The Wedding Girl Read online

  `That's all it was,' echoed Simon in a strange voice. `So, what, did this guy pay you?'

  `No!' said Milly. `I just did it as a favour!'

  `You got married . . . as a favour?' said Simon incredulously. Milly stared at him in alarm. Somehow this was coming out all wrong.

  `It meant nothing,' she said. `It was ten years ago! I was a child. I know I should have told you about it before. I know I should. But I just . . .' She broke off and looked at him desperately. `Simon, say something!'

  `What am I supposed to say?' said Simon. `Congratulations?' Milly winced.

  `No! just -I don't know. Tell me what you're thinking.'

  `I don't know what to think,' said Simon. `I don't even know where to start. I can't believe it. You tell me you're married to some other guy. What am I supposed to think?' His glance fell on her left hand; on the finger wearing his engagement ring, and she flushed.

  `It didn't mean anything,' she said. `You have to believe that.'

  `It doesn't matter what it meant! You're still married, aren't you?' Simon suddenly leapt up and stalked away to the window. `Christ, Milly!' he exclaimed, his voice shaking slightly. `Why didn't you tell me?'

  `I don't know. I didn't . . .' She swallowed. `I didn't want to spoil everything.'

  `You didn't want to spoil everything,' echoed Simon. `So you leave it until two days before our wedding to tell me you're married.'

  `I thought it wouldn't matter! I thought-'

  `You thought you wouldn't bother to tell me at all?' He turned round and gazed at her in sudden comprehension. `You were never going to tell me! Am I right?'

  `I didn't '

  `You were going to keep it a secret from me!' His voice rose. `From your own husband!'

  `No! I was intending to tell you!'

  `When? On our wedding night? When our first child was born? On our golden anniversary?'

  Milly opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She felt a hot fear creeping over her. She had never seen Simon angry like this before. She didn't know how to defuse him; which way to move.

  `So, what other little secrets are you keeping from me? Any hidden children? Secret lovers?'

  `No.'

  `And how am I supposed to believe that?' His voice lashed across the room, and Milly flinched. `How am I supposed to believe anything you say any more?'

  `I don't know,' said Milly hopelessly. `I don't know. You just have to trust me.'

  `Trust you!'

  `I know I should have told you,' she said desperately. `I know that! But the fact that I didn't doesn't mean I'm keeping anything else secret from you. Simon '

  `It's not just that,' said Simon, cutting across her. `It's not just the fact you kept it secret.' Milly's heart began to thump nervously.

  `What is it, then?'

  Simon sank into a chair and rubbed his face.

  `Milly you've already made the wedding vows to someone else. You've already promised to love someone else. Cherish someone else. Do you know what that feels like for me?'

  `But I didn't mean a word of it! Not a word!'

  `Exactly.' His voice chilled her. `I thought you took those vows as seriously as I did.'

  `I did,' said Milly in horror. `I do.'

  `How can you? You've spoiled them! You've tainted them.'

  `Simon, don't look at me like that,' whispered Milly. `I'm not evil! I made a mistake, but I'm still me. Nothing's changed!'

  `Everything's changed,' said Simon flatly. There was a heavy silence. `To be honest, I feel as if I don't know you any more.'

  `Well, I feel as if I don't know you any more!' cried Milly in a sudden anguished burst. `I don't know you any more! Simon, I know I've messed the wedding up. I know I've fucked things up completely. But you don't have to be so sanctimonious. You don't have to look at me as if I'm beneath contempt. I'm not a criminal!' She gulped. `Well, maybe I am, technically. But only because I made a mistake. I made one mistake! And if you loved me, you'd forgive me!' She began to shake with sobs. `If you really loved me, you would forgive me!'

  `And if you really loved me,' shouted Simon, suddenly looking distraught, `you would have told me you were married! You can say what you like, Milly, but if you'd really loved me, you would have told me!'

  Milly stared at him, suddenly feeling unsure of herself.

  `Not necessarily,' she faltered.

  `Well, we must have different definitions of love,' said Simon. `Perhaps we've been at cross purposes all along.' He stood up and reached for his coat. Milly stared at him, feeling a horrified disbelief creep over her.

