*
A week later, Claire came humming into work. Her sex life had been great for the past week. She had been getting a little worried recently that Barry hadn’t been quite as attentive to her needs as when they first met. But this past week had put paid to that notion. Which was just as well, as he had to go off on a course for a couple of days. She felt slightly better about it, knowing that Mel was going too, and had promised to look after him.
‘Any messages for me, Kerry?’ Claire asked their lank and morose receptionist, who was possibly the least welcoming person in the universe.
‘Yeah, there was one. He rang last night, after you’d gone.’
‘Who rang?’ It was always rather difficult extracting information out of Kerry.
‘Said his name was Steve. He said you’d know who he meant.’
Steve. Steve. Claire couldn’t help the traitorous little leap her heart gave at the mention of his name.
‘Did he say what he wanted?’ Claire tried to keep her voice casual.
‘Nah. Just said he’d catch up with you tomorrow.’
‘Did he leave a number?’ Claire had deliberately deleted his mobile number from her phone when she had started to see Barry. And now she had a new phone, so Steve couldn’t ring that. For all she knew he might still be at the same address, but knowing Steve, he was likely to have moved on again.
‘Nah. Just said he’d be here by lunchtime.’
‘Wha-a-at????’ Claire’s knees went weak and trembly. She had to hold onto the pillar beside Kerry’s desk. ‘He’s coming here? When? How?’ she croaked.
‘That’s what the man said,’ said Kerry looking up for a moment from the all-important task of filing her nails. ‘And lunchtime, is lunchtime. So I dunno, I expect he’ll be here after 12.’
Claire went upstairs to her office, and sank down at her desk, in a total state of shock. Steve coming here? What on earth was she going to say to him?
Claire spent a nervous morning twitching every time the phone rang in case it was Kerry to say that Steve was there. She should refuse to see him. That was the most sensible course of action. Except … it would be good to see him again. And she was curious as to why he had come.
She waited till 1pm, but he still hadn’t turned up, so in the end she went out to get herself a sandwich. He probably wasn’t coming. It must be a wind-up. She was just turning back down the street where her office was, when she heard the sound of a revving engine, and a blur of silver and black roared past her, heading for her office entrance. She swallowed hard. Typical of Steve to want to make a grand entrance.
He mounted the pavement in the square in front of her office, and sat legs astride his bike, the engine still throbbing, a vision of masculine beauty in his black leathers. He took off his helmet as she arrived, and shook out his tousled mane of black curls. He gave her his wonky grin, and his green eyes sparkled with delight as she approached him. Claire was having difficulty breathing. She had forgotten he could have that effect on her. After Barry’s rather pretty boy looks it was quite a shock to reencounter the rugged sensuality that was Steve.
‘Hi,’ she squeaked, her mouth dry, and her heart hammering so loud she felt sure the whole world could hear it. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you of course,’ said Steve, switching off the engine, and climbing off the bike.
‘You do know I’m getting married in three weeks, don’t you?’ Claire felt like a child in a sweet shop, so wanting to touch, and knowing she shouldn’t.
‘Yes, I know. I ran into your mum in town.We went for a coffee in Costa. She told me.’
‘Really?’ Claire was amazed. All the time she’d been going out with Steve, she’d got the impression they thought she could do better. How come her mum was suddenly having coffee with him?
‘She’s worried about you, Claire,’ he said. ‘Both your parents are. They don’t think this Barry is right for you.’
Claire was speechless. How dare her parents interfere in her life?
‘It’s none of their damned business,’ said Claire. ‘Or yours for that matter.’
‘Isn’t it?’ he looked at her. Such a look, it made her feel he was staring into her soul.
‘Don’t marry Barry,’ he said. ‘Marry me.’
Claire swallowed hard. Here he was asking her the one question she had always wanted him to. Now. When it was too late.
‘Steve, I can’t. It’s over. I love Barry, and I’m marrying him. I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Not even if I proved to you that Barry is wrong for you, and that we should be together?’
