Love Me Or Leave Me (41 page)

‘Well,’ I tell him, racking my brains through the fug of near exhaustion I’m working under, ‘we’ve got a meeting in the morning about our next batch of guests, but seeing as everyone has worked so hard, I was going to give all the staff a bit of a lie in and …’

‘Chloe, you’re not listening to me. I meant your immediate plans for tonight?’

‘Are you kidding me? Sleep and lots of it.’

‘You know, you’ll always sleep better on a full stomach …’

‘True …’

‘So before you leave, is there any chance I can take you out to dinner?’

*

Well, this is a work dinner. Course it is. I mean, obviously it is. Because what else would it be? And okay, so maybe I did change out of my uniform and back into what I’d worn into work that day (pink shift dress with a pair of summery sandals. Not very dressy, but somehow I’m just more comfy like this). But it’s absolutely not a date, that much I’m sure of. And yes, I may have lashed on a
little
bit more make-up than normal, but still. I’m well aware of what this is. Or rather what it isn’t. Just saying, that’s all.

Anyway, it’s coming up to eight as Rob and I are strolling in the still-warm evening out of the hotel and down Leeson Street, though I haven’t the first iota of where he’s taking me. But to be honest, after the weekend I’ve had, it feels good to sit back and let someone else make decisions, for a change. Our very last guest has just checked out and I can’t describe the sheer feeling of weightlessness that – for the most part at least – the whole weekend seems to have gone well.

‘Hope you’re hungry, Ms Townsend,’ Rob says, looking across at me with just a glint in the grey eyes.

‘Are you kidding me? I actually can’t remember the last time I sat down to a proper meal, actually served up to me, as opposed to just grabbing sandwiches on the run.’

‘Atta girl. I’ve booked somewhere very special, as it happens … and by the way,’ he adds appreciatively, ‘I’m loving that dress on you. The colour really suits you. You look terrific.’

‘Emm … thanks.’

But he breaks off here, as his mobile starts ringing.

‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘but I’ve got to take this. Do you mind?’

‘Course not,’ I say, noticing that his whole face completely lit up the second he saw who it was on the caller ID.

Work call, my arse I think. On a Sunday evening? It’s her, whoever she is. And really would you blame her? If I’d a fella like this on the go, I’d find it hard to stop myself checking in on him myself. In fact, I’d be tempted to have him chipped with a tracking device, so I could monitor his movements at all times.

‘Sweetheart!’ Rob beams down the phone. ‘You’re such an angel to call. How was your day today? Good, great in fact. But tell me about you, what did you do?’

He chats on easily and I deliberately look away as we stroll out onto Stephen’s Green.

‘… Yeah … perfect, sounds good to me. Well, how about next Friday then? I’ll be back in London then and can’t wait to see you … fantastic. Look I can’t really chat now, but I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. Love you too!’

Then, to my surprise, Rob steers me towards Shanahan’s on the Green, one of the poshest, not to mention the most expensive restaurants in the whole city. The maître d’ already seems to know him, as he rushes out to greet Rob effusively and escorts us to a gorgeous table, right in the dead centre of the restaurant. We’re given menus and wine lists and a silence falls while we each study them. Then a waiter takes our order and comes back with a very expensive bottle of wine, which he pours, while Rob leans forward and grins over at me.

‘Here’s to you,’ he says, clinking glasses with me.

‘Well, thank you,’ is all I can say, delighted. ‘And thanks for taking me here … talk about swishy!’

‘I wanted somewhere special, somewhere memorable. So I could really thank you properly. Because you really did a terrific job,’ he says sincerely, eyes twinkling in the dim candlelight. ‘I knew I made the right call the day I hired you.’

‘You do?’

‘Absolutely. You were the perfect woman for the job. No one could have done it better.’

‘But, well …’

‘You’ve a problem with my complimenting you, Ms Townsend?’

‘No,’ I laugh, ‘it’s just that … well, what about all those phone calls to me? Day and night. The constant micromanaging. I had the feeling that you didn’t quite trust me. Am I right?’

He says nothing for a bit, just thoughtfully glances down at the menu.

‘Well … there might just have been other reasons for checking in with you as often as I did,’ he says lightly, almost deliberately not looking at me now.

