The Unexpected Consequences of Love (6 page)

When strangers saw Dot and Lawrence Strachan together and learned that they were husband and wife, they invariably assumed that their marriage was wonderful and their lives were filled with love and joy. Why wouldn't they be? They were a striking couple, the connection between them was immediately apparent, and their easy camaraderie and laughter indicated how happy they were in each other's company.

Which just went to show, you actually
could
fool all of the people all of the time if you set your mind to it.

Not that it was any secret that they were no longer a couple; it was just what others imagined when they first met them. And they
had
been gloriously happy together for very many years. They had met as teenagers and married at the age of twenty-one, which seemed crazy now but had been more usual all those decades ago. They had been the perfect couple, everyone said so. All their friends envied them. Dot and Lawrence had appreciated their own good fortune and tried not to be sickening about it, but they'd both known how lucky they were to have found each other and stayed so happy together for so long.

Forty years…

Until the day Lawrence Strachan had been taking a misty morning stroll along Mariscombe Beach and had seen two huge, boisterous dogs racing across the sand, so involved in chasing each other that they failed to notice the woman ahead of them and sent her flying in spectacular fashion.

The woman let out a stifled shriek of dismay and landed awkwardly on one side in the cold, wet sand. The teenage owner of the dogs, in a panic, bellowed at them and legged it, never to be seen on the beach again.

Which left only Lawrence to hurry over and help the damsel in distress. But who wouldn't have done the same? The woman was lying facing away from him, gasping with shock and pain, her fine blond hair spread across the sand, her blue sweatshirt and jeans already soaking up water. Then, of course, the lacy edge of a wave slid up the beach, its icy coldness making her gasp again.

“What hurts?” said Lawrence, bending over her.

“Arm. Elbow. Ow…”

Carefully he helped her into a sitting position, then to her feet. The woman managed a brief smile and said, “Typical, I only started coming for morning walks to get myself a bit healthier. Serves me right for trying. Anyway, thanks.”

She was in more pain than she was letting on. Lawrence guided her over to the nearby rocks and sat her down, then gently rolled back the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Her face fell as they both saw the visible kink in her arm.

“Broken,” said Lawrence.

She shook her head in despair. “Brilliant.”

“Come on, I'll drive you to the emergency room.”

“I've been enough of a nuisance already.” Her gaze took in the fact that the front of his shirt was damp and sandy as well. “You don't have to.”

“It's no problem. Besides, how else would you get there? Catch a bus?”

Was it fate?

Was it sheer bad luck?

Or amazingly good luck?

Lawrence drove her to the local hospital, discovering en route that her name was Aurora Beauvais. She was forty-eight years old, originally from Edinburgh, recently moved down to St. Carys with her husband Antoine, a composer.

By the time they reached the emergency room, Lawrence realized he was in the grip of something life-changing, inescapable, a
coup
de
foudre
. Nothing had been said, but he could feel it shimmering between them, a palpable, almost audible buzz in the air. Unbelievably, he knew she was experiencing it too. It was at once horrifying and extraordinary.

He waited with Aurora while she was examined, x-rayed, and had her arm put in plaster. By one o'clock she was free to leave the hospital.

“What happens now?” Lawrence asked as he drove her back home.

“I don't know.” Her eyes were huge, her face pale. “I'm scared.”

“Me too.”

“We must never see each other again,” said Aurora.

“I can't do that.” He stared at her, because the prospect was just so utterly unthinkable.

“I know, but we have to. I'm married. I love my husband.” Her voice wavered. “Seriously, I'm just not the kind of person who does that.”

“Nor am I. But this is… I don't know. I love my wife too.”

“I wish we hadn't met,” said Aurora. “I really do. Those stupid dogs have a lot to answer for.”

Dot sat up, dragged back to the present, her attention distracted by the sound of Griff, in his basket under the desk, whimpering as he slept, dreaming of chasing rabbits, paws twitching. Life must be great for a dog, mustn't it? Food, shelter, and affection was all they needed to be happy.

When you were human, it became that much more complicated…

The reason Dot knew exactly what had happened on the day Lawrence and Aurora had first become aware of each other's existence was because he'd told her himself, in great detail. At first she hadn't wanted to know; the prospect of what was happening was simply too repulsive and terrifying. But eventually, the not knowing had felt worse. Ignorance was no longer bliss. Like touching an electric fence in order to discover just how electrifying it was, she'd asked Lawrence to tell her everything.

