The Wedding Girl Read online

  `Isobel, what's going on? What did Esme mean, you've got a penchant for money?'

  Isobel said nothing, but changed gear with a crunch. She signalled to turn left and turned the windscreen wipers on by mistake.

  `Damn,' she said. `This bloody car.'

  `There's something you're not telling me, Isobel,' said Milly. `You're hiding something.'

  `I'm not,' said Isobel.

  `What were you doing at Pinnacle Hall?' Milly's voice suddenly sharpened. `Who were you seeing?'

  `No one.'

  `Don't play games with me! Have you and Simon been seeing each other behind my back?'

  `No!' said Isobel, laughing. `Don't be ridiculous.'

  `How do I know? If my godmother can betray me, then why can't my own sister?'

  Isobel glanced at Milly. Her face was white and tense and her hands were tightly gripping the seat.

  `For God's sake, Milly,' she said quickly. `We're not all Esme Ormerod! Of course I haven't been seeing Simon.'

  `Well, what is it, then?' Milly's voice rose higher. `Isobel, tell me what's going on!'

  'OK!' Isobel said. 'OK. I'll tell you. I was going to break it to you gently but since you're so bloody suspicious ...' She glanced at Milly and took a deep breath. `It's Harry.'

  `What's Harry?' said Milly.

  `Who I was seeing. He's . . .' Isobel swallowed. `The father.' She glanced at Milly's face, still blank and uncomprehending. `Of my child, Milly! He's . . . he's the one I've been seeing.)

  `What?' Milly's voice ripped through the car like the cry of a bird. `You've been seeing Harry Pinnacle?'

  'Yes.'

  `He's the father of your child?'

  `Yes.'

  `You've been having an affair with Simon's dad?' Milly's voice was becoming higher and higher.

  `Yes!' said Isobel defensively. 'But--' She stopped at the sound of Milly bursting into sobs. `Milly, what's wrong?' She shot a quick look at Milly, who was doubled over in her seat, clasping her face in her hands. Tears suddenly sprang to her own eyes, blurring her view of the road. `Milly, I'm really sorry,' she said. `I know this is a terrible time to tell you. Oh Milly, don't cry!'

  `I'm not crying,' managed Milly. `I'm not crying!'

  `What do you-'

  `I'm laughing!' Milly gasped for breath, looked at Isobel, then erupted into hysterical giggles again. `You and Harry! But he's so old!'

  `He's not old!' said Isobel.

  `He is! He's ancient! He's got grey hair!'

  `Well I don't care. I love him. And I'm going to have his baby!'

  Milly raised her head and looked at Isobel. She was staring ahead defiantly but her lips were trembling and tears had spilled onto her cheeks.

  `Oh Isobel, I'm sorry!' Milly said in distress. `I didn't mean it! He's not old really.' She paused. `I'm sure you'll make a lovely couple.'

  `Of fogies,' said Isobel, signalling to turn right.

  `Don't!' said Milly. A tiny giggle erupted from her and she clamped her mouth shut. `I can't believe it. My sister, having a secret affair with Harry Pinnacle. I knew you were up to something. But I never would have guessed in a million years.' She looked up. `Does anyone else know?'

  `Simon.'

  `You told Simon before me?' said Milly, hurt. Isobel rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

  `Milly, you sound just like Mummy!' she said. `And no, I didn't. He came across us.'

  `What, in bed?'

  `No, not in bed!'

  Milly giggled.

  `Well, I don't know, do I? You might have been.' She glanced at Isobel's profile. `You're very good at keeping secrets, you know.'

  `Speak for yourself!' said Isobel.

  `Yes, I suppose so,' said Milly, after a pause. `I suppose so. But you know ...' She stretched out her legs and put her feet up on the dashboard. `I never thought of my marriage to Allan as a secret, exactly.'

  `What was it, then?'

  `I don't know,' said Milly vaguely. She thought for a moment. `A secret is something which you have to keep hidden. But that was more like ... something in a different world. Something which never really existed in this world.' She gazed out of the window, watching as the inky black hedgerow sped by. `I still think of it a bit like that. If no one had found out about it, it wouldn't have existed.'

  `You're mad,' said Isobel, signalling left.

