by Jane Moore
“Shut up,” muttered Tony, and squeezed his mother’s shoulder reassuringly. “If you can’t say anything constructive, don’t say anything at all.”
“What else is there to say?” Nat plowed on. “Bad-tempered, difficult bird meets nice, slightly boring bloke and it all goes pear-shaped. The only surprise is that it got this far.”
“Mark is not boring,” said Jean indignantly. “He’s utterly charming and Faye was right—she’s not good enough for him!”
Nat was about to say something else, but Tony took his arm. “Mum, you stay here with Dad. I’m going to see if I can find Mark and I’ll report back.” He walked off, pulling Nat with him.
A few yards away, he broke free from Tony’s grip. “Do you mind?”
“Sorry,” said Tony. “It’s just that I don’t think you’re the best person to be around my mother right now, and also I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?”
Tony glanced around him to check that no one was in earshot. “You know last night when I stumbled across you and Faye in that locker room?”
“Yes . . .”
“Well, what was going on?”
Nat looked at him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because if she was doing something she shouldn’t have, it will make my brother feel better about the wedding being off.” Tony was thinking on his feet.
Nat shrugged. “Much as it grieves me to say it, there was nothing going on. I told her how much I missed her, tried to get to grips with her, and she wasn’t having any of it. In fairness to her, she said she’d met Mr. Right and nothing I could say would convince her otherwise.” He jerked his head towards the gazebo. “That’s why I’m surprised by what just happened.”
“And that’s it? Nothing else happened?”
“Nope. A lesser man might think he’d lost his touch, but then she was never a pushover . . .” He was distracted by the sight of McLaren teetering back into view after a visit to the ladies’. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a large pair of breasts that need attending to . . .”
He walked off, leaving Tony to mull over what he’d said. So, Faye had been telling the truth after all, he thought. It didn’t alter the fact that her behavior the previous weekend hadn’t been quite so exemplary, but he felt another pang of guilt. She really did seem like a decent woman, and perhaps last weekend had been out of character.
Swiveling his head from one side of the gathering to the other, he looked for Brian. He was best man, and Tony felt he should come with him to find and support Mark. But there was no sign of him, and it crossed his mind that he hadn’t been seen since his outburst during Faye’s speech.
He must be upstairs with Mark, he thought, and headed for the château.
Faye peered out of the lift to check that the coast was clear, then sprinted down the corridor. She opened the door, hung the “Do not disturb” sign on the handle, and slammed it behind her.
After delivering her bombshell to the guests, she had run through the gap in the hedge and into a small copse just behind the gazebo. She was far enough away to remain out of sight, but she could hear the loud buzz of chatter as everyone discussed what they’d just witnessed. She had waited there for a few minutes, then picked her way through the trees to a staff door at the rear of the château.
The last thing she wanted was to bump into anyone and face awkward questions. She knew it was only a matter of time before Adam came to find her, but she wasn’t sure she could face even him. She just wanted to sink onto the floor, curl up in a ball, and never face the outside world again.
Walking over to the window and using the curtain as a shield, she peered down to the gazebo to witness the devastation she’d just caused.
Some of the guests were standing in small groups, gesticulating wildly as they discussed what had happened. She could see Nat laughing at something McLaren was whispering in his ear, and assumed it was about her. She didn’t blame them: if the boot was on the other foot, no doubt she’d be reveling in the drama too.
Then her breath caught in her throat. There, still sitting motionless on the third row, was her mother. She had her back to the château so Faye couldn’t see her expression, but she guessed it wouldn’t be one of unbridled joy. She felt sick with remorse and wanted to run back down and drag Alice to her room. But Faye knew she couldn’t face any probing questions—or the stares.
She was distracted by a knock at the door. Assuming it would be Adam, her panic subsided slightly. He could go and get Alice. Whatever happened, she wanted to scoop up her mother and make sure she was kept away from any more drama.
She peered through the spyhole and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It was Tony. Without thinking, she opened the door. “What the fuck do you want? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?”
He held up his hands in front of him. “I agree I played my part, but may I humbly suggest that your sleeping with a man who wasn’t your fiancé had its own destructive qualities?”
Faye stared at him impassively. “I repeat, what do you want?”
“To talk.”
“I have absolutely nothing whatsoever to talk to you about,” she said icily. “Our business is done.”
“A couple of minutes, that’s all.” He glanced down the corridor. “Inside, please, I don’t want anyone to see me here.”
Against her better judgment, Faye found herself standing to one side to let him in. “Make it quick,” she snapped. “Besides, shouldn’t you be checking on the welfare of your brother rather than bothering me?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?” She was genuinely taken aback by this news.
“I don’t know. I went to his room and there was no answer. While I was standing there, a maid came up and told me he and Brian had checked out. Their rental car has gone too.”
“Oh.” Faye didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected Mark to do, but bolting without talking to his family hadn’t been an option.
Closing the door behind him, Tony turned to face her. He looked awkward. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for—”
“Ruining my life?” She looked at him defiantly.