Each detail had been more painful than the last, but Dot had absorbed it all in an effort to understand. Because that had been the most extraordinary aspect of it: her husband's bewilderment and sorrow and shame, coupled with a complete and utter inability to countenance giving up this overwhelming new love of his life.

It was eleven years since it had all happened, but Dot was still able to recall every moment, every word, every emotion of that time. It had been a surreal nightmare, the very worst time of her life; unable to eat or sleep, she had wondered how getting through it could be physically possible. Her husband was distraught and endlessly apologetic but there could be no going back. He'd met someone who meant more to him than she did, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

The thought of actually meeting her rival was anathema to Dot, but she felt the need to at least see her with her own eyes. One afternoon, she found herself skulking in her car at the end of the street where Aurora lived with her husband, waiting for her to return home from work. Wearing dark glasses and a hat, she sat there for an hour before Aurora appeared.

When she did, Dot marveled at her ordinariness. Aurora was attractive but not amazingly so. Her fair hair was cut in a no-style style; she was wearing a nondescript green coat over a sensible shirt and skirt. Effortlessly glamorous herself, Dot was astounded by this decided lack of glamour; Aurora didn't fit the bill of husband-stealing femme fatale at all.

Then her heart gave a squeeze of panic as the other woman paused at the front gate of her house and looked directly across the road into Dot's car. The hat and dark glasses might as well have been invisible; there was no question that Aurora knew who she was.

Even more extraordinarily, she stood there for several seconds and waited, with a look of sympathy on her face, letting Dot know that if she wanted to come over and confront her, she could.

If she wanted to scream and yell at her, she could.

Maybe even if she wanted to deliver a resounding slap across the face and rip her no-style hair out, she could.

But having always imagined that she
would
be the kind of woman who would want to confront head-on any form of rival, Dot discovered that she really didn't want to after all. Nothing Aurora Beauvais did or said could make her feel better about the situation. No good could come from any interaction.

Turning the key in the ignition, she had shifted the car into gear and driven away.

***

The bell went
dinggg
out in reception, and Dot rose to her feet to deal with it, smoothing down her narrow skirt with habitual attention to detail and already breaking into a welcoming smile as she pulled open the office door.

Her smile broadened when she saw Riley waiting at the desk with the girl he'd called about just now. Dot, who relied a lot on instinct and first impressions, liked the look of her straight away; she was pretty and bright-eyed, with small, pearly teeth and swingy dark brown hair.

“Hello, darling.” Riley greeted Dot with a kiss on the cheek. “Here she is. Her name's Tula.”

“Tula Kaye. Lovely to meet you. Thanks so much for seeing me.” Tula's handshake was enthusiastic.

“Welcome. And I'm Dot,” said Dot, already charmed. Gesturing around the side of the reception desk for the girl to follow her, she said, “Let's have a chat, shall we? Come along through.”

***

This was all going incredibly well. Tula was ecstatic. The hotel seemed perfect, the couple members of staff she'd met so far were friendly, and she and Dot had really hit it off. Bumping into Riley in the town parking lot had turned out to be a massive stroke of luck. Best of all, when she'd mentioned in passing that her friend down here was Sophie, it transpired that Dot knew her too.

“Of course I do! Sophie's a gem; she did all the photos for our brochure. Now, why don't I show you around and you can meet some more people, get a feel for the place…?”

“I'd love to.” Tula was scarcely able to believe her luck. Over the last few months, she'd become far more accustomed to everything in her life going pear-shaped.

Less than three minutes later, life reverted to type. Having made their way upstairs to the first landing, they bumped into Josh, who did an unceremonious double take when he saw her.

“Josh, perfect timing! It looks as if we have ourselves a replacement for Lisa. Isn't that great? Say hello to—”

“Tula. I know. Hang on.” Josh's brow furrowed as he surveyed Tula. “You haven't seriously applied for a job here, have you?”

“Why not?” Her heart began to gallop. “It's allowed.”

Puzzled, Dot said, “Why ever shouldn't she?”

At that moment Tula glanced out of the landing window and experienced the
click
of a final jigsaw piece slotting into place. On Saturday she'd climbed the stone steps from the beach and ended up on the grounds of a hotel whose name she'd paid no attention to. It was where she'd first bumped into Josh Strachan, who co-owned it with his grandmother. But when Riley had driven her here today, they'd parked on the driveway at the
front
of the hotel, and it hadn't occurred to her that he'd brought her to the same place.

“Why shouldn't she?” Josh echoed. “Because she's not the kind of person you'd want to employ. She lies to her boss, doesn't turn up for work, and isn't bothered about letting other members of staff down.” Turning to Tula he said, “What are you doing back here anyway? Why aren't you in Birmingham?”