  `I'm not!' Milly pointed her feet, encased in pink suede, against the glass. `Do you like my new shoes, by the way?'

  `Very nice.'

  `Twenty quid. Simon would hate them.' A tiny satisfaction entered her voice. `I thought I might cut my hair, too.'

  `Good idea,' said Isobel absently.

  `Bleach it. And get a nose-ring.' She met Isobel's horrified eye and grinned. `Or something.'

  As they approached Pinnacle Hall, Milly's eyes suddenly focused on her surroundings, and she stiffened.

  `Isobel, what's going on?' she said.

  `We're going to Pinnacle Hall,' said Isobel.

  `I can see that,' said Milly. `But why?'

  Isobel didn't reply for a while.

  `I think we should wait until we get there,' she said at last.

  `I don't want to see Simon,' said Milly, `if that's your idea. If you've set up some meeting, you can forget it. I'm not going to see him.'

  `You know, he came to apologize to you this afternoon,' said Isobel. `He brought you flowers. But Esme wouldn't let him in.' She turned towards Milly. `Now do you want to see him?'

  `No,' said Milly after a pause. `It's too late. He can't undo the things he said.'

  `I think he's genuinely sorry,' said Isobel, as they approached the gates of Pinnacle Hall, `for what that's worth.'

  `I don't care,' said Milly. As the car crackled on the drive, she shrank down in her seat. `I don't mind seeing Harry,' she said. `But not Simon. I'm just not going to see him.'

  `Fine,' said Isobel calmly. `It's not him I've brought you to see, anyway. There's someone else who's come to see you.' She switched off the engine and looked at Milly. `Brace yourself for a shock,' she added.

  `What?' But Isobel was already out of the car and walking towards the house. Hesitantly, Milly got out and began to follow her, crunching on the gravel. Automatically her eyes rose to Simon's bedroom window, in the far left corner of the house. The curtains were drawn but she could see a chink of light. Perhaps he was behind the curtains, watching her. A dart of apprehension went through her and she began to walk more quickly, wondering what Isobel had been talking about. As she neared the front door, it suddenly opened and a tall figure appeared in the shadows.

  `Simon!' said Milly, without thinking.

  `No.' Rupert's subdued voice travelled easily through the evening air; as he moved forward his blond hair was visible under the light. `Milly, it's me.' Milly stopped in astonishment.

  `Rupert?' she said incredulously. `What are you doing here? You were in London.'

  `I came down by train,' said Rupert. `I had to see you. There was no one at your house, so I came here.'

  `I suppose you've heard, then,' said Milly, shifting her feet on the gravel. `It all came out. The wedding's off.'

  `I know. That's why I'm here.' He rubbed his face, then looked up. `Milly, I tracked down Allan for you.'

  `You've found him? Already?' Milly's voice rose in excitement. `Where is he? Is he here?'

  `No,' said Rupert. He walked slowly towards her across the gravel and took her hands. `Milly, I've got some bad news. Allan's . . . Allan's dead. He died four years ago.'

  Milly stared at him in stunned silence, feeling as though a bucket of icy cold water had hit her in the face. Allan dead. The idea circled her mind like some sort of foreign body, impossible to digest. It couldn't be true. Allan couldn't be dead. People his age didn't die. It was ludicrous.

  As she gazed at Rupert, a sudden desire rose within her to giggle; to turn this into the joke it must surely be. But Rupert wasn't smiling or laughing. He was gazing at her with a strange desperation, as though waiting for a rea
ction; an answer. Milly blinked a few times, and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry like sandpaper.

  `What . . . how?' she managed. Visions of car crashes ran through her mind. Aeroplane disasters; mangled wreckage on the television.

  `Leukaemia,' said Rupert.

  A fresh jolt hit Milly and the base of her spine began to tingle unpleasantly.

  `He was ill?' she said, and licked her dry lips. `All that time, he was ill?'

  `Not while we knew him,' said Rupert. `It was afterwards.'

  `Did he . . . suffer much?'

  `Apparently not,' said Rupert, a low, suppressed anguish in his voice. `But I don't know. I wasn't there.'

  Milly gazed at him for a few silent seconds.

  `It's all wrong,' she said eventually. `He shouldn't . . .' Something was constricting her throat. `He shouldn't have died.' She shook her head violently. `Allan didn't deserve to die.'

