A Moral Dilemma: A Romantic Comedy Chick Lit Story (21 page)

“Look, just don’t talk to me about Julia! Or her bloody wedding! Which is probably not even going to happen now. Seb’s such a stupid sod for putting up with her!”

“Oh no,” I said trying to tie the bonnet under my chin, “don’t tell me she’s cancelled the wedding again!”

“Worse!” Now I was confused. What could Julia possibly have done that was worse than cancelling her wedding for the third time? “She’s cheating on Seb!”

“WHAT! She actually told you that?”

Abby looked to the heavens. “Of course she didn’t tell me. She didn’t have to. I know these things. And she’s hardly being very sensitive about it either!” Then she looked at the bonnet tied under my chin in a huge Bo Peep bow and said in a monotone: “Rebecca, please take that thing off your head.”

“Abby! Julia would never cheat on Seb,” I said dismissing her allegations. “You know how prudish she is.”

“Well she’s crossed over to the dark side now. I spoke to Seb yesterday and he made a comment about the
fun
we girls were supposed to have had when Julia stayed over at mine Monday night.”

“I didn’t know Julia stayed over at yours on Monday.”

Abigail looked at me. “Because she didn’t.” She picked up a stunning huge
black and ivory polka dot dupioni silk hat, with a black taffeta sash, a single red fleur, and black silk organza leave
s
.
. “And I told Sebastian just as much. ‘
Darling
,’ I said, ‘
you must have misheard Juju. She definitely wasn’t at my place on Monday
.’ And do you know what he said then?” she asked trying on the blue hat. I shook my head no.

“He said, ‘
Oh, well maybe she was at Becky’s…but I’m sure she said she was at Becky’s on Tuesday, not Monday
’!”

“Why would he say that? Juju wasn’t at mine on…Tuesday? Wait a second. Are you trying to tell me Juju stayed out two nights?!” Abby raised her eyebrows.

“No Way!”

“Afraid so darling.” Abby looked in the mirror and adjusted the hat on her head to a more elegant angle. Hats really suited Abby and she looked truly amazing in this one. Like a real high society lady. Royalty even. But it wasn’t blue blood that ran through Abigail’s veins. “Personally I don’t give a fuck if Julia wants to start screwing around or not. But it’s not fair on Seb,” she said sounding a little frustrated. “She should let him go.”

“Split up with Seb?!”

“Why not?” she said flippantly. “Sebastian deserves to have someone who doesn’t constantly dick him around.”

“I’m calling Juju right now,” I said tapping her number into my mobile phone.

“She won’t answer. I’ve been calling since yesterday. I left a few scathing messages of my own too.”

I held the phone to my ear, listening to her answer machine message. “Juju, it’s me, Becky. Can you please give me a call back as soon as. I really do need to talk to you,” and clicked my phone shut.

“She won’t call you,” Abby said simply.

“Well she needs to call me before Sunday. Suppose Seb asks me about her staying over? What am I supposed to say? Do you think we should still go on Sunday?”

Abby sighed. “I really don’t want to, but I suppose Seb will think there’s something wrong if we don’t turn up. That’s assuming he doesn’t already know! Oh gawd. That bloody Julia.” She tilted her head to the side, appraising the polka dot hat once more. “I think I’ll get this one.”

Although I knew Abigail wasn’t lying and wasn’t one for exaggeration, I still couldn’t quite believe what she had told me about Julia. Julia was so not the type to fool around. That kind of behaviour always disgusted her. I knew for sure that Julia was not one of these immoral women. But having called her mobile phone virtually non-stop for two days, with no answer, I was just a tad concerned. Then, sitting in the back of a black cab on the way to meet Charles, I got a sudden urge to call her house phone.

Seb answered almost straight away. “Hello?” he said, sounding far too despondent for someone engaged, soon to be married.

“Hey Seb,” I said brightly. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Becky. Kool thanks. You after Juju?” obviously not in the mood for small talk.

“Er…yes please. If she’s there.”

“Well, no. she’s not,” he said sounding rather serious. “She
said
she’s hanging out with the girls for a few nights. Aren’t you with them?” I literally hopped about on the back seat of the cab, holding the phone, silently yelling:
Oh Fuck! Oh Fuck!