  `Are you saying' she fought a desire to retch `are you saying you don't want to marry me any more?'

  `As I recall,' said Simon stiffly, `you've already got a husband. So the question's academic really, isn't it?' He paused at the door. `I hope the two of you will be very happy.'

  `Bastard!' screamed Milly. Tears blurred her eyes as she tugged feverishly at her engagement ring. By the time she managed to throw it at him, the door was closed and he was gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  to find the house quiet. The lights in the hall were dim; there was no one in the drawing room. She pushed open the kitchen door and saw Olivia sitting at the table in the half -light. A bottle of wine was in front of her, nearly empty; music was playing quietly in the corner. As Olivia heard the sound of the door she looked up with a pale, puffy face.

  `Well,' she said flatly. `It's all over.'

  `What do you mean?' said Isobel suspiciously.

  `I mean,' said Olivia, `that the engagement between Milly and Simon is off.'

  `What?' said Isobel. She blinked at her mother, aghast. `Do you mean off completely? Why?'

  `They had some sort of row and Simon called the whole thing off.' Olivia took a slug of wine.

  `What about? Her first marriage?'

  `I imagine so,' said Olivia. `She wouldn't say.'

  `Where is she?'

  `She's gone to Esme's for the night. She said she had to get away from this house. From all of us.'

  `I don't blame her,' said Isobel. She sat heavily down on a chair, her coat still on. `God, poor Milly. I can't believe it! What exactly did Simon say?'

  `Milly didn't tell me. She doesn't tell me anything these days.' Olivia took a deep swig of wine. `Obviously, I'm no longer considered worthy of her confidence.'

  Isobel rolled her eyes.

  `Mummy, don't start.'

  `For ten years she was married to that-that illegal immigrant! Ten years without telling me!'

  `She couldn't tell you. How on earth could she tell you?'

  `And then, when she was in trouble, she went to Esme.' Olivia raised bloodshot eyes to Isobel. `To Esme Ormerod!'

  `She always goes to Esme,' said Isobel.

  `I know she does. She goes running off to that house and comes back thinking she's the Queen of Sheba!'

  'Mummy-'

  `And then she went to you.' Olivia's voice grew higher. `Didn't it ever occur to her to come to me? Her own mother?'

  `She couldn't!' exclaimed Isobel. `She knew how you would react. And, frankly, she didn't need that. She needed calm, rational advice.'

  `I'm incapable of being rational, am I?'

  `When it comes to this wedding,' said Isobel, `then yes. Yes, you are!'

  `Well, there isn't going to be a wedding now,' said Olivia jerkily. `There isn't going to be a wedding. So perhaps you'll all start to trust me again. Perhaps you'll start to treat me like a human being.'

  `Oh, Mummy, stop feeling sorry for yourself!' shouted Isobel, suddenly exasperated. `This wasn't your wedding. It was Milly's wedding!'

  `I know that!' said Olivia indignantly.

  `You don't,' said Isobel. `You're not really thinking about Milly and Simon. You're not thinking about how they must be feeling. You don't even really care if they stay together or not. All you're thinking about is the wedding. The flowers that will have to be cancelled, and your lovely smart outfit that no one will see, and how you w
on't get to dance with Harry Pinnacle! Beyond that, you couldn't give a damn!'

  `How dare you!' exclaimed Olivia, and two bright spots appeared on her cheeks.

  `It's true though, isn't it? No wonder Daddy-'

  `No wonder Daddy what?' snapped Olivia.

  `Nothing,' said Isobel, aware she had stepped over a boundary. `I just . . . I can see his point of view. That's all.'

  There was a long silence. Isobel blinked a few times in the dim kitchen light. She suddenly felt drained, too tired for argument; too tired even to stand up.

  `Right,' she said with an effort. `Well, I think I'll go to bed.'

  `Wait,' said Olivia, looking up. `You haven't eaten anything.'

  `It's all right,' said Isobel. `I'm not hungry.'

  `That's not the point,' said Olivia. `You need to eat.'

  Isobel gave a noncommittal shrug.

  `You need to eat,' repeated Olivia. She met Isobel's eyes. `In your condition.'

  `Mummy not now,' said Isobel wearily.

