“Jesus Christ,” she gasped. “You scared me half to death, lurking in the bushes like that! What d’you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re out of your mind. What the hell are you doing here?”
Peter Furness shrugged. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. I think I came because I didn’t quite believe you.”
“How did you even know where I’d be?” demanded Carey. “And why didn’t you contact me some other time? Are you crazy?”
“I know it’s a bit crazy,” admitted Peter. “It was Gina who told me. I phoned her after we met. I asked her how serious this thing between you and your — Ben — actually was.”
“Pretty damn serious, obviously,” snapped Carey. “I did explain to you, didn’t I, that we’re married? I mean, I thought I made that perfectly clear. I used the word married, didn’t I? What other proof did you need?”
“I know, I know,” he said helplessly. “And I’m sorry, it was just that I couldn’t believe it. After all we’d been through together and then finally I’m in a position to…and I thought that if I came, if I saw you…I’m shattered, Carey. Truly shattered.”
“I don’t care how you are,” said Carey hotly. “I can’t believe that Gina didn’t tell me you called. Did she know you were going to turn up here tonight?”
“Of course not,” said Peter. “When I phoned she said, very scathingly, that you were lucky that you’d found someone great and that you were celebrating it in a flash Russian restaurant in Rathgar this Thursday. So it wasn’t exactly difficult to work it out.”
“And what did you intend to do?” The initial shock of seeing Peter had made Carey forget about the cold, but now she shivered suddenly and rubbed her arms to warm them up.
“I don’t know,” said Peter. “I just wanted to talk to you.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Well, you’ve talked to me now,” said Carey abruptly. “And there’s nothing else to say.”
“I had to let you know how I felt. How I still feel.”
“Cut the crap,” she said. “You always had a great line in crap.”
“And you always had a great way of putting me down,” said Peter.
“Not enough.” Carey’s teeth chattered and she rubbed her arms more vigorously.
Peter stared at her as though he’d only just realized that she was outside in a dress that had no thermal qualities whatsoever. He frowned.
“What are you doing out here anyway instead of being inside cutting your cake or whatever it is you do? You’re freezing.” He reached out to her and put his hands on her shoulders. Then he began to rub her arms very quickly.
“I’m OK,” she said irritably. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You should be inside.”
“I came out for some air,” she told him. “There’s a lot of people in there.”
“And are they all delighted at your marriage and wishing you well?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Even your family?” asked Peter.
“Naturally,” she said.
“I never got to meet your family.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she said nastily. “You had one of your own to worry about.”
“Carey, I know you don’t think much of me because I kept Sandra and Aaron a secret. It wasn’t something I meant to do. It just happened. When I met you…”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Her voice trembled. “I told you before, you broke my heart. And now it’s perfectly mended and I don’t want you breaking it again.”
“You think I might?” he asked softly. “In the right circumstances?”
“No, I fucking don’t!” Suddenly she was angry again. “And I don’t want you here. I don’t want to see you ever again. I don’t want to hear from you again. I don’t want you messing up my life any more than you messed it up already.”
“I’m sorry.” He’d stopped rubbing her arms now, but he still had his hands on her shoulders. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of it to happen, Carey. I really and truly didn’t.”
“It’s all right.” She closed her eyes. “Forget it.” She opened her eyes again. “Forget me.”
He looked at her. “I’ll never forget you,” he said, and kissed her on the lips.
Ben downed a strawberry-flavored vodka as Carey walked back into the restaurant, her arms wrapped tightly across her body. He moved towards her but was stopped by the touch of Leah’s hand on his shoulder.
“You deserted me,” she said.
“What?” He didn’t look at her, his eyes were fixed on Carey.
“You kissed me and walked off.”
Ben looked away from Carey and round at Leah. “Look, Leah, I don’t have time to —”
“I’m not asking you to spend the entire evening with me,” she said. “I just wish you didn’t always rush away when you’ve had intimate contact with me.”
“Sorry?” He blinked.
“You know, when we slept together you’d always get up early the next morning because you were rushing to be somewhere else. And this evening, even though our kiss was one between friends, you rushed off like a scalded cat.”
“Leah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned or anything but —”
“Oh, I’m used to that.” Her eyes twinkled and she rested her head on his chest. “However, since you’ve got other women on your mind tonight I’ll forgive you.”
Ben felt as though he was in an alternate reality. He could hear Leah’s voice, soft and beguiling as always, talking to him as though they were still a couple, he could smell her perfume and feel her against him, but he was still watching Carey who, having seen him and Leah together, had changed direction and was now striding towards the stairs.
“I have to talk to Carey.” He stepped backwards.
“I know,” she said, “and you’re right. New wives are so much more important than old friends.”
“Don’t give me grief, Leah,” said Ben. “I’m not in the mood for more grief right now.”
She raised an eyebrow in silent query as she watched him walk quickly after his wife.
