‘No. I’m not that close to the family anymore.’
There was a charged silence between them, and Rafe was looking at her strangely. She’d said too much, she thought – somehow without really saying anything, she’d said too much.
‘Well, I’d better go and get ready,’ she said, getting up. ‘Lesley will be here soon. There are cakes to be eaten.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Rafe narrowed his eyes at her.
‘Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll see you later.’
38
Lesley groaned with pleasure through a mouthful of vegan chocolate cake. ‘Oh my God!’ she said when she’d swallowed. ‘Sorry you have to see my sex face at this hour of the day, but this is amazing!’
Stella laughed as she licked lavender icing off her fingers. ‘It’s really good, isn’t it?’
‘I think this is the one! And I mean that in the truest sense. Honestly, I’d marry this cake.’
‘It’s so beautiful too.’ Stella sighed.
Lesley looked at the picture in the big book of cakes on the table in front of them. It was stunning – four tiers of dark chocolate sponge, decorated with delicate lavender piping, the whole topped with fresh roses. It was all vegan anyway, but Emma, the baker, had assured Stella she was happy to tweak any aspect of the recipe or decoration to her specifications.
‘Well, that’s another job done, then?’ Lesley asked, picking up her tablet.
Stella nodded. ‘It seems like an obscene amount to spend on a cake, though, doesn’t it?’
The price was indeed eye-watering. ‘But hey, it’s your wedding,’ she said to Stella. ‘Anyway, you’re going to be rich. You may as well get used to it.’
When they had ordered the cake, Emma told them to relax and take as long as they liked enjoying their tea and the rest of the samples.
‘Might as well finish off the runners-up,’ Lesley said, picking up a slice of carrot cake. ‘So, how’s Peter? Still not shagging him?’
Stella smiled. ‘No. Actually I hardly see him since rehearsals started for his play.’
‘Oh? They must be pretty full-on.’
‘They seem to be going on longer each day too. And the last few nights, he’s called to say they’re all going out afterwards and he won’t be home for dinner.’
‘Does it bother you?’ Lesley asked, though she could already tell from Stella’s tone that it did.
‘Well, I’m starting to feel more like his mum than his fiancée – always telling him to go easy and not to stay out too late. And I’m not sure I like the idea of him spending so much time with Jane. She’s living in town now, you know. She borrowed some friend’s apartment for the duration of the show.’
‘Are you worried that he’s actually just going back to hers when he doesn’t come home?’
‘No,’ Stella said, shaking her head. But her dismissiveness was unconvincing, and Lesley could tell the thought had occurred to her. ‘I mean, he’s not even sleeping with me. I don’t think I have to worry about him cheating.’
‘Don’t you miss sex, though?’ Lesley asked, thinking dreamily of Al. They’d been shagging almost non-stop since they got back from France.
Stella shrugged. ‘I don’t mind waiting. To be honest, I’ve always liked the closeness and cuddling more than the actual sex itself.’
‘Yeah, I like that bit too.’ Lesley smiled. ‘But God, I love the main event.’ Her mind flashed back to last night, Al pounding into her ... She shook her head. ‘So you’re living with Rafe now. Is that awkward?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I know he was a bit hostile to you at first.’
‘No, it’s fine. I think we’ve reached a truce.’
‘That’s good. Especially if Peter’s been abandoning you.’
‘He’s not abandoning me,’ Stella said, frowning. ‘He’s just ... busy.’
Lesley finished her cake and put down her plate. ‘Right, what’s next?’ she said, picking up her tablet, and scrolling through her list of bridesmaid duties. She had coordinated to-do lists with Stella. ‘Did you open an account on that budgeting app I sent you?’
Stella didn’t answer. She seemed distracted, and had been zoning out now and again all afternoon.
‘Are you okay?’ Lesley asked.
‘Sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I was miles away. What did you say?’
‘I just asked if you’d opened an account on that budgeting app.’
‘Oh, yes. I did.’
‘Great.’ Lesley tapped on her tablet. ‘Can you give me your login details? Then we can both access it and keep everything together.’
