SOS: Convenient Husband Required

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘No.’ May had snatched up the phone at the first hint of a ring, on tenterhooks, not sure that he’d ring. ‘I’ve just this minute fallen into bed. I wanted to lay up for breakfast in the conservatory before I turned in.’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘My face is aching from smiling,’ she admitted. In truth, every muscle was throbbing, more from the tension than the effort. Catering for charity lunches, receptions, had been part of her life for as long as she could remember but so much had been riding on this. ‘But in a good cause. I think Michel’s maman is finally convinced that Saffy’s youthful indiscretions were no more than high jinks.’

  ‘If she believes that, you must have done some fast talking.’

  ‘The fact that Grandpa was a magistrate was the final clincher, I think. And maybe the four-poster bed.’

  ‘You put them in my bed?’

  ‘In the state bedroom,’ she said, chuckling. ‘I dug out a signed picture that the Prince of Wales gave my great-grandfather in 1935 and put it on the dressing table.’

  ‘Nice touch.’

  ‘And then, of course, we wheeled out the family star.’

  ‘Nancie?’

  ‘Well, she played her part. But I was actually talking about you. Maman had no idea that Saffy’s brother was the billionaire Chairman of the company whose coffee she cannot, she swears, live without.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘A double whammy. Class and cash. How could she resist? Whether you’ll thank me when you’ve got them as in-laws is another matter. Michel and his father are both gorgeous to look at, but totally under the matriarchal thumb.’

  ‘Why, May?’

  She’d been snuggling down under the duvet, warm, sleepy and this morning’s misunderstanding forgotten, loving the chance to tell him about her triumph on his behalf.

  ‘Why what?’ she asked.

  ‘Why would you go to so much trouble for Saffy?’

  ‘I wasn’t…’ She wasn’t doing it for Saffy; she was doing it for him.

  ‘Don’t be coy. You’ve pulled out all the stops for her. What is it between you two?’

  ‘She never told you?’

  ‘My little sister lived for secrets. It gave her a sense of power.’

  ‘I was being bullied. When I first went to the High School. A gang of girls was taking my lunch money every day. They cornered me, took my bag and ripped pages out of my books until I gave them everything I had.’

  ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell someone? Your year head?’

  ‘The poor little rich girl running to teacher? That would have made me popular.’

  ‘Your grandfather, then?’

  ‘His response would have been to say “I told you so” and take me away. He’d always wanted to send me to some fancy boarding school.’

  ‘Maybe you should have gone. I never got the impression you enjoyed school much.’

  ‘I didn’t. But I couldn’t bear to be sent away. I didn’t have a mother or a father, Adam. All I had was my home. The animals.’

  Coleridge House. And a cold man who probably hated having a love-child for a granddaughter.

  ‘What made you go to Saffy?’ he asked.

  ‘I didn’t. I don’t know how she found out. But one day she was at the school gate waiting for me. Didn’t say a word, just hooked her arm through mine as if she was my best friend. To be honest, I was terrified. I knew they’d all gone to the same primary school.’

  ‘It was pretty rough,’ he admitted.

  ‘Well, I thought it was some new torture, but she appointed herself my minder. Walked me in and out of school, stayed with me at lunch and break times until they got the message. I was protected. Not to be touched.’

  ‘That’s why she knew you’d take Nancie? Because you owed her.’

  ‘No. I paid my debts in full a long time ago…’ She stopped, realising that, tired, she’d let slip more than she’d intended. ‘Ancient history,’ she said dismissively. ‘Tell me about your day, mixing with the great and good. There was something about Samindera on the news this evening, but it was a bit of a madhouse and I didn’t catch it.’

  ‘Well, obviously the fact that I had dinner with the President would make the national news,’ he said.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong?’ she persisted.

  She’d meant to check but, by the time she’d finished, she was fit for nothing but a warm bath and bed.

  ‘His Excellency’s hand was steady enough on his glass,’ he assured her.

  ‘Oh, well, what can possibly be wrong? Tell me what you ate,’ she asked, then lay back as he told her about the formal dinner, the endless speeches, apparently knowing exactly what would make her laugh. Then, as her responses became slower, he said, ‘Go to sleep, Mouse. Tell Saffy that I’ll call her in the morning. And that I’ll want to talk to Michel when I get home.’

  ‘How long? Three days?’ It had been nearly two weeks since she’d seen him, but it felt like a lifetime. ‘Are you going to play the big brother and ask him his intentions?’

  ‘I think he’s already demonstrated his intentions beyond question. I just want to be sure that this is settled and it’s not going to end in some painful tug of love scenario. Saffy might be an idiot, but she’s my sister and no one is going to take her baby from her.’

  ‘Actually, she was talking about going back with them tomorrow.’

  ‘Show her my credit card. Ask her to go shopping with you. That should do it.’

  ‘Too late. She’s dragged me out shopping half a dozen times, although I’m not sure if it’s my trousseau she’s interested in or her own.’

  ‘I hope you’ve been indulging yourself rather than her.’

  ‘She’s a very bad influence.’ she admitted.

  ‘That sounds promising.’

