Stranger at the Wedding

by Jack G. Hills

  Gone back to Anita’s, as she said something about having a Brazilian for my birthday but she was a little pissed at the time so I’m not sure if she was talking about a body wax or something else entirely.

  R

  “Mrs Wilberforce… Bloody hell Janet!”

  ~~~~~

  It had taken a prolonged phone call from a very apologetic Janet to persuade Rachel that the flowers and chocolates had all been Tom’s idea and the only reason that she had phoned the shop instead of him was because Daniel… the real villain in her birthday debacle… had dragged Tom into an emergency meeting about the Paris trip, which had been foisted on him at the very last minute.

  Janet’s change in attitude though had only come about after her Monday morning meeting with Tom, in which he had succinctly explained how big the pile of shit was that her witch-like machinations had dropped him in.

  “Furthermore Janet…” Tom had begun to enjoy himself as he watched his secretary squirm under the potential threat of her bonus being cancelled and the withdrawal of his agreement for her to continue working the new flexi hours, so that she could help care for her mother. “…should you ever decide to play roulette with my credit card again, I’ll have no option but to recommend your instant dismissal and to report you to the police…”

  But he wasn’t a vindictive sort of person, he’d explained in a more kindly manner. “… However, I don’t bear grudges or swear blood oaths of painful revenge and retribution… no that’s not in my nature at all.” He’d explained sympathetically. All Janet had to do was speak with Rachel and tell her that he was the innocent party in the whole debacle. She could blame anyone else… herself, the shop, Daniel, even Mrs Wilberforce but if Rachel hadn’t forgiven him by the time he stepped through his front door…

  “There’ll be no bloody bonus this year, next year or the year after!! And the only care home you’ll be able to afford for your mother will be some rat infested swamp, where their idea of caring for the elderly involves drugging them up to the eyeballs and forcing them to watch endless daytime quizzes or torturing them with repeats of ‘Waiting for God’… Do I make myself clear?”

  Rachel for her part had felt humbled and racked with guilt after Janet’s admission. Whilst Tom had been in Paris, not only had he had the forethought to ask Janet to send her a huge bouquet of flowers and the expensive box of chocolates… he’d also been planning another surprise in between his meetings. Whereas, all she’d been doing was complaining about his selfishness and shagging Ronaldo… she’d even managed a threesome with Anita and whilst that had been unbelievable… she couldn’t stop the waves of guilt and the feeling of low self-esteem that racked her body once she’d been told the truth.

  Yes she’d been unfaithful to him but worse was the fact that she’d not been there when he’d got back home. So instead of a home cooked welcome, he’d had to go down the Dog and Duck and stay there in the warmth chatting to Tira until closing time… and it had all been her fault.

  The Padstow weekend had been a complete surprise to Rachel and one which was even more amazing for the fact that Tom hadn’t managed to get a deal owing to the lateness of his booking. Of course, she’d not have known that had he not explained in great detail how much the few days were costing him.

  “Padstow! And you’ve booked a table at Henri’s!” Oh my God she’d thought, as she tried to look delighted whilst inwardly all she could think of was the way she and Henri had gone at it like rabbits behind Tom’s back the last time they’d been at the restaurant. If ever there was a god of excruciating punishment…Rachel decided she was now worshipping at its altar and she didn’t like the sensation one bit.

  “But when? How?” Was all she could stammer by way of a reply.

  “I knew you would be pleased. I thought of nothing else the whole time I was in Paris. Obviously I didn’t want to tell you before I went, just in case I couldn’t get all the arrangements made in time but Henri was fantastic… he sends his love by the way and said I had to tell you he’s bought some more of that malt whisky I enjoyed so much.” Rachel sank lower into the seat of the car, as the shame of that night welled up inside her.

  “I’m not sure my body could take another pounding like that.” She’d replied before she knew what she’d said. In that instant, as she glanced sideways at Tom and looked for any faint sign of a reaction, she wished that she could bite her tongue off and swallow it whole. But the unintended double-entendre was lost on Tom.

