by Annie Dyer
The door opened, my eldest brother, Angus, burst through it. Angus should’ve been the one to carry on the family business of property management and looking after the investment portfolios that my father had inherited from his father, but he’d avoided that by becoming a surgeon. A pretty good one, or at least good enough for Lady Soames to not be too displeased by his decision to flee the family shackles – sorry, business.
“Afternoon all.” He grinned as he walked in, sitting heavily on the sofa. “How’s the groom to be?”
I flipped him the bird.
Her ladyship looked displeased.
“It’s not that bad. Just learn when to nod without actually listening. That’s how our dad survived for so long.” He put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Angus, you are not at your home now. No need to act as if you are feral.”
“Sorry, Ma.” He put his feet down and grinned, the dimple that we’d all inherited on display. “Looking forward to your stag do?”
I grunted, trying to drum up some enthusiasm. Truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to anything.
The wedding ticked boxes. A society wedding that met Lady Soames’ approval; a bride whose family were old-new money and she therefore wasn’t after any of our fortune – although I suspected she was hoping she’d have more to spend than what she got from her father; a future wife who understood etiquette and presented nicely, which equalled the youngest son married and settled.
And it meant my grandfather would see the one thing he seemed to remember wanting.
Alister Buchanan had been my favourite person when I was a kid. I spent summers with him, and most Christmases too. He taught me to ride, to shoot, to fish. He taught me the rules of rugby and exactly how to camp with nothing other than a tent and a running river.
He was my boyhood hero, and when his daughter was being unnecessarily strict, he stuck up for me.
Four years ago, he was diagnosed with dementia but remained physically fit. He still recognised me now, he’d phone me, and we’d have a conversation about the next time we’d go wild camping, or about the rugby, and then he’d ask me when I was getting married.
He wanted to see me married. He’d ask about my girl, then want details about the wedding. I knew we probably didn’t have that much time before attending a wedding would be beyond him, or how much longer we’d have him around.
That was why I was marrying Carla so quickly, or maybe even at all. She ticked boxes. She was attractive, she could hold a conversation and maybe we would fall in love, eventually.
Just excuse me if I wasn’t that enthusiastic.
“It’s a weekend of drinking.” I shrugged. My stag do would have to happen. After it, we’d be closer to the wedding.
“There’s nothing wrong with a weekend of drinking. Make the most of it, because once that ring’s on her finger, you no longer belong to you. You’ll just be some sort of lackey with the title of ‘husband’.” He grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I’m looking forward to watching every minute of it.”
“That does not sound pervy at all.” I glared at him. He was basking in the idea of me getting married.
Gus had married his wife when he was twenty-four and still in med school. His wife was not the socialite Lady S had wanted for him, but the doctor who’d been there while he recovered from some near-fatal virus he caught from a patient he’d been treating.
Vivi was great; no nonsense, practical, organised and completely ruled his roost. My brother loved every minute of it, and he’d told me on at least three occasions when he’d had too many whiskies how glad he was that he found her when they were young.
I hadn’t envied him. Our mother had been half-pissed off that he married someone she hadn’t decided for him, him being the first born and all that, but she begrudgingly liked Vivi, she just hadn’t been the one to ‘pick’ her as a wife and future Lady. And unlike me, Gus hadn’t been pictured in far too many gossip columns with a different woman on his arm each time.
That had been me.
“I don’t mean watching that bit.” He laughed, glancing at Lady S.
She looked even more disgruntled. “Do you have to be so uncouth?”
Angus laughed. “Boys will be boys, mother.”
She shook her head. “You need to speak to Vivienne about letting the children play on the lawn, Angus.”
“No, I don’t.” He sat back. Angus did not take any telling off from Lady S, he never had. “They’re children and playing outside is good for them.”
“But they flatten my lawn.”
“Which will repair and be as good as new, unlike children’s spirits if you quash their enjoyment out of them.” He raised a brow at her.
“I didn’t let you destroy my lawn and you turned out…” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind. I have to go and prepare for my call with Jane Bebbington.” She stood up, more slowly than she had in the past, but still with the same grace I knew she’d wanted to pass onto a daughter. She sometimes tried with Catherine, who was more tomboy than future socialite, and never in the mood to listen to what her grandmother had to say.
Angus seemed to be studying me as Lady S left the room, his arms folded over his chest.
“What?” I stood up and went to the bay window, looking at the lawn that was definitely flattened.
“If she’s not right for you, don’t, for fuck’s sake, marry her.” His voice was low, quiet. “You might look pretty together, but you have no chemistry and I’m not sure you even like her, never mind be in love with her.”
“Being in love with someone isn’t necessary for a wedding.”
“This isn’t just a wedding, Noah, it’s a marriage. One of those commitments that’s meant to last a lifetime.”
I didn’t say anything, because part of me knew he was right. Marrying Carla was a way to cover a lot of bases, the biggest being my grandfather getting to see me married. I had no idea what would happen six months, twelve months, hell, even two months, after we were married. Neither of us had thought that far ahead.
