Three Weddings and a Baby

‘What I mean is…’ She took a deep breath. ‘Alex is my other half, my…my new… man,’ she finished lamely, all the energy and life whooshing out of her like air out of a balloon. Then she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, attempted to mould herself to his rigid side.

‘We had an argument, and I thought Alex wasn’t going to be able to make it, but he did, and at first I was shocked, but now I’m so pleased—really pleased.’

And then she looked up at him, her eyes begging, and the truth hit Alex like one of those cartoon ten ton weights that always landed on the stooge’s head and squashed him flat. Because that was what he was—Jennie’s stooge.

She hadn’t told them. Hadn’t even thought to mention the trivial matter of finding someone to spend the rest of her life with. How stupid of him to have expected otherwise.

Any pleasure at meeting Jennie’s stepmother evaporated in a blistering cloud of rage. That was all he was to his wife—an insignificant detail.

Well, he didn’t care what her family thought, didn’t care what hot water his presence here got her into. He wasn’t going to waste any more time.

Ignoring her stepmother, he turned to Jennie. ‘I need to talk to you. Now.’

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the fake smile she was wearing hollowed out.

‘I…I…’

She was saved from answering by a staggering group of rowdy wedding guests spilling from the banqueting hall into the foyer. They crowded round Jennie and her stepmother, talking loudly about what a smashing wedding it had been, and how they were having the time of their lives. Jennie started to edge away, but he made sure he stuck right by her side. He wasn’t going to even blink until he got her talking. Taking one’s eyes off this woman for an instant was a mistake.

‘It’s not a good time,’ she said, her eyes large and appealing. ‘How about tomorrow? We can talk in the morning—when everyone has calmed down.’

He just looked at her. Did she think he was that much of a mug?

Marion had escaped the throng of well-wishers and closed the distance between them. ‘Everything okay?’ she said lightly, her eagle eyes missing nothing.

Jennie bit her lip and nodded furiously, but he guessed her stepmother wasn’t fooled for a second. She looked suspiciously at him and he returned her gaze, candour in his eyes. He didn’t have anything to hide, did he? It was his shallow-hearted wife who needed to worry about bothersome things like the truth. Marion looked as if she wanted to interrogate him, and he was quite willing to allow her. Let the games begin.

‘How long have you and Jennie known each other, then?’ she said, making it sound as if this was just chit-chat, but her eyes never left his face.

Jennie held her breath and went rigid beside him.

‘A few months,’ he replied.

‘And how did you meet?’

‘Through my business,’ Jennie said on an out-breath. ‘Alex is a barrister, and I organised a garden party for his law firm at the end of the summer, and we…well, we hit it off straight away.’

Alex almost laughed. She made it sound so normal, so restrained. Yet their instant connection had blind-sided him. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her, hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, wanting her.

‘You must have missed her when she flitted off on her impromptu holiday. She was gone for weeks.’ Marion Hunter lifted one eyebrow as she tried to gauge his reaction to her question.

Alex just let his eyebrows mirror hers, a slight crooked smile curling his lips.

‘Yes, it was awful,’ Jennie said, words coming out so fast they were almost tripping over each other. ‘But, you know, we phoned every day…texted…emailed…’ She trailed off and looked at the floor.

Marion watched him carefully as Jennie babbled on, and when her stepdaughter fell silent she nodded gently. ‘You must be the stomach bug I’ve heard so much about.’

Jennie was still holding Alex’s hand and now she gripped it with a strength he hadn’t realised she’d had.

‘Apparently so,’ he replied, catching on. One of the things he’d liked about Jennie was her creativity. He hadn’t realised it extended to fibs, too.

Marion turned to Jennie. ‘Well, it seems as if Mr Dangerfield here is right. You have some talking to do, I imagine, so I’ll say my goodbyes and leave you to it.’

