus comes to kneel at my feet. ‘I can make this up to you.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say firmly.
‘I love you.’ His expression is bleak. ‘This isn’t because I don’t love you. Don’t think that. Please don’t think that.’
‘If you really love me, Marcus, then you’ll pick up all the bills for today’s fiasco and you’ll let me move on.’
‘It’s the least I can do,’ he says. ‘The bills, I mean. But you . . . how do I get you back? I don’t want to live my life without you.’ He runs his hands over my legs, taking in the silkiness of my dress. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Look.’ I let out a shuddering exhalation. ‘There’s a great party going on downstairs. You’re paying for it all. Come and join us.’
‘I can’t.’
‘No one will blame you.’ Well, my mother might. ‘They’ll get over it. You can’t hide from them for ever.’
‘I can’t. I can’t face anyone.’ I don’t remind him that by rights it should be me who’s hiding away, weeping and wailing, but I can’t find any more tears for Marcus.
‘Then you should finish packing your bags and leave,’ I say. ‘Take the tickets for the honeymoon and go on it, otherwise you’ll lose the money for that too. See if you can find someone to go with you.’
I’m thinking along the lines of his Best Man, but I wonder if Marcus is already mentally scanning the contents of his little black BlackBerry.
There’s a spark of hope in his eyes. ‘We could go together. I’ve booked the most fabulous place in Mauritius.’
Mauritius. I’ve always wanted to go there.
‘We have a bungalow over the water, our own hot tub. We’re flying first-class and I’ve organised champagne and chocolates for the plane.’
Mmm. Champagne and chocolates on a first-class flight. How tempting does that sound?
‘It will be fabulous,’ he entreats.
‘It does sound wonderful,’ I have to agree.
A faint smile lights up his tear-stained face.
‘There’s just one snag, Marcus,’ I say, as I stand up. ‘I don’t want to be with you.’
Marcus looks as if I’ve slapped him. With a deep breath, I reorganise my train and head for the door. ‘Be happy, Marcus.’
My ex-boyfriend, ex-fiancé and my ever-so-nearly husband folds to the floor. ‘What have I done?’ Marcus cries after me in anguish. ‘What have I done?’
‘You fucked up big time,’ I tell him, and I close the door behind me.
Chapter Seventy-Three
The tables were being cleared and the disco had already started up. Chantal had certainly eaten enough of the delicious chocolate desserts for two – maybe even three or four. She hoped that being a chocoholic was hereditary as she wouldn’t want to deny her daughter this pleasure. Leaning against Ted, she smiled up at him. ‘Wanna take me on a tour of the dance floor?’
Ted toyed with his champagne flûte. ‘Are they playing our tune?’
‘I’m not sure what our tune is,’ she said. ‘Did we ever have one?’ Perhaps that had been a fault in their relationship – not enough sharing. Weren’t couples supposed to share their hopes, their dreams? With luck, she’d have the opportunity to correct that.
Ted might be seeing someone else, but Chantal viewed it as a good sign that her husband had chosen to come along to Lucy’s wedding today. Even though, technically, it couldn’t be classed as a wedding any more. Chantal thought that Lucy had coped wonderfully and she wondered whether she would have been so strong in the same situation.
Jacob came and rested his hands on the back of their chairs and spoke to Chantal. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Wedding or not,’ she said, as she turned round and smiled at him, ‘this is a great party.’
‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘I hope that Lucy will consider me for her next wedding.’
‘Next time that girl tells me she’s going to get married, I’m going to knock her flat.’
Jacob grinned. ‘I can’t say that I blame you.’
Next to her, she was aware that Ted was fidgeting uncomfortably. ‘This is my husband, Ted,’ she said to Jacob. ‘Ted, this is Jacob, the wedding planner.’
Ted shook his hand.
‘Nice to meet you, Ted.’
Her husband didn’t reciprocate the greeting.
‘Catch you later,’ Jacob said. As he was moving away, he winked at her. ‘Save a dance for me.’
Ted’s frown deepened as he watched Jacob cross the room. ‘You know that guy?’
‘A little,’ Chantal said, not meeting his eyes. This wasn’t the time to confess that she’d been intimately involved with Jacob. And had paid handsomely for the privilege. Though, even with the fallout, she still considered it money well spent. ‘We’ve done some business together.’
‘Really? What kind of business?’
‘Come on.’ Avoiding the question, Chantal took her husband by the hand. ‘I don’t want to talk about work right now. You can show me some of your moves instead.’ She led him to the dance floor, strutting her stuff in front of him as she led the way. It was amazing that he still hadn’t noticed how well she was filling out her bridesmaid’s dress. Maybe that was down to Jacob’s excellent choice of a flattering style, or maybe it was still down to the fact that her husband didn’t look at her too closely these days.
She couldn’t say that she felt the same indifference. Ted looked great today. He was wearing a charcoal-grey suit with a crisp white shirt – she thought that he’d look much better out of it. She’d booked a double room for them tonight, hoping against hope that he might stay over with her. Were pregnant women supposed to still want to seduce their husbands? She didn’t know.
