The Unpredictable Consequences of Love

by Jill Mansell

  ‘I had an inkling. She was pretty miffed when I told her you weren’t my type.’ Hastily she amended, ‘That was before I knew you were my type.’

  ‘It’s why she invited you up here. Well, she can relax now; it’s happened. Job done.’ Throwing back the sheet, Riley jumped out of bed and pulled on his shirt and jeans.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘If we’re staying here tonight, I need to buy a toothbrush.’

  ‘And a bottle of wine.’

  ‘Good idea. Let’s make it champagne to celebrate.’ Reaching down to give her another kiss, he said, ‘Anything else you want?’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re even asking that question,’ said Tula. ‘Hello? Caramac.’

  Chapter 54

  He didn’t snore. That was good. Then again, the way she was feeling right now, Riley could probably get away with snoring like an angry tractor.

  Tula smiled to herself, giddy with wonder and joy. Last night had been, hands down, the single most perfect night of her whole life. This was the happiest she’d ever felt; the connection between Riley and herself was just magical. For the first time she understood what people meant when they said when you know, you know.

  And now, amazingly, she knew too.

  A muffled ting announced the arrival of a message on Riley’s phone, wherever it was. Following the sound, Tula reached over the edge of the bed and located it on the swirly carpet beneath randomly discarded clothes.

  She wasn’t being nosy, it was just normal human instinct; if there were words on a screen it was hard not to glance at them. Especially when they came from Marguerite.

  Mission accomplished? Result! Makes it all worthwhile. Xx

  Amused, Tula put the phone on the rickety bedside table. Honestly, what was Marguerite like? Once she had her mind set on something, there was no stopping her.

  It was almost seven in the morning. Riley was still fast asleep, hardly surprisingly after the night they’d had. The only reason she’d woken up was because she was bursting for the loo.

  Maybe she’d have a shower too, while she had the chance …

  The thought occurred to Tula halfway through her shower.

  Mission accomplished? Result! Makes it all worthwhile.

  Around midnight last night, Riley had admitted that it hadn’t only been her guilty conscience that had prompted Marguerite’s shocking confession. She’d done it for him. Which had been a pretty major deal to come to terms with, but at the same time it did make sense that she should have come clean. It was only right that sooner or later the truth should come out.

  Last night it hadn’t occurred to Tula to question it. Now, her brain buzzing with fresh doubt, she stood motionless and let the water stream over her as an alternative scenario presented itself.

  Oh God, oh God. Sick with fear, she examined the possibility. Please don’t let it be true.

  Surely it couldn’t be.

  But when you were up against someone as determined and unstoppable as Marguerite Marshall, nothing was beyond the realms of possibility.

  Because Marguerite adored her beloved nephew; everyone knew that. Basically she worshipped the ground Riley walked on. So … what if she were only pretending to have lost the ability to write her books? Had they cooked up this whole charade between them purely in order to make her, Tula, believe that Riley Bryant wasn’t a world-class shirker after all?

  Tula was seized with panic. OK, breathe slowly, get a grip. It was, she knew, a far-fetched and completely ridiculous idea. But the trouble was, now she’d thought of it, there was no way of unthinking it. As mad and out-there as it might seem, it was now lodged in her brain.

  Needing time to think, and desperate not to wake Riley, Tula dressed, let herself quietly out of the bedroom and ran downstairs. Out of change for the vending machine, she left the hotel and picked up bottled water and a packet of biscuits from the newsagent’s next door.

  Too confused to go back to the room, she began to walk. OK, there didn’t appear to be any way of finding out the truth. If she asked Riley, he would only reiterate what he’d already told her.

  As would Marguerite.

  And they’d already announced that no one else had been aware of their deception. Which meant, basically, that there was no way in the world of proving that they weren’t lying.

  And if this sounded like a wild hypothesis … well, it actually wasn’t as far-fetched as the idea that Riley had been writing Marguerite’s books in the first place.

