Only his brother Kieran deigned to honour the occasion with his presence, although it was obvious from the start that he did not come in peace. He glowered at me sullenly as he entered the reception venue, a beautiful country house in the Northumberland village of Dunstanford, refusing to shake Daniel’s hand or kiss me. I had an uncomfortable feeling that I had made a terrible mistake and quite possibly unleashed a monster.
Kieran was indeed a ticking time bomb, choosing to bide his time until we were halfway through the main course before standing up, tapping his knife ceremoniously on his glass and declaring that he wanted to make a speech. My heart leapt as he launched in without any preamble.
‘I just wanted to tell you all what an absolute fucking wanker my brother is!’
As opening lines go, that one was certainly an attention grabber and not by any stretch of the imagination what you might expect the brother of the groom to come out with. A ripple of surprise ran round the room as people fell silent and turned their heads to look at him, unsure how to react and wondering if they had heard him correctly. He paused for a moment to give that little gem time to sink in, obviously planning to make the most of his time in the spotlight.
‘Yes, that’s him!’ he continued, unabashed, his harsh Northern Irish accent much more pronounced than Daniel’s. ‘My brother, the great guy over there.’
He staggered slightly and waved his arm theatrically in Daniel’s general direction.
‘Where do I start to tell you about him, eh? Let me see now, has he told you how he tormented his first wife so much she killed herself?’
A collective gasp ran around the room. Kieran smirked and nodded his head meaningfully, knowing he had everyone’s full attention with that one.
‘Oh yes, it’s true. He drove her to it. Just ask him! Ask him why Julia did it!’
He continued quickly, shoving away the people who had suddenly appeared on either side of him and were desperately trying to shut him down.
‘What about the fire? I mean the truth about the fire? Oh yes…and don’t even get me started about our Mam. Whatever happened to her, eh?’
He laughed, without a trace of humour in his expression. He stared straight at me and raised his eyebrows.
‘What Jackanory version of events did he give you about all that, I wonder? I’d run for the hills if I were you, love…while you still can.’
He was swaying and slurring his words, clearly off his face with alcohol and I had a horrible feeling he might actually throw up all over the table. This was supposed to be my perfect wedding day and Kieran was out of control, hell-bent on ruining it. Daniel was on his feet next to me, shaking with fury.
‘Someone get him out of here!’
Three of my friends were already on the case, half pushing, half dragging the loose cannon out of the room, before he could say any more. Daniel tried to bluff it out and recover the situation, realising from the horrified stares and murmurings of our guests that we were in desperate need of damage limitation.
‘I can only apologise for my brother. He still suffers from delusional behaviour, due to a long history of drug and alcohol abuse. Grace generously wanted to include him in our special day and I’m afraid this is how he has repaid her kindness. Now please, let’s not give him any more air time. Fill up your glasses, enjoy the wonderful food and don’t let him spoil this day for my beautiful wife.’
He raised his glass in my direction as a toast and sat down. There was much enthusiastic clinking of glasses as everyone returned to their meal and a ripple of voices ran around the room, with no prizes for guessing the new topic of conversation.
‘Now do you believe me?’ Daniel hissed in my ear, a strained smile plastered on his face.
I believed him alright, but Kieran’s little outburst had raised questions in my mind that needed answering. I was confused, but I had to wait until after the more conventional speeches finished and the dancing started before I had an opportunity to speak to my husband alone.
‘What did he mean about your first wife killing herself? And what was all that about the fire? You told me your wife died in a car crash…and you…you said Kieran started that fire,’ I stammered.
‘Kieran talks a load of shit. You cannot believe a word that comes out of his mouth. I’m telling you his brain is scrambled from years of taking God knows what. I knew he would pull a stunt like this, which is why I told you not to invite him. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time. He’s jealous of me, always has been and he’ll do anything to wreck things for me, as he proved today. Why the hell are you letting his poison affect what we’ve got? I’ve had enough of his lies and trouble-causing to last me a lifetime. In fact, I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. I can’t believe you’re actually prepared to believe him over me.’
Daniel paused for breath, suddenly deflated. He looked hurt. Worse than that, he looked disappointed that I was questioning him. I was suddenly ashamed of myself. We were supposed to be a team. I looked into his eyes and knew that I had to let it go. He was right. The past belonged in the past and Kieran and his lies most definitely had no place in our future. What did I care about all that stuff? It certainly didn’t define the man I had married a mere few hours ago.
‘I’m sorry. Of course I don’t believe him over you. You were right. I should have listened to you about your family. I just wish you’d talked to me more openly about it all, so I could have understood properly. I only wanted to help. I certainly don’t want to argue with you, today of all days.’
I took hold of his hand in a gesture of solidarity.
‘Well, please believe me now when I tell you that you know all you need to know. I’m not exactly proud of my family and I don’t like talking about all that shit from the past, especially about Julia dying. Yes, if you must know, she killed herself, but I didn’t want to upset you by telling you that. Have you any idea how painful it was for me? I loved her and could never understand why she did what she did. The poor girl was clearly psychologically disturbed.’
