The Chocolate Lovers' Club (15 page)

The nurse gave her a kind glance. ‘You’re his sister?’

Autumn nodded.

‘We don’t know what’s happened to your brother,’ the nurse explained in hushed tones as they walked to Rich’s bed. ‘He looks as if he’s either been hit by a car or has been very badly beaten up.’

This was surely bad, if they couldn’t tell which.

‘He was found in an alley by a homeless person who had the good sense to call an ambulance.’

Guilt struck at Autumn’s core. If she’d picked up Richard’s call, could she have got an ambulance to him earlier?

Her brother was dwarfed by the range of machinery surrounding him. Was that machine helping him to breathe? Was that how close he was between life and death? His heart was beating rhythmically, which was more than she could say for her own. But his face was swollen, virtually
unrecognisable – cut, bruised, beaten to pulp. Tears squeezed out of her eyes.

‘Rich,’ she said. ‘It’s me. Autumn.’ She held her brother’s pale, lifeless hand and chafed at it.

‘He hasn’t spoken yet,’ the nurse told her. ‘He’s still unconscious.’

She hardly dared voice her fears. ‘He will get better?’

The nurse placed a hand on her arm. ‘We’re doing all that we can for him.’

‘I didn’t do enough for him.’ She broke down and wept as Addison held her close. ‘I didn’t do enough.’

Chapter Thirty

T
he three of us are sitting in a line in a darkened room in Chantal’s private clinic. Our friend is up on the couch, tummy bared.

‘Are you sure we’re all allowed in here?’ I whisper.

‘This is the benefit of a private clinic over National Health,’ Chantal tells us. ‘I can have what I like – so long as I pay for it.’

‘I brought chocolate,’ I say. ‘To help our nerves. Do you think we can eat it without getting told off?’

‘If we’re quick,’ Nadia says. So I furtively pass around a packet of Rolos and we all chew them with a grateful sigh.

I think Chantal is very brave to have us as her birthing partners. I, for one, am sure that I’ll pass out when it gets to the crucial moment. Frankly, I’ve even been known to pass out at the point of conception. Nadia, at least, has been through it before – only once though, which can’t mean that she’s in a great hurry to repeat the experience. Autumn will be wonderful, because she’s useful in every situation. There will, no doubt, be some crystal she can bring along to ease the contractions and
she’ll be brewing up raspberry tea and chanting and rubbing on aromatherapy oils or whatever until the baby pops out.

We’re waiting for the radiologist to come and give Chantal her scan. Just lately, her tummy has grown bigger, while her chocolate consumption has doubled, maybe tripled. Perhaps she’s eating for three rather than two?

‘Shouldn’t Ted be with you for this?’ I tentatively suggest.

Chantal stares at the ceiling. ‘I haven’t been able to tell him yet,’ she admits. ‘He cried off our theatre trip when I was going to raise the subject and now he’s not returning my calls. That’s not good. Right?’

We all silently agree that it isn’t good.

‘Don’t you worry about that now,’ Nadia says, patting her hand. ‘You have all of us to get you through the next few months. You’ll be absolutely fine.’

Autumn gives a tired yawn. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I’ve been up all night.’

‘We don’t want to know about your wild love-life,’ I tell her. ‘We’ll all be horribly jealous.’

‘I’ve been at the hospital,’ she explains wearily. ‘A different one. Richard’s been beaten up – he’s in a bad way.’

‘Oh, Autumn.’

‘Don’t say another word.’ She holds her hand up. ‘I want this to be a joyous occasion and I might cry if you say anything nice to me.’

‘You know that if there’s anything we can do, that we will.’

Autumn nods. I quickly give her another comfort Rolo and she takes it gratefully.

The radiologist comes into the room and I hide the rest of the chocolate.

‘Have you been selling tickets for this?’ she jokes to Chantal.

‘These are my best friends,’ Chantal tells her. ‘I wanted them all to be here.’

‘Well, they’ve got grandstand seats,’ she says. ‘Let’s get started.’

Clear gel is smeared over Chantal’s stomach and then suddenly we’re the first people to be saying hello to the new life growing inside her.

‘Oh,’ Chantal says with surprise. ‘I hadn’t expected it to look so much like a baby.’

Nadia laughs. ‘What did you think it would look like?’

‘A tadpole,’ Chantal says. ‘The last time I saw a scan picture it was a fuzzy blob that looked nothing like a baby, but this looks exactly like a kid.’ She starts to cry. ‘It’s got fingers and toes, everything.’

‘Looks like you’re going to have a little girl,’ the radiologist chips in.