He leaves it hanging there and I’m completely intrigued and dying to probe him a bit, but just as abruptly he changes the subject.

‘Oh and by the way, I’ve got the strongest feeling that you were doing more than your fair share of relationship counselling behind the scenes over the weekend. Am I right?’

I take a sip of the crisp, white wine he ordered and sit back a little.

‘Well … maybe just a little …’

‘Come on, you can’t pull the wool over my eyes,’ he grins, laughing over at me now. ‘It’s all over anyway now, so you’ve nothing to lose by telling me. What about Dawn Madden then? And that long-haired guy who tried to set fire to the whole place our first night?’

‘Ah, you mean my little pet, Dawn …’

‘I’m listening,’ he says, sitting forward, looking at me keenly.

‘Well, it’s just that …’ I break off here, thinking back to my very first interview with Dawn and how terrified she’d been, like the poor kid was on the verge of an anxiety attack. Kirk had so clearly moved on and while I wasn’t particularly bothered about the intricacies of his love life, it was Dawn I worried about. And how happy it makes me to see her finally about ready to move on.

‘The truth please, Ms Townsend. Were you doing a little matchmaking for her over the weekend?’

‘Ah now, would you blame me? And I’ve absolutely no idea if things will work out between Dawn and Tommy, but that’s almost beside the point, really, isn’t it? After what that poor girl had been through, she just needed the confidence boost of a good-looking man chatting her up and asking her out, that’s all. Just to know that life does, somehow, go on.’

‘So what about Jo Hargreaves and Dave? I couldn’t help noticing you had a good long private chat with him last night … so tell me, what was that over?’

So I fill him in, blushing a bit to think of how little I’d warmed to Jo, way back when I’d first interviewed her. Or more correctly, when she first interviewed me. Then how my heart had gone out to her, that night she told me that everyone assumed she was to blame for the marriage falling apart, and yet … there were two sides to every story.

‘You see, Dave still loves her,’ I say. ‘Adores her, in fact, in spite of everything. And I think she’s a lot more dependent on him than she thinks. He messed up though, big time and yet something tells me that they’ll find a way to work through this.’

‘You think they’ll still divorce?’

‘I can’t say. But I think whatever happens, you can be sure they’ll work through it together now, side by side. In fact, Dave’s last words to me were, “You just watch this space.”’

‘Listen to you,’ he grins easily. ‘You sound just like Aunt Sally in the
Sunday Times
. Fixing everyone all around you. So come on then, while you’re on a roll, tell me about Lucy and poor Andrew Lowe.’

I shake my head firmly.

‘I’ll pan-fry my own liver if that pair get divorced. Couldn’t you see it for yourself last night? She adores him and I’m certain he feels the same. All weekend long, he was so concerned about her, constantly kept referring to her as his wife …’ I break off here a bit, then just shake my head. ‘No. It was just circumstances that broke them up, nothing more. But you know what? You could just sense a bit of a thawing between Lucy and Andrew’s daughter last night. And I really think once he’s well again, the pair of them will be able to get through anything, no matter what the future throws at them. Maybe even as a family this time. I just feel it.’

‘Chloe Townsend,’ says Rob, leaning forward now and giving me that intense look he has. Very, very sexy, I now find myself thinking from out of nowhere. ‘You know the more I listen to you, the more I think what a loss you were to the relationship counselling profession.’

‘It’s not me,’ I tell him, ‘it’s Hope Street. If you ask me, there’s healing in the bricks and mortar of the place.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘Besides,’ I go on, smiling wryly, ‘we’ve all been there, haven’t we? We’ve all been in bad relationships that went belly-up and we’ve all known heartache. And I suppose I’m living, breathing proof that life does go on. And that tomorrow is always another day.’

‘Which neatly brings us to Frank,’ Rob says, all interested.

‘Oh, yeah. Frank.’

‘Chloe,’ he says, more softly now, ‘now it’s absolutely none of my concern, but when he just showed up at the hotel like that … I really thought I’d inflict lasting damage on the guy. After what he did to you? Talk about having a brass neck!’

I don’t argue. Mainly because, after the initial shock of seeing him had worn off me, I’d pretty much felt that way myself for the rest of the day too.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Rob goes on, seemingly unwilling to drop the subject.

‘Of course.’

‘Something a bit personal?’

