The Wedding Invite (Lakeview) (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 6) (20 page)

L
ater that evening
, Helen breezed into Laura’s sitting-room, looking like someone who had just stepped off the fashion pages of
Cosmo
, rather than the supposedly harassed mother she was supposed to be.

Laura thought she saw Neil throw her friend an admiring glance, and felt immediately self-conscious in her supermarket-bought trousers and T-shirt. Laura spied her friend’s stylish Karen Millen top, worn over black woollen trousers that fitted so well it looked as though they had been custom-made for her.

OK, so working from home didn’t require dressing up, and Laura wasn’t exactly inspired to go through the entire make-up rigmarole, when the only living thing with which she came into contact from nine to five was Eamonn the cat, who couldn’t care less whether she wore SuperCurl or Superglue on her eyelashes.

Still, Laura decided she should start making more of an effort to look the part of the professional career woman, even if it was just for Neil.

“Hi, Mommy,” Kerry brightened instantly on seeing Helen. “Look what I d-d-did today.” She handed Helen a drawing she had done earlier that day at preschool. “This is me, this is you and this is B-B-Baawney.”

Helen took the drawing and smiled. “That’s lovely, darling, aren’t you a clever girl?”

Pleased, Kerry took her mother’s hand. “Mommy, when can we get a doggy like Baawney?”

Helen sighed, and made eyes at Laura. “Now pet, I know how much you love Barney, but I told you before that we’re not getting a puppy. Barney looks after Auntie Nicola because she lives on her own, but you don’t live on your own, do you?”

Kerry shook her head from side to side, her eyes filled with disappointment. “But Auntie Law-law has Eamonn, and s-s-she lives with Uncle Neil,” she countered.

Helen paused, unsure how to answer, and Neil decided to help her out. “Yes, but that’s because Auntie Laura is at home on her own all day, while I’m out at work.”

Kerry pondered this. “Can I stay at home all d-d-day while you work, Mommy? Then I could have a d-d-doggy to look after me.”

“But wouldn’t you miss pre-school?” Laura asked.

Kerry shook her head. “No, I h-h-hate pwe-school.”

“This is the latest thing.” Helen rolled her eyes.

“But why don’t you like pre-school? Aren’t there lots of nice boys and girls there for you to play with?” Neil probed.

Kerry shook her head from side to side, her eyes wide.

“No nice boys and girls – at all?” Laura asked

“No – don’t like them.”

Helen made a face. “Don’t mind her, she’s been like this ever since she stopped going to Jo’s.”

Laura wasn’t so sure. She’d collected Kerry from playschool a lot in the last couple of weeks, and not once did she mention another child or playmate, which Laura thought was quite strange for someone her age. Kerry was a naturally shy child as a result of her stutter, and Laura wondered if maybe she was having problems making friends. She resolved to speak to Helen about it. And speaking of Jo …?

“So have you found another childminder, yet?” she asked Helen, surprised at her own forthrightness.

Helen reddened. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. But it’s been so busy at work, I just haven’t had a chance to put a decent effort into it.”

Laura instantly felt like a heel. Kerry was a dream to look after, and it wasn’t as though she was rushed off her feet here – she just hated being away from the office in the afternoons, especially since she missed that call. Still, what else were friends for? And Laura was sure that Helen would do the same for her, if the situations were reversed.

“Listen, why don’t you two stay for dinner?” she said, anxious to make amends. She didn’t want Helen thinking she was being unhelpful, or Kerry to think she was unwanted.

“Oh, can we, Mommy?” Kerry looked delighted. “Auntie Law-law made sheep’s pie!”

“Would you mind?” Helen looked from Laura to Neil, unsure.

“No, not at all. Come through to the kitchen, it’s nearly ready.”

“So how’s the business going?” Helen asked, taking tiny morsels from her overloaded plate.

Laura’s insides tightened. She hated speaking to Helen about this, because her friend was always on at her to be more proactive about her selling.

“Getting there,” she answered, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she felt. “The website is working out well and I’ve had enquiries from the States, Germany, even Saudi Arabia.”

“She’ll be going international before we know it!” Neil added proudly, shovelling a forkful of potato into his mouth.

“Any stockists yet?” Helen speared a carrot onto her fork.

Laura looked uncomfortable. There had been a few, but they weren’t ordering enough to make any kind of impact on her accounts. “The Crafts Council has my name on file, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time …”

“The trade fair should help too,” Neil said. “That’s when? A few weeks after the wedding?”

Laura nodded, and Helen must have felt her reticence on the matter because she changed the subject soon after.

Laura’s confidence was rapidly eroding with each passing day. It was as though her self-esteem, her entire self-worth were tied up in this business venture, and what had started out as a great business idea and a rush of excitement had now turned into something Laura was almost ashamed of.