  The trouble was, short of physically tying him to a chair and standing over him forcing him to write …

  Tula felt sick. Oh God, had it all been a ruse? Please don’t let this be true …

  She’d been wandering in a daze and had now reached Westminster Bridge. It was seven forty and the height of the rush hour. Traffic clogged the road across the bridge and the walkways on either side were full of people in smart business suits hurrying to work. Everyone was preoccupied, in commuter mode, either concentrating on their mobiles or lost in the music feeding into their brains via headphones.

  With her wet hair, white lacy sundress and lime-green flip-flops, Tula realised, she wasn’t dressed like anyone else. As always, she was the odd one out. Where was she even headed, anyway? How was aimless wandering going to help? All these busy people surrounding her, tutting with annoyance because she’d now stopped walking and was getting in their way; were any of them as muddled and conflicted as she was? And what was that? Oh God, her phone … was this Riley calling to find out why she’d done an early morning runner?

  Tula fished the phone out of her bra, earning herself a look of disgust from an immaculate brunette with a brown leather briefcase that exactly matched her sensible hair and shoes.

  Then she exhaled with relief, because the incoming call was from Sophie.

  Tula moved out of the way of the steamroller tide of commuters, leaned against the bridge’s green-painted balustrade and said, ‘Hi, you.’

  Because Sophie was good to have around in a crisis. Maybe she’d be able to help and advise her, even though there was obviously no way of answering the unanswerable question about whether or not Riley had—

  ‘OH MY GOD,’ Sophie bellowed down the phone from Cornwall. ‘I was out working last night and I completely missed the show! Hazel from next door just called in to borrow some milk and she told me all about what happened! Were you there in the studio when Marguerite said it? Can you believe it’s been going on for so long? Isn’t it just completely brilliant?’

  Hmm. Brilliant if it’s true.

  Tula gazed across the river at the London Eye. Prevaricating, she said, ‘In what way?’

  ‘Because Riley’s crazy about you and you really like him too but you didn’t want to be stuck with a no-hoper … except he isn’t,’ Sophie exclaimed triumphantly. ‘He’s been working his socks off all this time, just to help Marguerite out. Which makes him even more perfect. Just think, slogging away, putting in all those hours and getting none of the recognition.’

  ‘I suppose so …’

  ‘Oh come on! Don’t you see? It’s like a dream come true for you!’

  Oh God, and now she was going to have to confide her doubts to Sophie, like the world’s biggest spoilsport. Tula pressed the phone to her ear, gazed up at the Houses of Parliament and said miserably, ‘I know, but the thing is, what if—’

  ‘And it’s a relief for me too,’ Sophie blurted out. ‘Now I don’t have to feel guilty any more about not telling you!’

  A fat businessman shoved past, almost sending Tula flying. Regaining her balance, she said, ‘Not telling me about what?’

  ‘I knew! I found out two weeks ago! And I knew it was a secret and I couldn’t breathe a word to anyone, but I really wanted you to know because it would make all the difference. But now it’s OK, everyone knows!’

  Sophie had what? She’d known the truth? Tula’s head swam with disbelief. Stunned, she said, ‘How … but how did you find out?’

&nb
sp; ‘It was when Marguerite asked me to take photos of that mystery bird in her garden. Riley didn’t know I was there. He was working on the computer in Marguerite’s office … I had a long lens on my camera and I saw what he was doing. Well obviously I thought at first I was having some sort of hallucination, but I wasn’t. It was actually true. What’s that noise?’ Sophie said abruptly. ‘Are you sniffing? Have you got a cold?’

  On Westminster Bridge, with no tissue to wipe away the tears streaming down her face, Tula had to do the best she could with her free hand. ‘I’m fine. Just … h-happy. So happy you can’t imagine.’ Oh help, and now her nose was running too; talk about the epitome of glamour.

  ‘Good, I’m glad.’ Sophie sounded as if she was smiling now. ‘If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.’

  ‘You went away.’ Riley was sitting up in bed when she arrived back at the hotel ten minutes later.

  ‘And now I’m here again.’

  ‘I woke up all on my own and didn’t know where you’d gone.’ He drew her on to the bed beside him. ‘Never do that to me again.’

  Tula breathed in the scent of him. ‘I won’t.’ Oh God, his skin smelled irresistible.

