The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘We’re going to need more staff, too, when we expand,’ pointed out Marie, as they considered the way ahead, with two shops. ‘At the very least, we should have a couple, probably more, because at this rate you’re going to need help with all the sewing. We need to look in trade journals … see who’s looking for work, and who’s good! Ideally we need a couple more Lizzie Aitchisons …’ She grinned and shrugged. ‘But I think you’re a one-off, kid. For the shop, though, I have a cousin who’s looking to get back to work, and I think she might do well. She’s a sensible lass and always looks beautifully put together.’

  Lizzie had an idea too. ‘There’s my house-mate … well, ex-house-mate, Shelley. She’s bored to death with temping and she’d love something with more job satisfaction. Shall I sound her out? She’s smart and clever, and good with people, and she loves fashion, so she’d be great for the shop.’ There was someone else too … ‘One of the women that works part time at Dalethwaite does quite a bit of sewing. She’s good, too. I’ll have a word.’ One day she and Mary had chatted for ages about sewing, as Mary made a lot of clothes for her family, and Lizzie had offered her use of the sewing room and its equipment at Dalethwaite, if she ever needed a bit of space to work.

  Lizzie was glad that traffic was unexpectedly light as she drove away from New Again. Her head was buzzing. Full of thoughts and hopes and plans … and concerns. Marie’s talk of marriage, and what would come with it, had shaken her.

  Don’t scare yourself, Lizzie. Just keep your mind on the short term. The shop. The bridal commissions. Concentrate on being happy with John in the now, and not brooding and pondering on the future. He might never marry again, even if he does reconcile with his father.

  So, no use torturing her head with the dark-looming question of whether he should really marry someone else. Someone more ‘suitable’. Someone who was probably still young enough to give him an heir … and who had the perfect shade of blue blood for the job description.

  Someone called Clara.

  6

  All Change

  It was weird to be knocking on the door at St Patrick’s Road instead of just letting herself in. Lizzie still had her key, but this was Brent and Shelley’s personal space now. Hers was at Dalethwaite Manor with John.

  ‘Lizzie! Oh, love, I’ve missed you so much! What the hell are you standing around out here for?’ Before she’d even crossed the threshold, Lizzie was bear-hugged, then hauled inside by Shelley.

  ‘I’ve missed you too, mate. Really I have.’

  She hadn’t realised quite how much, though, until she followed her friend into the familiar old kitchen, rubbing cautiously at her eyes while trying not to smudge her eyeliner.

  ‘Let’s have a cuppa first, then I’ll make some lunch,’ said Shelley, already filling the kettle. ‘It’ll be an inedible nightmare, of course, but at least it’ll be a change from the gourmet nosh at your new gaff, eh?’

  ‘A sandwich will be fine, or maybe we could nip out for something.’ Shelley’s cooking owed more to slapdash enthusiasm than culinary skill, but Lizzie would’ve been glad to eat bread and jam with her friend.

  ‘You look fantastic. Not quite as tanned as I would have expected, but I guess the sun doesn’t shine inside a bedroom, even in Provence,’ said Shelley with a wink as they settled down at the table, where Mulder the cat was curled up at the other end. Lizzie wondered what John would say if she let Alice do that; although she had seen him sneaking titbits to the little tortoiseshell on a few occasions.

  ‘Why, thanks, Shell. And you don’t look so bad yourself.’

  Shelley had lost a bit of weight, but looked well on it, and her short blonde hair was even shorter now, cut in a cute gamine style. And in her eyes there was something mysterious, a bit knowing.

  ‘Well, that’s what having a regular chap will do for you, especially a kinky one. You should know.’

  Sholto Kraft, obviously.

  ‘So, how’s it going with Sholto? Are you … are you still paying him?’