“If she’s not your Vivi, you shouldn’t marry her. Even for Grandfa.” His expression wasn’t full of laughter now. He looked serious. “I know why you’re going through with this, Noah, and it’s noble of you, but Grandfa wouldn’t want you to marry just to so he could see your wedding.”
I sighed and watched the river that ran through the garden, far enough away that it looked like more of a stream.
“I know. But for how much longer is he going to be aware of anything that’s actually happening? If Carla and I end up separated after six months, he’s not going to know. But at least I’ll know he saw me get married. I’ll have those memories.” I turned back around, my father chasing Catherine and my nephew, Jimmy, across the lawn now my mother wasn’t around to watch.
“What’s her motivation for marrying you? Apart from the obvious.” Gus rubbed his chin.
“She has enough money of her own. Her parents are pissed at her for how she’s been behaving the last couple of years and they’re on at her to settle down. And I think she’s pretty into me.” I felt a total tool saying that last bit, but I kind of got the impression that she did. She’d told me once that I was ‘good arm candy’, and how much the camera loved me. I’d put her words down to the margaritas she’d been drinking and hoped there was more to it than that.
Gus shook his head. “Whatever. Vivi doesn’t like her. And she doesn’t like what you’re doing either. She thinks this is just going to end in disaster.”
“Not everyone can fall madly in love with the right person at the right time. And you know I don’t subscribe to this whole madly in love with someone fairy tale any way. You and Vivi are an exception.” I’d already known two of my friends go through divorces, one engagement end sourly and seen one of my best friends from university get severely fucked up when the girl he’d lost his mind over ended their relationship. Carla was a lot of things I wasn’t sure of, but I was sure that I wasn’t going h
ave my heart broken by her.
“What about Robbie? Does he not count?” Gus grinned when he mentioned our other brother.
“He counts double. You think Her Ladyship will ever actually say she’s happy for him?” Robbie lived in Manchester with his husband. When he came out to our parents, Lady S had refused to speak to him for three months. It was awful and difficult for us all, especially Robbie and Connor. Dad wasn’t surprised or bothered, and Robbie had told me and Gus a couple of years before that he was gay, although it wasn’t like we hadn’t suspected it.
Lady S was always going to take it badly. She actually asked what she’d done wrong, something that made Gus lose the plot completely and Dad walk out. But, to her credit, she attended Robbie and Connor’s wedding, and made Connor feel welcome when they visited. But we all saw that she was struggling with Robbie not being ‘society perfect’ even if he was the happiest he’d ever been. Now she’d worked through it, and her relationship with her son-in-law was one we all knew she treasured. Thankfully. Else we’d have had to disown her.
“I think she just pretends to not be impressed. She’s far worse with Carla. Robbie said they’ve started to look into a surrogate.” Gus stretched and the rubbed his shoulder.
“That’s good. They’ll make excellent parents.”
Gus laughed. “No one makes excellent parents, but they’ll give it their best shot. Have you sorted the pre-nup?”
I pushed a hand through my hair. “Her solicitor has sent it to mine. I’m meeting her on Monday.”
“Callaghan Green?”
I nodded. We’d been using Callaghan Green for years. My father and Grant Callaghan went way back, and I’d continued to use the same firm when I took over the reins. “I need to go into their offices anyway to sort out this boundary dispute.”
Gus didn’t even try to look interested at that. “Before you sign the pre-nup, can I look through it? I know you’re desperate to get married so Grandfa can be there, but that’s not worth a momentous fuck up that’ll hang over the rest of your life.”
I nodded. “Meet for drinks on Monday?”
“Can do. I finish at four, so I’ll see you at five. The kids have a party to go to and it’s Vivi’s turn to sit through hell.” His grin was wicked. “Never, ever go to a children’s party. It’s a level of pain that you’ve never experienced before.”
I nodded. There wasn’t much chance of that at the moment.
Chapter Two
Imogen
The crash and following curse reinforced the fact that it was Monday, and I hadn’t had enough coffee yet. I paused at my desk, waiting for the next explosion, and predicting who it would come from.
“Joseph! What the fu… heck have you done to the copier?” My eldest cousin’s voice boomed through the offices on the ground floor, the curse word rapidly changed.
“Your child is going to learn the word ‘fuck’. You may as well just teach her not to repeat it or brace yourself for complaints from the teachers.” Claire O’Hara, another cousin, who was the firm’s family law specialist, chimed in.
“Or maybe ban Seph from working here.” Max hovered in the doorway to the office I shared with Georgia, Seph’s fiancée. She wasn’t in yet, having taken her daughter to school.
“He’s like Tigger. You’ll never be able to get rid of him.” I looked up from the contract I was reading through. This week contained a monumental amount of epic shit that I somehow needed to wade through. I’d also agree to a second date with some slightly strange man I’d met through online dating and I needed to find time and an excuse to wriggle out of it. My love life was as big a disaster as my desk.
“Boomerang.” Max leaned against the doorframe, all six feet plus of brooding grumpiness. “Seph is a boomerang. Only one who’s not here. Where is he?”