‘How are you going to prove that?’ said Claire. ‘Besides. He isn’t wrong for me. You are. You’ve never committed yourself to anyone or anything in your life. Why should I believe you?’
‘Because I’ve changed,’ said Steve. ‘You were right. I was going nowhere in my life. But I’ve just enrolled on a college course in ICT. But before I do that, I still want to travel. My offer still stands.’
‘It’s too late,’ said Claire. ‘I am going to marry Barry. Now if you’ll excuse
me, I have work to do.’
Still shaking, she brushed past Steve to go into the building. He caught her arm, and pulled her to him, and suddenly she was drowning in his arms, and they were kissing as if they had never kissed before.
‘No,’ Claire pushed him back. ‘Sorry, Steve, this is just wrong. I have to go.’
‘Now tell me we’re wrong for each other.’ She couldn’t bear to see the pleading in his eyes.
‘We’re wrong for each other,’ Claire said, and stumbled inside.
‘I’m not going to give up,’ Steve said. ‘I love you.’
‘Too late,’ said Claire. ‘I’m in love with someone else.’
*
Three weeks later, Claire stood in the bright July sunshine, dressed in the Donna Karan dress she had chosen so many weeks ago. She posed for pictures with her five adorable little bridesmaids (all nieces of Barry), and Mel, her only grown-up one. And she smiled and smiled, as she tried to blot out the image in her mind of Steve in his leathers, roaring up on his motorbike to whisk her away. He had rung her every day since their meeting, but she had refused to take his calls. And several times he had waited for her after work, until she had got really angry and told him to sod off in no uncertain terms. It seemed he had taken her at her word, as she hadn’t seen him for over a week now. She didn’t know if she was glad or sorry.
Because however much she told herself that this was what she had always dreamed of, and that it was going to be the most perfect day of her life, she couldn’t help the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that something was missing. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she had hardly seen Barry in the weeks leading up to the wedding – he blamed work commitments as a reason for not getting more involved in the preparations – or the fact that she was beginning to feel a stranger at her own party. She felt like she was on a rollercoaster that she couldn’t get off. She would have confided in Mel about it, but until today, she hadn’t seen Mel for weeks. Mel, too, seemed to always be busy when Claire wanted to talk.
Claire shook her head in a determined fashion, as the photographer pointed her and Mel towards the church door for one last photo. She was being daft. All brides were nervous. It was only natural.
‘You look green,’ said Mel digging her in the ribs. ‘You’re not having second thoughts are you?’
‘Course not,’ said Claire, more forcefully then she felt.
‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ said Mel. ‘But don’t mind me.’
‘Shut up,’ said Claire, grimacing at the photographer.
‘Heard from Steve again?’ said Mel with a grin.
‘No,’ said Claire.
‘And you didn’t tell Barry about seeing him?’ said Mel.
‘No,’ said Claire.
‘What a way to start a marriage,’ said Mel. ‘It’s nice to know both of you have secrets from
one another.’
‘What do you mean, both of us?’
‘Did I say both of you? I meant you of course,’ said Mel. ‘Isn’t it time we got in the church?’
Claire couldn’t help wondering what Mel meant as she walked down the aisle to the Trumpet Voluntary. God, what a cliché! Shame Barry’s mum couldn’t have chosen something a little bit more interesting. Steve would probably have had her stepping down to Born to be Wild or something.
She reached Barry, at last, and Dad handed her over to him. They smiled shyly at each other, and Claire took a deep breath. She was doing the right thing. This was just what she had always dreamed of.
Claire was in a happy daze as the service started, and before she knew it, the all-important moment arrived. It was time to make her vows, and become a married woman.
‘Is there any reason why these two should not be joined in matrimony?’ the vicar was saying in sonorous tones, and everyone was no doubt nodding and smiling as they always do at weddings, knowing no one is going to say anything, when—
‘Yes!’ The whole congregation turned to the back of the church. Claire turned last, reluctant to acknowledge the sound of a voice she knew, and trying to repress the singing in her heart as she heard him call her name.
