“And without you.” She kept her arms twined round his neck. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy, you know.”
“Why?”
“They reckon we could’ve had the great sex without having to get married.”
“Did you tell them that the great sex was only part of it?”
She nodded. “But I don’t think they believed me.”
“Probably ’cos it’s such a great part of it. Come on.” He undid her arms and suddenly picked her up. She squealed with surprise.
“I’m carrying you over the threshold, you idiot,” he informed her. “Stop kicking and screaming as though I’m trying to kidnap you.”
“Sorry.” She laughed. “I didn’t realize.”
He maneuvered her through the narrow doorway and into his living room. Then he set her down. She looked round her and smiled.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“It took me all day to get it lovely,” he confessed. “When I got home I realized that it was a nightmare. Books everywhere. Papers everywhere. Invoices all over the place…”
“I wouldn’t have cared,” she told him. “It’s not the house I fell in love with, it’s you.”
“Oh, Carey.” He drew her towards him again. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. A week ago — a week ago I thought I was happy, and now I realize that I was only living.”
“You say such amazing things.” She kissed him. “And you do such amazing things too.” She wriggled with delight as his hand slid beneath her black jumper. “I wonder,” she added, “if there’ll ever be a time when I won’t want to make love to you the minute I see you.”
“I hope not,” he responded as he unclipped her bra with one hand. “It’d be such a waste of a good body!”
They made love standing up. It was a necessity, Ben murmured as he entered her, because the armchairs weren’t comfortable enough and he didn’t have a sofa yet.
She almost fell asleep in one of the uncomfortable armchairs, but Ben didn’t let her; he made her wake up again and help him carry her cases and boxes into the house. “It’s not that bad,” he said as he looked at the pile. “Although why do you have ten pairs of shoes in individual boxes?”
“Actually I’ve a few more than that,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to terrorize you by bringing them all together. I’ve a bit of a shoe weakness, you see.”
“How many pairs?” he asked.
“Oh, thirty, forty.” She tried to look nonchalant.
“You’re joking!”
“No,” she said. “But it’s my only weakness. Honestly. All my clothes are here and they’ll hardly take up any space in your wardrobe.”
“I don’t have a wardrobe,” he told her. “Chrome rails.”
“Even better,” she said robustly. “You can definitely squash things onto chrome rails.”
“You’re mad, you know.” He grinned at her.
“I’m bloody exhausted.” She yawned. “My shift wasn’t the busiest, but I had to keep my concentration going. And now it’s deserting me.”
“Poor thing.” He hugged her. “Come on. Let’s leave this stuff and go to bed.”
She nodded and followed him up the stairs. Ben’s king-sized bed took up most of the room but it looked soft and inviting.
“D’you mind if I don’t do anything very sexy and first-night in our home together and just fall asleep?” she asked.
“Given that we did the first-night stuff downstairs, I guess I can put up with it.” Ben grinned. “But I’ll expect full service tomorrow.”
Carey yawned again. “Don’t worry. I’ll get home just in time to wake you up in the nicest way possible.” She threw her clothes into a heap in the corner of the room and crawled into the bed. Ben did the same. They burrowed beneath the duvet and he put his arms round her.
“How did your friends in work react when you told them?” he asked.
“Shock.” Carey snuggled closer to him. “They thought I was mad. Can’t blame them, I suppose, but they don’t know you.” She kissed his chest. “How about you? Did you tell anyone yet?”
“My sister, of course,” replied Ben. “And she was pretty shocked too.”
“I suppose that’s what everyone will be,” murmured Carey. “We’ll be a kind of ten-day wonder for a while, but it’ll die down. I’ll have to tell my family tomorrow. I suppose I’ll get even more shock and horror from them. How shocked was Freya?”
“Very,” admitted Ben. “She thought that maybe I was a gullible bloke who’d been snapped up by some opportunistic girl.”
“Are you that good a catch?” asked Carey.
“Freya obviously thinks so.” He laughed shortly. “But she’s biased. She believes that one day we’ll sell the health stores for a fortune and become incredibly rich. I’ve told her often enough that I’ve been down that road before and that wealth is transitory, but she doesn’t quite believe me.”
“I wonder will she like me when she meets me.” Carey’s voice was very sleepy.
“Of course she will,” said Ben. He lay silently for a few minutes with his eyes closed and listened to his wife’s steady breathing. “There is something else I have to tell you about.”
“Mm?”
“I had to tell one of my old girlfriends about you.” He opened his eyes again and glanced at Carey. She didn’t move. “Carey?” he whispered.
There was no reply. He stared at her for a moment, then kissed her gently on her forehead and lay down again. He fell asleep almost immediately.
In his dreams Leah was standing beside him. She was dressed in a long white gown and carrying a bouquet of deep red roses. More roses were twisted through her black hair, splashes of color against its darkness.
“I love you,” he told her. “I really do. But I’m married already.”
“Nonsense.” Leah handed him the bouquet. “Nothing we can’t deal with.” Then she walked across the room and shoved Carey out of the window which had suddenly appeared. She turned to Ben.
“There,” she told him. “Problem solved.”