  Shelley swirled the tea in her cup. ‘No, not any more. After the first couple of “dates” he refused to take money, and he even tried to give me back the dosh I’d already paid.’ She looked up, her eyes bright, half excited, half fearful. ‘Bit of an argument about that … but we resolved it.’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh Lizzie, I really, really like him. It’s not just the wild sex. I like him as a person. I like just being with him. He’s strong and down to earth and he’s quite a laugh when you get to know him. Even though he’s had the most shit life lately. The most awful luck you could imagine.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve found someone, sweetie. He sounds wonderful. As if he’s come through the fire, so to speak, and come out a stronger person.’ She thought of John, and what had happened in his life. It wasn’t quite the same. The two men’s lives had been radically different. But the quality of ‘tempering’ was probably very similar.

  ‘Yes, exactly. I mean, obviously, he’s not a fairy-tale prince like your John. In fact, he’s pretty much the opposite in some ways. He’s got no money whatsoever, especially now he’s given up the escorting and he’s just doing bar work and stuff. He lost his house, his business … everything really … but he’s tough and he’s making the best of things, and I guess that’s what your John does too.’

  ‘He does … He does … I mean, he’s mega rich and all that, but he’s had plenty of crap in his life. Being in prison … and … well … someone who he loved betrayed him and hurt him very much.’

  For a moment, the old, endearingly nosy Shelley leant in for the juicy details, but then she shrugged. ‘I won’t pry.’ The new, wiser Shelley reached out and laid her hand over Lizzie’s. ‘But whatever it is, you can work it out with him. I know you can. Now, tell me all about your hols … all the bits you can disclose, that is.’ She grinned.

  Over tuna sandwiches, the two women chattered and giggled and Lizzie regaled Shelley with tales of the private plane, and the villa and the pleasures of Provence. She didn’t expound in too much detail in certain areas, but the glint in Shelley’s eye said that she could easily fill in the blanks.

  After all, as you say, Shell, you’ve got your own kinky guy now.

  When Shelley was flinging dollops of ‘value’ Neapolitan ice-cream into cereal dishes, Lizzie raised the issue of her possibly working for Marie, at either the old New Again, or the new shop.

  ‘Not sure if it’d be full-time or part-time, but it’d be better than some poxy office, eh?’

  Her friend looked thoughtful. ‘Yeah, I’d definitely be interested,’ said Shelley as they dug into their dessert. ‘Part-time would probably be best. I’ve picked up some work at the Waverley Metro in town. The Guidettis must’ve been pleased with Sholto’s work at the hotel, because he’s been appointed part-time manager at the new place, and he’s got me some bar work and admin there too.’ She licked her spoon. ‘But I don’t really think it’s a good idea to work all the time with him. We each need our own space, and our own thing, you know?’

  Lizzie did. She couldn’t just be John’s satellite, either. ‘Totally agree, mate. Which is why I’m so glad the sewing and New Again and everything is taking off. I might not be a millionaire, but at least I’ve got a career of sorts, something of my own. I don’t want to just be a rich man’s WAG.’ She stirred her ice-cream, muddying the colours. ‘It would be so easy to let that happen with John. I mean, he’s not a tyrant or anything, far from it. But he’s so used to being at the helm, and he has so much money. If I don’t stick up for myself, I could end up as a bird in a gilded cage. Making no decisions … stifled by his sheer generosity.’

  ‘Yeah, I get what you mean,’ replied Shelley, stabbing at her own dish. ‘Sholto’s a strong-willed sod too, so I need to assert myself now and again. Obviously, our money problems are pretty much the opposite of yours, but I would feel the same way, in your place.’ She grinned then. ‘It’d be nice to do the WAG thing some of the time, though, eh? We’re girlies, after all, and we de
serve a bit of pampering.’

  They laughed then, and spent some quality time seeing who could make up the daftest fantasy about lounging around all day, drinking cocktails and having mani-pedis and vajazzles.

  ‘Brent always claims he’d love that kind of life, but he wouldn’t really. Even he seems happier with a job,’ observed Shelley, ‘although I suspect a lot of his cheerfulness at the moment is down to this hot new bloke of his.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a shame he’s not here.’ Lizzie pushed aside her bowl. ‘I’ve swapped a few texts with him here and there, but they’re pretty skimpy. I would love to know more about this new guy! Brent does sound happy, though … Do you know anything? I don’t even know the guy’s name.’