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘I went to buy us some water and biscuits for breakfast. And then I ate them. Sorry.’

  ‘This is a terrible hotel. I don’t want to stay here any more.’ Riley kissed her. ‘Let’s check out and go and see how Marguerite is this morning. Then once she’s gone downstairs to breakfast …’

  There followed a meaningful pause. Tula looked at him and said innocently, ‘Catch up on some sleep?’

  ‘Hey, it’s the Savoy.’ Riley’s smile was equally innocent. ‘And the beds don’t creak. We can do whatever we like.’

  Chapter 55

  It was Sunday afternoon and the beach was crowded with holidaymakers. A light breeze coming in off the sea ruffled Tula’s hair as she shielded her eyes from the sun and watched Sophie emerge from the water in her black swimsuit.

  OK, this was a secret it was definitely killing her to keep. With a bit of luck she wouldn’t have to do it for much longer. Since Josh had confided in her on Friday evening, she’d been buzzing with the knowledge, bursting with it and simultaneously terrified she might accidentally let slip something that would give the game away.

  Except it wasn’t a game, was it? It was important, and please God, everything that had gone so horribly wrong years ago was finally about to come right.

  Tula double-checked that everyone was in position. Yes, there they were, sixty or so metres away to the right. And over there to the left, sitting in the shade of the café, were Josh and Riley. Her perfect Riley …

  OK, and here came Sophie now, shaking the sea from her hair as she made her way back up the beach. Reaching Tula, she picked up her purple towel and quickly dried off before sitting down.

  ‘You should have come in. The water’s fantastic.’

  Thank goodness for dark glasses. Tula grimaced. ‘Didn’t feel like swimming today. Too lazy.’

  ‘It’s good exercise.’

  ‘I’ve been getting plenty of good exercise, thanks very much.’

  ‘You’re smirking again.’

  ‘Can’t help it. I’m very smug.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘Ever been happier?’

  ‘No.’ Tula shook her head. ‘Never. Honestly, nothing’s ever felt so right.’

  ‘Ah, that’s good. You deserve it.’

  ‘So do you.’ She hadn’t meant to say it; the words had slipped out. God, just knowing what was about to happen was getting her jittery. Sitting up and arranging herself on the pink rug, Tula said, ‘How am I looking? Pretty good?’

  Sophie said teasingly, ‘Like a woman in love,’ and flicked the ends of her hair at her, showering her with droplets of water.

  ‘Go on then, take some pictures of me. Flattering ones.’ Tula nodded at the Nikon in its case. ‘Make me look fantastic.’

  Luckily Sophie never turned down a photo opportunity. She reached for the case and took out her favourite camera. Tula’s heart broke into a panicky canter, because she’d just set the train of events in motion. Plus she knew Josh and Riley were watching from the café. Please let it work.

  ‘OK,’ said Sophie, moving backwards and fiddling with the buttons on the camera. ‘Turn your face up to the left, rest your arm on your knee, just relax …’

  Tula did as she was told. Oh, but how could she relax?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Sophie lowered the camera.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You need to loosen up. Let your shoulders go back. And just dangle your hand.’

  Tula had another go, but it was impossible. The harder she tried, the more scrunched up she became. Her fingers had completely lost their ability to dangle.

  ‘You’re not on your way to the electric chair,’ said Sophie. ‘Just try to smile in the normal way.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘No you aren’t.’

  Tula tried again. Sophie took some shots and said, ‘Now you look like a dog that’s secretly eaten all the biscuits and is waiting to be found out.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’ She glanced at the pictures Sophie was showing her on the screen and winced. ‘Eww.’

  ‘See what I mean? I’ve never seen you like this before.’

  ‘I don’t know why it’s happening.’ And now even her mouth felt strange; oh help, this was impossible. Hastily Tula rubbed her hands over her face to hide the guilt. ‘OK, give me two minutes to stop feeling awkward …’

  ‘Take deep breaths,’ Sophie said helpfully. ‘Give your arms a shake, stop thinking about the camera and just relax.’

  Were they all watching her from their various viewpoints? Did they appreciate how incredibly stressful this was?

