The Accidental Bride (13 page)

‘Yeah, I get what you mean,’ replied Shelley, stabbing at her own dish. ‘Sholto’s a strong-willed sod too, so I need to assert myself now and again. Obviously, our money problems are pretty much the opposite of yours, but I would feel the same way, in your place.’ She grinned then. ‘It’d be nice to do the WAG thing some of the time, though, eh? We’re girlies, after all, and we deserve a bit of pampering.’

They laughed then, and spent some quality time seeing who could make up the daftest fantasy about lounging around all day, drinking cocktails and having mani-pedis and vajazzles.

‘Brent always claims he’d love that kind of life, but he wouldn’t really. Even he seems happier with a job,’ observed Shelley, ‘although I suspect a lot of his cheerfulness at the moment is down to this hot new bloke of his.’

‘Yeah, it’s a shame he’s not here.’ Lizzie pushed aside her bowl. ‘I’ve swapped a few texts with him here and there, but they’re pretty skimpy. I would love to know more about this new guy! Brent does sound happy, though … Do you know anything? I don’t even know the guy’s name.’

The old conspiratorial look appeared on Shelley’s face. ‘I don’t know much either. He’s like a clam. He just smiles like the proverbial cat with cream, but he won’t spill any details, the beast. It’s like there’s some big secret about this fella that he can’t trust me with. All I know is that he’s a little bit older … and if the grin on B’s face all the time is anything to go by, he’s fantastic in the sack.’

‘Well, it looks like we’re all getting quality nookie on a regular basis now.’ She winked. ‘Hell, we waited long enough for our Mr Rights to come along, didn’t we?’

‘Amen to that,’ said Shelley. ‘I would like to meet this mysterious man of Brent’s, though. I keep encouraging him to bring him home, but he just says “soon” and that he doesn’t want to jinx things. I think they mostly meet at the Waverley, of all places. And Brent’s taxed the car now, so he drives over to lover-boy’s place. Sounds like he has a cottage somewhere, and some kind of “country” job, although that’s another thing Brent persists in being vague about.’

Lizzie frowned. She wanted Brent to be happy, and to find the right man, just as she had. But all this mystery was a bit worrying.

‘They met at the Waverley? When was Brent at the Waverley?’

‘It was one of Sholto’s nights working in the bar there, and Brent decided he’d go and have a “talk” with him, taking it upon himself to make sure Sholto was on the level. Which is a bit of a cheek, really … He gets to vet my bloke, but I’m not allowed to see his.’

‘Maybe I can get something out of him face to face?’ said Lizzie as they were washing up the dishes. She’d suggested they do them straight away, and then had to smile to herself. At one time she’d probably just have left the pots, but clearly some of Mrs Thursgood’s domestic excellence was rubbing off on her.

‘Yes, I think he’s more likely to open up to you. You two were … well, you two were closer.’ Shelley squeezed Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘But whatever you find out, please, please, please … you must share! If you don’t, I’ll hunt you down and shake it out of you!’

Once she was sitting in the car outside the St Patrick’s Road house, Lizzie texted Brent. He’d be at work, of course, but maybe they’d be able to fix up a meeting afterwards. A soft drink in a pub’s beer garden or something?

To her surprise, she got an instant answer.

Can you meet me at the garden centre café, about three? I’ve got a break and I’d love a natter … B.

Wonderful! It was half past two. Plenty of time to get there. About to start the car, Lizzie paused, and sent another text.

Hey, Mr Business, I hear U like getting naughty messages from women? Are you having rude thoughts about yr girlfriend? I hear she’s a bit of a raver & goes like a train. Sincerely, an Admirer.

Within a few seconds, a reply shot back to her. Her man
was clearly an accomplished messager; one who could text fast and in proper English too, if he chose to.

You’re a wicked person, Admirer, & yes, my girlfriend is a voracious sex-pot. Thanks to you, have got a hard-on in a meeting & have to stay sitting down until my massive cock subsides. Yours, Mr Business. P.S. why not drive over here & sneak under my desk to take a look … or something?

She texted back.
Sorry, I’m meeting another man. Keep motor running on massive cock until I get home.

That’s a given. Adore you
, came the reply.

As Lizzie drove, she smiled. She sang along to the 1980s station the Audi’s radio was tuned to. She enjoyed her driving. Life was so good!