‘Don’t go!’ Jennie said, a little too quickly, then recovered herself, lowering her tone and smoothing her dress down with her free hand. And then he felt her relax, breathe out. She continued slowly, the hint of a relieved smile in her voice. ‘After all, it’s too noisy here, and it isn’t as if I’ve got a room to go to—Auntie Barb’s in mine, snoring away loudly, I expect. And it’s late.’ She turned to face him. ‘We’ll just have to catch up in the morning after all,’ she added, not even pretending to look crushed by the fact.

Marion shook her head. ‘That’s what I was coming to tell you. We’ve got you a room.’

Jennie’s mouth sagged. ‘That’s impossible! They were all full up only an hour ago.’

‘But there’s one room we booked that isn’t being used tonight, remember?’ Marion said, looking very pleased with herself. ‘Of course, you’ll have to move the clothing rails and hair and make-up stuff into a corner, but it’s a large suite—I’m sure you’ll manage.’

Alex had been standing still, vaguely amused at the exchange between daughter and stepmother. It was quite refreshing to find things going his way, with very little toil on his part. He had the feeling that if he just stood here and let events unfold around him, fate would be kind. He would get his answers, and he’d get them tonight.

Jennie began to shake, right down to her fingertips. He could feel her hand trembling in his.

‘You don’t mean.?’

Marion winked at Alex, clearly having

decided he was a stomach bug that Jennie needed a second dose of, and he was unexpectedly glad to have found an ally, someone who realised Jennie shouldn’t always be able to shimmy her way out of difficult situations, that she had to learn to face the consequences of her actions.

‘Should have thought of it sooner,’ she said mildly. ‘I’m sure Alice wouldn’t mind, and it seems a shame to let the room go to waste.’ And then she pressed a key with a large plastic tag on it into Jennie’s hand.

Jennie clamped her fingers around it as if it were a hand grenade with the pin out. And then the tension bled out of her and Alex knew he’d won. Funnily enough, he was disappointed by her reaction. He’d never known her admit defeat so easily. Her bullheaded determination was one of the things he loved about her.

Maybe he’d been wrong about her from the start. They’d rushed headlong into things, too caught up in the whirlwind that seemed to storm and crash around them when they were together. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that, while whirlwinds were awesome displays of natural power, they were ultimately destructive. What a pity he hadn’t realised that until he’d been picking through the wreckage of his marriage, wondering what had gone wrong and whether it was even worth collecting the debris to see if it could be put back together.

In the end, he’d decided that all he really knew about Jennie Hunter was that she was the one woman who’d fascinated him, captivated him. Ensnared him. And that she’d run away the first time the going had got tough.

‘You know where it is, don’t you, Jennie?’ Marion said. ‘After all, you got ready there this morning.’

Jennie nodded dully and started leading the way. Marion grabbed his arm as he passed her and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. ‘Good luck,’ she said, squeezing gently. ‘She’s hard work—but she’s worth it.’ And then she walked smoothly across the foyer and disappeared into the banqueting hall.

Alex followed Jennie up the large wooden staircase. Not as closely as he had before, but close enough to watch those memorable curves move under the satin of that dress.

She had to be wearing that dress, didn’t she?

Finally, they reached the top of the staircase and she led him down a corridor to a vast pair of double doors. Instead of opening the door, she just stood there, the key clutched in her closed left hand.

She wore no ring, he realised.

Slowly, he peeled her fingers away from the key’s plastic tab, and when he’d reached the last one he stopped. He realised the reason for her hesitation now, shared a little of it himself, if he were honest.

In gold italic writing, on the moulded smooth plastic of the old-fashioned room key were two words: Bridal Suite.

CHAPTER THREE

ALEX was glad the sun was finally lowering itself behind the trees and rhododendrons, changing the neat lawn’s wide stripes a dirty gold colour. Garden parties were, by definition, a daytime pursuit, and he’d soon be able to legitimately say his goodbyes. Inside his jacket pocket, his fingers traced the flat buttons of his mobile phone. He imagined sliding it open and dialling the number of the local cab company he’d programmed in earlier.