Since denying everything clearly wasn't going to work, Tula blurted out, “Look, it was one tiny mistake and I've paid for it. I hate Birmingham, I can't stay in my flat, and taking that photo of you ended up costing me my job.”

“Ah, so it's my fault?”

“No, I'm just telling you what happened!”

“Fine. And I'm telling you what's
not
going to happen.” Josh was shaking his head. “You're not going to be offered a job in this hotel.”

“Oh, but—”

“I mean it.” He held up his hand, cutting off Dot's protest. “Of course you like her, because she seems so nice, but I heard her on the phone on Saturday, calling her boss pretending to be sick so she could spend the weekend down here drinking at the Mermaid and flirting with men.” He paused. “Chiefly Riley Bryant.”

Although it wasn't the moment to say so, the one she'd most wanted to flirt with had actually been Josh himself.

But the look of disappointment on Dot's face was more than Tula could bear. Her perfect job was evaporating in front of her like dry ice.

“Oh, please, it was just one shift. I swear to God I've never,
ever
done it before, and I'll never do it again.”

“You won't be doing it here, that's for sure.” Josh was implacable, unmoved. “We need people who are honest and reliable. And you don't appear to be either of those things.”

“But I
am
,” Tula pleaded. “And it was your friend Riley who told me about this job. He was the one who brought me here!”

A brief eye roll greeted this statement. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

She was hyperventilating. “Please, I'm a really hard worker. I wouldn't let you down, I
promise
.”

But Josh was already shaking his head; he'd taken charge and was refusing to listen to any more. “I know you wouldn't,” he said flatly. “Basically because you aren't going to get the chance.”

That was it; Tula gave up. But honestly, it was at times like this that it would have been handy to know how to do kung fu.

“Now hold up my book and smile… More than that… No, lift your chin so you don't look pouchy… There, you see, that's
much
better.” Marguerite, who had taken charge as usual, was orchestrating the situation like Steven Spielberg. Nodding at Sophie to begin, she called out, “Anyone else wanting their photo taken with me, just form an orderly line over there to the right. Everyone will get their turn!”

Sophie hid a smile and got on with the task at hand, taking care to shoot only from the most flattering angles, as ordered by Marguerite. Resplendent in a bright orange silk dress teamed with zebra-print shoes, Marguerite had actually given a hugely entertaining after-dinner speech. The guests had enjoyed the evening and been thrilled to have the opportunity to meet her. All in all, it had been a good night for the charity.

If less so for Sophie herself; after agreeing to pop in for an hour or two, she'd subsequently been forced to turn down an offer to spend a far more lucrative evening at a silver wedding celebration in Port Isaac. But that couldn't be helped; you took the work as you were offered it.

By ten thirty, when all the photos had been taken, Sophie was packing away her equipment when she became aware of someone standing behind her.

“Oh, hello.” Glancing around, she saw that it was Josh Strachan.

“Hi.” He paused, as if waiting for more. When it didn't arrive, he said, “Cross with me?”

“Would it make a blind bit of difference?” Sophie clicked shut the fasteners on the camera case and straightened up. “This is your hotel…well, partly. It's up to you who you take on.”

“I know.” Josh gave her a measured look. “What happened to your friend? Did she go back to Birmingham?”

“No. Nothing to go back to, remember? She's still here.”

“Where's she staying?”

Two could play at being cool. “On my sofa.”

“Has she found work?”

“Yes.” Sophie wondered where this was headed. “She managed to reschedule the interview she'd had to cancel in the first place in order to come here.”

“And she got the job.”

“She did. Excuse me a second…” Waylaying Marguerite as she swept past in a cloud of orange silk and Guerlain perfume, Sophie said, “I can send you tonight's photos by Monday, if that's okay.”

“Perfect. Thanks so much for doing this.”

“And I've been here since nine, so I'll email you my invoice at the same time.”

“You'll invoice
me
?” Mascaraed lashes batted in surprise. “Oh, no, darling, I'm the guest of honor here tonight! Just send the bill to the charity; they'll take care of it!”

And she was gone. Sophie suppressed a sigh, because the tiny strapped-for-cash charity hadn't requested her services and would regard any form of invoice as an expense they couldn't afford. Which meant she was going to be even
more
out-of-pocket.

“Where?” said Josh.

“Where what?” Distracted, she dropped her keys.

“Where's Tula working?”

“At the Melnor Hotel.”

You could tell he was unfamiliar with the name by the way he didn't flinch. “And is she enjoying it?”

