The Chocolate Lovers' Diet (34 page)

‘Do you know for sure that Stacey’s child is yours?’

‘Christ,’ Ted said. ‘I think so. How do you know these days? She could have three other guys on the go and I’d be none the wiser.’

Chantal decided to keep quiet.

‘I have to ask this, Chantal.’ Ted turned towards her. ‘Is
your
baby mine?’

‘Truthfully?’

‘It’s usually the best way,’ her husband advised. Chantal had found that it wasn’t always so.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I believe it is. We can only find out for certain after the birth.’ If there was any way of willing this child into being the fruit of Ted’s loins then she damn well would. ‘I’ll get a DNA test as soon as possible. It carries more risks to the baby to have one before it’s born and I don’t want to do anything that might harm it.’ She folded her hands protectively over her stomach. ‘The baby’s a little girl. A daughter.’

Tears filled her husband’s eyes. ‘This is all I ever wanted, Chantal.’

‘I wish you’d said earlier,’ she said with a tired laugh. ‘Maybe we could have saved ourselves a whole heap of trouble. Now it looks like you’re gonna get a double helping, Daddy.’

‘I have one other question,’ Ted said. ‘That guy, the wedding planner. Did you have an affair with him?’

Chantal felt a flush come to her cheeks.

‘There’s a chemistry between you. A chemistry that only comes with being intimate with someone. I see that in his eyes.’

Jeez, if only her husband was always so observant. He couldn’t spot that she was four months’ pregnant, yet he could tell that there was a spark between her and Jacob.

‘Could it be his child?’

‘It’s unlikely,’ Chantal said. ‘He knows nothing about this. We had a very brief liaison.’

‘And you’re just friends now?’

‘Just friends,’ she confirmed. There was no need to tell Ted that she’d thoroughly enjoyed her time with Jacob – even though the cost, in more ways than one, had been astronomically high.

‘I’d like us to stay friends too,’ he said.

‘I’m still hoping that we can get back together,’ Chantal said.

‘Even after everything that’s happened?’

She patted her stomach. ‘
Especially
after everything that’s happened.’

Chapter Seventy-Eight

‘
B
loody hell,’ I say with a hearty sigh. ‘I needed to get away from that lot.’ I’ve abandoned the frantic atmosphere of the disco and have come in search of sanctuary and five minutes’ peace. I don’t know quite how I managed to get through this day, but I’m at the point where I think I might like it to end. Marcus’s relatives – having decided to stick it out – are now showing no signs of wanting to go home.

‘Come and join us, Lucy.’ Chantal pats a chair next to her.

Gratefully, I flop down in the chair next to Chantal, who I’ve found hiding away in a little lounge with her hubby.

‘I was just going. I’ll leave you ladies to it,’ Ted says, rising. He kisses me on the cheek. ‘Great wedding, Lucy.’

‘Thanks.’

Ted, as promised, leaves us to it. With a moan of pleasure, Chantal kicks off her shoes and lets her head fall back, then stretches out, so that her feet rest on the seat opposite her. ‘All this emotion is taking its toll,’ she tells me.

‘Tell me about it.’ I, too, kick off my shoes and, re
arranging my wedding dress, curl my legs under me. ‘Let’s text the others. See if we can all steal a few minutes alone. I’m missing my girls.’ I punch
CHOCOLATE EMERGENCY
into my phone and the name of the lounge that we’re in.

Minutes later, Nadia and Autumn have tracked us down. ‘Look what I’ve found,’ Nadia announces as she comes in. She’s bearing a tray loaded with the remnants of my wedding cake.

‘You didn’t pick it up off the floor?’ I want to know.

‘No,’ she says. ‘But we’d still eat it anyway, right?’

We all nod our agreement. A little bit of carpet fluff wouldn’t detract from the superb taste of chocolate, would it? Autumn is bearing a bottle of champagne and some glasses. She hands out the flûtes, pops the cork and pours. Even Chantal takes one. ‘This kid can cope with a few sips,’ she says. ‘After the discussion I’ve just had with Ted, I need it.’

‘I didn’t interrupt anything important, did I?’ Come to think of it, they did look very cosy when I found them and, of course, I just blundered on in.

She shakes her head. ‘He’d just finished telling me that he’s going to be a daddy.’

We all look at her, puzzled. ‘We know that.’

‘By a woman other than my good self.’

‘We didn’t know that!’ we all say.

‘Well,’ Chantal says, ‘it was news to me too.’

‘How do you feel about it, Chantal?’ Autumn asks.

