Marilyn watched him leave, then winked at me. ‘What d’ya reckon? Interesting?’
‘Behave yourself, married woman with many babies at home. There’s only one man I’m interested in.’
‘You’re not married yet. Haven’t even set a date. Still plenty of time to avoid shackling yourself to the Ghost Web, and the Ghost Web’s previous owner.’
We began to leave, too. ‘I can put up with both of those if it means marrying Perry. No marriage – or man – is perfect.’
‘No, but take it from one who knows – no marriages are easy, either. I love you, Faith and will support you whatever, but this is supposed to be the fun, exciting, head-over-heels bit. If things are tough now… I don’t know. My brain is frazzled. I’m probably transferring my own frustrated feelings onto you.’
We reached the car, and Marilyn looked at me before unlocking the doors. ‘You should be happy. Despite the family and all that goes with it, being with Perry should make you happy. Just make sure you’re happy, Faith. That’s all.’
Happy? What the heck did that even feel like?
We finished our fantasy wedding plans with a trip to an Italian restaurant on the banks of the River Trent, just outside a village four miles from Brooksby. Housed in a large Victorian country manor with a spacious conservatory looking out onto the water, it boasted a riverside garden with chairs, tables and assorted sofas on a canopied patio. Simple, rustic, relaxed, run by a family who had emigrated from Italy only six years before, it was everything I would have dreamed of in a reception venue, had I ever dared to dream of one. At the end of the garden was a wooden area for dancing. I could picture laughter and music,twinkling lights strung between the trees, great food and even better wine. A place to let down your hair, sit back and watch the moon kiss the water. A place where good friends were reunited and new friends were made.
I thought about the HCC function room and its stuffy decor. The fussy menu full of food most people had never tried, and never wanted to. The strict dress code, the ban on children, the uncomfortable chairs. The fact that some there knew I had once been ‘staff’ and now seethed at my crossing over to become one ofthem. Ugh. Dress. Service. Reception. I didn’t know which one of the current non-fantasy plans I hated most.
Marilyn gazed out over the water as a barge glided by, slow and easy. She looked as though she wanted to hop onto that boat. I wished I could join her. ‘This is it, Faith. It’s you.’
I hugged her, vainly attempting to hide my tears. It was not me. It was the me I wished I could one day be. And now almost certainly never would.
2
Marilyn dropped me off at Perry’s house on her way home. After keying in the security code to let myself into the gated mini-mansion, I found him pacing up and down the sitting room, blond hair standing up on end where his hands had raked through it.
‘For goodness’ sake, Faith. Where have you been? I was worried sick.’
‘I was out with Marilyn. Wedding shopping. Why didn’t you call me?’
‘Your phone was off.’
Ah yes. That would be because I had turned it off, in order to enjoy my fake wedding plans in peace.
‘Sorry. But I’m a big girl. I do go out by myself sometimes. You don’t have to worry.’
‘Yes, well, Iamworried. Dedicoat can’t make Saturday. He’s coming to finalise the Baker deal tonight.’
I felt as though a shard of ice had been rammed down my windpipe. Perry had been working on the Baker deal for ten months. I’d agreed to cater a dinner party for Perry and his colleague Eddie, to soften up the notoriously hard-nosedbusiness guru Lucas Dedicoat before they signed on the dotted line. ‘What time are they coming?’
‘Seven.’
‘Are you still expecting me to cook?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘I haven’t got the ingredients yet. I mean, it’s all planned out but I need a trip into Newark, and to the farmer’s market. The berries need to soak up the liqueur overnight. I could ditch the dessert, make something simple instead and rethink the mains… but an hour and a half! And you never have anything in the fridge. You should have called me… You did call me, but my phone was off. Oh, pants. Do you think a takeaway would do?’
Perry sighed. ‘No. A takeaway will not do. You used to work in a Michelin-starred restaurant. Can’t you rustle up something?’
‘I guess I’ll have to try. But I really need to shower and I’m not exactly dressed for a dinner party.’ I looked down at my casual skirt and T-shirt. ‘I can probably find time to brush my hair, but that’s it. Can you sort the dining room? Get some wine opened?’ I looked around the room, at Perry’s shoes kicked off by the sofa, an empty beer bottle and crisp crumbs littering the glass coffee table. This morning’s newspaper was in pieces all over the rug, and various other man detritus lay scattered throughout the ground floor.
‘What time did you get in from work? Have you been sitting around waiting for me?’ I waved my hand across the mess, and Perry smiled, a glint in his eye. He quickly crossed the living room and wrapped his arms around me, firmly kissing the top of my head. ‘I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. And you’re really sexy when you’re up against a challenge. I know you’ll do something incredible.’
Two hours later, after thirteen emergency texts to Marilyn on posh business deal-making dinner party etiquette, I was hiding in the vast kitchen, trying to arrange on a serving tray six goat’s cheese soufflés that neither tasted like goat’s cheese nor looked like soufflé. I had cobbled together a meagre salad out of a few carrots, an old, soft beetroot and some frozen French beans. A sort-of paella bubbled on the stove, again full of mainly frozen ingredients and a packet of instant spice mix. I picked up the tray just as Perry poked his head in at the door. ‘What are you doing? We’ll have no time to discuss the deal if we don’t eat now.’
‘I’m doing my best.’ Perry looked at me, at my face mimicking the beetroot, my crumpled skirt and unwashed hair. My eyes, no doubt wild-looking and bloodshot, scrunched shut. It was only a matter of time before Perry Upperton realised my best was not good enough.
He took three strides into the kitchen and placed his hands on either side of my face. Leaning down to kiss me gently, he murmured, ‘You look so gorgeous, all steamed up and dishevelled. Don’t worry about the food. Dedicoat’s girlfriend just told us she likes fried chicken because it’s fun to eat out of a bucket, and all Eddie’s interested in is getting this deal done. Just come and sit down, try to enjoy yourself.’
