Just as she was about to start the car, a delivery van arrived outside Al’s house. As the driver got out carrying a parcel, she decided she might as well stay and watch. At least she’d have something to show for her morning’s work. She watched as the courier rang the bell and waited – and then, the door opened. There was someone in the house!
Damn! She hadn’t been prepared for that. She scrabbled for her binoculars, but the angle she was at made it impossible to see who was signing for the package before the delivery man handed it over. She wanted to growl in frustration as the door closed again and the courier went on his way.
Shit! She gave the steering wheel an angry thump. So she’d been right. Al was hiding something and he’d been lying to her. She’d never wanted so badly to be wrong. She picked up her bag and took out her book. She’d have to settle in for the long haul.
Stella stood on the beach at Killiney, watching the sun rise over the bay. She was going to miss this. She’d come so close, she thought, twisting the diamond ring on her finger. Maybe they could still ...
But no. She shut off the thought. Peter had been so kind and sympathetic since she’d come back from Galway and told him what had happened at her father’s funeral. He’d started talking about trips they would go on once his play was finished, and he’d invited Dan and Annie to come and stay whenever they liked. They’d been added to the wedding guest list and he was looking forward to meeting them. But she knew his heart wasn’t in it, and he was always a bit distant at the same time, as if his head – and his heart – were somewhere else. She suspected they were on a stage with Jane.
The past few days she’d felt he was pulling back a little, and a couple of times she’d thought he was gearing up to say something. She could feel him steeling himself to break it off with her, throwing her wary looks as he seemed on the verge of speaking. But then the moment would pass and still nothing was said. The wedding was getting closer, and if one of them didn’t put on the brakes soon ...
She didn’t know if Rafe had told him about her meltdown in Galway, but Peter had been treating her like she was made of glass lately. And as the days wore on, it became clear that he wasn’t going to do anything to stop this juggernaut hurtling to its natural conclusion. She sighed, turning towards the house. If one of them was going to say something, it was going to have to be her.
She found Peter in the kitchen, nursing a cup of green tea.
‘Good run?’ he asked.
‘Yes, great. It’s going to be another beautiful day.’ She sat down beside him at the kitchen table.
‘So what’s on the agenda today? No rehearsals, so I’m completely at your beck and call for wine choosing, flower arranging, menu planning. Whatever you want – I’m at your service! Well, maybe not flower arranging—’
Stella took a deep breath. ‘You don’t want to get married, do you, Peter?’ she said, breaking into his flow. ‘At least not to me.’ She didn’t want to sound accusatory, but somehow that was how it came out. Peter looked startled at first, then sagged in his chair – whether from relief that one of them had said it or defeat at being found out, she wasn’t sure. He shifted around in his seat, looking uncomfortable. He raised his mug to his mouth and put it down again without drinking. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He seemed totally at a loss.
‘You don’t want to get married either, do you?’ he said finally, a mixture of sadness and relief in his voice. It was sort of an answer.
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she said. She was immediately annoyed with herself. This was happening anyway. What was the point in making it harder for him?
Peter looked aghast. ‘You’d still go through with it? But why?’
‘Well, I’ve worked my arse off planning this wedding for one thing! It will be such a faff to call it all off.’ She tried to make light of it, determined to let him off the hook. She might as well be dignified about it.
Peter smiled. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. I suppose it’d be easier just to go through with it.’
‘Much easier. It was going to be such a beautiful wedding too. Plus think of all the presents that were coming our way.’
‘I did rather fancy that Ludmila Korol painting we had on our registry.’
‘And I really wanted the pink Smeg kettle. Couldn’t we at least wait until we get those?’
‘Sorry.’ He took her hand across the table. ‘I can’t.’
She wondered would he ever have said it. If she hadn’t called a halt, would he have gone through with it? ‘We could have had a good life together, Peter. I still believe that. I’m not saying this was a mistake.’
‘There’s just one little problem,’ he said. ‘We’re not in love.’
‘No. But then, we never were. It didn’t stop us before. It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t in love with someone else.’
He withdrew his hand and sat back in his chair. ‘I’m sorry, Stella. I never meant to hurt you.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘And hey, it’s not so bad – at least you didn’t break my heart.’
‘I was never unfaithful to you, you know,’ he said. ‘If that’s any consolation.’
It seemed strange to talk about infidelity when they’d never even slept together, but she was glad he hadn’t slept with Jane. It would have been disrespectful and uncaring, and she liked to think that Peter thought more of her than that, even if he didn’t love her. But it seemed odd that being in love didn’t count when it meant so much more than a casual hook-up with some random woman.
Peter took a deep breath, his eyes wary. ‘What about you and Rafe?’ he asked.
‘Me and Rafe?’ She looked at him in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought perhaps ... I mean, you seem to have become close.’
Surely he didn’t think that they’d been shagging in Galway?
‘You know, I may not want to marry you, but—’ His eyes darted away. ‘I’m very fond of you, and I would love you to be part of our family.’
Stella’s breath caught. Oh no, he did not just say that! She was glad he was looking down at his hands as he finished, so she had some time to disguise her shock. When he looked up again, she was smiling crookedly. ‘You want to adopt me?’