‘Oh! I hadn’t thought of that.’ Stella hesitated.
‘I just thought it would be handy,’ Lesley said, trying to sound casual. ‘No problem if you’d rather not.’ She didn’t want to be too persistent and arouse Stella’s suspicions.
‘No, it’s fine,’ Stella said. ‘The username is my email. And the password ...’ She hesitated, biting her lip.
‘Look, if you don’t want to give it to me, it’s cool. I can keep track of whatever I spend and we can update it whenever we’re together.’
‘It’s not that,’ Stella said. ‘It’s just ... it’s a bit embarrassing.’
‘Ah, we’ve all been there. I won’t judge you.’
‘Okay, it’s Babygirl star two hyphen zero.’
‘Star as in asterisk?’
‘Yes. All lower case, except for the B in Babygirl.’
‘Ah, star for Stella? Very clever.’ Lesley tapped it into her screen. ‘Okay, I’m in! And we’ll say no more about it. Anyway, at least it’s not your birthday. That would be embarrassing. Plus I’d have to lecture you about it with my IT hat on. Now, do you want that last piece of coconut cake?’
Stella shook her head. ‘It’s all yours.’
Lesley knew that people tended to be very lazy about two things online – passwords and usernames. Stella may not have used her birthday, but Lesley could have cheered when she heard the password. It sounded like something with personal meaning, the kind of password people clung on to over years. She’d bet her bottom dollar that she’d frequently used it or some variation of it as a login or handle.
When she got home that afternoon, she made herself a mug of coffee and sat down at her laptop, settling in for a long session hunting for Stella’s internet trail. She typed Babygirl into the search engine, along with variations – using wildcards, or replacing the asterisk with the word ‘star’ or ‘Stella’. Then she dug in and began trawling through the results. There were pages and pages of baby clothes, and most of the hits could be dismissed at a glance. She knew it was a long shot, and she wasn’t really expecting to find anything, but there was the odd Twitter or Facebook profile, and she checked them all out. None seemed connected to Stella.
Then, deep into the tenth page of results, there were several links to a website devoted to make-up and beauty. Clicking on the first link brought her to a forum and someone using the name Babygirlstar commenting on the best green concealers for covering up redness. Another couple of links led to similar discussions on the same site, on topics as diverse as tips for keeping hair from going frizzy in humid climates (she made a note to come back to that one) and the best moisturisers for acne-prone skin. The threads were all from about five years ago. Babygirlstar seemed to be a regular contributor and someone other members looked up to as something of an expert – which Stella was.
The next link was to a thread on an area of the site devoted to general chat, where someone had posted a question about the etiquette of attending an ex’s wedding, and various members were chipping in with their advice and opinions. There was nothing particularly revealing in Babygirlstar’s comments, but it gave Lesley hope that there’d be more. She typed Babygirlstar into the site’s search bar and brought up every discussion she’d contributed to – and there were a lot.
She started with the general discussions as they seemed more likely to reveal personal deta
ils, and began reading through them. She felt a spark of excitement when Babygirlstar (who she was already thinking of as Stella) mentioned in passing that she had started out working in hairdressing.
She felt like she was closing in on her target as she read Babygirl’s comments on everything from difficult neighbours and weight loss to the best restaurants in LA and the perfect passive-aggressive wedding gift for your deadliest frienemy. Babygirl had a dry sense of humour, but didn’t reveal much in the way of personal information. Still, Lesley started to piece together a sketchy profile from the few snippets she dropped. She’d never been married, didn’t have much trouble controlling her weight, knew LA and London well, preferred coffee to tea and had no tattoos. Then she clicked on a thread headed ‘My Crazy Ex-Boyfriend’ started by someone going by the name of BirdofParadise. ‘Birdy’ as the other members called her, had just got engaged, but was being stalked by her abusive ex – a narcissistic asshole, if Lesley had ever heard of one, who had spent years manipulating and gaslighting her. She’d been to the police, but they hadn’t been much use, and she didn’t know what to do.
