Before We Met: What Happens When You Fall For The Same Man Twice But Don't Even Know It

by Madeleine Cardell

  BEFORE WE MET:

  What happens when you fall for the same man twice but don’t even know it?

  by

  Madeleine Cardell

  Text Copyright 2014 Madeleine Cardell

  All Rights Reserved

  Contents

  PART I

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  PART II

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  PART III

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  PART IV

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  PART V

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  A few words from Madeleine…

  To my mum

  PART I

  PROLOGUE

  Tony Peters told Vera Smith that he loved her six weeks after they met – well, not exactly – he wrote it on a paper napkin he brought in his pocket from a restaurant they’d dined in the night before, and left it on her bed while she was in a shower. There was an additional line: I’ve never said that to anybody before …except maybe to my first girlfriend. He’d managed to contradict himself within the same sentence; even back then he was emotionally conflicted.

  Nine months later, she was clearing her apartment of a handful of his belongings and arranging for them to be delivered back to Bromley, where he lived. She’d hoped that they would move in together, get married, and create an emotional bond that would last a lifetime, but it turned out that he didn’t share her desires, and when she pushed for his commitment and gave him an ultimatum, the whole relationship ended.

  She ended it, to be precise, but in her mind it didn’t mean they were over, far from it. She figured that it was simply time to show Tony that she wasn’t going to settle for the scraps that he was offering, especially as she knew that he loved her and might, hopefully, become less preoccupied with his work and give her more of his time and commitment, more affection and more energy. Yes, she took very drastic action and dumped him, but, of course, it was only to help him realize how much he loved her, and that he wanted to get serious with her and move in together and plan for the future. They were both thirty-one, so it was time, she figured.

  Since they’d met, Vera had believed they were meant to be. She believed in them, and had no doubt that she’d get Tony back. It had been four weeks since their breakup - four agonizing weeks without seeing him or hearing his voice - but she was consistently sticking to her ‘no contact’ rule. She knew from many reputable sources, mainly women’s magazines, but also other high quality literature for girls, that it was the only way to lure him back into her arms. If she was to practice a bit of self-restraint and patience, it would eventually pay off, and Tony would re-surface, quite literally begging her for another chance.

  But for Vera Smith, trying to be patient was not an easy task at all. In bleak moments, though, she had her psychic, Astrid, on speed dial - who reassured her that Tony’s phone call was imminent, because she’d shown him that she could live without him, meaning she was not needy or desperate.

  Then there was Shane, a trolley-dolly for Titanium Airways, also known as her “gay best friend”, always ready to listen, and to take her to some trendy party to cheer her up.

  And, of course, she had Emma. Emma was the closest to her heart, yet the furthest away from her by distance - her Australian pen pal from Sydney whom she’d never met in person –and they’d kept on pouring their hearts out to each other on paper for the last fourteen years. It was Emma who suggested that Vera should read a book on the laws of attraction - she did - and was manifesting her desires to get Tony back, confident his name would appear on her phone any time soon.

  In anticipation of this event, Vera kept her phone close by everywhere she went. It rested on her pillow, or on the side table by her bed, while she was asleep, and she’d check it every single morning, even during the night if she awoke. She’d also search for it and check it fanatically if she’d left it somewhere she couldn’t hear it. But since she was a writer working from home, she was never apart from it for very long.

  Vera would often remind herself that while she and Tony were together he would often get angry when she called him, complaining that she’d disturbed him at work. But Tony couldn’t understand that people with a job based at home had a bit more time on their hands, and could easily have several phone conversations throughout the day. She knew Tony had to put in long hours at work, but not being able to speak to someone you love a few times a day? That to her seemed just ridiculous. Besides, Vera always suspected that he was being told to get off the phone by his pushy business partner, John, and she argued that Tony should have his own rules, be able to stand up to John, and not allow himself to be controlled so easily. Anyway, John was most likely jealous that Tony had a girlfriend and a meaningful relationship - and he hadn’t.

  Tony Peters was an artist. He and John made trendy, yet completely pointless, objects of contemporary art in their workshop in Bromley - anything from crazy photo frames to highly unpractical living room furniture. But it never failed to surprise Vera how many people admired their work at art exhibitions, or how many interior design magazines featured their creations, or the sheer amount of fans that just ‘got them’. Yes, that was the high point of their careers, but the downside was that everyone wanted to view and admire, but not buy. And if by reputation they were a known brand, by remuneration, they were truly struggling. And if it wasn’t for Tony’s granddad helping them stay afloat, the company would have folded as swiftly as the Japanese style tables they were making.