“No, for ruining your wedding day. Particularly as everyone has traipsed out to France for nothing. It kind of hit home to me when I saw you standing in front of them all.” He took a deep breath and exhaled in a long sigh.
Faye gave a mirthless laugh. “Is that it?”
Suddenly Tony looked uncomfortable and stared up at the ornately carved ceiling. “No, that’s not it. I was wondering . . . um . . . what you said to Mark.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course.” She banged the side of her head with her fist. “You’re not here to inquire about my welfare at all, are you? You just want to know if I dropped you in it with Mark.”
For a moment Faye had allowed herself to think that Tony might be feeling some guilt for the chaos unfolding around them. But no, he was simply interested in whether or not he was going to emerge from it smelling fishy. She stared angrily at him, but he didn’t say any more, clearly waiting for an answer to his previous question.
“If you must know, I didn’t tell him about your involvement.” She rubbed her eyes, which were sore and tired from crying. “But not because I wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect him from the fact that the brother he adores is a tosser who couldn’t bear to see him happy.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Tosser I hold my hands up to,” he said, “but there’s no way you would have made him happy in the long term.”
Faye almost contradicted him, but something stopped her. Instead she crossed the room to the sofa and flopped onto it in a gesture of surrender. “Much as it pains me to say it, I think you’re probably right,” she said. “When I’d told everyone down there, I ran off into the woods and spent a few minutes watching you all from behind a tree.”
“And?”
“And I felt like a huge burden had been l
ifted from me. I was still upset, but that was because I’d had to hurt Mark.” She tucked her legs beneath her. “I think I knew it wasn’t right a while ago, but I just buried it and hoped the nagging doubt would go away.”
“So I did you a favor.”
She realized she’d shown too much vulnerability to the man who had ruined everything. “He’s broken-hearted, Tony, and who’s to say we wouldn’t have made a go of it? He was totally devastated when I told him. I felt like I was pulling the wings off a butterfly.”
Tony perched on the arm of the chair next to the sofa. “If you don’t mind me saying, that analogy says a great deal about why it would never have worked between you.”
She ignored his remark. “I still can’t get it out of my head that you would want to do that to your own brother.”
He looked mildly annoyed. “I told you, and you’ve just admitted as much yourself, that it saves him from greater unhappiness later.”
“And what makes you such an expert on happiness?” she said scornfully.
“Nothing. But I know a lot about unhappiness.”
“Oh?” Then she remembered. “Are you referring to your ex-wife?”
He was silent for some time, his forefinger scraping against a flake of raised skin on his thumb. “Yes, in that I should never have married her in the first place.” He straightened the lamp shade beside him, and a small cloud of dust rose into the air.
Faye made no attempt to disguise her confusion. “I know you’ve split up, but Mark has always said you were besotted with each other in the early days.” She paused. “Melissa, isn’t it?”
Tony nodded.
“He also said you were devastated when she left.”
“I was, of course I was,” he said softly. “She was a fantastic, beautiful person . . .”
Faye threw her hands into the air. “OK, you’ve lost me.”
“She was a fantastic, beautiful woman . . . She just wasn’t the woman for me.” He stopped and stared into space. Then he said, his voice barely audible, “I loved her, but like you’d love a little sister. I felt totally destroyed when she walked out, but I realized later on that a lot of it was self-pity and guilt.”
Faye changed position so that she was facing him. “It’s natural to feel self-pity under the circumstances,” she said reassuringly, “but she was the one who left, so why the guilt?”
He screwed up his face, clearly uncomfortable with the memory. “Because I treated her so appallingly.”
Faye said nothing, hoping he’d expand.
“To use your analogy, she was a butterfly and I pulled her wings off.” He stood up, walked to the other side of the room and ran his fingers across a wooden jewelry box on the sideboard.
“How?” she prompted him gently.
“Sorry?”
“How did you pull her wings off?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “There are certain personalities that shouldn’t be together, and we were the classic example. I fell in love with her because she was fragile and needed looking after. She appealed to my macho instincts, I suppose. But ultimately I ended up belittling her for it. She brought out my worse side.”
Faye gave him a small smile. “And you think I’d end up doing the same to Mark?”
“I know you would.”
She toyed with the idea of taking issue with him, but felt overcome by the blindingly obvious. “Maybe.” She paused. “I do love him, though. He’s a wonderful person.”
Tony nodded. “He is. In many ways he’s a far better man than I’ll ever be. He certainly wouldn’t treat anyone as badly as I treated Melissa.”
“Do any of your family know the truth?”
He shook his head. “No. Mainly because I didn’t go home much, and when I did I always looked after her.” He looked straight at Faye. “Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t physical abuse, she wasn’t frightened of me or anything like that.”
“What was it, then?”
“Emotional abuse, I suppose.” He winced. “I went from treating her like a goddess to virtually ignoring her as I threw myself into work. On the rare occasions I gave her any attention—like during visits to parents—she was pitifully grateful.” He looked close to tears. “Whenever I think about it now, I feel sick. No one deserves to be treated like that, but particularly not her. I hate myself for it.”
