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

by Clodagh Murphy

  Lesley was dying to get out of her jeans and into something cooler. The weather in Dublin had been chilly for July, and she was wearing far too many clothes. As soon as he was gone, she locked the door and stripped off.

  She felt much more human after a shower. She opened her suitcase and changed into a pair of cropped trousers and a loose sleeveless top, then slipped her feet into her cushiony thick-soled flip-flops.

  She was usually pretty slobby about unpacking on holidays, only taking things out of her suitcase as and when she needed them. But as she’d be sharing with Al, she decided she should be on her best behaviour. So she unpacked completely, stowing her clothes in the wardrobe and drawers, and slid her empty suitcase under the bed. She was just finished when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘You decent?’ Al called.

  She unlocked the door and let him in. ‘I was just about to come down. I took half the wardrobe and the top three drawers,’ she told him. ‘The rest is all yours.’

  ‘Great. I’ll just have a quick shower and then we can go into town and I’ll show you around a bit. Rafe wants us to go for a drink with him and Scott.’

  ‘Oh! Just us?’

  ‘Yes. I’m guessing he wants to talk about Stella.’

  ‘Are you sure he wants me to come?’ she asked. ‘I don’t mind if the three of you want to catch up. We don’t have to be one of those couples who are joined at the hip.’

  ‘No, you should come. If we’re discussing Stella, I want you in on it.’

  ‘But they don’t know I’m an investigator, right?’ She didn’t fancy the idea of having to answer to Rafe.

  ‘No. The fewer people who know that, the better. As far as they’re concerned, you’re just a mild-mannered web developer.’

  ‘Well, it happens to be the truth,’ she said.

  22

  It was a short walk through winding, leafy streets to the centre of town. They caught up with Scott and Rafe on the Promenade des Anglais. Al pointed out the famous Negresco Hotel to Lesley, but she knew they weren’t there to see the sights as Rafe led the way down some steps to a bar right on the beach. Under large white canopies, little round tables were arranged on a wooden deck slightly raised off the shingle. On the beach, rows of sunbeds shaded by blue and white umbrellas were lined up in front of the sparkling blue sea. A waitress waved them to a table, and after some consultation, Rafe – in fluent, and very sexy, French – ordered a bottle of Perrier for himself, a Kir Royale for Lesley and Pernod for Scott and Al.

  ‘So, I presume we’re here to talk about Stella,’ Scott said. He looked at Rafe, a grin on his face. ‘What’s your plan for ridding us of the troublesome wench?’

  Rafe gave him a dry look. ‘What makes you think I have a plan?’

  ‘Because you always have a plan.’ He turned to Lesley. ‘We call him the Enforcer,’ he told her.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Rafe said.

  ‘Not to your face.’

  ‘Who calls me that?’

  ‘Everyone.’ Scott grinned and took a sip of his drink.

  ‘No, they don’t,’ Rafe said crossly.

  ‘Not to his face,’ Scott hissed to Lesley in a stage whisper. Rafe glowered at his brother and she suppressed a giggle.

  ‘What have you got against her anyway?’ Scott asked.

  ‘What do you think?’ Rafe said. ‘It’s nothing personal. I just want to protect Dad.’

  ‘And our inheritance.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Well, I think she’s brilliant!’ Scott said. ‘So glam. I vote we keep her.’

  Rafe gave him a quelling look. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Why not? We could do with some sparkle.’ He sipped his Pernod. ‘I mean, granted we’ve got me. But we’re down a bit of feminine pizzazz now that you’ve been dumped again.’

  ‘I wasn’t dumped,’ Rafe said.

  ‘That was his news, did you hear?’ Scott said to Al. ‘He’s broken up with Francesca and he’s moving back to Dublin.’

  Al nodded. ‘I heard.’

  ‘Rafe’s a tragic spinster, like Jennifer Aniston,’ Scott said to Lesley. ‘He just can’t seem to hold onto a relationship.’

  ‘You could say the same about yourself,’ Lesley said.

  ‘No, I’m more of a George Clooney. I’ll settle down eventually, in my own time. Until then, I feel it’s only right to play the field and give everyone a fair crack of the whip.’