  The old conspiratorial look appeared on Shelley’s face. ‘I don’t know much either. He’s like a clam. He just smiles like the proverbial cat with cream, but he won’t spill any details, the beast. It’s like there’s some big secret about this fella that he can’t trust me with. All I know is that he’s a little bit older … and if the grin on B’s face all the time is anything to go by, he’s fantastic in the sack.’

  ‘Well, it looks like we’re all getting quality nookie on a regular basis now.’ She winked. ‘Hell, we waited long enough for our Mr Rights to come along, didn’t we?’

  ‘Amen to that,’ said Shelley. ‘I would like to meet this mysterious man of Brent’s, though. I keep encouraging him to bring him home, but he just says “soon” and that he doesn’t want to jinx things. I think they mostly meet at the Waverley, of all places. And Brent’s taxed the car now, so he drives over to lover-boy’s place. Sounds like he has a cottage somewhere, and some kind of “country” job, although that’s another thing Brent persists in being vague about.’

  Lizzie frowned. She wanted Brent to be happy, and to find the right man, just as she had. But all this mystery was a bit worrying.

  ‘They met at the Waverley? When was Brent at the Waverley?’

  ‘It was one of Sholto’s nights working in the bar there, and Brent decided he’d go and have a “talk” with him, taking it upon himself to make sure Sholto was on the level. Which is a bit of a cheek, really … He gets to vet my bloke, but I’m not allowed to see his.’

  ‘Maybe I can get something out of him face to face?’ said Lizzie as they were washing up the dishes. She’d suggested they do them straight away, and then had to smile to herself. At one time she’d probably just have left the pots, but clearly some of Mrs Thursgood’s domestic excellence was rubbing off on her.

  ‘Yes, I think he’s more likely to open up to you. You two were … well, you two were closer.’ Shelley squeezed Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘But whatever you find out, please, please, please … you must share! If you don’t, I’ll hunt you down and shake it out of you!’

  Once she was sitting in the car outside the St Patrick’s Road house, Lizzie texted Brent. He’d be at work, of course, but maybe they’d be able to fix up a meeting afterwards. A soft drink in a pub’s beer garden or something?

  To her surprise, she got an instant answer.

  Can you meet me at the garden centre café, about three? I’ve got a break and I’d love a natter … B.

  Wonderful! It was half past two. Plenty of time to get there. About to start the car, Lizzie paused, and sent another text.

  Hey, Mr Business, I hear U like getting naughty messages from women? Are you having rude thoughts about yr girlfriend? I hear she’s a bit of a raver & goes like a train. Sincerely, an Admirer.

  Within a few seconds, a reply shot back to her. Her man was clearly an accomplished messager; one who could text fast and in proper English too, if he chose to.

  You’re a wicked person, Admirer, & yes, my girlfriend is a voracious sex-pot. Thanks to you, have got a hard-on in a meeting & have to stay sitting down until my massive cock subsides. Yours, Mr Business. P.S. why not drive over here & sneak under my desk to take a look … or something?

  She texted back. Sorry, I’m meeting another man. Keep motor running on massive cock until I get home.

  That’s a given. Adore you, came the reply.

  As Lizzie drove, she smiled. She sang along to the 1980s station the Audi’s radio was tuned to. She enjoyed her driving. Life was so good!

  She was loved by a beautiful man. She lived in a beautiful house with him. He’d given her a beautiful car, amongst many other thoughtful gifts. OK, so they had a few issues. But who didn’t? And she and John were both pragmatic grown-ups, not a pair of self-absorbed emo drama queens. They could sort things out between them – and prevail.

  Counting her blessings, Lizzie hoped that her friends could be as happy, and thought about Shelley.

  ‘Look, there’s something I need to tell you,’ the blonde girl had said as they’d hovered with the door open. ‘I … I hope you don’t mind. But … well, when Brent’s away with his boyfriend, I’ve been inviting Sholto over here to stay with me. It’s hard for us to meet, otherwise. I can’t afford hotels on a regular basis, not decent ones, anyway, and it seems a shame when I’ve got a nice place and he hasn’t got anywhere. He’s in the most crappy digs, and it’s a treat for him to have a comfy bed and a bath in a proper bathroom and all that, you know? I hope you don’t mind,’ she repeated.

