by Shari Low
‘A twenty-five-year-old Drew?’ Sarah suggested.
‘You could be right,’ he said with a smile.
There was an awkward silence, as Piers shuffled from one foot to the other. This was so out of character that Sarah almost felt sorry for him.
‘So I’ll go now,’ he blustered. ‘We’re disembarking shortly. Thanks again. Er, take care, Sarah. And I’m sorry about… you know… about…’
‘I’ll go out with you.’ Bugger. Had she actually said that? She had. And she meant it.
‘About… what?’ He whipped around to see her face, trying to gauge whether or not this was some crazy joke.
‘I’ll go out with you. I’ve thought about it all night and I’ve decided that if you still want to see me, then I’ll go out with you. Mona approves. Although she was pissed at the time. Not that I give a toss what she thinks. But you’ll have to be officially separated first because I’m not…’
She didn’t finish because she was up off her feet being swung around the deck with a joy that Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio never managed to find on Titanic.
When he finally put her down, it was only to hold her even closer, before kissing her, really kissing her in a manner that was way too exuberant for a ship’s deck at 6 a.m. Sarah loved every single second of it. The cowboy in Speedos felt so wrong, and now she realised why. This felt so, so right.
It was time. Time for her, time for Piers, and time to start living with some serious love in her life. Not that this was love. Not yet. Obviously. Well, maybe.
“But… She pulled back. ‘There’s just one thing, Piers.’
‘Anything.’ His eyes sparkled and his jaw was split from one side to the other in the widest grin. She’d made him smile like that and it felt great.
‘I know that you have a lot of sway and a lot of power at home. So there’s one thing I need you to do for me.’
Mona
Mona snapped the lock on her vanity case shut and had one last look around the room. The porters had taken their suitcases away half an hour ago, so all that remained was for her to carry off her hand luggage, then head home. The knot of anxiety in her throat sat heavily on the two painkillers she’d knocked back to attempt to quell the worst hangover in history. She didn’t even want to think about that. She could clearly remember the things she’d said to the other women and it wasn’t her proudest moment. Not that she cared. She’d never had female friends and that was unlikely to be something that would change any time soon, especially in any scenario featuring those two. In fact, this time next week, what friends she did have would be distancing themselves from her as quickly as they possibly could. She had one more week. Seven days, until the story came out that would ruin her.
With a deep, pained sigh, she brushed a few imaginary flecks of dust off her shoulders and adjusted the hemline of her jacket. She was wearing a deep aubergine suit with a short, peplum jacket and her customary pencil skirt. Black patent shoes with block heels and a Fendi shoulder bag completed the outfit. With her hair styled like a forties Wren, she looked nothing like a woman facing the worst experience of her life.
Bag on shoulder, vanity in hand, room checked, she headed for the door, only to jump back when Piers swung it open.
‘Good morning,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ she replied. If he wanted to go the cordial route it was fine with her. They were both at fault in this. No point in finger-pointing and bearing grudges.
‘What’s your plan?’ he asked her.
‘I’ll go back to our house, pack up, and find somewhere else to live. If you would stay in a hotel for a couple of days, I’ll let you know when I’m done.’
‘You can keep the house,’ he said, causing her eyes to narrow with suspicion.
‘What? But I never contributed to that house. It’s yours.’
‘Do you want it?’ he asked her, like he was talking about a pint of milk or the last roll at breakfast.
‘Of course!’
‘Then have it.’
The delight had barely begun to bubble when reality came calling. What was the point? There was no way she could stay in Glasgow after the story ran.
‘What is this – a guilt gift? For tossing me aside?’
‘I think you’ll find I wasn’t the one doing the tossing,’ he barbed.
She had no energy left to fight. Instead, she gathered her things again and took a step towards the door. ‘Have it. After next week it won’t matter anyway.’
‘Are you talking about the story the Sunday News is planning to run?’
She stopped. Turned. Closed her eyes. ‘How did you know?’
‘Sarah told me.’
Of course she did. She probably loved it. They were probably counting the hours until it came out and…
‘It’s dead. The story is gone. Won’t happen.’
‘But… but… how?’ Was this some kind of joke? Was he baiting her, lulling her into a false sense of security? First the house, and now this – it didn’t make sense. He was up to something. Had to be.
‘I spoke to Jay Lemming at the News and we came to an arrangement. He’s been trying to get my advertising for years. Now he has it. The ads will be featuring a model called Adrian, who I believe is currently suffering from amnesia caused by the excitement of getting the gig.’
Mona reached to hold on to the table, as the intense gratitude and relief made her quite literally go weak at the knees. ‘Thank you, Piers. Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied. ‘I hope you find happiness, Mona – but I didn’t do this for you, I did it because Sarah asked me to.’
Tess
Drew handed Tess her bag and then hugged her tightly. ‘Are you sure you won’t come back with us?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Not yet,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion. ‘I’m sorry about your birthday dinner last night. I hope you had a good time.’
‘I actually did. John and Penny and the kids were on great form, and Eliza brought Kai. He’s a nice boy. I made sure they stuck to orange juice all night.’