‘Claire, you can’t marry Barry,’ Steve said, standing in his black leathers, bathed in sunlight, like a glorious vision, a modern day Sir Lancelot, come to take her away on his metal steed.
‘Why not?’ she asked.
‘Because he doesn’t love you,’ said Steve. ‘And I do.’
‘Of course he loves me,’ Claire felt she had to say it. ‘Don’t be daft.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Steve. ‘He’s having an affair with your bridesmaid.’
‘He’s wha-at?’ Claire couldn’t take it in. It all fitted. Barry’s indifference. The fact that Mel had been so absent for the last few weeks.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Barry. ‘Of course I haven’t been having an affair.’
‘Yes, don’t be silly, Claire,’ said Mel. ‘Why would I do that to you?’
‘Nah, it’s true,’ Kerry’s voice piped up from the middle of the church. ‘The whole office knows about it.’
‘And I’m the last to know,’ said Claire with icy anger.
‘She doesn’t mean anything,’ gabbled Barry. ‘It’s you I love.’
‘You bastard,’ said Mel and took her bouquet and whacked Barry round the head with it. ‘If you must know, you were a lousy lay. You’re welcome to him, Claire.’ And she stormed off.
‘So it is true,’ Claire looked at Barry sadly. ‘How could you?’
‘I – er – but I love you,’ sputtered Barry.
‘You have a bloody funny way of showing it,’ said Claire. ‘Here take this. Your next girlfriend might want it.’ She flung her engagement ring in his face, lifted up the skirts of her dress, turned round and ran down the aisle into Steve’s arms.
‘Fancy coming for a ride?’ he said, with a mischievous twinkle.
‘But I haven’t got a helmet,’ she said.
‘Oh yes, you have,’ Steve said, leading her out of the church. ‘I kept your old one. It’s on the bike, along with your leathers and DMs.’
They ran hand in hand towards Steve’s sleek, silver machine. Steve climbed on board, and passed Claire her helmet. She hitched up her skirts, kicked off her high heels, replacing them with her much worn and loved DMs, put her leather jacket on over her dress, and climbed up behind him.
‘Aren’t you worried about the dress?’ said Steve.
‘Not in the slightest,’ said Claire. ‘I’m just picturing Barry’s mum’s face, when she realises what is happening to the very expensive Donna Karan dress she bought. Where are we going?’
‘Does it matter?’ asked Steve.
‘No,’ said Claire, leaning against him with a delicious sigh, ‘but round the world sounds like a good place to start.’
When I was getting married many moons ago, there was a point at which I felt like I had got on a rollercoaster which I couldn’t get off. I guess nearly every bride feels that pressure at some point. And I guess for all of us there is that slightly seductive thought about the one that got away. Suppose we’ve chosen the wrong route, and there’s someone waiting in the wings we should have gone for? Which is where this story comes in. I liked the idea of someone getting involved in a whirlwind romance because her fiancé seems to be offering the commitment her ex can’t. When in fact, she should be with the ex all along, and he’s offering her the chance to escape to something much better …
My latest book, Midsummer Magic is inspired by A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I love the mix of magic and mayhem in that play and it seemed perfect to play around with my putative lovers at midnight on Midsummer’s Eve in a magical setting in Cornwall. I had a lot of fun writing it, and hope you have as much reading it!
You can follow me on Twitter @JCCWilliams, and I’m also on Facebook as Julia Williams. My blog is http://maniacmum.blogspot.com and my website is http://juliawilliamsauthor.com.
Read on for an exclusive extract of Julia William’s new novel, Midsummer Magic:
Halloween
‘Combining your moving-in party with a Halloween one was a brilliant idea,’ declared Diana. She looked gorgeous as ever, in a little black dress which accentuated her curves, her auburn hair piled high on her head, with some fetching curls escaping, as she bustled round Josie’s kitchen. From the lounge – which they’d spent the afternoon decorating with wispy bits of cobweb, spiders dangling from the ceiling, flashing skull-shaped lights and pumpkin-shaped candles – came a loud set of expletives, as Harry tried to plug in various bits of electrical equipment to make a sound system any nightclub would have been proud of, but which Josie was somewhat doubtful was needed in a small London flat on a Saturday night.