Then we’re all crying. ‘Goddamit,’ Chantal says as she looks up at us with red-rimmed eyes. ‘I’m really going to have a baby.’

Chapter Thirty-One

M
arcus did go straight home after the film. I made absolutely sure about that. Actually, I was quite proud of myself because he was being so kind and loving and it was still raining, and well . . . I sigh out loud and push in another one of my stash of Chocolate Heaven truffles.

Crush slams a file down on my desk. Operation ‘Make Crush Friends With Me Again’ has not been going well. The coffee I’ve taken him has remained untouched. The chocolate versions of olive branches have all been rebuffed.

‘Sorry to interrupt your reverie,’ he says crisply. Instantly, I sit upright and try to appear efficient. ‘I’m thinking of organising a team-bonding event.’

I can’t help but groan. ‘Another one?’ I say. ‘Haven’t we had enough humiliation in this office? I thought the little incident with the broken leg might have put you off team-bonding for life.’ That was the result of a disastrous team-bonding, go-karting, me-being-too-competitive-and-too-jealous accident.

‘A team that plays together stays together.’ There’s a very stubborn thrust to his chin.

‘I hate this new, grumpy and corporate version of Aiden
Holby,’ I tell him candidly. ‘Can’t my old slap-dash boss who let me fiddle my expenses and called me Gorgeous come back? I can beg if you like.’

Aiden ignores my entreaty. ‘I thought we’d give paint-balling a try,’ he says.

‘Great. You don’t think I caused enough damage with a go-kart, so now you’re giving me a gun? Will you never learn?’

My phone rings and, without thinking, I answer. It’s Marcus and I feel the blood rush to my face. ‘Oh hi,’ I say. ‘I can’t talk right now. Yes, I’m in the office.’ Marcus tells me he loves me. ‘Right. Good. Thanks. Bye,’ I say and hang up before I actually found out what – if anything – Marcus wanted.

‘Marcus?’ Crush is eyeing me critically. ‘Will
you
never learn?’

‘We’re just friends.’

Mr Aiden Holby snorts at me. ‘You’re an idiot, Lucy,’ he tells me. ‘And what’s worse, you know you’re an idiot.’

But before I can summon up a suitable riposte, the office door bursts open and at ear-splitting volume the strains of ‘Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong’ drift across the room. I stand up and crane my neck to see what’s happening. As does everyone else in the office.

In true
An Officer and a Gentleman
style, complete with white dress uniform and matching peaked cap, Marcus marches the length of the entire office towards me, boom box in his white-gloved hand. There’s more than a look of the Richard Gere about him. Both Crush and I stand there looking completely amazed.

Marcus puts the boom box down on my desk. With a
self-satisfied grin at Crush, my former fiancé skirts round him and comes to stand in front of me.

‘Marcus,’ I say. ‘What are you doing?’

With that, and a small grunt, he sweeps me up into his arms. ‘I’ve come to take you away from your hideous life in this sweatshop.’

I start to giggle.

Aiden Holby is looking furious – paint-balling adventure long-forgotten.

‘Marcus, put me down,’ I try, but I’m laughing too much to put up a very effective protest. I wonder if Crush has even seen
An Officer and a Gentleman
– and, if so, exactly who he saw it with.

In the background, Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes warble on while my ex-fiancé carries me away from my desk and while I chuckle hysterically. Everyone in the office is smiling and, in the spirit of the film, someone needs to shout, ‘Way to go, Lucy!’ – but they don’t. Then the staff of Targa’s Sales Department are suddenly mobilised and they start to applaud Marcus’s audacity as he whisks me away in his arms. Everyone except one person, of course.

Over my shoulder, I can see that Crush isn’t very impressed by this at all. His face is stony. I try to recover some decorum. ‘I’ll be in early tomorrow!’ I call out. ‘To make up for this!’

But Crush shouts, ‘It wouldn’t worry me if you never came back at all!’

Chapter Thirty-Two

M
arcus has booked us a night at The Ritz. My ex-fiancé has given up carrying me around in his arms. He started to go a bit too red in the face – and panting like an old Labrador is not a good look for a romantic hero. I think he was quite relieved when I told him that I was perfectly capable of walking and that it wouldn’t lessen the impact of the gesture by being on my own two feet again. A romantic hero with a thrown back is not great either.

In the lift up to our room, I glance at the man with me. Is that how I see Marcus now? Is he the romantic hero of the piece? I smile at him. He’s certainly a lot of fun to be around when he’s on form. Is it worth the downside to experience highs like this?