Missing his celebration meal in Monte Carlo wasn’t a deliberate act of spite or vengeance. By the time they’d got Mona back to her cabin, put her to bed, then watched her for a while to make sure she didn’t fall out or throw up, it was too late to join the party. Instead, Tess had used the time to think. By the time Drew came back to the cabin, she had been ready to talk the situation through with him without feeling the urge to throw out insults and recriminations. It was time to move on. No point in looking back.
They headed down to the gangplank, and handed their passes in for the last time, before heading to the minibus Drew had hired to transport some of the group to the airport. She’d opted out of going with them and apparently, Mona had already left in a limo. Of course she had. Tess said goodbye to John, Penny, the twins, Eliza and Sarah, hugging them all tightly and promising to call Sarah soon. She meant it. Even when she was no longer a Gold, she knew Sarah would be in her life forever.
When everyone else was aboard the bus, Drew came back around to where she stood on the concourse and kissed her softly. ‘I’m sorry, Tess.’
She knew that he meant it. ‘Me, too.’
She waited until they were out of sight before turning to head back to the taxi rank. She was almost there when a black limo pulled up next to her and Max and Piers jumped out.
‘Hey, congratulations,’ she told Piers. ‘I hear we have something to celebrate.’
He bowed, his face flushing with happiness.
‘I’m just going to nip back in to the loo. It’s my age,’ he said with a wink.
Max leaned back against the car. ‘I know it wasn’t exactly a peaceful trip, but I had a great time with you. I’m glad I came.’
‘I am, too,’ she told him truthfully. ‘I hope everything works out for you.’
‘So where are you off to?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m no
t sure yet. My boss has agreed to give me a leave of absence for a month, so I’ll stay in Barcelona for a few days and work out what I want to do.’ It felt strange even saying that. For the first time in years, she was going to make her own plans. She wasn’t sure whether sadness or excitement topped her emotional scale right now.
‘You know, I was thinking about doing that myself.’
‘Really?’ she thought about it for a moment then made a spontaneous decision. Maybe it was time for her to take a few chances too. ‘Company would be good. I’d like…’
‘Holy fuck, tell me I’m not seeing that.’ It was Piers. He’d reappeared beside them and was staring at a point over their shoulders. Both Max and Tess spun round, but Tess didn’t see the problem. There was a line of taxis. A few people milling around. A very tall blonde female – hang on, she was walking towards them, her gaze unequivocally fixed on Max.
‘Someone you know?’ Tess asked, confused.
‘Un-fucking-fortunately.’ Piers whistled.
‘Dad!’ Max reprimanded him. ‘Yes, I know her. That’s my wife.’
Epilogue
One Year Later
‘Sarah, you are stunning. Absolutely stunning.’
Tess gave her friend a huge hug. It wasn’t a false compliment. Sarah’s cream, one-shouldered Grecian dress fell in glorious waves to the floor, her hair, much longer now, piled up on her head with loose tendrils falling around her face. She was the most beautiful bride Tess had ever seen.
‘Mona helped me pick it.’ Sarah giggled. ‘She made me promise not to spill anything on it, tear it, or accidentally tuck it into my knickers when I go to the loo. She still thinks I’m a hopeless fashion case.’
Tess spotted Mona, in stunning cerise with a hat the size of a tyre, working the room. ‘How are things going with you two?’
‘Good, actually. Can you believe it? She hasn’t changed – still brittle with a twist of evil – but at least she’s now civil. I think the winner was Piers giving her the house and moving in here. Oh, and Dweezil. Since she started shagging him she’s had a much sunnier disposition. Listen, you know Drew’s here. Are you OK with that? He’s got his new girlfriend with him. I think she’s twenty-two. They’re going to Ibiza next week.’
‘So much for slowing down! I’m fine with it, honestly. I’m happy for him, I promise. I just hope he doesn’t pull a muscle on the dance floor.’
‘Good,’ Sarah said, unable to resist giving her another hug. ‘Anyway, enough about us – tell me about you. You’re looking great.’
‘That’s what eleven months touring South America in a camper van does for you. It was a riot. My mum and dad are still over there, but they’re heading north. My mother reckons she’s not too old to crack Hollywood.’
They were both still laughing when Piers joined them and cuddled Tess until she couldn’t breathe.
‘How are you doing, my love?’
‘I’m great, you handsome big devil.’
He beamed. ‘Can you believe we got married in our garden? I’ve wed the cheapest bride ever.’
‘And you love it,’ Sarah reminded him. Not that she had to.
‘Yes, I do. I really do.’ He kissed her tenderly, making Tess’s heart melt, then took her by the hand. ‘Can I borrow my wife, Tess? We’ve got a cake to cut.’
‘Go ahead.’
They were only gone a second when another familiar face walked towards her.
‘Hey, stranger.’
‘Max! It’s so good to see you!’ He was beyond smart in his black suit, with his bow tie hanging undone around his neck.
‘So, I hear you went travelling.’