Peter laughed, but there was a sadness behind his eyes. ‘What will you do?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Start again, she supposed. But she had more now than when she’d first come here. ‘I’ll stay in Ireland, though,’ she said. ‘To be near Dan and Annie.’
‘Yes, good decision. Family is the most important thing.’
She may not be marrying Peter, but she had gained a family anyway. How strange ... ‘But first,’ she said, standing up, ‘we have to get busy dismantling this wedding. You said you’d be at my beck and call today.’
‘Yours to command.’
‘Well, get out the guest list and start making phone calls. I’ll get on to the registry office and florist, and as for the cake and catering ... do you know anyone who could use a second-hand party?’
44
It had been a couple of hours since the delivery man, and there had been no further movement in Al’s house. Lesley sighed. Unless she took the bull by the horns, she’d have to spend the whole day parked here, hoping whoever was in there would eventually show their face. Well, she had better things to do than sit here all day, she thought, getting out of the car.
She marched up to Al’s house and rang the bell. For a moment she thought whoever had been there earlier must have left somehow without her seeing them. Then she heard footsteps in the hall and the door was thrown open.
‘Oh! Lesley, hi!’
Lesley felt her jaw drop as Cassie gave her a friendly smile. She was wearing a baggy T-shirt and leggings, her feet bare, and she looked very much at home. ‘Hi!’ She attempted to smile back, but she was sure it came out as more of a pained grimace.
‘Were you looking for Al? He’s gone to work.’
‘Yes, I know. I
’m well aware of Al’s movements, thank you.’ The lying, cheating wanker! ‘I just—I can’t find my phone charger and I think I may have left it in the kitchen.’
‘Well, come in, come in,’ Cassie said, opening the door wider and stepping back. ‘Let’s have a look.’
She padded ahead of Lesley down the wood-floored hall and led her down a couple of steps into an open-plan kitchen/living room. Well, it was big – he hadn’t lied about that. But there was feck all work being done on it.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ Cassie asked. ‘I was just going to make one.’
‘Oh, no thanks. I’m not staying.’ Lesley moved around the kitchen, running a hand over the worktops as she pretended to look for her charger. It was a gorgeous kitchen, with purple high-gloss units and a big island in the middle. She could just imagine Cassie and Al tossing back glasses of crisp sauvignon blanc as they lovingly prepared meals here together, which they’d then eat at the table in the atrium at the far end of the room, being all English and long-legged together, talking about scons and not pronouncing ‘sixth’ properly. Why had she never been in Al’s kitchen, she thought miserably. Well, no mystery there. You didn’t need to be Poirot to figure that one out.
‘No sign of it,’ she said brightly to Cassie.
‘Oh.’ Cassie gave her a sympathetic pout. ‘Well, I hope you find it. I’ll ask Al if he’s seen it when he gets home, shall I?’
When he gets home. Lesley wanted to howl at the casual domesticity of it. ‘Are you ... here on holiday, then?’ she asked.
‘No, I moved back to Dublin this week,’ she said, spooning coffee into the machine. She gave Lesley a curious look. ‘Didn’t Al tell you?’
So he’d taken her back. ‘No, he must have forgotten to mention it.’ Maybe he could never find the right moment since they spent most of their time shagging. It wouldn’t be very polite to tell someone they were dumped when they were sliding up and down on your dick – and Al was nothing if not polite.
‘Yah, I got offered a job here – a really good one. It was great timing because things weren’t working out with Jean-Claude. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a coffee? I’m gasping.’
‘No, thank you. It’d choke me.’
‘Okay,’ Cassie said with a puzzled frown. She switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the worktop, folding her arms. ‘So I decided to move back. And lucky for me, Al was kind enough to take me in.’
‘Huh! So you got everything you wanted. Well, bully for you!’
Cassie gave Lesley a bemused smile. ‘Um ... thanks.’
‘Right, I’ll go then,’ Lesley said. Her voice came out shrill, and she didn’t think she’d be able to hold it together much longer. She was furious and hurt, and furious for letting herself get hurt. Cassie wasn’t helping, being all chummy and welcoming, like there was nothing wrong. She obviously thought Lesley already knew she’d been dumped and there were no hard feelings. It was Cassie’s turn to ‘have a go on’ Al again, but they could still all be in a lovely incestuous friendship group together. Well, feck that!
‘I’ll tell Al you called,’ Cassie said, accompanying her to the door. ‘We must get together again properly soon, all three of us.’
‘Yes, let’s do that,’ Lesley said stiffly as Cassie opened the door. ‘Maybe when hell freezes over! How would that suit you?’
Cassie laughed. ‘You’re so funny, Lesley. Bye! See you again soon.’
The floodgates opened as she was walking down the path. She swiped impatiently at her eyes. She hated this and hated bloody Al for doing it to her. She was a complete mess as she drove home, barely able to see where she was going through the blur of tears. She wished she could go over to Romy’s for wine and sympathy, but she was on holidays in Malta for the week. Instead she went home, curled up on the sofa and balled her eyes out while she waited for it to be a decent time to start drinking.