Carey slept through Ben’s departure for work the following morning and he didn’t try to wake her. He left her huddled beneath the duvet with only the top of her curls showing and he made himself promise not to wake her by phoning her. He was amazed at her capacity for sleep, although she’d told him that she could just as easily go for hours without any. She’d trained her body to sleep when the opportunity was there, she’d told him, and to stay awake when it had to be awake.
She woke at nine o’clock feeling totally refreshed. She sat up in the bed and stretched. Then she shivered because the house was chilly. She got out of bed, pulled on the jumper she’d been wearing the previous day, and went downstairs.
He’d left a note propped up against the coffee-pot on the kitchen table. “Hadn’t the heart to wake you,” it said. “Call me when you emerge into the land of the living. I love you even more today. xxx Ben.”
He was such a cute man, she thought as she peered inside the huge American-style fridge that took up far too much space in the kitchen. Cute and desirable and a real softie. A real softie who had an oversized fridge and no food. There was a Bio-Activa natural yogurt a day past its sell-by date on the third shelf, a jar of olives on the second, and a low-fat dairy spread in one of the containers on the door. She wrinkled up her nose and hoped that the lack of food was due to the fact that he’d been away for a while. She had slightly better luck with the cupboard beside the fridge, which contained dozens of health food snack bars and six different jars of dried fruits. The breadbin, on the grey Velstone worktop, held a whole wheat brown loaf.
She filled the kettle and rummaged round some more until she found a jar of coffee. Lucky I like black coffee in the mornings, she thought, as she smeared the dairy spread onto the brown bread. She helped herself to a few dried apricots and chewed on them while she walked around the kitchen and waited for the kettle to boil. He might have tidied up, but there were still a lot of papers lying rou
nd the place. She looked at articles downloaded from the Net on the benefits of different natural therapies, disregarded a pile of brown envelopes which were clearly bills, flicked through half-a-dozen postcards from a variety of places, all from someone called Phil who was having a great time, and finally glanced at a notepad covered in scribbled messages, the clearest of which said cryptically, “LR 7.00. Don’t forget BC.” She replaced the notepad, guilty at reading messages that weren’t for her no matter what they were about.
It felt strange to think that this was her house too now and that sometime soon her messages and postcards and bills would be fighting for space on the counter. She checked out the contents of some more cupboards, then made her coffee and drank it as she walked into the living room. She turned on Ben’s hi-fi system and listened to 98FM as she investigated her surroundings some more.
The house was essentially male, she thought. There were no real concessions to anything other than utility. He was right about the armchairs — they were stylish but not comfortable — and the lack of a sofa to sprawl on was a big disadvantage. She didn’t mind the ascetic look but she thought that she’d like a little more coziness. She shivered and got up again. The controls for the central heating were in the hallway. From the panel she could see that the heat was set to come on at seven every morning and go off at eight-thirty. She pressed the over-ride switch and smiled as it gurgled into life again.
Her plan for the day was to drive to Swords and pick up the rest of her things. She’d penciled in a possible visit to her parents’ house on the way home, but she wasn’t sure about that yet. She wanted to have everything (shoes included) put away safely before Ben got home again, and she had a horrible feeling that if she called in to see her mother and father, it’d be hours before she’d get out of the house. She wasn’t sure what type of hours Ben worked. She assumed that since he was a part-owner of the business, his working life was flexible but busy. That was OK by her. She’d always hated the idea of a nine to five job, which was why she loved her shiftwork so much, even though it had occasionally messed up her social life in the past.
She went back upstairs and took her phone out of her bag. She’d forgotten to save Ben’s mobile number on it but she still had his business card. She rang the number but got his message minder. So she rang the business number beneath it.
“Herbal Matters, Freya speaking.”
Carey held the phone from her ear and looked at it in surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone but Ben to answer, although when she thought about it there was no reason why she should have assumed this. She wasn’t really ready to talk to the sister yet. Even though Ben had told her quite a bit about Freya, Carey felt that she’d rather meet the woman before chatting to her on the phone. But she couldn’t hang up. That’d be silly.
“Hello, Freya,” she said. “This is Carey.”
“Oh. Carey. The new wife.” Freya’s voice was clipped and Carey winced. Don’t tell me that she disapproves of me already, she thought. Not when she hasn’t met me. That’s not fair.
“Yes,” said Carey. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to reach you when I dialed this number. It’s a little odd to talk to you out of the blue like this.”
“Not at all,” said Freya briskly. “I’m sure we’ll meet soon — I’m looking forward to it. I told my brother that he was a bit mad marrying someone he’d just met, but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
“Oh, I think so,” said Carey brightly. “Is he there?”
“He had to go and meet a supplier,” said Freya. “Can I give him a message?”
“Just tell him that I’ve gone to Swords to get the rest of my things,” said Carey. “And I’ll see him later.”
“Sure,” said Freya.
“I love him,” Carey told her. “It’s not some crazy stupid thing we’ve done.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“We clicked, you know. Straight away.”