  She’d been led utterly astray by his sister, and now possessed her own sexy ‘result’ shoes with ridiculously high heels. And had rather lost her head in an underwear shop. Not that she anticipated a result. Adam had been very quick to make it clear that this was a marriage in name only, but at least she’d feel sexy. And taller.

  ‘Just make sure she knows that I want to see her. And my mother. That I want to make things right.’

  ‘No problem. I’ve invited them all to the wedding.’

  There was a pause. Then he said, ‘Let’s elope.’

  Adam sat on the edge of the bed, her giggle a warm memory as he imagined her slipping into the warm white nest of her bed, already more asleep than awake.

  She wouldn’t have let it slip that she’d already paid her debt to his sister if she’d been fully awake. Even then, she’d done her best to cover it, move on before he pressed her to tell him what she’d done. But he hadn’t needed to. He knew.

  Saffy had been caught with several tabs of E in her bag when the police had raided a club a few days before his and May’s big night out had been brought to an abrupt end in the hayloft.

  It wasn’t the first time his sister had been in trouble. She’d been caught shoplifting as a minor, drinking underage, all the classic symptoms of attention seeking. But this had been serious.

  She’d sworn she’d got the tabs for friends who’d given her the money, but technically it was dealing and she was older. Culpable. But she’d shrugged when he’d found out, gone ballistic at her stupidity. Said it was sorted. And then, two weeks later, when she’d been summoned to the police station, she’d got away with no more than a formal caution. It would be on her record, but that was it.

  That was what May had done. She’d talked to her grandfather, pleaded Saffy’s case. And left them both wide open to the retribution of a hard old man.

  What had he threatened?

  What had she surrendered?

  School. She’d never come back. The rumour was that she’d gone off to some posh boarding school and he’d allowed himself to believe it, hope that was what had happened, why she hadn’t called him, written. Until he’d seen a photo
graph of her in the local newspaper, all dressed up at some charity do with her grandfather. Surrounded by Hooray Henrys in their DJs.

  And him, he thought. She’d given up him to save Saffy from the minimum of three months in prison she’d have got at the Magistrates’ Court. Much more if the Bench had decided the case was too serious for them and sent it up to the Crown Court. Which he didn’t doubt would have happened.

  No. That was wrong.

  He dragged his hands through his hair. He was only seeing it from his point of view. How it had affected him.

  Narrow, selfish…

  May had surrendered herself. Given up every vestige of freedom for his sister. And maybe for him, too. He hadn’t broken any laws, couldn’t be got at that way. But he’d had an offer from Melchester University. He’d been encouraged to apply to Oxford, but he needed to be near enough to take care of his mother and sister. He had no doubt James Coleridge could have taken that from him.

  Was that what May had been trying to tell him as she’d stood at her window shaking her head as he’d called her name?

  Watching while the hose had been turned on him, smashing the roses he’d bought her in an explosion of red petals…

  He groaned, slid from the bed to the floor as he remembered picking up the book of Sonnets. That was what had fallen from it. The petal from a red rose. He’d recognised it for what it was and brushed it off his fingers as if tainted…

  Stupid, stupid…

  If, that first time when their paths had crossed at some civic or charity reception, he’d forgotten his pride and, ignoring the frost, reached out and taken her hand, how long would she have held out?

  He’d assumed that he’d caught her offside up that tree, but maybe that was all it would have taken. A smile, a, Hello, Danger Mouse, a touch to melt the icy mask.

  But pride was all he’d had and he’d clung to it like ivy to a blasted oak.

  He had to talk to her. Now. Tell her that he was sorry…

  The phone dragged May back from the brink of sleep. She fumbled for it, picked it up. Couldn’t see the number without her glasses. ‘Hello?’

  ‘May…’

  ‘Adam? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No… Yes…’

  She heard a noise in the background. ‘What was that? I heard something…’

  ‘Thunder, lightning. Storms are ten a penny here. Are you awake?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, pushing herself up. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Everything… Damn it, the lights have gone out.’

  ‘Adam? Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. That happens, too. It doesn’t matter…’ He broke off and she could hear shouting, banging in the background.

  ‘Adam!’

  ‘Hold on, there’s some idiot hammering on the door. Don’t go away. This is important—’

  Whatever else he was going to say was drowned out by the sound of an explosion. And then there was nothing.

  Robbie found her sitting, white-faced, frozen in front of the television, watching rolling news of the attempted coup in Samindera. Pictures of the Presidential Palace, hotels blackened by fire, shattered by shells.

  Reports of unknown casualties, missing foreigners. The fierce fighting that was making communication difficult.

  She fetched a quilt to wrap around her, lit the fire, made tea. Didn’t bother to say anything. She knew there was nothing she could say that would mean a thing.

  Jake called on his way into the office, where the directors had called a crisis meeting, promising to let her know the minute he heard anything.

  The French contingent finally emerged, then, when they heard the news, they hugged both her and Saffy a lot, talking too fast for May’s schoolgirl French but clearly intent on reassuring her that they were all family now.

  Michel sat holding Saffy’s hand, their baby on his lap, watching the news with her. And that made her feel even more alone.