“No,” Sophie said evenly, “of course not. She's hating every minute. It's way over on the other side of St. Carys, out on the road to Bodmin, and no one in their right mind goes there.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's an awful drug-infested drinking den for the troublemakers who've been kicked out of everywhere else.”

Josh said, “If it's that bad, why's she working there?”

“Why do you think? Because Tula's a grafter who always pays her own way, and anything's better than no job at all. Plus,” Sophie concluded pointedly, “she wasn't allowed to work here.”

He looked at her. She looked back at him. He really did have incredible cheekbones. Okay, and a pretty amazing mouth too.

“She's your friend,” said Josh. “You're bound to defend her.”

“I'm not defending her. You asked; I'm just telling you the truth. If you'd taken her on, you wouldn't have regretted it.”

“Ooh, there you are.” Dot came rushing up to them. “Lovely! Have you asked her yet?”

Josh shook his head. “I was just about to.”

“About Tula?” Sophie feigned innocence. “I was just telling him, she's working over at the Melnor.”

“Oh my goodness.” Unlike her grandson, Dot was entirely up to speed with the situation. “Oh
dear
.”

“In fact, I'm just on my way over there now to pick her up.”

“I thought she had her own car,” said Josh.

“She does. But by the time she'd finished her shift last night, someone had smashed the passenger window and nicked the stereo out of it.”

“Poor thing, how awful! But maybe that means she might…you know…” Dot looked meaningfully at Josh.

Reading between the lines, Sophie said, “What happened?”

“We took on a French guy,” Josh began.

“Ahem,
you
took on a French guy,” Dot retorted. “And this morning he didn't turn up to begin his shift. When I checked his room, he'd packed his belongings and left.”

“Why?”

“Well, he was quite an intense young man,” Dot confided. “Took his wine knowledge very seriously. According to the other restaurant staff, he got rather upset last night when a couple customers pretended to be wine-tasting experts and started banging on about top notes of grilled hummingbird and base notes of panda's armpit. It seems he felt they were being disrespectful. Anyway, he's gone.” She didn't look too distraught about it. Raising her eyebrows at Josh, she waited expectantly for him to speak.

Sophie did too. This was fun.

“Fine,” Josh said at last. “So do you think your friend Tula might be interested in coming to work for us?”

Yay!

“She told me she wouldn't work for you if you begged her on your knees.”

His face fell. “Really?”

“Not really.” Ha, winding people up was brilliant, especially when they deserved it as much as he did. Watching him relax, Sophie said, “But it's up to her, not me.”

“Will you ask her?”

“Why don't we drive over to the Melnor now?” She kept a straight face. “You can apologize first, grovel for a bit, then ask her yourself.”

***

The Melnor Hotel, modern and unlovely, stood on its own outside St. Carys, like the outcast who hadn't been invited to the party. Music was thudding from the building as they drove into the parking lot to join the scattering of motorbikes, vans, and vehicles with that uninsured look about them. Teenagers in hoodies were hunched along one wall, smoking and swigging out of cans.

“Park over there, under the light,” said Sophie.

“Bloody hell.” As Josh switched off the engine, a fight spilled out of the bar. Scuffling men rolled over in the dirt, yelling and punching and swearing at each other. “Do you want to wait out here while I go in and get her?”

What, and miss all the fun?
thought Sophie.
Not
a
chance.
She hopped out of the Audi and said, “No way. I'm coming in with you.”

The hotel bar was what kept the Melnor in business. Well, that and the drugs Melvyn and Noreen sold to their customers. The younger ones hanging around outside the entrance were enveloped in a cloud of pungent cannabis smoke. Inside, the bar held more customers knocking back pints. The linoleum floor was sticky with spilled drinks, the lighting came from overhead fluorescent tubes and the nicotine-stained walls were bare. Leaning against this side of the bar were people in various stages of inebriation, Melvyn and Noreen among them. Behind it, Tula was working at the speed of light, pouring fresh pints and clearing away empty glasses while simultaneously avoiding the attentions of the leering bald man attempting to get a good look down her top and defusing an argument between several huge, terrifying-looking drunks.

Alongside Sophie, Josh murmured, “Jesus.”

“Noreen, who are them two?” A scrawny woman had spotted them, and gave the landlady a nudge. “Undercover cops?”

Eyes swiveled in their direction. Among this clientele, Sophie realized they looked as ludicrously out of place as a couple royals—William and Kate, maybe—popping in for a swift half-pint.

Then Tula glanced up from her work and did a cartoon double take at the sight of Josh.