I felt worse than ever as he continued, looking me straight in the eye.
‘I prefer to make my own way in life now and I certainly don’t need any of my family interfering. God forgive me, but it would honestly have been better for everyone if Kieran had died in that fire he started. He’s poison.’
His voice softened.
‘Let’s make a pact. I don’t care about anything that happened in your past. I don’t even want to know about it, certainly not about any of your past relationships. But the same has to apply to my past. It’s all irrelevant. From now on it’s just you and me against the world.’
He took my face in his hands and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I put my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. I could see the pain and heartache his family, especially his brother, had obviously caused him and I just wanted to make it go away. We were a team now and nothing could break us.
‘No more secrets though,’ I said sternly, holding his gaze. ‘I mean it.’
‘No more secrets. I promise.’
He kissed me again and the doubts melted away.
‘Now let’s get back to the party.’
A couple of the guys had managed to bundle Kieran into a taxi back to his hotel and I had a feeling that would be the last I ever saw of him. I also had a feeling that it was no great loss. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of dancing, drinking Champagne and valiant efforts to spend time with every guest who had made the effort to come and celebrate with us. The reception finally ended in the early hours of the morning with a very drunken version of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot from Daniel and his boat crew, accompanied by full rugby club actions, to the bewilderment of some of the older guests.
I smiled to myself and shook my head. It already seemed so long ago and I felt sure we would be dining out on the Kieran story for many years to come, but right now we had our honeymoon to look forward to. The start of our new life together. Daniel’s family and all that they represe
nted belonged firmly in the past.
I was his future now, as he was mine. Bound together by the vows we had made. To love, cherish and obey. Till death do us part.
The Dating Game
Lorraine
The familiar rattle of the letterbox alerted Lorraine to the arrival of the day’s post and she hurried into the hallway to collect it.
‘Probably just more bills,’ she said to herself as she scooped up the little pile of papers and envelopes from the floor and discarded at least half of them straight into the recycling bin.
There was just one that merited her immediate attention and that was the envelope with the hallmark of Wainright and Sons LLP. Her divorce lawyer.
She had been waiting for this for weeks and yet now that she was finally holding the Decree Absolute in her hands, the document that effectively severed all ties with the man she had once been so desperately in love with, she felt strangely numb.
She remembered her wedding day and the way he had made her feel as he undressed her tenderly on the first night of their honeymoon. It was not their first time of course, but it had felt like it; a happy young couple with all the promise of a wonderful future together….
‘Sentimental bullshit,’ she said out loud to herself, as her mind was jolted sharply back to the present by the ping of a message on her phone. Harriet, her best friend, wanted to meet up that evening.
She hesitated a moment, then texted back decisively:
7.30 fizz and supper at mine – celebrating!
Harriet’s reply was brief.
Perfect! See you later xx
The piece of paper in front of her served as a sharp reminder of the reality of her situation. She needed to get a grip and sort her life out, as her mother never tired of pointing out. She sighed bitterly as she remembered what a spineless, devious, little creep her now ex-husband had turned out to be, such a far cry from the man she had thought she was marrying.
Time after time he had emptied their joint bank account to feed his gambling habit. When that particular cash cow ran out, he had taken to sponging off friends and family to pay his mounting debts. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she knew for a fact he had been playing away and the cheating bastard had not even bothered to deny it when she challenged him. Harriet had seen him with his tongue down the throat of one of his tarts and reported back immediately of course. The brazen, little slapper from the local Co-op, no less. Talk about shitting on your own doorstep.
Not for the first time she thanked God for her overbearing and controlling older brother, Gerald, who had insisted she open a bank account in her own name after she confided in him about her husband’s gambling. Thanks to him she had at least been able to hang onto her house in the divorce. It was in a reasonable, desirable location in Oxfordshire, within easy reach of London, which meant she was now saddled with a massive mortgage and the savings she had tried so hard to build up had been pretty much wiped out.
‘Life isn’t fucking fair,’ she concluded bitterly, but she also knew that no amount of self-pity was going to change things and, sooner or later, she would have to move on and rebuild her life.
She had made a start already and had managed to land herself a new position in the HR department of the Santander bank. Since leaving school with a half-decent set of results, she had worked her way through the ranks at the offices of Kellman & Associates, an accountancy firm in nearby Millingford, but she had felt undervalued there for a long time. The new job was going to mean more hours and more responsibility, but also more money than she had previously been earning, so maybe this was the turning point. She was going to need to smarten her act up though. It was high time she got herself a new image, she had told herself, full of enthusiasm.