What if she couldn’t make this work? What if she had to admit defeat, and throw in the towel? How would she face them all? Nicola would support her, but probably feel for her at the same time. Helen would undoubtedly think ‘I told you so’ and Laura didn’t have to even wonder about her family –
they
would probably start celebrating on the streets. But what about Neil? What about loving, supportive, hard-working Neil? Would he be disappointed in her? Would he begin to pity her, or even resent her if she packed this in?

Because the way she was feeling at the moment, Laura thought, watching Helen engage her fiancé in what must have been riveting conversation, she wasn’t sure if she could carry on much longer.

“
N
ice place
.” Paul sat up, zipped up his jeans and glanced fleetingly around Helen’s ground-floor apartment. “You’re obviously very good at what you do.”

From where she lay half-undressed on the ground, Helen gave him once of her most provocative smiles. “I thought you of all people should already know that?”

He laughed and kissed her again. “Come on, it’ll be closing time soon.”

Helen got up, straightened her clothes and went to the bathroom to retouch her make-up and brush her hair.

“Come on, come on, you don’t need that crap, you look gorgeous as you are,” he called after her impatiently.

“I am not going out with bed-head,” she retorted. “Even if it is only as far as the local.”

“You look best with bed-head,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her again.

She followed Paul out the door, and took one last look around the apartment to ensure that none of Kerry’s toys – which had been deliberately hidden earlier – had managed to evade her. All she needed now was some Tweenie doll sticking its head out from one of the sofas.
That
would certainly make an impression.

Helen smiled as Paul took her hand and they walked towards the pub. Thank goodness Nicola had agreed to look after Kerry again this evening. Helen had pleaded a work do, but Nicola was having none of it.

“OK, OK, I might as well tell you. I’ve met someone – someone new.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me – that’s all you’re getting, for the time being anyway.”

There must have been something in her tone because Nicola knew straight away that this guy wasn’t quite ‘new’.

“You dark horse, Helen Jackson,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Helen giggled. “There’s nothing much to tell,” she said, unwilling to elaborate. “Anyway, Nicola, can you baby-sit, or not? If not, I’ll have to ask Laura, and I feel bad enough as it is, asking her to collect Kerry from school during the week.”

And Helen did feel bad about it. But she just hadn’t had the chance to find another childminder at such short notice. Anyway, Laura loved having her and Kerry loved being there – in fact, Helen thought, she couldn’t think of a better person to take Kerry. And Laura wouldn’t have to mind her for that much longer, what with Kerry starting school in a couple of weeks’ time.

“I’ll take Kerry on Friday night,” Nicola said. “I won’t be going anywhere anyway and Ken is away this weekend.”

“Oh,” Helen said, remembering, “Laura told me you met up with Dan again recently. How did it go?”

“Not bad,” Nicola said guardedly, and Helen knew instantly that her friend didn’t want to discuss it with her. In a way, she could understand why. Helen hadn’t been all that supportive of Nicola throughout her marriage break-up – what with everything that was going on with Jamie at the time.

To this day, Helen still felt guilty about that – after all, Nicola had always made time for her. She must pop over and have a proper chat with her about it all soon, but then again, she was just so busy these days with work and Kerry, and everything ...

“So are you going to tell me anything about lover-boy, or what?” Nicola asked her and Helen grinned, pleased to be back on more familiar, guilt-free, territory. “Well, his name is Paul, he’s a little younger than I am – about twenty-eight, twenty-nine, I’d say.”

“
About
twenty-eight – you mean you haven’t asked him?”

Helen chuckled. “I haven’t really had the chance,” she said, her voice heavy with meaning.

“Well, how long have you been seeing … oh.” Nicola exclaimed, understanding immediately. “It’s one of
those
.”

Helen laughed. It wasn’t
all
just sex, although there had been plenty of that. Things had begun to get serious between them lately, at least as serious as they could be with Paul away from Dublin so often. His work as an investment adviser meant that he was constantly on the road for days on end. Then apparently his mother wasn’t very well, so most weekends he travelled to Cork to spend time with her – which is why he would have to leave Helen’s early tomorrow morning.

Aside from Paul’s obvious magnetism, it was this fact that particularly endeared him to her. Who would have thought that this sexy, macho man was nothing but a big softie inside? Travelling hundreds of miles each weekend just to be with his mother. It wouldn’t have been Helen, that was for sure, but then again her own mother was long gone, and she didn’t have to worry about visiting her father, who tended to be much happier left to his own devices on the farm in Glengarrah.

But because of this side to Paul, Helen was almost certain he would eventually take to Kerry. But when to tell him? She had thought about that a lot lately, but then as the weeks went by, it was getting harder and harder to broach the subject. What was she supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, Paul, I nearly forgot – I have a three and a half -year-old’?