“Don’t,” said Faye. Overwhelmed by Tony’s transformation from inquisitor to penitent she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her.
“I almost willed her to take me to task over my behavior, but she never did,” he added, as if conducting a conversation with himself. “And she shouldn’t have had to, either. Just because I behaved childishly doesn’t mean she should have stooped to that level too—”
He was interrupted by the sound of tapping on the door. Faye leapt up from the sofa and motioned for him to remain quiet. She crept to the door, anxious not to tread on any creaky floorboards, and placed her eye to the peephole. There was more tapping and another minute passed. Eventually, she peered out again to check that the corridor was empty, then walked back to the window and looked out. The guests had all disappeared.
“That was Adam and my mother,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I was worried about Mum, because I haven’t managed to speak to her since I called the wedding off. But I feel better now I know she’s with him.”
She went back to the sofa and sat down. “Going back to what you were saying about you and Melissa, Mark and I weren’t as bad as that.” She took a sip from a glass of water. “But I already recognize parts of what you’re saying in how Mark and I interact with each other.”
He gestured for her to continue.
“For example, if I want my own way over something, then I withdraw affection until I get it.”
This time Tony nodded in recognition. “And does Mark always end up apologizing after an argument, even though it’s not his fault?”
Faye nodded silently and a tear fell down her cheek. She brushed it away, but he’d seen it. “Faye, don’t worry about crying in front of me,” he said gently. “I barely know you and already I’ve worked out you’re not the tough cookie you pretend to be.” He gave her a rueful smile. “By the way, I shouldn’t admit this but as we’re being so frank—”
“Admit what?”
“I asked Nat for his version of events over the locker room incident, and it was just like you said.”
“Wow. I’m so relieved,” she said, with heavy sarcasm.
He sighed heavily. “Now, don’t get all tough again. What I’m saying is, knowing that the Nat thing was harmless, and knowing that we didn’t actually have sex last weekend, then maybe you’re not as unscrupulous as I first thought.”
Faye looked at him as if he was one floor short of the penthouse. “What’s all this leading to?”
He sighed heavily. “I’m saying that if you can convince me you could make this marriage work, I will go back down there and make everyone return to their places.” He paused. “Mind you, finding Mark could be a problem. I’ve already tried his mobile and it’s switched off.”
She gave a moment’s thought to what he’d said, then shook her head. “No. They’ve all been told now, so the hard bit is done.” She removed a sneaker and scratched her foot. “As I said, I almost feel relieved that I don’t have to pretend anymore.” She took off the other sneaker and tucked her legs back onto the sofa, then let her hair out of the ponytail. “People always tell you their wedding day was the happiest of their lives, and I kept waiting for that feeling to start. But it didn’t . . .” She trailed off. “Last night, when you said I just loved the idea of getting married, well, maybe you were right. Perhaps I was trying to prove something.”
“I’m sorry. With hindsight, that was harsh.” He bared his teeth in a grimace. “You’re an intelligent and beautiful woman and there are a million men out there you could have married if you just wanted to prove something. But you chose Mark, and that
’s because you have genuine feelings for him.” He paused for a couple of beats. “But they’re just not strong enough to sustain a marriage . . . in my view, anyway.”
Faye was irritated by his arrogance, but decided to let it go. She’d had enough drama for one day. “I doubt I’ll ever get married now.”
Tony made a face that left her in no doubt he found her statement overdramatic.
“No, seriously. Because I didn’t have a dad, I don’t think I need men in the way they like to be needed.” Tony seemed thrown by this apparent non sequitur.
“What I mean is,” she continued, “I never had one to lean on as a child, so why start now?”
“It depends what you don’t need them for,” he said. “If you’re financially independent, then no secure man would feel threatened by that. But if he felt you never leaned on him, I can understand why that would be a problem.”
“I lean occasionally, but not very often.” She smiled ruefully. “I guess I’m just not the leaning kind.”
“Me neither,” he said. “Maybe that’s where we’re both going wrong . . . although in your case, may I humbly suggest you just haven’t met the right man yet. Forgive me, but Rich and Nat are hardly ideal specimens, and Mark . . . Well, we’ve been over that already.” He suddenly looked tired. “But there’s someone out there for you, believe me.”
She was doubtful. “The thought of starting again is so depressing. I don’t know if I could be bothered.”
“Such defeatism,” he tutted.
“Have you had another girlfriend since Melissa?”
“A couple, nothing serious. American women can be a little intense for me.” He gave her a quick smile, then his face became serious. “But never mind all that. What are you going to do now? As in today. Do you need my help in tying up any loose ends?”
Her face clouded as she remembered how “helpful” he’d been up to now. “No, I think you’ve done enough for one day.”
He had the grace to look ashamed.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like a little time to myself now,” she said, “just to get my head round things. I suspect my mother will be back soon.”