“Ahem…no…I’ve been really busy,” talking as quickly as I could so he couldn’t ask another question, “anyway, got to go. See you Sunday. Bye.” And hung up, feeling wretched that I’d had to lie to Sebastian like that. Wondering what the bloody hell was going on?! There had to be some legitimate plausible excuse for Juju’s odd behaviour. I needed to think this through. Try to make sense out of nonsense. But I couldn’t do it now.

Right now the cab was pulling up outside Canada Square, and I felt my heart somersaulting in my chest. It was almost ironic that this was where
it
all began and this is where
it
would end. I say ‘
it
’ but I couldn’t even really say what ‘
it
’ was. There was nothing real, nothing authentic between Charles and I. We were just two pawns in a game, forced together by Isabella. I couldn’t have any real feelings for him. And he couldn’t have any real feelings for me…
Could he?
No of course not. He was a married man. And definitely not the cheating kind. I took the lift to the top floor and walked slowly across to Connolly’s, grateful Charles had suggested we meet at 5pm as I really wasn’t in the mood for dodging drunken hedge fund traders today. I took tiny leisurely steps, even stopping to look over the glass and chrome shoulder-height wall, which prevented anyone from plunging the sixteen floors to the fountain centre piece on the ground floor. It sure was a long way down. I wondered if any of these city traders, after losing millions for a client, ever entertained the thought of taking the plunge. I was procrastinating. And I knew it. But in a strange way, knowing it was the last time I would ever see Charles, or the world he lived in…a part of me…for some inexplicable reason, needed to savour every moment of it. Needed to remember this evening. Always. I took the last few steps to Connolly’s, stood at the door, inhaled deeply, exhaled, and then stepped in to the wine bar to put an end to something that should have never started.

Apart from two business men in heavy discussion, sitting at a table, and Charles at the bar, Connolly’s was deserted. The lights were dimmed and a mellow jazz tune was playing softly in the background. The air was clean and fresh with a faint smell of fre
esias wafting in from the front door displays. I hadn’t seen Charles since that night on the Epiphany and I was hoping that all the weird inexplicable emotions I was left with at the end of that night, would have dissipated by now. But by the sudden rush of nervousness and the way my stomach felt as if it were turning itself inside out, I would hazard a guess that they had not.

“Hello you,” I said to his back, trying my best to sound cheery and casual.

He turned around and stood up as I sat. “Glad you made it,” he said, not sounding quite so cheery and casual. “Can I get you something to drink?” he said as if he were talking to a business colleague.

“Apple juice please,” I said quietly, wondering if Isabella had told him what was going on. But that wouldn’t make any sense at all. I watched as Charles spoke
with the barman and saw his face looked hard and set in a constant frown. The same way he looked when I first saw him here.

“So how’ve you been?” he asked politely, even managing to force a smile but looked distracted.

“Well I’ve lost my job, been made homeless and due to be sectioned soon actually,” I said cheerily.

“Oh good. Good,” he said, hearing the sound of my voice but from a million miles away.

“Charles,” I said matching his grave tone, “are you OK?” He tapped the side of his brandy glass thoughtfully, obviously not hearing my question. “Charles?!”

“What? Sorry?” he asked turning toward me from a million miles away.

“Are you OK? You just don’t seem yourself today.”

“Aaah, Rebecca. Sorry,” he said patting my hand. “I was so looking forward to seeing you today.”

“Then you saw me and changed your mind?” I teased.

He laughed lightly. “No not at all. You are adorable as usual.” I felt my face flush and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from giggling like an idiot. “No it’s not you, my dear,” he said sounding grave again. “It’s just…I loathe saying it…I had a
disagreement
with my wife this afternoon…that’s left me out of sorts.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling that oh so familiar lump rising at the back of my throat.
“Anything you want to talk about?” I asked cautiously, getting ready to leg it through the door at the mention of my name.

He looked at me shaking his head as if he definitely didn’t want to talk about it, then caught the petrified look in my eye, must’ve misread it for concern, and changed his mind. “Well…my wife, Isabella, told me this afternoon that she was leaving me.”