  ‘It’s no good. Don’t worry about it. Take photos of someone else instead.’ Tula waved a dismissive hand and began to scan the beach, casually and taking care not to zone in too fast. Kneeling on the rug, she noted the relevant targets and took a deep steadying breath. Then she pointed and said in a voice barely recognisable as her own, ‘Oh look over there at those little ones in the matching pink T-shirts!’

  ‘Where?’ Sophie raised the Nikon and followed the direction of her gaze.

  ‘Just in front of the big sandcastle, see? Next to that yellow beach ball.’

  ‘Got them. Oh, cute. They’re twins! Ha, look at the one on the right, she’s about to trip over that bucket of water … whoops, there it goes.’ Laughing, Sophie began happily clicking away, oblivious to the fact that Tula was no longer watching the two small girls. Instead, her gaze was fixed on Sophie, waiting for the reaction that would surely come any second now …

  And then she saw it. The lens moved a fraction to the right. The clicking of the camera abruptly stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, Tula saw Josh and Riley in turn watching Sophie.

  How on earth was she feeling now? It was anyone’s guess.

  Sophie stared through the viewfinder, her index finger frozen in mid-air, her entire body stiff with disbelief. She’d only meant to glance fleetingly at the twins’ parents, but that was because she hadn’t expected one of them to be her ex-husband.

  Theo.

  Theo.

  I’m not dreaming. It is actually him.

  Looking the same, apart from a bit older. God, though. He was here. In St Carys. With a woman. And two small children. And now one of the twins was waving a blue plastic spade at him and he was laughing, actually laughing as he pretended to reach over and grab it away from her.

  The sound filling her ears, Sophie realised, was that of her own rapid breathing. An overload of information had caused her to lose track of time. Slowly she lowered the Nikon and rested it on her bare thigh.

  The penny wavered. It wasn’t until she turned to look at Tula that it finally, properly dropped.

  Tula, despite her best efforts, had always been the most hopeless fibber in the world.

  Sophie gripped the camera
with both hands to make sure it didn’t fall. Within the space of the last minute her emotions had ranged from shock and fear to curiosity and unfolding realisation. Her mouth dry, she said, ‘You knew.’

  Tula was the picture of pink-cheeked guilt. It was blindingly obvious now why she’d been unable to relax enough to have the photos taken.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Sophie stared at her. ‘Did you do this?’

  ‘No.’ Tula shook her head. ‘But I knew it was being done.’

  ‘It’s Theo.’ OK, stupid thing to say, but she needed to spell it out for herself. ‘And he isn’t here by chance. I don’t believe this is happening …’

  ‘Take another look at him,’ Tula prompted. ‘Go on. How does he seem to you?’

  How does he seem? Slowly Sophie brought the camera back up to eye level and searched through the viewfinder until she found him again. Theo was wearing a white T-shirt and knee-length navy board shorts. He was now filling a blue plastic bucket with sand with the help of one of the small girls, while the other proudly waved a shell at him. She said something to Theo, who threw his head back and laughed.

  Sophie felt the backs of her eyes prickle with heat; during the last four years she’d thought of Theo thousands of times, but never had she pictured him laughing. In her imagination he’d always been sad, despairing, angry or just plain stony-faced and sullen. Not once had it even occurred to her to think of him as being happy.

  Then again, nor had she imagined a scenario like this.

  And now the little girl was offering him the shell, curling her chubby arms around his neck and planting a kiss on the side of his face. Whereupon Theo scooped her up into his arms and tickled her until she collapsed in fits of giggles against his chest.

  Watching them, Sophie’s heart turned over. The smile on Theo’s lips, the look of absolute love in his eyes was just wonderful to see. Unable to help herself, she clicked the shutter and captured the moment.

  Theo had twin girls. And a partner, too. Shifting focus, Sophie studied the woman sitting beside him. Chestnut-brown hair, sparkling eyes and a pretty, smiley mouth. She was wearing a sea-green vest top and cream shorts. Good legs, bare feet, tanned arms and … yes, a wedding ring on the appropriate finger.