I take a deep breath and nod, almost sensing what’s coming next.

‘Why did he do it? Because that’s what I can’t get my head around. Why any man would put someone like you through something so bloody indescribable. And on your wedding day too? When I brought it up yesterday,’ he adds, ‘you did promise you might tell me over dinner sometime. So here we are.’

I have to take a moment before I can gather my thoughts enough to answer him. So I take another tiny sip of the crisp Pinot Grigio in front of me and sit back, somehow trying to piece it all together in my head.

Jagged memories start to surface. I remember locking myself into the bathroom of my hotel suite at the Merrion all that time ago, with lovely, loyal Gemma right beside me, heated rollers still in her hair and wobbling dangerously, so she looked a bit like a Dalek.

‘Chloe sweetheart, would you please just tell me what happened between you and Frank in here, not ten minutes ago?’ she kept on asking me. ‘Otherwise how are we going to be able to fix it and get you to the church on time?’

I was perched on a ledge over by the bathroom window, that much I can still remember too. My room looked directly down onto the hotel’s immaculate gardens below and I had a bird’s eye view of the catering staff bustling around, as outdoor chairs were being set up for the Merrion’s famous afternoon tea on the terrace, after the church/boring bit of the day. As I’d done myself for so many other brides on countless other wedding days.

How can they all just continue on with their lives as normal, like nothing just happened?
I found myself thinking from out of nowhere.
Don’t they realize the whole world has just suddenly stopped spinning round on its axis?

My job there was all about management and containment and reducing dramas down to their proper proportions, but somehow the normal rules just didn’t seem to apply at times like that. I mean outside of Hollywood movies, who did you ever hear of that ended up in a situation like mine?

‘Chloe love,’ Gemma insisted, patting me gently on the back like a colicky baby. ‘You’ve got to tell me.’

Right then, I thought, staring dully down two floors below. You asked for it, so here you go. Head aching, I somehow tried to piece it all together in my head, so I could at least get to articulate it right. So I slumped back against Gemma and somehow forced myself to try and find the words.

‘Chloe?’ says Rob, who’s still looking over at me all concerned, waiting on an answer.

So I take a deep breath and then just plunge straight in.

‘In the end, it was a classic case of cold feet,’ I tell him out straight. ‘It only happened just about an hour before we were due to leave the hotel for the church, in fact. Frank came into my hotel room to tell me …’

‘Yeah …?’ Rob says, alert, utterly focused on what I’m going to say next.

‘Well, that he’d been having second thoughts and … that he didn’t think he could go through with it.’

‘He said
what
?’ He actually looks flushed now. First time I’ve ever seen Rob looking angry.

‘Don’t get me wrong, he was very apologetic and everything, I mean, I’ll give him that much, Frank’s always very polite …’

‘And did he give you any reason why?’ he asks, face tight, instantly back to being unreadable.

‘Well, he said that it wasn’t me, it was him.’

‘I’ll bet the bastard did. But go on.’

‘He said … well … that he’d been feeling completely overwhelmed by the whole marriage thing for the past few weeks …’

‘And he thought right then was the appropriate day to tell you? One hour before you were due to walk down the aisle?’

‘Then I remember him saying … well, which was worse? To have a miserable few years together and ultimately end up divorced, or else to do the brave thing and call it off right there and then. He actually used those words: “A few miserable years.” He said he didn’t want to end up divorced like his parents, and that in the long run, this was avoiding us both all of that unnecessary pain.’

In fact, that’s the astonishing thing about the whole nightmare. The way Frank put it back then, you’d have sworn he was nearly doing me a favour.

A pause, and it’s a while before Rob eventually speaks.

‘I’m sorry, Chloe. Painful memories for you and I shouldn’t have asked you something so personal. I’d absolutely no right to. I just had to know, that’s all.’

‘It’s okay,’ I tell him and surprise myself by really meaning it. ‘I mean, yes, for a long time afterwards I was a complete mess. After all, I was the girl who got stood up on her own wedding day. I thought I was tarred for life and that the epitaph would follow me everywhere. Thing is,’ I go on, breaking off to take another sip of wine, ‘I’m an invisible-type person, an in-the-background type who you take absolutely no notice of, but who’s ultimately there to fix things, to smooth everything over for you, to make your life easier. That’s my job, it’s what I do.’