  But Tony was a free spirit, with as big of a desire to earn a fortune as to create anything remotely useful. On the up side, he was also gorgeous, very tall, with big blue eyes that would get very intense when he was concentrating on something (mainly work), and longish, blonde curls that were always falling over his forehead - particularly because he never had the time to visit the barber. He had the cutest nose too – small and perfectly arched, with a pointy tip. As a person, he was messy and very unstructured, but Vera loved all that chaos around him, and that she’d get to arrange things for him. They differed greatly. She was highly practical, very efficient and extremely organized, and Tony, well, he was just being Tony - living for the moment - no commitments and no promises.

  Vera never liked him spending all his time working in the studio for next to nothing, and as she would put it he was ‘wasting time’. She certainly wasn’t. For now she worked from home, but she had in the past written on film, food and latest fashion for Mode, Sapphire and Motion, and even spent a year working as editor’s assistant at Isabelle. Her current assignments included a feature on South American millionaires sn
apping up private islands in the Bahamas for London Voice, and coverage of the food festival in Cornwall for a popular culinary blog. Her current aim was, however, to get back the man she loved, and in the process teach him a very important lesson: to never think again that he could live without her!

  Right now, sitting at the desk in her North London apartment, she looked out of the window and saw a jumbo jet fly over the roof of her house, no doubt, she thought, going to some exciting foreign destination. Another big aim of hers was to, one day soon, travel around the world, preferably with Tony. Courtesy of Shane, they would even get substantial discount on tickets. But she just needed to crack her fear of flying first ...

  But her philosophy right now was to take everything one step at a time. She was learning all about patience, and that good things come to those who wait. As she stared at the cloudless September sky, her phone vibrated under the paperwork on her desk. She got it out, and with sudden excitement wondered, hoped, it was Tony, but she was soon disappointed - it was Shane.

  CHAPTER 1

  A few hours after speaking to Shane, Vera left her apartment in Lymington Road, jumped on the tube, and eventually got off at Liverpool Street Station. She then stood outside the main entrance waiting for Shane. He was coming in from the airport after work. It was a Thursday night, and Thursday was the busiest night in the City. The rich bankers often treated Thursday night as the end of the week and went to expensive bars and restaurants, before flying back home in their private planes Friday lunchtime.

  Looking at the abundance of wealth around her - the sports cars, the limos, and the diamond encrusted watches - Vera closed her eyes and imagined a fifty-something, filthy-rich banker, who owned a private jet and happened to be French. She pictured him going home to his wife every weekend, to their luxury apartment in Paris, and how she probably commissioned a famous chef to cook them a meal. She imagined them drinking the finest Chateaus over dinner, and talking about their spoilt children. She saw them driving to their country home on Saturday afternoon to meet friends. But the weekend would pass quickly, and inevitably they’d have to say their goodbye’s on Sunday evening. The wife would get upset that he was leaving her again, but on the contrary, he would be quite happy flying back to London - because waiting in London was the one thing that Mrs. French Banker didn’t know about: the young mistress who lived with him - a tall brunette with long wavy hair, a flawless complexion and toned body … and twenty-seven years his junior.

  As the rush hour started and people around her flooded the narrow City streets and poured into the station, Vera, still standing at the entrance, imagined her banker and his lover at one of the counters in Selfridges’ bag department. The young seductress would pick the latest version of a Luis Vuitton bag and then touch her lover’s hand playfully while looking into his eyes. Vera opened her eyes again and looked around, wondering where Shane was, but he was nowhere to be seen. So her mind, once more, returned to the banker. Would his be a good story for a novel, she pondered. And what would the title be? Maybe A London Affair or A French Affair? Or maybe something juicier, she thought. But as she considered other possibilities, she suddenly felt someone’s touch on her shoulder. She turned around. It was Shane.

  ‘Hello stranger! Give us a kiss!’

  She heard Shane’s Irish voice and then they fell into each other’s arms. They hadn’t seen each other for over two weeks, and by their standards that was a very long time.

  ‘Hello!’ Vera pulled away from him. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ll see when we get there,’ he said, offering his arm.

  As they departed from the station, Vera noticed that most bars were already filled with people and it was only 5.00pm. Shane loved his posh wine bars with their extensive menus of champagne cocktails, so she had no doubt they were heading for one of those. A few minutes later, they stood in front of Corey’s in Old Broad Street. Shane opened the bar’s door to the instant sound of loud music. They went in.

  The main bar was packed with people, but a private booth was already reserved for them in the ‘Love and Liquor’ room in the basement. Vera loved the place. It was posh - to say the least! The big, comfortable, brown velvet sofas with the satin cushions thrown all over them gave it a luxurious feel. The wallpaper was purple and the artwork on the walls was dominated by fluorescent yellow. Every booth had a metal custom-made table with a space for a champagne bucket, and side holders for champagne glasses … in case you needed to put them down … in case your hands suddenly wandered to embrace the person you were with.