  Puzzled, Lizzie stared at her. What was she on about? Why on earth shouldn’t Sholto stay over? Even move in, if he wanted to? It wasn’t her business to say yay or nay, either way.

  ‘But why should I mind? I’m happy that you’re not on your own, love, especially if Brent’s out a lot.’ She grabbed Shelley’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘But this is your house, Liz.’ Shelley gestured towards the hall, and beyond.

  Lizzie sighed. God, now she understood Shelley’s misgivings.

  ‘But I don’t live here. It’s your home, Shell.’

  ‘Ah, but your John owns the house, and … and that means it’s yours, really.’

  ‘Look, I know this is weird.’ She put her hands on Shelley’s shoulders. ‘Just pretend Oldacre Holdings is some totally anonymous but benevolent landlord with a liberal tenant policy or whatever. If you really do insist that you need my approval, you have it. A million time over, you dimwit! I don’t really know Sholto yet, but if you like him, he’s a good guy in my book.’ She threw her arms around her friend. ‘If Brent’s OK with it, I’m OK with it. Sholto can move in and live here full-time, as far as I’m concerned.’

  Now it was Shelley’s turn to blink tears. ‘I’m not sure we’re quite at that stage yet.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘But we might get there.’

  ‘Right, then. When you get there, go for it. Why should he live in some terrible rat-hole if he could live in a proper house with you?’

  They’d parted with more hugs. And if Brent did have objections, Lizzie resolved to talk him round. It was obvious Shelley was pretty serious about Sholto Kraft.

  At the garden centre café, Brent was on his feet as she approached, and when she reached him, she was wrestled into her second bear hug of the day.

  ‘How the devil are you, you beautiful strumpet?’ demanded Brent, as they sat down at a rustic table. He had a fruit-flavoured water waiting for her. ‘You look magnificent. A life of luxury, and two weeks in the sun with your own tame billionaire, obviously agrees with you.’

  ‘Not so tame,’ said Lizzie, taking a swig of her water, ‘And you’re looking pretty swish yourself, B. Obviously you’re getting something that agrees with you too.’

  A broad smile graced Brent’s handsome face. His dark eyes sparkled. Lizzie had never seen him look happier. ‘It does … It does … So, how was the holiday?’ he asked, changing the subject with a blatant wink.

  Lizzie supplied more edited highlights, then fixed her friend with a determined look.

  ‘Enough about me. What about you? Enough with the subterfuge and secrecy. Shell and I want to know more about this mysterious new boyfriend of yours. You know all about ours, and all we seem to have gleaned about your bloke so far is that he’s a
fantastic lover.’

  Brent looked away for a second, a slightly bemused smile on his face as he brushed his dark curly hair back off his brow. ‘Lizzie, love … I don’t know where to start, other than the fact that I think this thing of mine might be pretty serious. Is serious. Really serious. And I’m fairly sure the feeling’s mutual.’

  ‘I’m happy for you, B. I’m happy for both you and Shell, because it sounds like she’s pretty serious about Sholto too.’

  Brent looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I must admit that I had my misgivings about that at first, but she seems very happy and he seems to be treating her right.’

  ‘Good. But that’s her. What about you? Tell me all about your bloke!’

  ‘Well … Yes … Tom,’ said Brent, looking down at his long fingers, cupped around his drink bottle. ‘I’m guessing John hasn’t said anything, which means that Tom hasn’t told him about us.’

  Tom? What was he on about? Lizzie felt as if she’d suddenly been parachuted into a different conversation altogether. Then it dawned …

  No, it couldn’t be. Too much of a coincidence.

  Before she could speak, though, Brent went on:

  ‘My Tom is your John’s younger brother.’

  7

  Serendipity

  ‘You what? You must be kidding me. How can that be?’

  And yet, the instant she’d heard Brent say the name ‘Tom’, she’d just known.

  ‘I met him at the Waverley, the night I went to “have a word” with Sholto. He was there, having a drink in the Lawns Bar. He and John were supposed to have met up, but your man was late back from London and went straight to Dalethwaite Manor.’