For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy

by Clodagh Murphy

  He turned to Lesley then with a broad smile, and she felt a little off balance as he turned the full force of his charisma on her. He had a warm, expressive face, and kind, soulful eyes that made him look wise beyond his years – or maybe she was just confusing him with the ancient, world-weary vampire he played on TV.

  ‘And who’s this?’ He slid onto the banquette beside Lesley, so close their legs were touching. ‘Are you the lady who’s going to be my new mummy?’ he asked her in a childish voice.

  Al cleared his throat as he sat back down opposite. ‘No, your dad and Stella are already in Nice – they went out last week. This is Lesley.’

  ‘Oh?’ Scott didn’t even glance at Al, but kept looking at her with blatant curiosity, a cheeky smile twisting the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I’m with Al,’ Lesley explained.

  ‘Yes. Lesley, this is my cousin, Scott.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Scott said. Lesley gave him her hand to shake, and he held onto it far longer than was appropriate. ‘So you two are ...’

  ‘We’re together, yes,’ Al said in a tight voice.

  ‘Ah!’ Scott finally released Lesley’s hand. ‘I should have known.’ He tilted his head to the side, looking Lesley over like she was a horse he was considering buying. ‘You do have a slight look of Tits Maguire about you.’

  Lesley had just taken a sip of her coffee, and almost spat it over the table.

  ‘For God’s sake, Scott!’ Al protested, rolling his eyes.

  ‘Sorry, should I not have mentioned Tits?’ Scott said with an innocent air, belied by the mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Have you not told Lesley about her?’

  ‘Why on earth would I tell her about—’

  ‘Well, it’s not like it’s something you have to hide. I mean, we all have a past, don’t we?’

  ‘Who the hell is she anyway?’ Lesley asked.

  ‘She was Al’s first love,’ Scott said with a wistful sigh. ‘It was quite the romance. She was the first girl in our crowd to get a proper set of ti—’ He broke off abruptly as Al shot him a furious look. ‘She was the first young lady of our acquaintance to ... fill out,’ he amended, miming cupping two huge imaginary breasts in his hands. ‘Is that delicate enough for your genteel sensibilities, Miss Bennet?’ he said to Al.

  ‘No,’ Al said flatly.

  Scott ignored him and turned to Lesley. ‘What I’m trying to say is the girl was stacked.’

  ‘Yep, your little mime there was very subtle, but I managed to get the gist.’

  ‘She had a rack like you wouldn’t believe, Lesley.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘I hardly need tell you it didn’t escape Al’s notice. He was on that faster than you could say “tits ahoy”. Well, I’m sure you know what he’s like. He can’t help himself. It’s just the way God made him.’

  Lesley couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘Please shut up, Scott,’ Al said, surging to his feet. ‘Can I get you something? Coffee? Gobstopper?’

  ‘I’d love a coffee – a large Americano, and a blueberry muffin if they have one.’

  ‘Right. I’ll be back in a moment.’ Al hovered, seeming reluctant to leave.

  ‘We’ll just talk amongst ourselves,’ Scott said with a sly grin. ‘Won’t we, Lesley?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Al said to her. ‘Please ignore him, and don’t pay any attention to a word he says. He’s just showing off. He’s always like this with new people, but he’ll calm down after a couple of months.’ With that Al stormed off to the buffet counter.

  ‘How long has this been going on with you and Al?’ Scott asked her when he was gone.

  ‘Not long. Only a couple of months.’

  Al returned with a coffee and a muffin for Scott, and sat down again at the table.

  ‘So, how did you two meet?’ Scott asked with a winning smile as he ripped open a sachet of sugar. ‘Tell me everything. I’m a sucker for romance. Was it love at first sight?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Lesley said.

  ‘It was for me,’ Al said, smiling at her.

  Scott rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. ‘Well, of course it was for you, Aloysius! I don’t need to ask why Lesley here caught your eye. But what was it about young Aloysius here that got your juices flowing, Lesley?’

  Lesley glanced at Al. ‘Well, he’s very handsome, obviously.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘But I think what sealed the deal was that Al really likes women.’

  ‘Don’t we all, darling?’ Scott gave her a lascivious grin.

  ‘No, I mean he likes women. He’s interested in talking to them and he pays attention. He didn’t just ogle my chest all night and look at me like I was a piece of meat.’