‘Surprisingly calm,’ she admits. ‘I took his announcement well. He took mine well.’ She shrugs her shoulders. ‘Though quite where we go from here is anyone’s guess.’

‘This is definitely,
definitely
a chocolate cake moment,’ I say. And, duly, we all tuck in.

‘How’s Clive?’ Chantal asks.

‘Crying in the toilets,’ I tell her. ‘The
ladies
’ toilets. Marcus’s mum is currently wiping his tears.’

‘Poor Clive,’ Nadia says.

‘Poor Tristan, more like,’ I chip in. ‘Looks to me like that Raunchy Roberta will make mincemeat of him.’

We all laugh. Chantal shakes her head. ‘Last I saw of them, Roberta was manhandling Tris out of the front door.’

‘This has been a very interesting wedding,’ I say, noting that Marcus hasn’t really been missed that much. ‘I can’t wait for the next one.’

Then Autumn, who with her red curls and her freckles would never have the right complexion for a poker player, goes bright red.

We all wait expectantly. Our friend squirms in her seat and blushes a bit more. ‘I think Addison might have asked me to marry him.’

‘You
think
he did?’

She nods. ‘And I think I said yes.’

‘Yeeeeeees!’ We all let out a cheer.

‘I have to check with him,’ she said. ‘When we’re both sober. It was a very casual proposal.’

‘Casual or not, we’re damn well toasting it!’ I tell her.

Nadia sploshes some more champagne in all of our glasses and we raise them to Autumn.

‘To Autumn and Addison,’ Chantal proposes. ‘May your wedding be less “interesting” than Lucy’s!’

‘To Autumn and Addison,’ we all echo. More wedding cake is consumed.

‘If you do it quickly,’ Nadia suggests, ‘we could all wear the same bridesmaid’s dresses.’

‘I’m not going to fit into mine for much longer,’ Chantal reminds us.

Me neither. My diet starts tomorrow. In earnest. No more chocolate . . .Ye gods! What am I saying! How could I manage without chocolate – particularly in my current emotional state? Chocolate is all that I have. Maybe I’ll just give up all other foodstuffs instead. There must be a chocolate lovers’ diet out there? Surely you could lose weight on just three, or perhaps four, Mars Bars a day?

While I’m still trying to work out my calorific requirements to survive, Nadia takes my hand. ‘You’ve done so well today, Lucy,’ she tells me. ‘We’re all very proud of you.’

‘Life goes on,’ I say. ‘I might not have Marcus, but I have my friends and I have chocolate.’

‘To friends and to chocolate,’ Chantal says, and we all raise our glasses again.

‘And you have Crush,’ Autumn says.

Crush. My heart lets out a sigh. The day has been so manic that I’ve barely had time to allow my thoughts to go there. Letting my mind drift, I wonder where Mr Aiden Holby is right now. I should call him and tell him about the wedding that never was. He probably won’t want to hear from me, but I owe him that much.

‘You should call him,’ Nadia says, echoing my thoughts.

‘Later,’ I tell her. I need time to work out what I’m going to say to him and my brain’s far too whirry now –
not to mention a little drunker than is appropriate for rational thought. ‘Now I should be getting back to my guests.’

Nadia makes to stand up. ‘I should be going too. I’ve left Lewis with Jacob. He’s a really nice guy.’

None of us can argue with that. ‘You’re coping really well too, Nadia,’ I say.

‘I am,’ she says proudly. ‘I’m going to be okay.’

‘We’ll make sure that you are,’ Chantal adds.

‘What a truly resilient bunch we are,’ I note.

‘I’ll drink to that,’ Nadia says, and we all clink our glasses together again.

For good measure I steal another piece of chocolate cake and cram it in on top of the rest. Sod the diet. Curves will eventually come back into fashion.

‘Come on then,’ I say, jumping from my chair. ‘We’ve got a sugar high to dance off. Let’s hit that party.’

Chapter Seventy-Nine

W
e’re all in the corridor, holding hands, giggling and heading back to the action. There’s a man in a smart dark suit striding purposefully towards us, head down. We ease to one side as he gets near to us and he looks up to say thanks.

Then he does a double-take. ‘You!’ he shouts out as he recognises us. He stands back to get a better view and, waving his finger at us all, he shouts again:
‘You!’

Ohmigod. This is what I’d feared most for my wedding day – the thought that Marcus might abandon me had never crossed my mind, but I always dreaded bumping into this man.