  Rafe rolled his eyes at his brother. ‘What does your father think about it all?’ he asked Al.

  ‘He doesn’t seem that worried. The background check didn’t turn up anything. But I don’t think he really expects the marriage to go ahead, to be honest. He thinks it’s just Peter being Peter and it’ll all fizzle out before anything comes of it.’

  ‘Right.’ Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. ‘Well, where does that leave us? If there’s nothing on her, and she won’t be paid off—’

  ‘What?’ Scott shrieked, his eyes widening. ‘What do you mean, “paid off”?’ A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Oh my God … you didn’t?’

  ‘What?’ Al looked between Scott and Rafe. ‘You offered her money?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rafe said defiantly. ‘I certainly did.’ He sipped his water grumpily. ‘I’d say it’s a sure-fire way to get rid of a gold-digger, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I thought the whole idea was to stop her getting her hands on our money in the first place,’ Scott said.

  ‘It’d be a fraction of what she’d be worth once they’re married. Worth it, if you ask me. If she’d go for it,’ he added with a resigned twist of his mouth.

  ‘But she didn’t?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘So that’s out.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Scott grinned, hugely enjoying himself. ‘How do you even say something like that? I mean, in this day and age? I bet she told you where to shove it.’

  Rafe gave a little reluctant smile. ‘She did, actually,’ he said, his eyes softening.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s that, then,’ Scott said.

  ‘It doesn’t mean she’s on the level.’ Rafe looked boot-faced. ‘Anyway, it’s not just the money.’ He raked a hand though his hair. ‘The whole thing is ridiculous, and they’ll end up making each other miserable.’

  ‘Dad seems happy,’ Scott said.

  ‘How long do you think that will last? You know what Dad’s like,’ Rafe appealed to his brother. ‘He doesn’t marry his girlfriends – and with good reason.’

  ‘Maybe this one’s different,’ Scott said.

  ‘Right. Like Mum was different.’

  Scott’s smile faltered, and he toyed with his glass, rattling the ice around.

  ‘What happens when the next bright young thing comes along?’ Rafe continued. ‘Or when Stella gets tired of playing nursemaid to an old man? It’d be better for everyone if she’d just take the money and run.’

  ‘There’s not much we can do about it, though, is there?’ Scott said. ‘They’re both grown-ups. I guess they know what they’re doing.’

  Rafe’s jaw set stubbornly. ‘Dad just isn’t someone who should be married. It doesn’t suit him. I thought he at least had the sense to realise that.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s going to be playing around on Stella, though?’ Scott said scathingly.

  ‘Have you met Dad?’

  ‘I know, but ... isn’t he a bit old for all that stuff now?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Rafe said gloomily. ‘But I doubt it.’

  ‘I mean, he’s not even sleeping with Stella. You know they have separate bedrooms?’

  ‘That’s just because of his heart attack, not because he’s past it.’ Rafe tossed back the last of his water. ‘Anyway, I don’t see what more we can do.’

  ‘Well ... maybe you just didn’t offer her the right incentive,’ Scott said. ‘If she’s only into Dad for his money, she’d probably ditch him at the drop of a hat for the younger, hotter version – Mr Darcy himself, no less.’<
br />
  ‘You think I should try it on with Dad’s girlfriend?’ Rafe looked aghast.

  ‘Just flirt with her, lead her on a bit. I’m not saying you should follow through.’ Scott shrugged. ‘Just a suggestion, since you’re so determined to break them up.’

  ‘And you’re not?’

  ‘I told you, I think she’s fabulous. I love her already.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s not as if she’d fall for it, after I’ve tried to buy her off, is it?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. That enemies-to-lovers thing is sexy as hell. And you do that whole repressed Englishman battling your feelings schtick so well – all smouldering passion under your stiff upper lip. It totally plays into your wheelhouse.’

  Rafe looked thoughtful. Then he shook his head. ‘Sorry, Lesley,’ he said, as if he’d only just become aware of her presence. ‘You must think we’re awful. We’re not usually this ... Machiavellian.’