The make-up community were incredibly supportive, showering her with congratulations before weighing in with sympathy and suggestions. A lot of them shared stories about their own experiences with exes who couldn’t let go, and Lesley got absorbed in the stories from regular contributors. She was starting to feel like she knew some of them at this stage. Then she scrolled to Babygirl’s comment, and she started to hope it wasn’t Stella after all as she told them about her own abusive ex – his violent rage when she’d broken up with him, his outrage that she’d had the audacity to leave him.
And then she saw two words that caused her stomach to lurch. Two words that could explain everything: Stella’s reserve, her need for privacy, even her name change.
39
‘As you can see, the garden is exceptionally large, and comprises an extra living space in itself,’ the estate agent said, opening the French doors off the kitchen/diner and leading Rafe and Stella out onto a large deck. ‘The current owners are keen gardeners, and it’s been lovingly maintained. This space is perfect for outdoor entertaining,’ she continued, sweeping an arm around the deck. A long table with six chairs was laid with a colourful runner, wine glasses and an ice bucket set on top. ‘Or the perfect spot for enjoying a glass of wine in the evening.’
‘Looks great,’ Rafe said, glancing around appreciatively. Stella could tell he was already visualising family barbecues or quiet sundowners on the deck.
‘Yes, but it’s north-facing, isn’t it?’ Stella said.
‘Oh?’ Rafe frowned down at the brochure in his hands. ‘I thought Hilary said it was south-facing?’
‘I think it’s the front garden that’s south-facing, isn’t it, Hilary?’ Stella asked.
‘Um ... yes, that’s right,’ Hilary said tightly.
‘Oh, so it wouldn’t get any sun at all?’ Rafe frowned.
‘No, not a spot,’ Stella said briskly.
‘Well, let me show you upstairs,’ Hilary said, gamely keeping her smile pinned on as she led them back through the French doors into the house.
Stella glanced at her watch. ‘I think we’ve seen enough.’ She looked questioningly at Rafe, who nodded. ‘There’s no point in wasting your time,’ she said to Hilary, smiling to soften the blunt statement.
‘Oh, well ... if you’re sure.’
‘Do you have anything else to show us?’ Stella asked.
‘Well ...’ Hilary rooted in her briefcase. ‘I’ve a very nice property right in the village,’ she said, pulling out a brochure. ‘It needs a little work, but that’s reflected in the price, of course,’ she said as she handed it to Stella.
‘Grade II listed,’ Stella read.
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Rafe said, looking over her shoulder.
Stella shook her head. ‘Not necessarily. There are a lot of restrictions on what you can do with a listed building, aren’t there?’ she said to Hilary.
‘Well ... yes,’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘If it needs a lot of work, it might be more trouble than it’s worth.’
Hilary sighed as Stella handed her back the brochure. ‘Perhaps you should tell me precisely what you’re looking for, so we don’t waste anyone’s time.’
‘Well, nothing north-facing,’ Stella said. ‘South-west ideally – and take it as read that we’re talking about the back aspect – but south or west is acceptable, and we might consider east at a pinch.’ She looked to Rafe for confirmation and he shrugged. ‘Somewhere in the Dalkey/Killiney area, and not listed if it needs a lot of renovation.’
Hilary was making notes on a pad as Stella spoke. ‘Children?’ she asked, looking up.
‘Excuse me?’ Stella stuttered.
‘Sure, I wouldn’t mind a couple of children thrown in,’ Rafe said. ‘Are they extra?’
Hilary smiled tightly, clearly not amused. ‘I mean, do you have any children?’
‘Oh, no, we’re not – I mean, we aren’t—’ Stella stammered, blushing. She’d let it go if it weren’t for the fact that Rafe was famous. But as it was, she felt it necessary to set the record straight.
‘Any plans to start a family in the near future?’ Hilary pressed on. ‘Or will it just be the two of you?’ she asked.
Was she just trying to get gossip about Rafe, Stella wondered.
‘We’re not ... together,’ Rafe said.
‘Oh?’
‘No,’ Stella told her. ‘The house is for Rafe. I’m just helping him look.’