‘I’m not sleeping with you just because you booked a room at a posh hotel,’ I tell him.

‘
The
posh hotel,’ he corrects me as he opens the door.

Simply stepping into our suite takes my breath away. ‘My God, Marcus,’ I gulp, ‘this is fabulous. How much did it cost?’ What Marcus has paid for tonight’s accommodation would cover the rent on my flat for a month – maybe even two.

‘It doesn’t matter how much it cost.’ He takes my hand. ‘I wanted this evening to be extra-special.’

Throwing my handbag on the bed, I immediately regret making the place look untidy. The decoration of the room is circa Louis XVI – a voluminous space with acres of thick carpet, heavy drapes, antique paintings and furniture in shades of blue, peach and lemon, all perfectly organised to exhibit unrestrained style. There’s champagne chilling in a silver bucket.

‘Marcus,’ I say with a sigh. ‘I don’t need all of this.’

He stands close behind me, his hands resting on my arms. ‘I want to spoil you,’ he tells me, his breath hot against my neck.

‘All I ever wanted was for you to be faithful to me.’ Moving away from him, I sit down on the bed and try it for bounciness. Perfect. As I knew it would be. They’ll probably bring really great chocolates with the turndown service. Not that I’m planning on staying that long. ‘I don’t need all this high drama. I just want a quiet life with a nice man.’

Marcus sits next to me and takes my hand. ‘You’ll never find another man like me.’

‘I don’t want another man like you!’

‘Please love me again,’ Marcus says. ‘I know we’ve had our ups and downs.’

I want to say, ‘Pah!’ out loud but nothing will come out of my mouth.

‘We can get through this.’ His eyes entreat mine. ‘These past few months have only served to make our relationship stronger. I really believe that.’

But do I?

Marcus takes off his hat and throws it on the bed behind us. He rakes his blond hair, then he peels off his uniform jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing a tight black T-shirt, six-pack very much in evidence. All those hours in the gym haven’t been wasted. I kick off my shoes and sink my toes into the plush carpet.

‘You look great in uniform,’ I tell him. ‘You’ve definitely given Richard Gere a run for his money.’

‘And you make a great Debra Winger.’ Is that a compliment? I try not to think that she was a down-at-heel factory worker with no future until her Mr Right came along.

‘Oh Marcus,’ I say. My fingers run over the front of his T-shirt in a distracted manner. ‘I could have loved you so much.’

‘You still can,’ he insists. ‘I’m a changed man. I brought you here tonight to plead my case.’ He leaps to his feet and pours us both a glass of champagne.

I take one of the flûtes from him. ‘So, what are we toasting?’

‘Us,’ he says earnestly. ‘I want us to give this another go, Lucy. I’ve tried, but I can’t live without you.’

As if I haven’t had enough surprises for today, Marcus goes down on one knee. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’

I try to laugh in a light and tinkling fashion but it doesn’t come out properly. ‘I’ve already said it once, Marcus, and you blew it. We were engaged and yet I found you with another woman, for heaven’s sake. I can’t do it again.’

‘And you tried to make it work with another guy and you couldn’t.’ The bare truth of that stings.

There are tears in Marcus’s beautiful blue eyes. ‘I’ll do anything for another chance.’

Now what do I say? My head hurts. It would be nice to have a lie-down on this lovely bed. I wonder, if I asked nicely, would they do the turndown service early?

‘Please find it in your heart to forgive me,’ Marcus implores.

Isn’t that what love is all about? Forgiving the person you love all of their transgressions? I told Crush as much. If I say yes to Marcus, doesn’t that prove we can weather any storm? Would that be a good foundation for a marriage? I know Marcus. I know him inside and out. I know how wonderful he can be when he wants to be. And I know just how much of a shit he can be when he doesn’t. As he pointed out, I tried to make a relationship with Crush and couldn’t. We fell at the first hurdle. My very first transgression has gone unforgiven and Aiden Holby has made it very clear that’s pretty much the end of that.

‘The wedding venue is still booked, Lucy.’

‘You’re kidding me!’

‘I never cancelled it,’ Marcus tells me with an embarrassed shrug. ‘I never accepted that it was over between us.’

From his pocket, he produces an enormous solitaire diamond. It sparkles with rainbow colours in the light of the chandelier. I gasp. Oh, this is so much more me than the last engagement ring he chose. ‘A new ring for a new start,’ he says earnestly, and I wonder briefly what happened to the other one. Did Marcus trade it in for this one, or did he give it to the obliging Joanne for her trouble?