She was loved by a beautiful man. She lived in a beautiful house with him. He’d given her a beautiful car, amongst many other thoughtful gifts. OK, so they had a few issues. But who didn’t? And she and John were both pragmatic grown-ups, not a pair of self-absorbed emo drama queens. They could sort things out between them – and prevail.

Counting her blessings, Lizzie hoped that her friends could be as happy, and thought about Shelley.

‘Look, there’s something I need to tell you,’ the blonde girl had said as they’d hovered with the door open. ‘I … I hope you don’t mind. But … well, when Brent’s away with his boyfriend, I’ve been inviting Sholto over here to stay with me. It’s hard for us to meet, otherwise. I can’t afford hotels on a regular basis, not decent ones, anyway, and it seems a shame when I’ve got a nice place and he hasn’t got anywhere. He’s in the most crappy digs, and it’s a treat for him to have a comfy bed and a bath in a proper bathroom and all that, you know? I hope you don’t mind,’ she repeated.

Puzzled, Lizzie stared at her. What was she on about?
Why on earth shouldn’t Sholto stay over? Even move in, if he wanted to? It wasn’t her business to say yay or nay, either way.

‘But why should I mind? I’m happy that you’re not on your own, love, especially if Brent’s out a lot.’ She grabbed Shelley’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘But this is your house, Liz.’ Shelley gestured towards the hall, and beyond.

Lizzie sighed. God, now she understood Shelley’s misgivings.

‘But I don’t live here. It’s your home, Shell.’

‘Ah, but your John owns the house, and … and that means it’s yours, really.’

‘Look, I know this is weird.’ She put her hands on Shelley’s shoulders. ‘Just pretend Oldacre Holdings is some totally anonymous but benevolent landlord with a liberal tenant policy or whatever. If you really do insist that you need my approval, you have it. A million time over, you dimwit! I don’t really know Sholto yet, but if you like him, he’s a good guy in my book.’ She threw her arms around her friend. ‘If Brent’s OK with it, I’m OK with it. Sholto can move in and live here full-time, as far as I’m concerned.’

Now it was Shelley’s turn to blink tears. ‘I’m not sure we’re quite at that stage yet.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘But we might get there.’

‘Right, then. When you get there, go for it. Why should he live in some terrible rat-hole if he could live in a proper house with you?’

They’d parted with more hugs. And if Brent did have objections, Lizzie resolved to talk him round. It was obvious Shelley was pretty serious about Sholto Kraft.

At the garden centre café, Brent was on his feet as she
approached, and when she reached him, she was wrestled into her second bear hug of the day.

‘How the devil are you, you beautiful strumpet?’ demanded Brent, as they sat down at a rustic table. He had a fruit-flavoured water waiting for her. ‘You look magnificent. A life of luxury, and two weeks in the sun with your own tame billionaire, obviously agrees with you.’

‘Not so tame,’ said Lizzie, taking a swig of her water, ‘And you’re looking pretty swish yourself, B. Obviously you’re getting something that agrees with you too.’

A broad smile graced Brent’s handsome face. His dark eyes sparkled. Lizzie had never seen him look happier. ‘It does … It does … So, how was the holiday?’ he asked, changing the subject with a blatant wink.

Lizzie supplied more edited highlights, then fixed her friend with a determined look.

‘Enough about me. What about you? Enough with the subterfuge and secrecy. Shell and I want to know more about this mysterious new boyfriend of yours. You know all about ours, and all we seem to have gleaned about your bloke so far is that he’s a fantastic lover.’

Brent looked away for a second, a slightly bemused smile on his face as he brushed his dark curly hair back off his brow. ‘Lizzie, love … I don’t know where to start, other than the fact that I think this thing of mine might be pretty serious. Is serious. Really serious. And I’m fairly sure the feeling’s mutual.’

‘I’m happy for you, B. I’m happy for both you and Shell, because it sounds like she’s pretty serious about Sholto too.’

Brent looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I must admit that I had my misgivings about that at first, but she seems very happy and he seems to be treating her right.’

‘Good. But that’s her. What about you? Tell me all about your bloke!’

‘Well … Yes … Tom,’ said Brent, looking down at his long fingers, cupped around his drink bottle. ‘I’m guessing John hasn’t said anything, which means that Tom hasn’t told him about us.’

Tom? What was he on about? Lizzie felt as if she’d suddenly been parachuted into a different conversation altogether. Then it dawned …

No, it couldn’t be. Too much of a coincidence.

Before she could speak, though, Brent went on:

‘My Tom is your John’s younger brother.’