  `We don't have to talk about it,' said Olivia in a voice tinged with hurt. `You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. You can keep all the secrets you like.' Isobel looked away uncomfortably. `Just let me make you some nice scrambled eggs.'

  There was a pause.

  'OK,' said Isobel at last. `That would be nice.'

  `And I'll pour you a nice glass of wine.'

  `I can't,' said Isobel, taken unawares.

  `Why not?'

  Isobel was silent, trying to sort out the contrary strands of thought in her brain. She couldn't drink, just in case she decided to keep the baby. What kind of a twisted logic was that?

  `All that phooey!' Olivia was saying. `I was on three gins a day when I had you. And you turned out all right, didn't you? More or less?'

  A reluctant smile spread over Isobel's face.

  'OK,' she said. `I could do with a drink.'

  `So could I,' said Olivia. `Let's open another bottle.' She closed her eyes. `I've never known such a dreadful night.'

  `Tell me about it.' Isobel sat down at the table. `I hope Milly's OK.'

  `I'm sure Esme will look after her,' said Olivia, and a touch of bitterness edged her voice.

  Milly sat in Esme's drawing room, nestling a hot, creamy drink made from Belgian chocolate flakes and a splash of Cointreau. Esme had persuaded her to take a long, hot bath, scented with mysterious potions in unmarked bottles, then lent her a white waffle-weave bathrobe and some snug slippers. Now she was brushing Milly's hair with an old-fashioned bristle hairbrush. Milly stared ahead into the crackling fire, feeling the pull of the brush on her scalp, the heat of the fire on her face, the smoothness of her clean skin inside her robe. She'd arrived at Esme's an hour or so ago; had burst into tears as soon as the door was opened and again in her bath. But now she felt strangely calm. She took another sip of the hot, creamy chocolate and closed her eyes.

  `Feeling better?' said Esme in a low voice.

  `Yes. A lot better.'

  `Good.'

  There was a pause. One of the whippets rose from its place by the fire, came over to Milly and nestled its head in her lap.

  `You were right,' said Milly, stroking the whippet's head. `You were right. I don't know Simon. He doesn't know me.' Her voice trembled slightly. `The whole thing's hopeless.'

  Esme said nothing, but continued brushing.

  `I know I'm to blame for all of this,' said Milly. `I know that. It's me that got married, it's me that messed up. But he behaved as though I'd done it all on purpose. He didn't even try to see it from my point of view.'

  `Such a masculine trait,' said Esme. `Women twist themselves into loops to accommodate the views of others. Men turn their heads once, then look back and carry on as before.'

  `Simon didn't even turn his head,' gulped Milly miserably. `He didn't even listen.'

  `Typical,' said Esme. `Just another intractable man.'

  `I feel so stupid,' said Milly. `So bloody stupid.' A fresh stream of tears suddenly began to spill over onto her face. `How could I have wanted to marry him? He said I'd tainted the wedding vows. He said he couldn't believe anything I said any more. He looked at me as if I was some kind of monster!'

  `I know,' said Esme soothingly.

  `All this time we've been together,' said Milly, wiping her eyes, `we haven't really got to know each other, have we? Simon doesn't know me at all! And how can you marry someone if you don't know them? How can you? We should never even have got engaged. All along, it's just been-' She suddenly broke off, with a new thought. `Do you remember when he asked me to marry him? He had it all planned, the way he wanted it. He led me to this bench in his father's garden, and he had a diamond ring all ready in his pocket, and he'd even put a bloody bottle of champagne in the tree stump!'

  'Darling-'

  `But none of that was to do with me, was it? It was all to do with him. He wasn't thinking about me, even then.'

  `Just like his father,' said Esme, with a sudden edge to her voice. Milly turned slightly in surprise.

  `Do you know Harry, then?'

  `I used to,' said Esme, brushing more briskly. `Not any more.'

  `I always thought Harry was quite nice,' gulped Milly. `But then, what the hell do I know? I was completely wrong about Simon, wasn't I?' Her shoulders began to shake with sobs, and Esme stopped brushing.

  `Darling, why don't you go to bed,' she suggested. She gathered Milly's hair into a blond tassle and let it fall. `You're overwrought, you're tired, you need a good night's sleep. Remember, you were up early; you've been to London and back. It's been quite a day.'