“What?! Why? That doesn’t make any sense!” I blurted out, wanting immediately to kick myself very bloody hard.

Charles knotted his brows at me, probably trying to figure out why I was taking this news so personally. Then he smiled softly. “You Rebecca Hardy, are most definitely something else. I wish more people were so compassionate.” I gave a half smile feeling like the biggest fraud who ever walked this planet. “It’s not such a concern that she says she’s leaving, she’s been threatening me with that for years. It’s just that today…” his jaw stiffened and he sat further upright, “…today she told me that she’s taking my boys with her. She’s never said that before.” He sounded solemn and wounded. “She knows I would never let that happen. But she sounded…quite…serious when she said it.”

After I picked my jaw up off the floor and reminded myself that I was a woman of peace and tranquillity, and that screaming all kinds of obscenities or even passing out was not going to help the situation, I said, as calmly and as neutrally as I could manage: “But why would your wife want to leave you?”

“Oh, she’s wanted to leave for years. I’ve lost count of the amount of lovers she’s had.” My eyes widened and the voice in my head was screaming
BLOODY HELL!!!
“I’ve told her many times that she is always free to go. Would be doing me a big favour actually. But I make it quite clear that she will be leaving without one cent, and certainly without my boys.” He turned to look at me, “You see, we got married in the States, where we have dual citizenship, and that’s where any divorce petition would need to be filed. But the problem for Isabella is that we have this pre-nuptial agreement, which clearly states that if there is infidelity, then the adulterous party would get nothing. Not money, not custody. Nothing.” He sipped his brandy and looked across the bar thoughtfully. “The ironic thing is, that this pre-nuptial which is virtually cast iron clad, was all her idea. I think she thought she would receive a huge inheritance from her parents which she didn’t want me staking a claim on. But her parents, devout Catholics you know, cut her off a long time ago. After her third
indiscretion
, I think it was. So if she leaves me, she’ll have nothing, which is why I know her offer to leave is just another empty threat. She loves the lifestyle too much. The pool boy she’s enamoured with doesn’t stand a chance long term.” I sipped my apple juice in an attempt to soothe my whirring head. Questions were ricocheting in my mind like machine gun shells and I wasn’t able to ask a single one of them. “So I’m used to her saying she’s leaving…that doesn’t concern me one bit. It’s been a marriage of convenience for years. It’s just…she sounded so very certain that she would get the boys.” Then he looked down into his brandy with a sad smile. “They’re my world. Everything I do is for them. They’re the first faces I see every morning and the last ones I see every night.” He straightened his back in defiance, “And I don’t intend for that to change.” I felt my heart lurch in my chest and my eyes started to sting with the realisation that I was somehow partly responsible for his pain. I felt a desperate desire to hold him. To give him a cuddle and tell him it would all be OK. But I had a dreadful feeling that perhaps it wasn’t going to be OK for him. Isabella was definitely up to something that would probably destroy him. And of what that
something
was, I had no idea. But of one thing I was absolutely bloody certain, whether it meant me losing my job or not, I will no longer be a part of her plan to tear Charles down.

“Charles,” I said quietly, “I am so, so very sorry,” and I never meant those words more.

“Rebecca, darling,” he said wiping my tears away. “Don’t get upset sweetheart. She’ll never get the boys. And if truth be told, I hope she does leave me. Maybe it’s because I’m so old fashioned, but I could never leave her,” he said softly. “I made a vow, and what kind of immoral man would I be if I didn’t stand by my word?” I felt my shoulders start to heave as my tears flowed freely. He was too good. Too good for her. Too good for me. “Shhh, sweetheart,” he soothed. You’ve been such a breath of fresh air in my life…and I wish I were free to pursue you…the way you deserve to be pursued. But I’m not, Rebecca. And I don’t deserve you.” It was too much. I just couldn’t stop my foolish tears from flowing. And when he held me close to his chest in comfort and I nestled into the nook of his neck with my damp cheeks touching his skin, my heart felt something it had never felt before. It felt completely safe. And when he gently lifted my chin, looked into my watery eyes and touched my lips with his own, the kiss felt like no other kiss before. It felt…completely natural. Complete.