This time Carey locked herself into one of the cubicles in the Ladies’. She was both freezing and boiling — cold from being outside, flushed from her encounter with Peter Furness, and hot with rage at having walked into the restaurant to see Leah Ryder with her head resting on Ben’s chest. The whole night was taking on the disjointed atmosphere of a Brian de Palma movie. She’d thought about walking over to Ben and Leah and landing a punch on the girl’s face when she’d seen them together, but she found it difficult to concentrate on her anger with her husband and his ex-girlfriend when she herself was still reeling with the shock of Peter’s appearance. She couldn’t quite believe that he’d shown up, although it was, perhaps, just as well that she’d met him outside. All she’d needed to really wreck her evening was for him to have come into the restaurant and create a scene. Maybe he could’ve rested his head on her chest. But that was the difference, she thought, as she opened the small window at the back of the cubicle to let in some fresh air. Peter wasn’t the male equivalent of Leah. Peter was, essentially, a nice bloke. A lying, cheating, married nice bloke.
“He’s lucky the new wife didn’t see him.” The words, spoken by a man, floated faintly in through the open window and Carey stiffened.
“How could you resist that though, Paul?” another male voice asked. “Leah always knows how to get her man.”
“Maybe he thinks he can get away with it. Thinks they’re all like Leah and don’t mind his bit of offside whenever he likes.”
“He’s playing with fire.”
“You know what he’s like, Dave. The ultimate commitment-shy bloke. Gets a nose-bleed if he thinks it’s getting too serious.”
“Which is why this marriage thing surprises me.”
“Me too. She must be incredibly hot between the sheets!”
“That won’t last. Sadly, it never does. And then what — back to Leah again?”
“She knows she only has to snap her fingers and he’ll come running. He’s fixated on her no matter what he thinks.”
“Shouldn’t have married someone else in that case. Kind of complicates things, doesn’t it?”
“He probably had a skinful of drink and thought it was a good idea.” Paul chortled.
“But he’ll be sorry. That Ryder girl’s far too dangerous, and the other one — well, I don’t know her but she’ll have to be easygoing. And somehow I don’t think she is.”
Carey practically had to lean out of the window to listen over the sound of running water. “Bit more feisty than the blonde he dumped last time, all right.”
“Maybe you’re right and she’s sensational in bed. Although if she was he’d hardly be having another go at Leah, would he?”
“He obviously can’t help himself.”
“He’s a fool.”
“He sure is.” Paul’s laugh was harsh. “If the new one ever finds out that he was practically shagging his ex-bird at the party, she’ll have his fucking balls for breakfast!”
Carey sat on the toilet seat and buried her head in her hands as she replayed the men’s words over again. She felt like someone who’d switched on a video halfway through the movie. Everyone else knew the plot but not her. Suddenly she realized that she had no idea what Ben Russell was really like, no idea about his life before he’d met her, no idea about the people who really mattered to him. Although, from what she’d just heard, that didn’t make much difference because nobody (except perhaps the cool and distant Freya) really mattered to him at all. No wonder everyone was so surprised at their marriage. It seemed that Ben really was the serial womanizer he’d denied being in New York. Not only that, but he was a serial womanizer who kept going back to the same woman. The woman who had turned up at his wedding party in a scarlet dress and glossy red lipstick and who, according to his friends, he’d been practically shagging here in the restaurant! She made a face. It sounded totally disgusting.
She shivered as she thought of how much she’d enjoyed making love to Ben, how she’d thought of it as more than sex, how she’d felt loved and cherished by him in a way that she’d never experienced before. But now it seemed as though she was just a quick shag too. One that had got a little bit too serious though because he’d dragged her off to Vegas to get married. Why on earth, she wondered miserably, had he wanted to marry her? Was that something he tried on a regular basis too? Asked girls to marry him after he’d made love to them so that they didn’t realize they were one in a line of sexual conquests? Only usually he didn’t have to deliver on the promises because usually he wasn’t a few hours away from a city with a line in tacky wedding chapels and ten-minute wedding ceremonies. She groaned. She’d been a fool, just like everyone said. And her marriage would fail, just like everyone expected. Because it wasn’t a marriage at all. It was a one-night stand that had accidentally stretched to more than a week. But that was all. It wasn’t love. How could it be? You had to know someone to love them.
She bit her lip. Maybe he’d married her because, out of all the girls he’d broken up with Leah to be with, she’d been more of a challenge for him. Now, back in Ireland, perhaps he’d realized that sex with her wasn’t as exciting as sex with Leah. Maybe that’s why he’d been, in the words of his friends, practically shagging her at the party. To find out who was better.
Oh God, she thought, as she rubbed at her eyes and smudged her mascara. What have I done by marrying him? Why on earth did I think it might work out?
“She was always quite mad.”
Sylvia and Freya were sitting in the upstairs dining room sharing a bottle of Pinot Noir. They’d exchanged the raucousness of the downstairs bar for the serenity of the deserted dining room and they were unexpectedly enjoying each other’s company.
“In what way mad?” Freya asked Sylvia.
“A bit of a tomboy. Very stubborn. Headstrong too. Carey’s the kind of girl that if you tell her not to do something, she’ll immediately do it just to see why you said no.”
Freya nodded in understanding. “And do you think that has something to do with why she married my brother?”
“I’ve no idea why she married your brother.” Sylvia swirled the wine around the wide glass. “She was always the non-marrying type. Hated anything to do with weddings. Called it unnecessary fuss and bother.”