  `No,' said Rupert in a trembling voice. `He didn't.'

  She stared at him for a moment and a thousand shared memories seemed to pass between them. Then, in a moment of pure instinct, she reached out her arms. Rupert half fell against her, stumbling on the gravel, and buried his head in her shoulder. Milly held on tightly to him and looked up at the inky sky, tears blurring her view of the stars. And as a cloud passed over the moon it occurred to her for the first time that she was a widow.

  As Isobel entered the kitchen, Simon looked up warily from his seat at the huge refectory table. He was cradling a glass of wine and in front of him was the Financial Times, open hut-Isobel suspected unread.

  `Hi,' he said.

  `Hi,' said Isobel. She sat down opposite him and reached for the wine bottle. For a while there was silence. Isobel looked curiously at Simon. He was staring down, avoiding her eye, as though experiencing some kind of internal struggle.

  `So,' he said at last. `I gather you're pregnant. Congratulations.'

  `Thanks,' said Isobel. She gave him a little smile. `I'm really happy about it.'

  `Good,' said Simon. `That's great.' He reached for his glass of wine and took a deep swig.

  `It'll be your half-brother,' added Isobel. `Or sister.'

  `I know,' said Simon shortly. Isobel looked at him sympathetically.

  `Are you finding this difficult to deal with?'

  `Well, to be honest, just a tad!' said Simon, putting down his glass. `One minute you're going to be my sister-in-law. The next minute you're not going to be my sister-in-law. Then all of a sudden, you're going to be my stepmother, and you're having a baby!'

  `I know,' said Isobel. `It is all a bit sudden. I'm sorry. Truly.' She took a thoughtful sip of wine. `What do you want to call me, by the way? "Stepmother" seems a bit of a mouthful. How about "Mum"?'

  `Very funny,' said Simon irritably. He took a swig of wine, picked up the newspaper and put it down again. `Where the hell's Milly? They're taking a long time, aren't they?'

  `Oh come on,' said Isobel. `Give the girl a chance. She's just found out that her husband's dead.'

  `I know,' said Simon, `I know. But even so . . .' He stood up and walked to the window, then turned round. `So-what do you think of this Rupert, then?'

  `I don't know,' said Isobel. `I have to say, I was expecting a complete bastard. But this guy just seems . . .' She thought for a moment. `Very sad. He just seems very sad.'

  `The truth is,' said Rupert, `I should never have married her.' He was leaning forward, his head resting wearily on his knuckles. Next to him, Milly wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees. They were sitting on a low wall behind the office wing; above them, like a second moon, was the old stable clock. `I knew what I was. I knew I was living a lie. But, you know, I thought I could do it.' He looked up miserably. `I really thought I could do it!'

  `Do what?' said Milly.

  `Be a good husband! Be a normal, decent husband. Do all the things everybody else does. Have dinner parties and go to church and watch our children in a nativity play . . .' He broke off, staring into the darkness. `We were trying for a baby, you know. Francesca was pregnant last year. It would have been due in March. But she lost it. Now everyone will be thanking God that she had that miscarriage, won't they?'

  `No,' said Milly uncertainly.

  `Of course they will. They'll be calling it a blessing.' He looked up with bloodshot blue eyes. `Maybe I'm being selfish. But I wanted that baby. I desperately wanted that baby. And I-' He faltered slightly. `I would have been a good father to it.'

  `It would have been lucky to have you,' said Milly stoutly.

  `That's sweet,' said Rupert, a faint smile coming to his face. `Thanks.'

  `But a baby isn't glue, is it?' said Milly. `A baby doesn't keep a marriage together.'

  `No,' said Rupert. `It doesn't.' He thought for a moment. `The odd thing is, I don't think we ever had a marriage. Not what I would call a marriage. We were like two trains, running side by side, barely aware of each other's existence. We never argued; we never clashed. To be honest, we hardly knew each other. It was all very civil and pleasant but it wasn't real.'

  `Were you happy?'

  `I don't know,' said Rupert. `I pretended to be. Some of the time I even fooled myself.'

  There was silence. Somewhere in the distance a fox barked. Rupert sighed and stretched out his legs in front of him.

  `Shall we go in?' he said.