  Personally, he didn’t care if Rachel never touched a drop of malt whisky again… the break was already costing him a small fortune and if she’d signed the pledge in his absence, so much the better.

  “Did Henri say anything else?” She asked tentatively, after taking a moment to regain her composure and think about how she might get out of going anywhere near the restaurant.

  “Not really, but you know Henri he keeps things close to his chest. I wouldn’t be shocked if he had some small surprise waiting for you.”

  “Small?” Rachel’s mouth replied without her brain’s permission, as she thought about the last time her head nestled contently on Henri’s bare chest. “Oh, I don’t think anything Henri has is small.”

  “Well the restaurant’s… I mean it’s not tiny but it’s not huge is it.” Tom countered, as his mobile vibrated earnestly in his trouser pocket. He didn’t need to see who was calling because it would be the same person who’d been trying to speak with him all week and he knew it wasn’t work because he’d told everyone… including Daniel, not to bother getting in touch, as the phone was going to be switched off. The weekend away was going to be all about getting away from the stresses and strains of work and relationships.

  Ever since the first call, he’d regretted giving Lisa his number. Of course, what he’d tried to do was give her it with a couple of misplaced digits but she’d outfoxed him as they lay in bed, by immediately calling him…

  “Just to make sure, I’ve put it in correctly.” She’d explained. “And lucky I did, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to call you when you got home.” She’d said with a sweet innocence that belied the way her brain worked.

  After another ten miles, the somnolent effect of motorway driving had finally affected Rachel and the sound of the odd quiet snore told Tom she’d drifted off to sleep. Taking care to keep one eye one on the road, he felt in his pocket and pulled out the phone. There were five missed calls, two emails and two unopened texts. Without looking at any of them, he pressed delete and pushed the mobile back in his pocket. Nothing, he determined, was going to spoil this weekend… it had cost way too much for that to happen and anyway he deserved a rest.

  The arrangements had all been meticulously planned with nothing left to chance. Tom had made himself a promise after spending the evening down at the Dog and Duck that there would be no unforeseen or unwanted hiccups like the one involving the flowers and Mrs Wilberforce.

  In an effort to cover all the bases, he’d made Janet work late one night, so that her desk but especially her in-tray would be empty and free of the clutter that might prevent her concentrating solely on the job in hand. Her bonus and her mother’s future, he’d assured her, were still dangling close to the bottomless abyss and only a successful outcome to his eye-wateringly expensive weekend would ensure that the extra payment made its way into her monthly pay cheque and kept her mother away from death’s door and the bony clutches of afternoon bingo, where the only prizes were those that could be sucked through a straw.

  Rachel’s guilt at her infidelity and her worry that her smouldering romance with Henri might be rekindled by the weekend, were finally overcome as they were shown into their suite on the top floor of the hotel. The breath-taking views from the large oval windows out across the gardens towards the rugged cliffs and the stormy Atlantic Ocean beyond reminded her of an old black and white film that she’d once watched on a girlie night in with Anita. The sweeping and dramatic views gave an ambience to the room, which was only matched by the welcomin
g fire they’d found blazing away in the grate of the ornate fireplace. Its warmth circulated around the room and countered the bleakness of the grey sea outside.

  “Whose is the helicopter?” Tom said with a tinge of jealousness, as he gazed out through one of the suite’s window, whilst Rachel warmed and rubbed her hands in front of the fire.

  “Oh that.” The porter who’d showed them to their room said nonchalantly, as he came and stood next to Tom. “That belongs to the owners. They have a number of hotels dotted all over the country and Mr Fitzgerald thought it the best way for him to manage them all. He spends a day here and then a day at one of the others. I guess the real beauty of the system is that if there is an emergency at any of the hotels, he’s only ever a couple of hours away.”