“So this Vegas thing doesn’t really surprise you?”
“Actually it does,” said Sylvia. “I could understand her going there to marry someone she knew, but someone she’s only just met…no offense, Freya, but he could be violent or an alcoholic or anything.”
“He’s not,” said Freya shortly. “He’s one of the nicest blokes you could meet.”
“I wasn’t talking about him specifically,” Sylvia assured her. “I just meant — well…”
“I know what you meant,” said Freya. “I feel the same about your sister.”
“Even though she’s mad she’s a really good person,” said Sylvia hastily. “And I’m sure she’ll work very hard at the marriage.”
Freya sighed. “I wish I could feel confident about it,” she said, “but it’s damn hard to think of one good thing —” She broke off as the dining-room door was pushed open and Carey almost fell inside.
“Carey!” Sylvia stood up hurriedly and knocked over her glass of wine. A purple-red stain spread across the white linen tablecloth. “Are you OK?”
“I’m f-fine.” Carey’s teeth were chattering. “I went outside for some f-fresh air, but now I c-can’t seem to w-warm up.”
“You went out? In that dress?” Freya looked at her in amazement. “I’m surprised you didn’t turn into a block of ice straight away.”
“What are you doing up here?” asked Sylvia. “Where’s Ben?”
“I d-don’t know,” said Carey. “I came up for some peace and quiet.”
“Peace and quiet!” Sylvia couldn’t hide her astonishment. “What d’you want peace and quiet for? I thought you liked a good party.”
“I do,” said Carey, finally managing to stop her chattering teeth. “I was just sick of talking to people.”
The dining-room door burst open again and this time Ben stepped into the room. “There you are,” he said to Carey.
“Here I am,” she said.
The two of them stared at each other while Freya and Sylvia looked on.
“I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me,” said Ben.
“With you?” Carey’s voice was strained. “Not just yet.”
“Oh, come on, Carey!” cried Sylvia. “It’s about time you and Ben put on a bit of a show for everyone.”
“I’m sure we’ve already done that,” said Ben tightly.
Carey frowned.
“But maybe you’re right,” he said. “We’re the star attractions after all.”
“Are we?” asked Carey.
“Sure you are,” said Sylvia.
“Is everything all right?” asked Freya.
“Yes,” said Ben and Carey simultaneously.
“Because you both seem a bit weird,” she told them.
“Hardly surprising,” said Carey. “It’s been a weird time for us.”
“Very,” agreed Ben.
“But we’ll go downstairs again,” said Carey.
“Have you warmed up?” Sylvia looked at her sister curiously. “What possessed you to go outside on a night like tonight?”
“Maybe she was bored with my company,” said Ben.
Carey threw him a sideways look but said nothing.
“Have you two had a row?” demanded Freya.
“No, we haven’t,” said Ben decisively. “Come on, Carey, let’s go downstairs again.” He grabbed her cold hand and dragged her out of the room, leaving Freya and Sylvia staring at each other.
“What was all that about?” asked Sylvia.
“
Beats me.” Freya shook her head. “There’s something definitely askew, isn’t there?”
“The whole damn thing is askew.” Sylvia sighed. “But I hope it doesn’t all unravel tonight. You’ve done such a marvelous job, Freya, it’d be a shame if they went and ruined it.”
“By what? Breaking up?” asked Freya.
“God, no.” Sylvia looked at her in horror. “D’you think…?”
“I’ve absolutely no idea,” Freya answered. “But if they got married after spending a night together or something, I guess there’s no reason for them not to divorce after a stupid row.”
“I hope not,” said Sylvia. “I always knew there’d be problems though.”
“You know what the problem is?” Freya looked at Sylvia. “They’re both headstrong and stubborn.”
“You’ve realized that about my sister already?” Sylvia laughed.
“And I’ve always known it about my brother.”
“It should make for an explosive match.”
“Maybe it already has,” said Freya darkly.
Chapter Thirteen
CITRONELLA
A very stimulating and powerful grass oil
“Let go of my hand,” muttered Carey as Ben tugged her down the stairs.
“No,” he said. “You’re my wife.”
“Wife,” she hissed. “Not chattel.”
“I know that.”
She glanced at him but he wasn’t looking at her. She didn’t know what was the matter with him, what was making him so angry. She was the one who should be annoyed, she told herself; she was the one who’d been forced outside by the words of his fucking ex-girlfriend with whom, apparently, he was still having some kind of relationship. She was the one who’d just listened to a potted history of his sexual conquests, and she was the one who, belatedly, was realizing that the reason his friends were so shocked about their marriage was that they knew him too well to believe that it would ever last. She was a flash in the pan. Or a grope in the dark. It was obvious that everyone believed that Leah was the real long-term partner and that she, Carey, was just the result of a stupid impulse on Ben’s part. She wished she knew just what it was that Leah possessed that kept him coming back. Then she shook herself mentally because it was perfectly obvious what the attraction was; it was all in Leah’s small but sensuous body and the languid way she moved across a room, and the fire in her bitter-chocolate eyes. There was no other attraction, Carey told herself furiously. It was nothing but sex.
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