  The relatively small bar had on display just about every brand of champagne you could ever know or want. The atmosphere may have been right for lovers, but neither Vera nor Shane felt awkward. After all, they’d ‘loved’ each other since they’d met at university twelve years ago, when he’d been studying psychology and she’d done journalism. Back than he was a spotty nineteen-year-old, desperate to lose forty-odd pounds in weight. And she was sporting a horrendous perm and determined to put at least ten pounds in weight on.

  But things had changed since then. Now Shane was skinny and extremely well-groomed, and it was Vera who could do with losing some weight. She wasn’t big. At five-foot and two inches, she weighed 121 pounds, but her belly had rounded up, and she didn’t like her ‘love handles’. As a fashion magazine fanatic, she’d compare herself to models all the time. And even though she knew that Photoshop was responsible for their ‘perfect’ appearance, she still tried to compete. The love of fashion magazines was partially responsible for bringing Shane and her together, specifically British Vogue. When they’d shared a house during university, they used to buy a copy and then later scour the charity shops in North London for unique, vintage pieces they’d make into something contemporary - and that’s how Vera fell in love with Hampstead, and promised herself that she would end up living there one day.

  It had now been seven years since she moved into 57 Lymington Road. She only rented a one-bedroomed apartment, but it was enough. It was a top floor apartment with a great view over the park. She lived alone and had her own space, independence and freedom; everything that a writer needed.

  But right now, Shane and Vera were on their first round of champagne, and Shane was still giving her his usual lowdown on rude passengers on Titanium Air. While he was talking, she laughed heartedly, and let the high heels drop from her feet down to the thick carpet. Under the table, she searched through her bag for the pair of flip-flops she carried around with her when she was wearing high heels, and put them on.

  ‘Do you want to come to a party on Sunday?’ asked Shane, suddenly changing the subject. ‘It’s near the airport. My boss has just bought an apartment in Docklands - it’s his housewarming party. There will be a lot, shall we say, hot cupcakes there!’ He chuckled with a familiar evil laugh.

  ‘Not sure…’ Vera answered, hesitating a little. ‘I was thinking of getting a reading from Astrid. She takes calls on a Sunday.’

  ‘That so-called psychic?’ He looked at her with disapproval all over his face.

  ‘She’s not ‘so-called’.’ Vera crossed her arms in front of her. ‘She’s excellent at her job. And I’ll have you known that she’s extremely accurate!’

  ‘Accurate?’ sniggered Shane. ‘Has she predicted anything that has actually come true?’

  ‘She predicted that contact from Tony is “imminent”. Imminent! And I for one believe her! Why would she lie?’ she asked confidently.

  ‘Why would she lie?’ he mocked her English accent. ‘Maybe because you’re paying her to tell you what you want to hear, you moron.’ He said this rolling his eyes.

  ‘Shane, Astrid is not some sort of con artist. She works for a professional company.’

  ‘Doesn’t that company put it on their disclaimer that their readings are for “entertainment purposes only”?’ Shane was grinning from ear to ear. He knew he’d got her.

  There was no point talking to him about Astrid. He just wasn�
�t very spiritual. To change the subject Vera said quickly - ‘Okay, I’ll come to your party. Where are we going to meet?’

  ‘Jesus, you ditched your prophet woman quickly! And it’s not my party. It’s my bosses,’ exclaimed Shane, surprised.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I can call Astrid next week. She might fit me in than. She’s normally busy and she reads for many celebrities.’ Vera tried to slip that in casually.

  ‘Whatever.’ Shane shrugged his shoulders. ‘Be at mine at 7.00pm. We’ll take a cab from there.’

  She nodded, with her mouth full of delicious liquid.

  ‘Are they new?’ Shane had noticed Vera’s shoes lying on the carpet.

  ‘Yes!’ she answered, smiling manically. ‘I bought them with the advance for my next job.’

  ‘They look great!’ he complimented. His approval meant a lot to Vera. His fashion sense was excellent. ‘Who is the designer?’ he asked.

  ‘Sophia Webster,’ she answered promptly.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re buying something different for a change. You may even be like me soon - ahead of fashion. But still, I only do it to represent the brand.’

  Vera smiled. Shane liked to perpetuate the myth that he spent most of his wages on designer clothes only because his job required him to do so. She then laughed out loud. Right now, Shane was waiving his hand in the air to supposedly show her how much ahead of fashion he was. Seeing a hand raised, the waiter immediately showed up at their table.

  ‘More drinks?’ he asked.

  Shane never ignored a chance to flirt.

  ‘Have you any Krupnik?’ he asked, giving off semi-provocative looks.

  Vera instantly noticed the waiter looked a tad awkward.

  ‘Oh, the honey vodka?’ the waiter blushed. ‘Let me check.’

  Half a minute later, he returned with information that they’d run out.