  “Impressive.” Tom said admiringly, turning back to see why Rachel was so quiet. He’d learnt over the years that the sound of silence wasn’t always a good sign. More often than not it signalled a sulk or some female problem that couldn’t be talked about, but on this occasion Tom had been pleasantly surprised to see her beaming smile. Perhaps he thought, the cost might yet reap some reward.

  “So do I take it we are honoured to have Mr Fitzgerrad…” He asked casually without taking his lecherous eyes from Rachel.

  “It’s Fitzgerald sir … with an L… and Mr Fitzgerald is very particular about people getting his name correct, and yes he is here at the moment but only until tomorrow.”

  “Ah jetting off enjoying himself is he?” Tom teased the man, as his mood brightened further.

  “Hardly sir… I believe Mr Fitzgerald is scheduled to visit The Black Isle Hotel up near Cromarty tomorrow. It is our most northerly hotel and one which I would highly recommend, should you and your good lady find yourselves travelling around the area. I’m told the coast and countryside there is so beautiful and of course there are the distilleries.” The porter let the thought sink in before making his excuses to leave.

  “If that will be all sir… I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up or relax a little after your journey down here. I’ve put your cases in the dressing room.” The man hovered expectantly after dropping his hint but received only a steely stare for his trouble, as Tom open the door and ushered the man from the room.

  “Oh Tom it’s fantastic!” Rachel squealed upon seeing the bathroom but especially the enormous pool which masqueraded as a bath. “Let’s fill it up… we could bathe together if you want?” She added with the sexy little smile that Tom thought he recognised from the good times… when they were both still free and single.

  Before he’d open his lips to reply, Rachel had pushed down the plunger and had fully opened both taps. The instant effect was one that resembled Niagara Falls but even at such a rate of discharge, Tom decided it would take a good twenty minutes or more to fill the bath.

  “Isn’t it fantastic?” Rachel said as she started to rip off her clothes. “I can’t wait for it to fill up, come on get your clothes off.” She added, slipping out of her skimpy lacy pants and bra that she’d bought especially for the weekend and stood fully naked in front of Tom, with a look that oozed sexual depravity. But Tom’s eyes hadn’t left the bath and the waterfall that was gradually filling it up.

  His momentary good natured lapse into normality, which had been broken by the porter’s none too subtle hint about a tip, was now compounded by the sight of the water cascading into the bath and the thought that such profligate waste was one of the reasons that the Atlantic Hotel was so expensive.

  “I guess they must have reinforced the floor before they installed it… what do you think? I mean there must be a tonne or more of water in there when it’s full and the cost, Christ it must cost a fortune just to fill the bloody tub.” He scratched his head and looked everywhere except at the naked body stood hopefully before him. “Tell you what, just to be safe, why don’t you have a wash first and then I’ll get in after you… that is provided you’re not sat downstairs in reception with Mr Fitzgerald scrubbing your back.” Tom said spitting out his condemnation.

  He’d guessed the hotelier had inherited the money to buy the place… people like him always did, and he knew that given the same opportunity he could also have been living the dream… including flying everywhere in some expensive black helicopter. Disgusted at the unfairness of life… a life he was paying for, he turned his back on Rachel and left her standing alone in the bathroom.

  The splashing and shrieking told Tom that Rachel was too busy enjoying herself to worry about the fact that his mobile had vibrated twice more since she’d dived into the bath.

  Rolling onto his side, he took the annoying mobile from his pocket and flipped through the screens to the latest email, which just said…

  “Hello sexy, this is just to remind you what Paris has to offer… Lisa x.”

  The attached file turned out to be a selfie-video featuring a naked Lisa performing all manner of sex acts, with something that resembled a peeled cucumber, in as many different positions as Tom could imagine… and he had always had such a vivid imagination.

  His finger had hovered dangerously over the delete function but just as he was about to take the sensible decision and remove all evidence of his Paris indiscretion, the feeling in his trousers overrode his brain. Perhaps he thought, the video could stand watching just once more before he finally deleted it and erased Lisa from his thoughts. Then again, he thought as he replayed the file twice more, perhaps he’d save it… just in case he ever felt inclined to visit the executive’s toilets for a spot of light relief.