‘I seem to remember it was more your idea,’ laughed Josie, as she got out plastic cups and put them on the kitchen drainer with the copious amounts of wine and beer that Harry had cheerily brought back from Sainsburys. ‘Josie, it’s so fab that you and Harry are moving in together, why don’t you have a party?’ she mimicked. ‘Josie, Halloween’s coming up, you can combine them, wouldn’t that be amazing!’
‘Well if I left it up to you, you’d have just snuck in here like a pair of sneak thieves, as if you were embarrassed about the whole thing, rather than celebrating the wonderfulness of you two becoming a proper partnership,’ declared Diana. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what you’d do without me.’
‘Er, get on with my life without being bossed about?’ said Josie, and ducked as Diana chucked some peanuts in her direction.
‘I can only hope Harry’s more domesticated then you are,’ said Diana. ‘I don’t know how you’ll managed to keep this place clean without my help.’
Until recently Diana had been renting Josie’s spare room, but when it became clear that Harry was becoming a permanent fixture, she’d tactfully moved out to live with friends down the road. ‘Three is definitely a crowd,’ she’d said, ‘and I don’t fancy being a gooseberry to you two lovebirds.’
‘I miss this,’ said Josie, ‘are you sure you’re okay about leaving?’
Di had been incredibly positive and supportive since Josie had first broached the awkward subject of Harry moving in, but Josie knew how good she was at covering up her emotions. Di didn’t have a huge social network, didn’t get on immensely well with her family, and for all her playing the ‘I love being single’ card, Josie had the sneaking suspicion that she was secretly yearning to settle down herself.
‘Of course I am,’ said Diana, ‘I mean, it is bloody annoying being best friends with someone as pretty, rich and successful as you are, who’s managed to nab a gorgeous man to boot, but I’ll survive.’
‘Oh Diana, now I feel terrible,’ said Josie, giving her friend a hug.
‘It was a joke, Josie,’ said Diana affectionately. ‘You are so gullible.’
‘Still,’ said Josie wist
fully, It’s not going to be the same now, is it?’
Josie had met Di five years earlier, through a mutual friend, Carrie, who worked with Amy and had been to school with Di. They, both quickly decided they didn’t like Carrie as much as they did each other. They’d started meeting once a week for drinks, and soon it had turned into regular weekends on the pull – Diana’s confidence taking Josie places she would never have been alone. Without Diana pushing her, Josie doubted she would have followed up Harry’s tentative calls when they’d first met up again. It was no good, happy as she was, Josie was going to miss sparky, lively Diana, who called a spade a spade and always let you know when you were in the wrong, but was also an incredibly loyal, fun friend.
‘No it won’t,’ said Diana, ‘but it will be different. And that’s good too.’
She was being so positive about it, Josie hoped she wasn’t protesting too much.
‘And you really don’t mind?’
‘Don’t be daft, of course I don’t,’ said Diana, ‘I’m happy for you. You and Harry are made for each other. Now what else do we need to do? How’s the punch?’
Josie looked at the punch into which Harry had cheerfully flung a bottle of vodka, copious amounts of red wine, and not nearly enough orange juice, in Josie’s opinion. It seemed to be a bit lacking in the fruit department, and they’d run out of oranges. ‘What do you think about this punch? Does it need more fruit?’
‘Haven’t you got any more apples?’ said Diana. ‘It’s Halloween, you have to have apples. It’s the law.’
‘I think I might still have some left in the cupboard,’ said Josie.
She rummaged around, and then produced a couple of rather wrinkled-looking apples.
‘Great,’ said Diana, ‘here, let me peel them.’
‘Why?’ said Josie.
‘Because …’ said Diana. ‘It’s Halloween and you need to see the name of the man you’re going to marry … which will begin with H, obviously.’
Despite her straight talking and often cynical nature, Diana was extremely superstitious, always walking round a ladder, and freaking out if a black cat strolled across her path.
The Perfect Escape Page 2