  ‘No worries,’ she said. ‘It’s fine. I totally get it.’ In fact, she was having the time of her life. After all, she was sitting in a bar in the South of France, drinking cocktails in the afternoon and hugger-mugging with three gorgeous men. It was like being part of some super-glamorous version of the Famous Five.

  ‘Right, well, I’m going to get back,’ Rafe said, standing. He took some euros from his pocket and tossed them on the table. Scott got up with him. ‘Are you coming?’ he asked Al.

  ‘No, I think we’ll stay here for a while, maybe have another,’ Al said, looking to Lesley.

  She nodded in agreement.

  ‘I want to take Lesley for a walk,’ he said, ‘show her around a bit.’

  ‘Okay, see you back at the house later.’

  Lesley sank back against the cushioned seat as she watched Rafe skipping lithely up the steps to the promenade.

  ‘Well, what do you make of all that?’ Al asked, once his cousins were out of earshot.

  ‘I can’t believe Rafe actually tried to pay Stella off!’

  ‘I know.’ Al grinned, rolling his eyes. ‘Sometimes I think he’s really let Mr Darcy go to his head.’ He called over a waiter and ordered another couple of drinks.

  ‘This is the life.’ Lesley sighed, tilting her face to the sun and closing her eyes. ‘I’m really glad I came.’

  ‘Me too. And Stella looked very happy to see you,’ he said, smiling at her.

  ‘Yeah.’ She thought of the way Stella had pounced on her almost desperately as soon as she arrived. ‘I’d say she was feeling a bit out of it with your lot, and is glad to have another outsider around.’

  ‘Probably,’ Al said.

  ‘Well, it’s all grist to the mill if it makes her glom onto me.’

  23

  After another drink, Al took her on a short, leisurely walk along the seafront, admiring the miles of pebbly beach and glistening water.

  She was starving by the time they got back to the house, and was glad to find Jane and Joy in the kitchen preparing dinner. Stella was hovering uncertainly in the door from the garden.

  ‘Um ... should I make something separate for me and Peter?’ she asked, watching anxiously as Jane poured olive oil into a large pan.

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ Joy said, turning to her with a smile. ‘We’ve got it covered.’

  ‘We’ll do our best not to kill Peter,’ Jane said, looking at Stella over the top of her glasses. ‘However tempting it might be,’ she added.

  Stella gave her a shaky smile. ‘Maybe I should—’

  ‘Don’t mind her,’ Joy said. ‘We’re having baked mullet, ratatouille and boulangère potatoes. There’s nothing there he can’t eat, is there?’

  ‘No,’ Stella said, her features relaxing. ‘That’s perfect.’

  ‘You just relax and enjoy yourself. We don’t want you to spend your whole holiday cooking.’

  ‘Thanks, Joy.’

  ‘Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,’ Jane whispered, stirring a pot as Stella disappeared back to the patio.

  Joy chuckled, shaking her head admonishingly.

  ‘Shit-stirring already?’ Al said to Jane.

  ‘I’m behaving impeccably, aren’t I, Joy?’

  ‘She’s actually been very good,’ Joy said. ‘Practically saintly.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Jane said.

  ‘Go on out and have a drink,’ Joy told them. ‘We’ll join you shortly.’

  Out on the terrace, Scott was engrossed in a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. Lesley hoped he wasn’t looking there for insights into the female mind.

  He looked up at them as they came outside.

  ‘Enjoying that?’ Lesley asked him.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he said, shaking his head and grinning broadly. ‘If I’d known straight sex could be like this, I might never have given it up.’

  ‘Don’t believe everything you read,’ Lesley said with a sniff. ‘Most women would still prefer a little spontaneity over a twenty-page contract. When it comes to sex, contracts aren’t the things you want to be lengthy.’

  ‘So you don’t find this stuff a turn-on, then?’

  ‘I always felt the humour would have gone off me by the time he’d got all his equipment set up.’

  Scott laughed. ‘Yeah, there’s a lot to be said for a good old-fashioned shag.’

  Holidaying with the Bradshaws wasn’t going to do her liver any favours, Lesley thought, as they drank pastis on the terrace before dinner. It was cool and refreshing, but she was starting to feel quite light-headed, and she was grateful when the meal appeared. They sat at a long wooden table laden with food and wine.