‘Ah, very good.’ Hilary straightened. ‘Schools aren’t a concern for you, then,’ she said, ticking a box on her checklist. ‘Well,’ she said briskly, snapping her briefcase closed, ‘I have a much clearer idea of what we’re looking for now. Leave it with me.’ She started leading the way to the door.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, showing them out. ‘You know,’ she said to Rafe as they were about to leave, ‘since the property is just for you, perhaps it would be better if you did the viewings on your own. No point in being influenced by someone who won’t be living there,’ she said with a sour look at Stella. ‘I mean, it’s how it feels to you that counts, isn’t it?’ She flashed Rafe a flirtatious smile.
‘Thanks for the suggestion,’ Rafe said smoothly, ‘but I trust Stella’s judgement. She’s much better at all this than I am. I’d probably have let you sell me this house just because I liked the idea of sitting at the garden table.’
‘Oh.’ Hilary pursed her lips. ‘Well, whatever you think best, of course. But you know, there are many advantages to a north-facing garden.’
‘Really?’ Stella asked sceptically. ‘Such as?’
Hilary looked stumped for a moment. Then she brightened. ‘Skin cancer!’
‘Oh? That’s an advantage?’
‘What I mean is, a shaded garden allows you to enjoy the fresh air without worrying about melanoma.’
‘I’ll buy a hat,’ Rafe said. ‘Then I can have the best of both worlds.’
‘Right.’ Hilary nodded. ‘Great idea!’
‘I don’t think Hilary likes me very much,’ Stella said as they walked back to Rafe’s car.
‘No, she’s got you down as a troublemaker.’
‘You, on the other hand ... ‘
‘Oh, she definitely likes me.’
After several days of house-hunting, Stella was getting used to the reaction Rafe got from women whenever he turned up. There was a lot of fluttering, and even if they weren’t openly flirting, there was always a sense of heightened awareness.
Her mobile rang as they got into Rafe’s car. It was Peter.
‘Hello, darling. How’s the house-hunting going?’
‘Great.’ She glanced at Rafe. ‘Are you at home?’
‘No, that’s what I was ringing to say. ‘I’m going to eat with some of the company, so I won’t be home for dinner.’
‘Oh, okay.’ She tried not to sound put out. She had
wanted to tell him about her father later, when they were alone. It would be comforting to be able to talk about it with someone, and she knew he’d be sympathetic. But it would have to wait. ‘Well ... enjoy yourself.’
‘Thank you, darling. You too. It’ll be a chance for you to have something really evil. You should order a pizza.’
‘Yes, I might do that.’
‘Dad?’ Rafe asked her when she’d hung up.
‘Yes, he was just ringing to say he won’t be home for dinner.’
‘Well, in that case, why don’t I take you out for dinner as a thank-you for all this.’
‘There’s no need,’ she said. ‘I told you, I love it.’
‘Still ... we have to eat anyway.’ He shrugged. ‘Besides, Dad’s out enjoying himself, and you deserve a break.’
She considered. She liked Rafe. They got on well, and she felt they were friends now. And it would be lovely to go out for a change.
‘Okay, then.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Oh God, do you think they’ve seated us here on purpose?’ Jane nodded to the wall behind Peter as he settled himself on the red plush banquette opposite her in Trocadero.
Peter turned to see he was sitting beneath a photograph of Jane. She was about twenty-five and breathtakingly beautiful. He could almost pinpoint exactly when it had been taken, shortly after they’d first met.
The restaurant had a long association with Dublin’s theatre community, and the walls were lined with photographs of stars of stage and screen who had frequented it over the years. The faces of many old friends looked back at him as he scanned the room. He was up there too, a little further along the wall from Jane – young and preposterously handsome. They’d spent a lot of time here in those days, and he had fond memories of first-night suppers and long evenings of table-hopping with friends. The place was as warm and comforting as a much-loved cardigan, and it was a buzz to be back and feel part of it all again. Several of the waiters were old friends, and Peter enjoyed the attention they got, the little stir in the room as they walked in, the sideways looks from other diners who recognised them, the nods and waves from old acquaintances.
For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy Page 27