  She was glad to see that Al looked pleased by this.

  ‘Well played, Al!’ Scott drawled, holding his hand up for a high-five. He dropped it again when Al resolutely ignored it. ‘Anyway, good for you. I didn’t know you were bringing anyone.’

  ‘It was kind of last minute. We haven’t been going out long.’

  Scott sighed. ‘I’ve always wanted to have a whirlwind romance. Unless a quick knee-trembler by the bins round the back of The Ivy counts?’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ Al said flatly.

  ‘Even if it was Valentine’s Day?’

  ‘Was it with Louis?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then definitely not. Is he coming out to Nice later?’

  Scott shook his head. ‘No. I think we’re finished.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. I liked Louis.’

  ‘So did I.’ Scott looked morose for a moment, but quickly brightened up again. ‘Ah well, plenty more totty in the Mediterranean Sea. I’ll just pick someone up on the beach.’

  Lesley couldn’t help thinking he didn’t look very happy about it, despite his cheerful tone.

  ‘Talking of romance, have you met my new stepmum-to-be?’ Scott asked Al. ‘Is she a total nightmare? Bitch on wheels? Come on, dish.’

  ‘She seems nice enough, at least on the surface. Dad got an investigator to do a bit of checking into her background, but he hasn’t turned up anything.’

  ‘Nothing dodgy?’

  ‘Nothing at all. Which is suspicious in itself.’

  ‘Well, if all else fails, I could always step up.’

  ‘And by “step up”, you mean ...?’

  Scott just grinned in response, and stuffed a chunk of muffin in his mouth.

  Al raised his eyebrows. ‘Your father’s fiancée? You’d try and seduce her?’

  ‘Jesus!’ Scott rolled his eyes. ‘We’re not in a costume drama. But yeah, basically.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m single now. I could hook up with her – take one for the team.’

  ‘That wouldn’t exactly be great for family relations,’ Al said.

  ‘What makes you so sure you could do that anyway?’ Lesley asked him.

  ‘Lesley!’ He reared back in mock horror, clutching his heart dramatically. ‘You’ve been in my company now for—’ he checked his watch ‘—almost half an hour. I’m wounded that you can still ask me that.’

  Lesley rolled her eyes.

  ‘I’m irresistible to women. Can’t you tell?’ Then suddenly his grin vanished and he shot her an intense intimate look that went straight to her groin.

  ‘Don’t you smoulder at me,’ she said crossly, feeling herself flush. Damn him!

  ‘Worked, though, didn’t it?’ He grinned happily.

  ‘Feck off! Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be gay?’ she huffed, feeling flustered.

  ‘I go wherever the wind takes me. I’m not averse to dipping my toe in female waters occasionally.’

  Al gave him a sceptical look.

  ‘Okay, not my toe,’ he said.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And not waters.’

  ‘We get it, thanks,’ Lesley said. ‘We know what you dip where.’

  Scott laughed, scrunching up the muffin wrapper and tossing it in the centre of the table.

  Al
glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better go to the gate.’

  21

  It was a beautiful sunny afternoon when they arrived in Nice, and Lesley felt her whole body decompress as soon as they stepped outside and the heat wrapped itself around her. She quickly relaxed into holiday mode as they piled into a taxi and bowled towards the centre of Nice. Looking out the window at the spiky palm trees framed against the inky sky, she thought smugly of the heavy grey clouds she’d left behind in Dublin, and felt very pleased with herself for taking Al up on his unorthodox offer. She’d taken a bit of a chance, and it had paid off big-time.

  ‘Have you seen TV’s Mr Darcy recently?’ Scott asked Al.

  ‘No. He was in Dublin last week, but I didn’t see him. He had dinner with your dad and Stella.’

  ‘He has news, apparently,’ Scott said broodingly. ‘You don’t know what it is?’

  ‘No.’ Al shook his head. ‘No idea.’

  ‘It had better not be that they’re making him the next Batman, or I’ll shoot myself.’

  Al laughed. ‘Or James Bond,’ he said. ‘That’d be worse.’