“He went with Georgia to take Rose to school. So it wasn’t him who broke the photocopier. Not this time.” Because usually it was, and sometimes on purpose, just to annoy Max.
Max grumbled something unintelligible.
“How’s Lucy?” This was the quickest way to change his mood; ask him about his baby daughter. He was completely and utterly besotted with her, something I doubt would change no matter how much of a moody teenager she eventually turned into.
His face broke out in a wide smile. “She’s great. Can’t believe how much she looks like Victoria. She’s beautiful.”
“Has she been sleeping better this weekend?” I looked up. Seeing Max go gooey over his little girl was always amusing.
“Much. She’s gotten used to her own room now. She only woke up twice last night and went back down within minutes. Vic’s going to bring her in at lunch time to show her off.”
“You missing her sharing your room?” The week before last he’d been brooding over Lucy moving out of their bedroom to her own. He’d spent at least fifteen minutes waxing lyrical about how difficult it would be without her being close by, with Victoria standing behind him, looking amused. She’d interrupted him at the end, sensing that a few more of Max’s sentences and Seph would’ve provided some sort of distraction, mentioning how other nocturnal occurrences could now resume.
Then he’d shut up.
“It’s a bit weird.” His smile said it all. “Do you think you can fix the photocopier?”
I’d started to think part of the reason my cousins had welcomed me into the family’s law firm was because of my ability to fix the photocopier. Not a day went by when it didn’t jam, have an error that wasn’t in any manual or just stop working for no apparent reason. Somehow, I’d become known as the photocopier whisperer, having some magical ability to fix the damn thing.
“I’ll try.” I sighed. “Make me a coffee and I’ll give it a go.”
Five minutes later and the machine was working. I doubted it’d be the only time today when it and I had some precious alone time. I’d worked at the Callaghan Green office in New York since qualifying, taking the New York Bar after graduating from Penn State. About two years ago, my sisters and I had found ourselves homesick for England, the country where we’d spent most of our childhood summers and gone to school. Our family was a mix of American, Irish and English, and all three of those countries were home to all of us. But in the last few years, our Callaghan cousins had grown up, and Maven, the second youngest, had craved being with them, to watch them get married and have their own families.
Hence we were all living here now, four of us in London, and Lainey in Severton, a village in the Peak District.
“Did Max break that?” Seph’s voice came from nowhere, making me jump hard enough to bang my head on a shelf.
“No idea. He’s blaming you.”
“Of course he would be. Did Georgia tell you we met a friend of hers on Saturday?” He pulled open one of the paper drawers.
I slapped his hand. “I haven’t seen her yet.”
“She was going to text you. Anyway, she thinks you’d get on…”
I put my hands over my ears. “No. No. And again, no. You’re not setting me up.” This would be the third time in as many months.
“It’s not setting you up, we just think…”
“No. I swear, Seph, if you do another blind date thing, I will never babysit Rose again. Ever. And I’ll tell Max that you and Georgia had sex on his desk.” I blurted the last bit because I was not meant to know that.
Seph smirked. “He knows. That threat’s useless.”
“He knows and you’re still breathing?”
The smirk grew wider. “His desk was a mess afterwards, so when he came in, he checked the CCTV.”
“And yet you still stand here breathing.”
“It was payback. I hold hard evidence he doesn’t want me to disclose.” Seph folded his arms, his hair flopping over his brow. “And I’m still setting you up.”
I groaned. This was the problem with people who were in happy relationships, they wanted you to be in one too. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a relationship – I was tired of dating, tir
ed of wasting time with men who did not turn out to be like they advertised on the apps I’d used, or how mutual friends described them. Exes they were still friends with; a work colleague that was the life and soul of the office; the second cousin of their best friend from school who was just so nice and they were certain we’d get on – I’d been sat opposite them in a variety of restaurants, played mini-golf, gone ten pin bowling, watched strange arty movies at independent cinemas and even endured watching a chess tournament.
It wasn’t that I struggled to get a date by myself, I was just a gold medallist at attracting men who were either already attached or interested in just one thing and weren’t very good at that. There was something to be said for sex with the same lover – you could learn what they liked and what made them whimper.
And meeting someone who made me whimper in the right way was definitely high on my list, as was finding someone to date so everyone else would stop trying to set me up.
“I’m seeing someone.” The lie fell off my lips without me thinking.
Seph’s eyes narrowed. We’d spent quite a bit of time together as kids, being pretty much the same age. “Since when?”
“The last couple of weeks. Nothing serious, but it could be.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Serious enough to be exclusive?”
I shrugged. “I’d feel a bit weird having a date with someone else.” I had that second date this week, but that would now be cancelled.
Seph’s smile was not what I would call friendly, more semi-hungry lion who was taunting his prey. “This is great. We can double date.” He stuck his head out of the copying room. “Georgie, Imogen’s dating someone. What are we doing Saturday night?”
Georgia came to the doorway and stuck her head in, looking at me curiously. “We have Rose’s friends over for a sleepover on Saturday, so you’re either having your nails painted and hair put in plaits, or you’re going to Eli’s for a poker night.”