“Look, he’s my brother, not my child,” said Freya. “It’s really up to him what he does.” The conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
“I just get this feeling that you — you don’t approve,” said Carey eventually.
“I can’t approve or disapprove,” said Freya. “It’s not up to me.”
“I’m a bit nervous about things because I know that you’re Ben’s only family.” Carey knew she was babbling now. “I don’t want you to think that we did this without thinking.”
“There are lots of people in Ben’s life besides me,” said Freya. “He doesn’t have to ask my permission to get married, you know. I’m his sister and I work with him. That’s as far as it goes.”
Carey frowned. She wished Freya sounded friendlier. But maybe the other girl was still in shock.
“Don’t judge me.” Her voice was suddenly sharp. “Don’t get all sorts of preconceived notions, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry,” said Freya. “I won’t.”
“And you’ll tell him I called?”
“Of course,” said Freya. “And I hope we get to meet soon.”
“I’m sure we will,” said Carey, and hung up.
She had a shower, got dressed, and then drove to her old house to retrieve the rest of her belongings. She’d just stashed them all in the boot and the back seat of the car when her mobile rang.
“Hi,” said Ben. “How’re you?”
“Oh, fine,” she told him. “I’ve got all my stuff and I’ll be bringing it back to the house shortly.”
“Home,” he corrected. “You’ll be bringing it home.”
She laughed. “Of course. I was kind of thinking of dropping in to see my parents on the way back, only I’m afraid I won’t get to leave their house until I’m due to be in work! And I’m not sure that I have the strength to persuade any more people that neither of us are crazy teenagers who got married on a whim.”
“I know what you mean,” said Ben. “Freya told me you called.”
“She doesn’t like me,” said Carey.
“She doesn’t even know you.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Carey. “That’s why she doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll love you when she meets you,” said Ben. “How could she not?”
“Very easily,” Carey said gloomily. “I suppose I can understand it. People don’t really like these kinds of surprises, do they? After all, they think they know you and then you go and do something totally unexpected and it throws them.”
“So you’re expecting a hostile reception at your folks’?” surmised Ben.
“Actually no.” Carey laughed suddenly. “They hated my last boyfriend, so anyone else would be an improvement.”
“Who was your last boyfriend?” asked Ben.
“His name was James.” Carey didn’t want to talk about Peter. She didn’t consider Peter to have qualified as a boyfriend. Besides, he’d never met her parents.
“Why did they hate him?”
“For the same reason they hated most of my boyfriends,” Carey said. “He just wasn’t good enough.”
“God.” Ben exhaled. “They’ll think the same about me.”
“Oh no,” she said. “He wasn’t good enough and he was afraid of flying. He had no chance really.”
“At least I make up some ground on that score,” said Ben in relief. “I’ll be home by six o’clock this evening. That should give you plenty of time to chew the fat with the family and still get back to Portobello in time to have my dinner on the table.”
Carey chuckled. “You should be so lucky. There isn’t a scrap of food in the house.”
“I know,” said Ben. “I was really busy before going to the States and I ate loads of takeaways.”
“I’ll try to do some shopping before I get home, but I’m not promising anything.”
“Fair enough,” said Ben.
“See you later.” Carey made a kissing noise down the phone.
“God, woman, you nearly deafened me!” But he made a
kissing noise back.
She grinned as she put down the phone and started the car. Whenever she spoke to other people about Ben she felt pressurized simply because they were so surprised. But when she talked to him everything was perfect again.
She looked at her watch. She’d have to go and face her parents. It wasn’t something she could really put off. She switched on the ignition and pulled out of the driveway. Ten minutes later she drew up outside her family home. She glanced upwards at an Aer Lingus 737 on its final approach (Runway Two Eight brought it directly over their house) and then pushed open the garden gate.
“Hello, stranger.” Carey’s mother opened the door before she had a chance to ring the bell. She pecked her daughter on both cheeks and ushered her into the house. “I saw your car pull up,” she told Carey as she led the way into the warm and welcoming kitchen. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“This and that.” Carey sat down at the table and smiled at her mother.
Maude Browne was a sensationally good-looking woman even at sixty-eight. Her skin, while obviously not wrinkle-free, was still smooth, and the fine lines of her face added character. Like her daughter’s, her eyes were dark brown and her hair, although now totally gray, was lustrous and healthy. Unlike Carey’s hair, though, it was wavy rather than curly, and Maude kept it long, pinning it up on the back of her head to accentuate her slender neck. Whenever Carey looked at her mother she wondered how it was that such an elegant woman had produced such an ungainly daughter.
“So.” Maude filled the kettle and looked at Carey. “What do you have to tell me?”
“Why do I have to tell you anything?”
Maude raised an eyebrow. “Come on, honey,” she said. “I know you. You only ever call here when you’ve got a crisis brewing.”
“I haven’t got a crisis brewing,” said Carey crossly. “Honestly, Mum, just because I’m not here every minute of every day…”
“Relax, relax,” said Maude easily. “I was only teasing you.” Her eyes searched Carey’s face. “But there is something, isn’t there?” She looked worried for a moment. “It’s not that man again, is it?”
Too Good to Be True Page 8