  ‘Here’s to the holiday!’ Peter said when they were all seated, raising his glass of Perrier. ‘It’s great to be here with you all again this year,’ he added with feeling.

  ‘We’re very glad you were able to make it,’ Joy said softly, the glint of a tear in her eye as she bumped her glass against his. ‘So what are everyone’s plans?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I’m going to spend some quality time with the manuscript of a rather marvellous book I’m reading,’ Peter said, smiling at Jane.

  ‘Oh, your new one?’ Joy asked Jane, who nodded.

  ‘Lesley hasn’t been to Nice before,’ Al said, ‘so I want to show her around.’

  ‘You’ll love it,’ Stella said to Lesley. ‘It’s my first time here too.’

  ‘Then you should definitely visit Eze,’ Rafe said, ‘and Villefranche.’

  ‘And Menton,’ Scott put in.

  ‘We have to spend some time at the beach, of course,’ Jane said. ‘We thought we might all go to Cannes for the day, maybe the day after tomorrow, when you’re settled in a bit.’

  ‘That all sounds great!’ Lesley said.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d come shopping with me one day,’ Stella said quietly to Lesley.

  ‘I’d love to,’ Lesley said eagerly. It would be a perfect opportunity to spend some girly bonding time with Stella.

  ‘Great!’ Stella smiled happily.

  ‘So have you two set a date for the wedding yet?’ Scott asked, looking between Stella and Peter.

  Suddenly everyone around the table seemed to be on high alert.

  ‘Yes.’ Peter took Stella’s hand.

  ‘As long as it’s not a major stumbling block for anyone, we’re thinking of September twenty-first,’ Stella said.

  ‘So if that’s a problem for any of you,’ Peter said, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace. Otherwise, consider this your notice to save the date.’

  There were subdued mumbles of acknowledgement, but everyone seemed a bit taken aback, as if the wedding hadn’t been a reality until now. No one said it, but Lesley was sure they were all thinking it was happening very soon.

  ‘That’s not long for organising a wedding,’ Joy said to Stella.

  ‘I know. But we’re keeping it small, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange.’

  ‘It doesn’t give me much time to scare up a date,’ Scott said. ‘I’d better hit the beach first thing
tomorrow and find someone to bring.’

  The tension around the table dissolved as everyone laughed.

  They continued drinking long after dinner, and as the wine flowed, Lesley was alarmed to find the Bradshaws started to punctuate their conversation with snatches of songs and poetry. A hush fell over the table as Jane broke into an impromptu rendition of ‘La Vie en Rose’ in a surprisingly sweet, high voice. It was lovely, and very evocative in the setting. But Lesley started to panic when Peter launched into a Shakespeare monologue.

  ‘I’m warning you right now,’ she said under her breath to Al, ‘there’d better not be audience participation. If I have to do a party piece, I’m getting the next flight out of here.’

  Al chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. You wouldn’t get a chance even if you wanted to. There are far too many show-offs here for you to get a look in.’

  ‘A woman after my own heart!’ Michael said, turning to her. ‘Joy and I keep our heads down when they get like this.’

  ‘The only poem you know,’ Joy said, ‘starts “There once was a nympho named Jill”, and no one wants to hear that.’

  Lesley laughed. ‘I wouldn’t mind; it sounds good.’

  When Joy started clearing up, Lesley quickly sprang up and offered to help, seizing the excuse to scuttle off to the kitchen, just in case there was any chance she’d be called on to perform. Al followed and began stacking the dishwasher while she and Joy went back and forth carrying things in from the terrace.

  ‘Peter’s doing a dirty poem about Stella now,’ she hissed at Al as she handed him a pile of plates.

  He laughed. ‘Is this true?’ He looked to Jane, who was coming in with an armful of empty wine bottles.

  ‘Swear to God,’ Lesley said, ‘all about having her long legs wrapped around him in bed. And he was looking right at her, in case anyone didn’t get the message. Tell him,’ she said to Jane.

  ‘“My girl’s tall with hard, long eyes” – you know the one,’ Jane said to Al.