  “Tom! Tom! Come and wash by back will you?” Rachel shouted enticingly from the bathroom. Tom pushed the mobile phone under his pillow, slipped out of his clothes and with Lisa and his memory of Paris still fresh in his mind and walked into the bathroom.

  “Ooh, we should come away more often.” Rachel purred from her almost totally submerged position in the bubble infused water. Apart from her head, the only other parts of her that broke through the soapy maelstrom were her breasts, which seemed to appear and disappear like two Pacific atolls.

  “What’s got you so excited?” She added holding out her hands in expectation.

  “I just had a picture of you spring into by head… et voilà!” He said proudly pointing at his groin with both his hands.

  Henri couldn’t have been more effusive had his own family just walked into his restaurant.

  “Tom! Rachel! It’s wonderful to see you again.” He shook Tom’s hand and kissed Rachel on both cheeks.

  “I’ve missed you terribly.” He whispered in her ear, as Tom stared around the restaurant trying to see if anything had really changed but finding everything just where they’d left it. The armchairs were still hugging the log fire, which was itself blazing away in the grate. The only real difference he could see was the colour of the paintwork and the weather outside.

  “Sorry what did you say Henri… I was miles away. Actually I was admiring the fire, it’s the one experience that has stayed with us ever since that first day… isn’t it Rachel?” Tom said ignoring his own question and the fact that Henri’s lips seemed to have lingered a little longer than might have been deemed appropriate on Rachel’s cheek.

  “Oh I think there was more than the fire that left an impression Tom.” Rachel said cheekily and then flushed red, as she remembered how badly she’d behaved, whilst Tom had been working so hard in Paris and if that hadn’t been sufficient reason to feel embarrassed he’d then arranged all this and had just made love to her with more passion and energy than at any time since they’d been married. Feeling duly self-chastened, Rachel pushed herself away from Henri and bowed her head in shame for the way she’d felt when Henri had just kissed her.

  “No doubt you’re referring to my food and the excellent selection of malt whiskies I keep.” Henri beamed, as he clicked his fingers to call over one of his waiters. “Tom and Rachel are my personal guests tonight William, whatever they want is on the house… and I mean anything. It’s not every day we’re luck
y enough to have such a beautiful woman celebrating her thirtieth birthday.” Henri beamed his most gracious smile and bowed his head.

  “No Henri… we couldn’t. Tom tell him, we couldn’t possibly accept such a generous gift. Perhaps a drink afterwards but not…” Rachel was speechless.

  “Rachel I think it’s only good manners that we accept Henri’s kind offer.” Tom’s interest suddenly picked up at the thought of having a slap up meal with drinks on the house. “Henri’s right, you’ll never be this young again you know… from now on its downhill all the way and before you know it you’ll soon be agreeing with everyone who tells you that life begins at forty.” Tom turned to William and rubbed his hands at the prospect.

  “William, we’ll start our evening with a couple of glasses of champagne.”

  “An excellent choice Tom!” Henri said placing his hand around Rachel’s waist, as he guided her into the restaurant behind Tom and William. Through her silky blouse she felt his fingers gently caress her back. “Perhaps…” We whispered, placing his mouth so close to Rachel’s face that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “…you both might have a couple of shots of the fifteen year old Dalwhinnie later. I always find it helps me sleep.”

  “Sounds ideal Henri but you do realise that Tom will probably have passed out long before that. Given an endless supply of champagne and wine, I’m not sure he’ll reach the dessert course.” Rachel replied feeling her senses heighten at his closeness and the thought of what might be yet to come.

  “I know… that’s what I’m counting on.”

  Rachel’s earlier optimism after their passionate and unexpected lovemaking in the huge bath, was dashed on the rocks of two glasses of Dom Pérignon and two bottles of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, after which Tom had reverted to type.