Last time I was at Trington Manor with the members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club we were committing a cunning heist – retrieving Chantal’s jewellery from a charming conman who’d shagged her and then stolen all her stuff. That same man – he of the awful alias, Mr John Smith, Gentleman Thief, is standing in front of us.

We all gasp out loud. I knew it was a really, really bad idea to hold the reception here.

The man takes in our wedding garb. His face has gone
an unattractive shade of thundercloud. ‘You robbed me, you bitches,’ he yells. ‘You drugged me. You destroyed my car.’

I’d forgotten about that bit. We found all of Chantal’s belongings in the boot of his Merc and then, well, we pushed it into the lake. It seemed like a really, really good idea at the time.

‘I think that I’d call it quits,’ Chantal informs him coldly. ‘You had it coming to you.’ She’s sounding like a gangsta – mean and moody, particularly for a pregnant person.

He’s advancing on us, menacingly.

‘Quick,’ Nadia says, and she grabs him. I throw my little silk bag to the floor and join in. Chantal and Autumn do the same. Seconds later, after a bit of impromptu wrestling, the four of us have his arms pinned behind his back and he’s struggling ferociously.

‘What now?’ Autumn says.

‘In here.’ Next to us is some sort of cupboard and I nod towards it. Chantal flings open the door. It’s a small space stacked with towels and cleaning equipment with just enough extra room to store a conman. He’s screaming and shouting abuse at us as we bundle him inside and close the door behind us all.

Chantal searches on the shelves and finds something that looks like a clothes-line. ‘This will do nicely,’ she says triumphantly. She must have been a Girl Scout in her formative years as she makes an excellent job of tying Mr Smith’s hands and feet together.

Autumn finds a small towel with
Trington Manor
embroi
dered in the corner. She stuffs the bulk of it into Mr Smith’s mouth and then ties the loose ends at the back of his head.

‘Mtherfthin cnth,’ he mutters darkly.

I think, transcribed, that would come out as a really rude statement.

Chantal puts a hand against the shelves and leans over our captive in a very threatening manner. ‘Remember this,’ she says tightly. ‘I have all your details, Mr Felix Lavare.’

I’d forgotten that was his real name and that we actually knew it.

‘When you get out of here, my advice is to leave this hotel straight away. Hightail it right outta here and don’t look back. Give us any trouble and I’ll go straight to the police. Understand?’

He stops struggling and there’s a muffled, ‘Eth,’ from the depths of the towel.

‘Now calm down like a good boy,’ she tells him, ‘and someone will let you out real soon.’ Chantal gives his bonds the once-over again. Looking good.

Checking that the coast is clear, we all exit the cupboard. As a finishing touch, Autumn holds up a sign that says NOT IN USE. ‘Found this,’ she says, speaking in a stage whisper. ‘Thought it might come in useful.’

Our friend hangs it on the door knob at a jaunty angle. Tiptoeing away from the cupboard, we all huddle together. Nadia rubs her hands together in the manner of a job well done. ‘Do you think that will hold him until we’re out of here?’

‘I hope so,’ Chantal replies. ‘Let’s pray that the housekeeping staff don’t need any fresh towels until the morning.’

‘It’s a quiet corridor, so not many people are likely to come this way,’ I point out. ‘I just hope there’s no one waiting in his room for him.’

‘The thought of it makes me shudder,’ Chantal says.

‘I just had a horrible thought too,’ I say to my friend. ‘That man could be the father of your child.’

‘Don’t remind me.’ Chantal shivers. ‘I hope to God that it’s
anyone
but him.’

‘Bloody hell,’ I say. ‘This is too much excitement for one day. My heart’s still banging in my chest.’

‘Mine too,’ Chantal adds with a weary exhalation.

‘My knees have turned to jelly,’ Nadia says.

‘Do you think he’ll cause trouble for us?’ Autumn, out of all of us, looks the most concerned.

Chantal shakes her head. ‘Not if he knows what’s good for him.’

‘Collectively, we’ve had three run-ins with him so far. The score is two to the members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club and only one to the handsome criminal. I think he should realise that he’s no match for us.’

We all enjoy a good laugh to relieve the pressure. ‘I have to go back to the party,’ I say. ‘See what else has gone wrong in my absence. Come on.’

‘You go on,’ Chantal says. ‘We’ll be right behind you.’

‘Don’t be long,’ I tell them. ‘There’s still a chocolate fountain for us to decimate.’

As I leave, I don’t see my good friend bend down to
pick up my little silk bag that I dropped in the struggle with Mr Smith. The girls wait until I’m out of sight, then Chantal pulls my mobile phone out of it and brandishes it, gleefully, at the others.