Obligingly, the music was slow, a tune she didn’t recognise, and she wrapped her arms around Ted. Surely now, her husband would realise that her bump wasn’t just down to an excess of chocolate brownies.
They did a couple of turns round the dance floor and Ted started to relax; his arms loosened around her. The music grew sexier.
‘This is nice,’ Ted said. ‘Why did we stop doing this?’ He pulled her closer. It was her now or never moment.
‘Ted,’ Chantal said softly. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Mmm,’ he said against her hair.
‘You’re going to be a daddy.’
He recoiled in horror. ‘How did you know?’
They both stood stock still on the dance floor and dropped their arms from each other. Other couples brushed by them.
‘The usual way,’ she said with a nervous laugh. ‘I got the results of the pregnancy test.’
Her husband blanched. ‘From Stacey?’
‘From me!’ Chantal took a step back and gave him a bewildered look. ‘Who the heck’s Stacey?’
Chapter Seventy-Four
‘I’m so glad that you came,’ Autumn said, tracing a finger over Addison’s cheek.
Her boyfriend held her tighter as they circled the dance floor. ‘I couldn’t stay angry with you,’ he said. ‘I know how difficult it is for you to say no to your brother. It was wrong of me to leave you alone after I’d promised to look out for you. I had to make sure that you were okay.’
‘That’s it,’ she assured him. ‘No more of Rich’s dirty work. It could have all gone so terribly wrong. There’s no way I should have done that delivery today. It was madness.’
‘At least you had the foresight and the conscience to tip off the police.’
‘I had no idea how bad it might be. I feel so stupid and naïve. I put myself at risk. I put my friends at risk.’ She bit down on her lip. ‘It may well have been my fault that Lucy’s wedding didn’t take place.’
‘Sounds like you’ve done her a favour,’ Addison said.
‘None of us wanted her to marry Marcus,’ Autumn admitted. ‘But none of us wanted it to turn out like this for her either.’
‘She seems to be coping very well.’
‘I haven’t seen her for a while.’ Autumn scanned the room. ‘I should go and look for her, make sure she’s all right.’
‘I love the fact that you care so much for other people,’ Addison said. ‘But don’t forget me sometimes.’
‘From now on, you’re going to be my top priority. I promise.’ She kissed Addison on the lips. ‘I told Richard that once I’d completed this business he was on his own. And I mean it. There’s just one last thing . . .’ Her boyfriend didn’t look surprised. ‘They gave me a huge bag of money, Addison. I have no idea how much is in there.’
‘Where is it?’
‘It’s upstairs in my room, squashed into the safe. I don’t know what to do with it. Technically, I suppose it belongs to Richard, but I don’t want to give it to him. If he’s got a bag full of cash then that will only start him on the same route again. I have to think very carefully about where it goes.’
Addison put a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t worry about that today. I’m sure you’ll think of something. We should just be glad that you’re safe and that it’s over. And we should help Lucy to celebrate her non-wedding and have a great time.’
‘It’s so much better with you here,’ she said.
Her boyfriend took in her caramel-coloured bridesmaid’s dress. ‘This kind of get-up suits you.’
‘You think so?’
‘Hmm.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do you think my family would get used to me marrying a rich, white, older, upper-class woman?’
Autumn laughed. ‘Do you think my parents would get used to me marrying a poor, black, younger, youth worker?’
‘I guess if we gave them enough notice they’d both learn to live with it.’
She looked up at him. ‘Is that a proposal, Addison Deacon?’
‘I think it might well be,’ he said. ‘Just promise me one thing. If we get married . . .’
‘When we get married,’ she corrected.
‘. . . please don’t organise to do a drugs run for your brother just before we’re due to tie the knot.’
‘That, I can very safely promise you,’ she said.
Chapter Seventy-Five
Nadia didn’t know whether she was upset for herself, upset for her friend or upset for all the miserable, terrible, traumatic things that happened in life in general. All she knew was that she’d been hiding away in the ladies’ loos now for the best part of fifteen minutes crying her heart out. She’d managed to get through most of the day without resorting to painkillers, anti-depressants or – with the exception of a few glasses of champagne – a surfeit of booze. Now it all seemed a bit too much for her. Every damn slushy song that the DJ played reminded her of Toby and the happier times they’d had together. Mind you, her wedding day hadn’t been quite as glamorous as Lucy’s, but at least the groom had turned up. Her heart went out to her friend. Life was, most of the time, so bloody unfair. Nadia sat on the loo seat and ripped another handful of paper from the dispenser to sob into.
A minute later, she heard the door burst open and a familiar voice shout, ‘Mummy!’ Lewis’s small, determined footsteps crossed the tiles. ‘Mummy, are you in here?’
She sniffed into the tissue. ‘Yes, darling. In here. I won’t be a minute.’
‘I didn’t know where you’d gone,’ her son said crossly.
Nadia flushed the loo, pointlessly, and then opened the door. She forced a smile onto her face. ‘Here I am. I left you with Aunty Autumn. What are you doing in here?’