‘You what? You must be kidding me. How can that be?’

And yet, the instant she’d heard Brent say the name ‘Tom’, she’d just known.

‘I met him at the Waverley, the night I went to “have a word” with Sholto. He was there, having a drink in the Lawns Bar. He and John were supposed to have met up, but your man was late back from London and went straight to Dalethwaite Manor.’

Lizzie remembered that night. Waiting up, also wanting to ‘have a word’, but with John, over the purchase of the St Patrick’s Road house. He’d mentioned having to give his brother a rain check.

‘And you just happened to strike up a conversation with him? That’s a bit spooky, isn’t it? Did you know who he was?’

Lizzie sipped at her water, still digesting Brent’s revelation. It was kind of cosmic serendipity, she supposed. She’d accidentally picked up the older Smith brother – sorry, Wyngarde Smith brother – in the Lawns, so why shouldn’t Brent pick up the younger one? If Tom was even
half as hot as his older sibling, Brent would have clocked him straight away. And would probably have had a strong inkling he was gay, too.

‘I already knew him, love. But not as John’s brother,’ said Brent quietly. He had an odd look of nostalgia on his face. ‘I’d met him before … at Sylvestro’s.’ Lizzie remembered some of Brent’s tall tales about that particular club. She’d even been there with him once. ‘We had a one-night stand. A few years ago, before I was with Steve.’

She shook her head, ‘You couldn’t make it up, could you? How incredibly weird … Long before I’d even set eyes on John, you’d slept with his brother!’

‘Just one of those
Twilight Zone
things, love, eh?’ said Brent cheerfully. ‘Of course, I had no idea who he was other than that. We never exchanged surnames or even numbers that first time. He was just a “Mr Right for the Night” rather than a “Mr Right”. In fact, I’d forgotten all about him. But when I saw him at the Waverley, I sort of recognised him twice. I remembered him, and yet he looked familiar in a different way too.’

‘Does he look like John?’

‘A little bit. His hair’s darker, and he’s about ten years younger, of course, but there’s a resemblance.’ Brent’s expression went dreamy for a moment. Yes, the Smith men could do that to you. ‘It’s mainly the eyes. He has the same gorgeous blue eyes as your John.’

Lizzie laughed. ‘Well, now I’ve heard everything. When did you realise? When you got as far as asking him his name this time, I presume?’

Brent grinned too. ‘Yes, that’s pretty much it. We were on our third date. I nearly fell out of bed when he said he was Tom Wyngarde Smith. And he was as surprised as I
was when I explained about you. And how you were this incredible woman his brother wanted advice about because she was too stubborn to move in with him!’

‘Who said that? Was it him? Or was it John?’ Suspicions stirred. ‘Has Tom told John who he’s dating? Seems that everybody knows what’s going on but me!’

‘No, don’t worry. Tom hasn’t said anything to John. I told him I’d like to tell you first, and he agreed it was best.’

Lizzie stared out at the car park for a moment. Life was bizarre. So full of strange coincidences and interactions. She couldn’t help but smile, though.

Good for Brent. And good for Tom. She loved her old friend – and ex-boyfriend – like a brother, and she desperately wanted him to be happy. She wanted the best for him, and if Tom Wyngarde Smith was anything like his older brother … well, he
was
the best. And
he
couldn’t look for a better man than Brent.

‘So, it’s really serious, then?’ she said at length, reaching out to fold her hand around Brent’s.

His face was a picture of excitement, joy and a touch of apprehension. Oh, how Lizzie knew that state. She felt it every single day.

‘Yes … I think so. I think I’m falling in love with him. Or maybe already have fallen.’ He hauled in a deep breath. ‘He seems to feel the same. He even wants me to move into his cottage with him, on the Montcalm estate. There’s a position for me there, on the gardening team, if I want it. It’s starting right back to basics, but it’d be the real deal, proper horticulture, not just selling potted plants and garden furniture to yuppies.’ He made a vague gesture towards the main part of the garden centre. ‘I think I want it … and him … but well, like a certain person of my acquaintance,
I’m prone to dithering when it comes to moving in and commitment. Not to mention getting together with someone who’s posh and much better off than I am.’

‘Tell me about it! It’s bloody terrifying, isn’t it?’ Lizzie slid off the bench and darted around to Brent’s side of the table, to hug him tight. John was her life, but her old friend would always be a soul-mate too. Especially now he faced a future so parallel to her own.