  Scott groaned, clutching his hair. ‘Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that. Bloody Darcy was bad enough.’ He gazed out the window disconsolately. ‘Do you really think he could be in the running for James Bond, though? Isn’t he a bit old?’ he asked, turning to Al. ‘I mean, they’d want to get a few movies out of him.’

  Al shrugged. ‘He’s only thirty-three. Roger Moore was way older when he started.’

  ‘Too Irish, then?’

  ‘Pierce Brosnan,’ Al and Lesley said together, and laughed.

  ‘And his English accent is brilliant,’ Lesley pointed out. ‘You’d never have known he was Irish in Pride and Prejudice.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’ Scott scowled at her.

  ‘Oh. I didn’t know there were sides. Sorry.’

  ‘I mean, how come I never get asked to play Darcy?’ Scott said peevishly.

  Lesley glanced across at him. ‘Too short?’ she said tentatively. She didn’t want to offend him, but it seemed pretty obvious to her.

  ‘Exactly,’ Scott said. ‘It’s discrimination! Casting directors have no bloody imagination. I can totally play tall.’

  In the centre of town, they turned away from the coast road and curved up a steep, tree-lined hill. They stopped on a quiet, leafy street in front of a set of wrought-iron gates set in a yellow ochre wall. A riot of deep-pink bougainvillea cascaded over the top, almost obscuring the keypad and a little plaque beside it that read ‘Villa Aurore’.

  Al paid the driver, and he and Scott took the bags between them as they were unloaded from the boot. Scott punched in a code and the gates opened to reveal a house that practically screamed summer, with sky-blue shutters at the windows and walls painted a sunny yellow.

  A short middle-aged woman with cropped grey hair came around from the back of the house as they got to the door. She beamed warmly at them, throwing her arms open and hugging Al and Scott in turn.

  ‘Lesley, this is my stepmum, Joy,’ Al said, his eyes warm with pride and affection.

  ‘Lovely to meet you, Lesley,’ Joy said, as she led the way into the house. She had a kind, intelligent face and a sweet smile. ‘Have you been to Nice before?’

  ‘No, it’s my first time.’

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Scott asked, dropping the bags in the hallway.

  ‘Stella’s gone into town. Michael and I are out by the pool with Jane, and TV’s Mr Darcy is in the study with your father. He said he had some “business” to discuss,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Another lecture about family responsibilities, I suspect.’

  Scott threw back his head and laughed. ‘He didn’t waste any time!’

  ‘Blimey!’ Lesley said to Al. ‘Isn’t Rafe a bit old to be getting lectures from his dad?’

  ‘Oh no, it’s the other way around,’ Al said. ‘Rafe will be the one giving the lecture.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Rafe’s very alpha,’ Scott whispered to her. ‘We’re all a bit scared of him.’

  ‘Well, come and meet Dad,’ Al said to Lesley, putting an arm around her shoulders.

  It was a blazingly hot day, and as soon as they stepped outside, Lesley wished she’d had the chance to shower and change before meeting the rest of Al’s family. She felt hot and clammy in the jeans and long-sleeved top she’d chosen to travel in, hyperaware of her clothes clinging to her and the trickle of sweat running down the back of her neck. She could practically feel her hair turning to frizz already.

  Jane was sitting on a swing seat beneath a large white gazebo. Beside her, a heavy-set elderly man in a straw hat, who Lesley presumed was Al’s father, had nodded off over a fat paperback that dangled limply in his hands.

  Jane leapt up and hugged them all in turn. ‘It’s lovely to see you again,’ she said to Lesley. ‘But I have a bone to pick with you, young lady,’ she whispered in her ear.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Later,’ Jane said, side-eyeing Scott and Joy who were nearby.

  ‘Michael.’ Joy gently nudged her husband awake. ‘Al’s here.’

  Al’s father startled awake, blinking dazedly. He collected himself as Al introduced Lesley, and smiled at her warmly as they shook hands. He had a pleasant face – soft and jowly, with a heavy smattering of freckles.

  ‘It’s a real thrill to meet you,’ she told him.

  ‘Me? Really?’ Michael frowned in bemusement.

  ‘Bradshaw Biscuits,’ she explained. ‘I’m a huge fan. I consider the Chocolate Extravaganza one of the greatest inventions of our time.’

  ‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ Michael said. ‘I must say, it’s been very good to us.’