‘She was dancing with Addison, so I sneaked away to look for you,’ he confessed.
She knelt in front of her son and smoothed his mad hair from his forehead. ‘You shouldn’t do that,’ she told him. ‘But I’m glad that you found me.’
‘This is a nice party. I’ve had lots of chocolate.’
Like mother, like son. He’d probably be bouncing off the walls later from all that sugar. They were sharing a room and it looked unlikely that she’d get any sleep tonight. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for once. Nadia laughed despite her concerns. ‘Yes, it’s very nice.’
Lewis tugged at the neck of his smart shirt. He looked quite the little man dressed up like that. ‘If it’s nice, why are you crying?’
She was about to tell Lewis that she wasn’t crying, but her red eyes and blotchy cheeks would be a dead giveaway. Her son might only be four, but he was as cute as they come. Even at his tender age, he’d know that she was lying. Yet how could she begin to explain to Lewis that she was feeling raw with pain at the loss of her husband, her love? This was the first function she’d had to attend without her partner by her side and, though she wouldn’t have missed it for the world, it had been difficult to hold it all together – particularly when the day hadn’t quite gone according to plan.
She wondered what was going on in her son’s head. Was he missing his dad as much as she was? Lewis was coping incredibly well since Toby died, but she was sure that inside, he was hurting. He’d hardly cried at all and rarely mentioned his father – surely that wasn’t good for him? How did a child assimilate such a devastating emotion as grief? If only she knew what her son was thinking, perhaps she could help him through this. ‘Mummy’s just a bit sad.’
‘Because Daddy isn’t here?’
Nadia nodded. ‘I miss your daddy very much, every day.’
‘Daddy isn’t coming back from heaven, is he?’
‘No, sweetheart.’ She gave him a comforting squeeze. ‘It’s just me and you now.’
‘We’ll be all right together, Mummy.’ Her son leaned against her and slipped his thumb into his mouth, something she hadn’t see him do for a long time. ‘I’ll look after you.’
‘Then I’ve nothing to be sad about.’ Nadia hugged him to her.
‘Daddy would have liked all the chocolate today.’
‘Yes,’ Nadia agreed. ‘He would have.’ Looking at her son’s anxious little face, she knew that she had to stay strong for him. Nadia ran a thumb gently over his cheek. ‘You know we can talk about Daddy anytime that you want to. Whenever you’re missing him, we just have to say things about him – things that he would have liked, things he would have done and that’ll make us feel better.’
‘Okay.’ Lewis shrugged. It seemed a simple enough solution to her son. Perhaps it was. ‘Can we go back to the party?’
‘Will you dance with Mummy?’
‘Do you think the man will play “Bob the Builder”?’
‘Maybe not,’ Nadia said. ‘I was hoping for some George Michael myself.’
‘Who?’ Lewis said, looking disgusted.
Chapter Seventy-Six
The party is in full swing by the time I come down from Marcus’s room. I try not to think of him packing his bag alone, going on our honeymoon without me. The music is pumping out, the dance floor is full, people are getting leery – to all intents and purposes it looks just like a regular wedding.
With one notable exception, of course.
My mum and dad are dancing together – which is something of a miracle as they never danced together when they were married. They’re strutting their stuff to ‘I Will Survive’ – a good wedding stalwart – and my mother is singing the words rather too enthusiastically. The Millionaire and The Hairdresser are nowhere to be seen. Clive and Tristan sweep up to me. They both look resplendent and screamingly gay in matching cream linen suits and chocolate brown shirts. They are the Elton John and David Furnish of the chocolate world. I wonder if all this wedding lark is making them think about tying the knot. ‘Darling,’ Clive says, ‘how are you bearing up?’
‘I’m doing okay,’ I tell them with a considered nod.
‘Don’t suppose that you’ll want to cut our fabulous cake?’
‘Why not? Am I likely to miss out on the opportunity for chocolate cake?’ I give a shrug. I’ll probably skip the tossing of the bouquet, but I’m game for everything else.
Clive grins gratefully. Frankly, I could do with a sugar rush after all this trauma. Plus, my dear friends and chocolatiers have created a five-tier monster of a cake for me as my wedding present – chocolate, of course, and decorated with white chocolate leaves and crystallised kumquats. How can I not cut it? ‘Find me a sharp knife, make sure Marcus is kept well out of the way of it and let’s do it.’
Clive gives me a hug. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Five minutes later and Jacob comes to find me. He has the sharp knife. His brow is lined with concern. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘It will make Clive and Tris very happy,’ I tell him. ‘Besides, I’d hate to see this beautiful cake go to waste. Our guests might as well enjoy it.’
‘I could have it quietly taken away and cut up,’ he suggests.
‘No. Let’s make a bit of a fuss. Clive has gone to a lot of trouble to make it. It feels wrong to sneak it out and for him to miss his moment of glory.’
‘If you’re sure,’ he says.
I nod.
‘Then I’ll make the announcement.’ Jacob goes to take the microphone. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he says. ‘Please gather round for the cutting of the cake.’