  `I won't be able to sleep.' Milly looked up at Esme with tearstained cheeks, like a child.

  `You will,' replied Esme calmly. `I put a little something into your drink. It should kick in soon.'

  `Oh,' said Milly, in surprise. She stared into her mug for a moment, then drained it. `Do you give drugs to all your guests?'

  `Only the very special ones,' said Esme, and gave Milly a serene smile.

  As she finished the last of her scrambled eggs, Isobel sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  `That was delicious. Thank you.' There was no response. She looked up. Olivia was drooping forward over her wine glass, her eyes closed. `Mummy?'

  Olivia's eyes flicked open.

  `You've finished,' she said in a dazed voice. `Would you like some more?'

  `No thanks,' said Isobel. `Look, Mummy, why don't you go to bed? We'll have a lot to do in the morning.'

  For a moment, Olivia stared at her blankly; then, as though suddenly jolted, she nodded.

  `Yes,' she said. `You're right.' She sighed. `You know, just for a moment, I'd forgotten.'

  `Go to bed,' repeated Isobel. 'I'll clear up.'

  `But you-'

  `I'm fine,' said Isobel firmly. `And anyway, I want to make a cup of tea. Go on.'

  `Well, goodnight then,' said Olivia.

  `Goodnight.'

  Isobel watched as her mother left the room, then got up and filled the kettle. She was leaning against the sink, looking out into the dark, silent street, when suddenly there was the sound of a key in the lock.

  `Milly?' she said. `Is that you?'

  A moment later, the kitchen door opened and a strange young man came in. He was wearing a denim jacket and carrying a large bag and looked scruffier than most of the bed and breakfasters. Isobel stared at him curiously for an instant. Then, with a sudden start, she realized who he must be. A hot, molten fury began to rise inside her. So this was him. This was Alexander. The cause of it all.

  `Well, hello,' he said, dumping his bag on the floor and grinning insouciantly. `You must be multilingual, multitalented Isobel.'

  `I don't know how you dare come back in here,' said Isobel softly, trying to control her voice. `I don't know how you have the nerve.'

  `I'm brave like that.' Alexander came close to her. `They didn't tell me you were beautiful, too.'

  `Get away from me,' spat Isobel.
/>   `That's not very friendly.'

  `Friendly! You expect me to be friendly? After everything you've done to my sister?' Alexander looked up and grinned.

  `So you know her little secret, do you?'

  `The whole world knows her little secret, thanks to you!'

  `What do you mean?' said Alexander innocently. `Has something happened?'

  `Let me think,' said Isobel sarcastically. `Has something happened? Oh yes. The wedding's been cancelled. But I expect you already knew that.'

  Alexander stared at her.

  `You're joking.'

  `Of course I'm not bloody joking!' cried Isobel. `The wedding's off. So congratulations, Alexander, you've achieved your aim. You've fucked up Milly's life completely. Not to mention the rest of us.'

  `Jesus Christ!' Alexander ran a shaking hand through his hair. `Look, I never meant '

  `No?' said Isobel furiously. `No? Well, you should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth. I mean, what did you think would happen?'

  `Not this! Not this, for Christ's sake! Why the hell did she call off the wedding?'

  `She didn't,' said Isobel. `Simon did.'

  `What?' Alexander looked at her. `Why?'

  `I think that's their business, don't you?' said Isobel in a harsh voice. `Let's just say that if no one had said anything about her first marriage, everything would still be OK. If you'd just kept quiet . . .' She broke off. `Oh, what's the point? You're a fucking psychopath.'

  `I'm not!' said Alexander. `Jesus! I never wanted anyone to cancel any wedding. I just wanted to '

  `To what? What did you want?'

  `Nothing!' said Alexander. `I was just . . . stirring things a little.'

  `God, you're pathetic!' said Isobel, staring at him. `You're just a pathetic, inadequate bully!' She looked at his bag. `You needn't think you're staying here tonight.'

  `But my room's booked!'

  `And now it's bloody well unbooked,' said Isobel, kicking his bag towards the door. `Do you know what you've done to my family? My mother's in shock, my sister's in tears ...'