She couldn’t remember ever being this upset about a man before. She certainly hadn’t felt like this when Rob broke up with her. It wasn’t fair, she thought as she howled. She’d really liked Al. He’d got under her skin with his Mr Nice Guy act, his open, affectionate manner and the brilliant sex. He’d made her think he was so into her too. And all the time he’d been having his cake and eating Cassie out too.
On the dot of six o’clock, she opened a bottle of wine and started drinking. Shortly afterwards, Al started ringing. She ignored the first three calls, but the fourth time, she decided to get it over with and picked up.
‘Lesley, I—’
‘I have nothing to say to you, Al.’ Her tongue felt like it didn’t quite fit her mouth, and her voice sounded a little slurry. ‘Kindly stop calling me.’
‘Are you okay? You sound awful.’
‘I have a cold.’ She did a big sniff to illustrate.
‘Oh. Well, look, Cassie said you’d called round and you were acting very oddly.’
‘Oh!’ Lesley said haughtily. ‘Well, I’m very sorry if your girlfriend didn’t care for my manner.’
‘Ex-girlfriend. Anyway, she said you were looking for some charger you thought you’d left in my house.’
‘Correct.’
‘But you’ve never been in my house.’
‘And now we know why. I knew you were hiding something, Al.’
‘It’s not what you think. Just let me explain—’
‘Nothing to explain. You lied to me.’
‘No, I didn’t. I never said—’
‘You told me you were having your kitchen done up.’
‘Oh! Yes, okay, I suppose I did lie about that, but—’
‘Your kitchen is beautiful, Al.’
‘Um, thank you.’
‘Pristine. Not a hair out of place. Those purple cabinets ...’ she gave a strangled sob.
‘But listen, the only reason I lied to you was because—’
‘Look, I get it. Obviously it’s over with us and you’re with Cassie now—’
‘But I’m not! Would you just let me speak for a second!’ Al was starting to shout.
‘But you didn’t have to lie to me about it. You were only pretending to be my boyfriend anyway. It wasn’t real.’
‘That’s not true and you know—’
‘We can break up now that the investigation’s over. But you could have had the decency to tell me.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Al growled. ‘Would you just listen to me for one—’
‘I think I’ve listened long enough.’
‘You haven’t listened at all, you daft—’
‘I think I should hang up now before you resort to name-calling,’ she said with great dignity. ‘No hard feelings. I was only having a go on you to pass the time while we were in France—’
Al gasped. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say!’ He sounded genuinely hurt, and Lesley felt a stab of guilt. Then she remembered Cassie standing in his beautiful kitchen making coffee in her bare feet ...
‘Why did you never let me into your kitchen, Al?’ she wailed.
‘What? Sorry, is that a metaphor for something? Are you drunk?’
‘Never you mind. And no, it’s not a metaphor! You literally never let me into your kitchen. Or any other room in your house.’
Al sighed. ‘Look, Lesley, can I just come round? If you’d let me explain—’
‘No. It’s over between us, Al. You’re moving on and so am I. You have Cassie—’
‘But I don’t,’ he yelled.
‘And I’m going back to Dinner Dates next week to find myself a real boyfriend. For free!’
Al’s only response was a growl of frustration before she hung up and went back to sobbing.
45
‘Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday,’ Lesley said the next morning when she called over to Stella’s for coffee. ‘I wasn’t really answering my phone.’ She had woken this morning to a couple of missed calls and a voice message from Stella. ‘So the wedding’s off?’
‘Yes.’ Stella was giving
nothing away, poised and self-possessed as ever. It was a stark contrast to what had faced her when she’d looked in the bathroom mirror last night – and again this morning. If only she could look that fresh and pristine when she was heartbroken. But then maybe Stella wasn’t devastated like she was.
At least this meant her bridesmaid gig was off and she wouldn’t have to see Al again – and Stella’s secrets were none of the Bradshaws’ business anymore. There was no need for them to ever know what she’d found out. She regretted even having told Al. She liked Stella, and she felt protective towards her now, knowing what she did.
‘Who called it off?’ she asked, deciding to try the direct approach.
Stella shrugged. ‘I suppose I did technically. But it was mutual really. We both knew it was the right thing. It’s for the best.’
Lesley sighed. ‘Must be something in the air with the Bradshaw men.’
‘What do you mean?’ Stella asked aghast. ‘You’re not telling me you’ve broken up with Al?’
Lesley chugged down half a glass of sparkling water in one before answering. She was alternating between strong black coffee and gallons of fizzy water to try and beat her hangover into submission. ‘Yep,’ she nodded, putting her glass down. ‘He’s back with Cassie.’
‘Really? Are you sure?’
Lesley nodded. ‘She’s moved in with him.’
‘I don’t believe it! Al’s crazy about you. It’s so obvious.’
Huh! Maybe Al had the acting gene after all. ‘I was at his house. I saw it with my own eyes. She’s living there.’
Stella frowned. ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I mean, Rafe and I both live in this house, but we’re not together.’
For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy Page 31