  Just then, Peter came out onto the terrace, looking rather harried, followed by Rafe – TV’s Mr Darcy in the flesh.

  ‘Ah, you’re here!’ Peter’s face lit up as he joined them.

  Lesley couldn’t help feeling a little star-struck as Al introduced her to Rafe. She had to admit he was seriously hot. With his square, stubbly jaw, thick black hair and penetrating green eyes framed by long, sooty lashes, he could have been a photofit of the quintessential romantic hero: the face that launched a thousand smutty fanfics. He didn’t look quite so intimidating dressed in chino shorts and a pale-pink T-shirt, and without his trademark haughty scowl, but she still felt a sense of relief when he gave her a friendly smile as they shook hands.

  The Bradshaws were so welcoming, and Lesley felt a little guilty for deceiving them as Peter pulled her into a hug. They were all touchingly pleased to be together, and soon everyone was babbling at once, talking over each other as they caught up on their news and remarked on how well Peter looked.

  ‘Lesley!’ Everyone turned to see Stella in the doorway to the garden, both hands full of shopping bags. She dropped them and raced across the terrace to throw her arms around Lesley. ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’ Lesley was surprised but pleased that Stella seemed so excited to see her.

  ‘Well, I expect you’d like to freshen up,’ Al said to Lesley. ‘Come on and I’ll show you our room.’

  Al showed her into a bright, airy room with pale wooden floorboards and walls painted a soft cornflower blue. Large shuttered windows opened onto a little railed balcony that ran along the back of the house, looking out over the pool and garden to the rooftops of the city beyond. He slung their bags onto a large wooden chest by the door, then joined her at the window, admiring the view. The family were still in the garden, gathered around the gazebo, and the sound of their voices drifted up.

  ‘You can take the bed,’ Al said in a low voice. ‘I’ll camp out on the floor.’

  Lesley turned and looked at the bed properly for the first time. It was vast. She didn’t want to make Al sleep on the floor on his holidays, and they could easily share it without ever coming into contact with each other. ‘No need for that,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s fine. You could fit
the whole family in there. But we can make a pillow barrier down the middle, to be on the safe side.’

  Lesley looked around the room. It was neat, and furnished with an eclectic mix of French shabby chic stuff and IKEA basics. A large bookcase stood in one corner, crammed with paperbacks. Her innate curiosity kicking in, she went over to study the rows of cracked and wrinkled spines, their colours faded in the sun. There were some generic thrillers, a small collection of classics and a few big bestsellers, alongside a couple of guides to the region and some well-thumbed French phrase books. But she was surprised to see a comprehensive set of Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers novels, the complete Twilight series and all of Jilly Cooper’s ‘name’ books.

  ‘Oh, I loved these,’ she said, pulling out Harriet, her favourite. ‘I haven’t read them in ages.’ She flicked through the yellowed pages. It looked well read. ‘So, this was your room?’ she asked Al as she replaced it on the shelf.

  ‘Mostly, yes. I shared with Scott sometimes if there were a lot of people staying.’

  ‘Big fan of Enid Blyton, were you?’ she asked, pulling out First Term at Malory Towers and waving it at him.

  ‘Ah, an underrated modern classic,’ he said, taking it from her. ‘I longed to go to a boarding school like that – having midnight feasts, being on the lacrosse team and playing tricks on Mam’zelle.’

  ‘But you did go to boarding school, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. But Harrow was quite a let-down after Malory Towers.’

  ‘You’ve read all of these?’ She ran a finger along the spines.

  ‘At least once. That’s Scott’s influence. He said it would give us an insight into the female mind.’

  ‘Huh! In other words, it would help you score with girls.’

  ‘Exactly. He was all about the girls back then.’

  ‘Did it work?’ she asked.

  ‘I bonded with my first girlfriend over our mutual admiration for Darrell Rivers,’ he said with a smug smile.

  ‘I was more of a Harriet the Spy girl myself.’

  Al flicked through the pages of the book he was still holding, smiling down at it fondly. ‘God, I’d forgotten how good this was. I might give it a re-read.’ He snapped it closed. ‘Well, you’d probably like to get freshened up. The bathroom’s through here.’ He opened the door to the en suite. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said when he’d given her towels, explained the shower controls and shown her the trick for adjusting the water temperature.