  She leapt up when the phone rang, but it was Freddie. He’d seen the forthcoming wedding announcement in The Times.

  ‘There isn’t going to be a wedding,’ she said and hung up.

  ‘May!’ Saffy looked stricken. ‘Don’t say that. Adam’s going to be all right.’

  ‘No. He isn’t.’ She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the same loop of film that was being rerun on the television screen, rocking herself the way she’d done as a child when her dog had died. ‘He phoned last night. I was talking to him when…’ She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say the words. ‘I heard an explosion. Right there, where he was. He’s dead. I know he’s dead and now he’ll never know. I should have told him, Saffy.’

  ‘What? But you said you were marrying him to save the house? That it was just a paper arrangement.’ Then, as reality dawned, she said, ‘Oh, drat. You’re in love with him.’

  May didn’t answer, but collapsed against her and, as she opened her arms and gathered her in, shushed her, rubbing her back as if she were a baby.

  When Adam regained consciousness he was lying face down in the dark. His ears were ringing, the air was thick with choking dust.

  As he pushed himself up, leaning back against something he couldn’t see, a nearby explosion briefly lit up the wreckage of his room and the only familiar thing was the cellphone he was clutching in his hand.

  He’d been talking to May. He’d had something important to tell her but someone had been hammering on the door…

  He put the phone to his ear. ‘May?’ He began to choke as the dust hit the back of his throat. ‘May, are you still there?’ No answer. He pressed the redial button with his thumb and the screen lit up, ‘No signal’.

  He swore. He had to find a phone that worked. He had to talk to May. Tell her that he was a fool. That he was sorry. That he loved her… Always had. Always would. And he began to crawl forward, using the light from his phone to find his way.

  May turned off the television. Pulled the plug out of the wall. It was the same thing over and over. Regional experts, former ambassadors, political pundits all saying nothing. Filling the airways of the twenty-four hour news channels day after day with the same lack of news told a thousand different ways.

  That the fighting was fierce, that communications were limited to propaganda from government and rebel spokesmen. That casualties were high and that billionaire Adam Wavell, in Samindera to negotiate a major contract, was among those unaccounted for.

  ‘Go out, Saffy,’ she said. ‘Take Nancie for a walk. Better still, go back to Paris and get on with your life. There’s nothing either you or Michel can do here.’

  She saw Robbie and Saffy exchange a look.

  ‘May…’

  ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘It’s just another day.’

  Not her wedding day. There was never going to be a wedding day.

  That wasn’t important.

  She’d have surrendered the house, her business, everything she had just to know that Adam was safe.

  She jumped as the phone rang but she didn’t run to pick it up. She’d stopped doing that after the first few days, when she’d still hoped against hope that she was wrong. That he had somehow survived.

  Now, each time she heard it, she knew it was going to be the news that she dreaded. That they’d found his body amongst the wreckage of one of those fancy hotels in the archive footage they kept showing.

  Robbie picked it up. ‘Coleridge House.’

  She frowned, straining to hear, and then, without a word, she put the phone into her hand.

  ‘May…’

  The line was crackling, breaking up, but it sounded like…

  ‘May!’

  ‘Adam…’ She felt faint, dizzy and Robbie caught her, eased her back into the chair. ‘Are you hurt? Where are you?’

  ‘God knows. The hotel…rebels…city. I’m sorry…wedding…’

  She could barely follow what he said, the line was so bad, but it didn’t matter. Just hearing his voice was enough. He was alive!

  ‘Forget th
e wedding. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re safe. Adam? Can you hear me? Adam?’ She looked up. ‘The line’s gone dead,’ she said. Then burst into tears.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ADAM cursed the phone. He’d crawled through the blasted hotel liked the Pied Piper, using his phone to light the way, gathering the dazed and wounded, leaving them in the safety of the basement while he went to find water. First aid. Anything.

  All he’d found were a group of rebels, who’d taken him with them as they’d retreated. He’d had visions of being held hostage for months, years, but as the government forces had closed in they’d abandoned him and melted away into the jungle.

  He returned the useless cellphone to the commander of the government forces who’d finally caught up with them that morning.

  ‘There’s no signal.’

  The man shrugged.

  ‘How long before we get back to the capital?’

  Another shrug. ‘Tomorrow, maybe.’

  ‘That will be too late.’

  ‘There’s no hurry. The airport is closed. The runway was shelled. There are no planes.’

  ‘There must be some way out of here.’

  The man raised an eyebrow and Adam took off his heavy stainless steel Rolex, placed it beside him on the seat of the truck. Added his own top of the range cellphone, the battery long since flat. Then he took out his wallet to reveal dollars, sterling currency and tossed that on the pile. The man said nothing and he emptied his pockets to show that it was all he had.

  ‘What is that?’ the man asked, nodding at the tiny velvet drawstring pouch containing May’s wedding ring. He opened it, took out the ring and held it up.

  ‘If I’m not there,’ he said, ‘you might as well shoot me now.’

  The silence after hearing from Adam was almost unbearable. To know that he was alive, but have no idea where he was, whether he was hurt…

  May called Jake, called the Foreign Office, called everyone she could think of but, while the government was back in control, the country was still in chaos.