No, she had to think a little more about it. After her experience with Richard Moore, Helen wasn’t going to just rush into telling him. She had to bide her time, and wait for the right opportunity. In the meantime, she was just going to enjoy being with a man who obviously adored her. It had been a long time.

“So what are you up to tomorrow?” Paul asked her.

Helen grinned at him. “Well, because I have the day to myself
for once
, I’m going shopping …” She trailed off, realising what she had said. “I mean, I normally have a lot of work to do at home, and this week I got it all finished early and – ”

“You’re really dedicated to your job, aren’t you?” Paul didn’t notice anything amiss, nor did he hear the fearful pounding of Helen’s heartbeat.

“I suppose so, but as I said, I’m going shopping tomorrow. I need to get an outfit for a friend’s wedding next month. I don’t have much time so –”

“A wedding?” Paul interjected. “I love weddings.”

The way he said it, Helen knew he was angling for an invitation. But how could she invite him, when Kerry would be there as flowergirl?

“Well, I’d invite you, only – only one of my friends is single too, and we said we’d stick together, and –”

“Single? Just remember that
you’re
not single anymore, Jackson,” he said, pushing the pub door open and gesturing her in ahead of him. “Your friend can do what she likes but I don’t want you running off with the best man or anything.”

Oh how she’d love to bring him to Laura’s wedding. It had been so long since she’d had a partner at a social event. For once, she wouldn’t be on her own – and she’d have someone other than Ken to sit with on the day. Helen didn’t really connect with Ken. He was a nice enough guy, of course, but could be a little on the boring side. .

She bit her lip, and grabbed a stool at the bar while Paul stood waiting to order drinks. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and tell him about Kerry. Now that they were a couple, a real couple, well – she was almost obliged to, wasn’t she? It might only do damage to keep him in the dark any longer. That was probably where she went wrong with Richard – she should have told him long before she did.

Helen chuckled inwardly, imagining herself arriving at Laura’s wedding in Paul’s sleek, black Audi. She’d emerge outside the church in a show-stopping outfit, something expensive, tight and probably indecently short (definitely something to scandalise the Holy Marys in Glengarrah). Then, as the rest of the congregation stood back and stared, Helen would enter the church on the arm of the sexiest man this side of Carlow. That might finally stop the old biddies going on and on about ‘the poor child’s father’ every time Helen met any of them in the village.

She smiled. Yes, she would definitely tell him. Helen just wished her heart would stop pounding and her palms would stop sweating. Still, a drink would soon soften her nerves.

She glanced idly round the darkened pub, trying to remember the last time she had been in here. Generally, she and Paul met for dinner or drinks in town. This was the first time they had gone out near her place and, after their little bonking session on the floor earlier, it was likely that he would stay with her tonight. She was probably pushing her luck in asking Nicola to have Kerry stay over, but Nicola adored Kerry and luckily seemed to love having her. It couldn’t have worked out better really, Helen thought, smiling to herself. For once, she wouldn’t have to trudge all the way in and out of town, just to spend a few hours with him.

The pub was very busy, and judging by the banners and balloons hanging from the ceiling, a 50
^th
birthday party was being held there. She looked across at the revellers who, surprisingly for that hour of night, included a few young children – probably grandchildren, she reasoned. The kids looked tired and sleepy.

“I think we should stay up here,” Helen said to Paul. “It could get dangerous down there.” She indicated the busy seating area where the birthday girl and her companions were now dancing around the tables.

Paul shook his head. “That’s why I can’t stand these local-type pubs,” he said, with, Helen thought, a real edge to his tone. “They’re always filled with bloody kids.”

Helen looked at him. She knew what he meant; sometimes children could overrun pubs, but these particular kids weren’t doing any harm. Actually she felt a bit sorry for them as the grown-ups showed no sign of leaving anytime soon – in fact, they looked as if they were just getting going.

“Well, at least they’re not running around,” she said as if in agreement, although his tone had unnerved her.

“Doesn’t matter, I think they should all be banned.” Paul took a sip of his drink. “Pubs are no place for kids.”

Helen wondered whether he meant this out of concern for the kids, or concern for the drinkers. She couldn’t be sure.

“So you’re not a big fan of children, then?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Paul nearly spat out his Guinness. “No way,” he said. “I can’t stand being within two feet of the little whingers. My sister has three and they’re right little bastards, with all their moaning and groaning and ‘I want this’ and ‘I want that’. I ask, you what’s the attraction? You’re expected to feed, clean and clothe the little feckers day in, day out for the best part of twenty years, and what do you get in return? Grief, that’s what.”

Helen’s throat felt dry. She took a huge gulp from her glass. “Well, I’m sure most parents feel differently,” she said, rubbing her hand provocatively across his thigh. “Anyway, we won’t stay here too long.”

His earlier annoyance forgotten, Paul grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Helen Jackson,” he said, “you’re my kind of woman.”