By the time it was 7 pm, Lorraine found herself standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, her earlier optimism having evaporated. She did not like what she saw. She was only thirty-five years old, but the face staring back at her seemed older somehow and the rolls of fat around her middle and thighs were definitely doing her no favours. She was tall for a woman at 5 foot 10 and she had been quite a striking figure in her early twenties, although she had never been what people considered naturally pretty. Her blond hair was cut in an unflattering bob with a messy fringe and it was in desperate need of colouring. Several outfits lay discarded on the floor, mostly because they seemed to have shrunk a couple of sizes since she had bought them. She finally settled on a plain green, tunic-style dress in a forgiving, stretchy fabric, with black, opaque tights and ankle boots that had seen better days. It was not a particularly flattering choice and screamed ‘frumpy’ if she was honest, but at least it fitted and she would be able to enjoy her food without feeling like she had been laced into a straitjacket. It was only Harriet after all. She turned sideways on to the mirror, sighing loudly as she realised she was viewing herself from an even less encouraging angle. Things needed to change if she was ever going to get herself another man. She reminded herself sharply that that was not the highest on her list of priorities, but still…she didn’t want to be alone forever. Note to self:
Start diet tomorrow
Hairdresser appointment
New wardrobe
Positive thinking. Always a good start. Her diet was long overdue, as was her appointment at the hairdresser and the last time she had taken a good look in her wardrobe it was like something from the 90s. She sucked in her tummy and attempted some pouty faces in the mirror to boost her morale, but she merely succeeded in looking like an exaggerated caricature of herself. Disheartened, she left the pile of clothes on the floor and clomped down the stairs in the direction of the alcohol.
Harriet arrived in usual Harriet time, half an hour late and apologizing profusely, but Lorraine didn’t mind at all. They had known each other since school days and nothing was going to change her best friend now. She was every bit as bad herself if truth be told.
They sat in the kitchen on the breakfast bar stools, as they often did on their catch-up evenings. Lorraine had kept the food simple, being realistic about her limitations as a cook but, in the end, she had managed to make quite a passable attempt at a lasagne and had splashed out on a few bottles of Waitrose Prosecco to make up for any potential failings with the food.
As they clinked glasses, Harriet raised a toast to her best friend:
‘Here’s to you and your new life. It starts today.’
An hour later they had polished off the first bottle and were well on the way to finishing a second. Harriet giggled and put her glass down.
‘Okay, that’s it. Time to hit Match.com I think,’ she announced.
Lorraine groaned. It was a familiar story after copious amounts of alcohol.
‘First we need to sort your profile out,’ Harriet stated decisively. ‘You have to sell yourself, girl. Now, let’s start with the photos….’
Lorraine groaned in protest but, half an hour later, as she stared appreciatively at the profile they had concocted between them, she had to admit that she came across as very presentable indeed. Admittedly, the photos were not exactly the most recent and she did not entirely recognise herself in the drink-fuelled descriptions they had come up with, but they decided it was acceptable to allow themselves a bit of poetic license. She was pretty sure that was the case with most people on those dating sites anyway, so why should she put herself at a disadvantage?
It did not take long for her optimism to fade yet again, as they waded through the profiles of all the men in the age bracket she had specified and who lived within a fifty-mile radius of her. They decided with a certain amount of desperation to widen the search to two hundred miles and begin again. Before long they had thrown caution to the wind and were searching the length and breadth of the country.
Lorraine laughed and stood up.
‘You carry on with this while I get us another drink. Judging by these men we’re going to need it.’
Alone in the kitchen, she cursed her marriage and cursed her ex under he
r breath. She thought the fun-filled evening, the alcohol and the dating sites would have taken it all away, but it was still there, bubbling under the surface. She had to control herself, not do anything too hasty. Maybe take a few months out and review the situation. But the voices in her head were still there. After all this time. They weren’t going away and if anything they were shouting even louder. It just wasn’t fair. She should not have to be subjecting herself to this humiliation.
When she returned with a third bottle, she no longer cared that she was going to have the mother of all hangovers in the morning. Harriet was hunched closer over the computer, looking intrigued.
‘Take a look at this one,’ she said moving over so that Lorraine could get a better view. Harriet’s tongue was practically hanging out.
‘Well hello, John,’ Lorraine slurred, in what she thought was a sexy voice, gawping at the photo on the screen and giggling like a teenager. ‘Now, he definitely has potential.’
The stranger smiling out at her from his profile photo seemed so natural and genuine; he sat on a wall somewhere in the countryside, dressed casually in jeans and a sweater. There was a red sports car in the background. As they delved into his profile, she instantly had misgivings about the distance; she lived in Oxfordshire and he was based up north, somewhere in Derbyshire she had never heard of, but she decided, nevertheless, to keep an open mind and see what happened. She did at least make the effort to locate Derbyshire on a map and worked out that he was around a two and a half-hour drive away.
After a couple of days of flirty messaging, John suggested they meet for dinner at a restaurant near her home. The travelling wasn’t a problem he said, as he had business clients down that way and was not averse to mixing a little business with pleasure. She did not really understand what his business was, although he had told her it was something to do with packaging. The long-winded explanation he had started to give sounded pretty boring to be honest, and she had decided very quickly as her eyes glazed over that she didn’t need to know the details.
Twenty Years a Stranger (The Stranger Series Book 1) Page 3