She gave him the pamphlet edition of her travels through Columbia, Argentina, Bolivia, Peru and Brazil. It had been a wild, dangerous adventure – more because of her dad’s driving than anything else.
‘I just need to find a new job now,’ she added. ‘They couldn’t keep it open for me for longer than a month, so I quit.’ It wasn’t worrying her. She was down to the last of her savings, but she had a few interviews lined up. And if all else failed, well, there was always Hollywood with her mother.
As a waiter passed, Max grabbed two glassed of fizzy stuff and handed one to her. ‘What about Cameron?’
Tess chuckled. ‘We actually met up with him and his girlfriend in Brazil. They’re living there now and she’s infatuated with him. He loves it. You should see her, Max – she looks like Gisele’s more attractive sister. The last time I saw them they were dirty dancing on a rainforest float at the carnival. I think me turning him down was the best thing that ever happened to him.’
‘I doubt that,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I definitely doubt it.’
‘Oh, really?’ she toyed with him. It felt so good to be talking to him again. How many times had she thought about him over the last few months? Ah, if only…
She looked around, searching for the obvious missing person.
‘Where’s your wife? She couldn’t make it?’
She’d forgotten how his eyes glistened when he smiled.
‘I’m not married any more. Last time I saw her was that day at the port in Barcelona. As soon as I spoke to her I realised it wasn’t what I wanted so I told her it wouldn’t work. As far as I know she’s back living with my ex-partner again.’
‘Ex?’
‘Yeah, I sold the business, moved up here to work with Dad.’
‘Interesting,’ she replied with mock seriousness.
‘So I was wondering if, maybe some night you’re not busy, or in, say, Peru, if we could maybe go out for dinner.’
She didn’t even get the ‘yes’ out before he’d leant over, gently put his hand on the side of her face, and kissed her – a deep sensual kiss that she didn’t ever want to stop.
‘Hey, you two, that’s enough. I’m the only one that’s allowed to snog a hot chick here today.’
The entire crowd laughed at Piers’ reprimand, and he held their attention. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, my wife and I…’
Thunderous applause.
‘Would like to cut our wedding cake.’
Sarah’s friend Patsy wheeled out an enormous bosom, its modesty protected only by a huge white frilly marzipan bra.
The crowd went wild.
‘That’s so embarrassing!’
Tess heard the voice behind her and turned to give Eliza’s hand a squeeze. She was with her new boyfriend, Josh, having decided that he was a much better option than having a long-distance relationship with a boy who lived hundreds of miles away.
The bride and groom kissed again, then made a speech thanking everyone for coming and announcing that they would shortly be leaving to go on honeymoon.
‘Where are you going?’ shouted a voice from the crowd.
Piers turned to his bride and kissed her again.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Sarah replied. ‘Just as long as it’s not a cruise.’
We hope you enjoyed this book!
Shari Low’s next book is coming in spring 2017
For an exclusive preview of Shari’s Low’s The Story of Our Life, read on or click the image
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Acknowledgements
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Acknowledgements
To Caroline Ridding and the brilliant team at my wonderful new home, Aria.
Thank you. xx
Preview
Read on for a preview of The Story of Our Life:
So what would you do if your husband slept with another woman?
Colm strolled into my life fifteen years ago. If there’s ever such a thing as love at first sight, that was it for us both. A few weeks later we married, celebrating with those who cared, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the cyni
cs. We knew better. This was going to be forever. The dream come true. The happy ever after.
Until it wasn’t.
Because a couple of months ago everything changed. We discovered a devastating truth, one that blew away our future and forced us to revisit our past, to test the bonds that were perhaps more fragile than they seemed.
So now I ask you again, what would you do if your husband slept with another woman?
Because this is what I did. I’m Shauna. And this is the Story of Our Life…
Can’t wait? Buy it here now!
1
Spring 2016
At the Church
Fifteen years ago, I walked up the same church aisle.
Back then, the first person I saw was Annie, my gloriously indomitable grand-mother, in dramatic purple and a hat that resembled a frisbee, disguising her tears because she was born of a stoic generation that was disdainful about crying in public.
Next to my grandmother were my parents. My father, resplendent in his best morning suit and golfing tan, no doubt keen to get the formalities over with so he could squeeze in nine holes in before dinner. Meanwhile, the woman who gave birth to me was preening, loving the attention being mother of the bride brought her, while breezily overlooking the fact that she’d shown no interest whatsoever in her daughter’s wedding. When I called her to tell her we’d set a date, she’d said, ‘Oh right, Shauna. Let me write that down so I don’t forget it. I think we were planning to be in Spain that weekend. I’ll check my diary.’ Still, she’d made it. My gain was the Marbella Golf Club’s loss.
In the rows behind the star attractions, a sea of smiles beamed at us as we walked down the aisle. Steps behind me, were my best friends, Lulu and Rose in matching pastel elegance. Was it okay to call them ‘best friends’ at our age? Did that belong back in the days of teenage territorialism? Okay, so my ‘closest’ friends, their grins masking hangovers that were crying out for a dark room and a box set of Grey’s Anatomy.