  'OK,' said Milly vaguely. Rupert looked at her curiously for a while.

  `How about you?' he said at last.

  `What about me?'

  `You know Allan's death changes everything.'

  `I know,' said Milly. She examined her hands intently for a moment, then stood up. `Come on. I'm getting cold.'

  At the sound of the front door opening, Simon stood up, as abruptly as though a small electric current had been passed through his body. He smoothed back his hair and began to make awkwardly for the kitchen door, checking his appearance as he passed the uncurtained window. Isobel looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  `She probably won't want to talk to you,' she said. `You really hurt her, you know.'

  `I know,' said Simon, halting at the door. `I know. But ...' He reached for the door knob, hesitated for a few seconds, then pushed the door open.

  `Good luck,' called Isobel after him.

  Milly was standing just inside the front door, her hands deep in her pockets. At the sound of Simon's tread, she looked up. Simon stopped, and stared at her. She seemed suddenly different; as though the events of the last two days had remoulded her face, her entire person.

  `Milly,' he said shakily. She gave a faint acknowledgement. `Milly, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of the things I said.' His words came tumbling out like apples from a tree. `I had no right to speak to you like that. I had no right to say those things.'

  `No,' said Milly in a low voice. `You didn't.'

  `I was hurt, and I was shocked. And I lashed out without thinking. But if you give me another chance, I'll ... I'll make it up to you.' Simon's eyes suddenly shone with tears. `Milly, I don't care if you've been married before. I don't care if you've got six children. I just want to be with you.' He took a step towards her. `And so I'm asking you to forgive me and give me another chance.'

  There was a long pause.

  `I forgive you,' said Milly at last, staring at the floor. `I forgive you, Simon.'

  `Really?' Simon stared at her. `Really?' She gave a tiny shrug.

  `It was understandable, the way you reacted. I should have told you about Allan in the first place.'

  There was an uncertain silence. Simon moved forward and tried to take Milly's hands but she flinched. He dropped his hands and cleared his throat.

  `I heard what happened to him,' he said. `I'm really sorry.'

  `Yes,' said Milly.

  `You must be-'

  `Yes.'

  `But ...' He hesitated. `You know what it means for us?' Milly looked at him as though he were speaking a foreign language.

  `What?' she said.

 
; `Well,' said Simon. `It means we can get married.'

  `No, Simon,' said Milly. Simon paled slightly.

  `What do you mean?' he said, keeping his voice light. Milly met his eyes briefly, then looked away.

  `I mean, we can't get married.' And as he watched her in disbelief, she turned on her heel and walked out of the front door.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  walking until she reached Isobel's car. Then she leaned against the passenger door and scrabbled in her pocket for a cigarette, trying to ignore the burning ache in her chest; trying not to think of Simon's startled face. She had done the right thing, she told herself. She had been honest. Finally, she had been honest.

  With shaky hands she put the cigarette in her mouth and flicked repeatedly at her lighter, but the evening breeze blew the flame out every time. Eventually, with a little cry of frustration, she threw the cigarette on the ground and stamped on it. She felt suddenly powerless and marooned. She couldn't go back into the house. She couldn't drive off without a car key. She didn't even have a mobile phone. Perhaps Isobel would come and find her in a moment.

  There was a sudden crunching on the gravel and she looked up, then jumped as she saw Simon striding towards her, a look of serious intent on his face.

  `Look, Simon, don't even bother,' she said, turning away. `It's over, OK?'

  `No, it's not OK!' exclaimed Simon. He reached the car, panting slightly. `What do you mean, we can't get married? Is it because of the things I said? Milly, I'm just so sorry. I'll do anything I can to make it up. But don't give up on us just because of that!'

  `It's not about that!' said Milly. `Yes, you hurt me. But I told you, I forgive you.' Simon stared at her.

  `Well, what, then?'

  `It's more basic than that. It's . . . us. You and me as a couple, full stop.' She gave a small shrug and began to walk off.

  `What's wrong with you and me as a couple?' said Simon, starting to follow her. `Milly, talk to me! Don't just run away!'

  `I'm not running away!' said Milly, wheeling round to face him. `But there's no point talking about it. Take it from me, it just wouldn't work. So let's act with a little dignity, shall we? Goodbye, Simon.'