by Lorna Peel
“When?”
“Oh, we’re not sure yet.”
“Say hello to Lord Heaton,” Tony instructed and Cathy’s eyes bulged.
“A lord?”
“Just Thomas.” He smiled.
“Tony, you kind of met Thomas at Mum’s funeral.”
“Yes. Hello again.” The two men shook hands. “Congratulations, again, Sophia.” Tony kissed her cheek. “And you, Thomas.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re really a lord?” Cathy was amazed.
“I’m afraid so.”
“You’re afraid of what?”
Thomas laughed kindly. “Oh, lots of things. What I meant was is that being a lord isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Why?”
“Lots of things.”
“Tea or coffee?” Michelle asked him.
“Coffee, please.”
“Coffee all round, then.” Michelle went to the kitchen and Sophia followed. “Bloody hell, Soph,” she hissed. “He’s gorgeous.” Sophia flushed. “Would you mind if I took a photo of the two of you to send to Mum?”
“Why?”
“Because she’d love to see you and him. Go on.”
“Well, okay…”
She and Thomas stood awkwardly in the back garden as Michelle beeped away with her digital camera.
“Mum’s finally mastered the internet so I’ll be able to email these to her.”
“Has she started A.A. yet?”
“Yes. She says it’s going well. Let’s have that coffee.”
“Are you going to have a bridesmaid?” Cathy demanded.
“Cathy,” Michelle scolded but Sophia just laughed.
“Well, yes, I am. And a matron of honour…?” She raised her eyebrows enquiringly at Michelle.
“Really?” Michelle laughed. “We’d love to, thank you.”
“You and me?” Cathy squealed.
“You and me.”
“Oh, thank you, Sophia.” Cathy ran to her for a hug.
“It’s probably not a good idea,” she said as Thomas drove home. “But I had to ask them.”
“I know.”
“Now, don’t kill me for suggesting this,” she added. “But Stephanie for the other bridesmaid?”
Thomas threw her a horrified glance before sighing. “Can we elope? Or get married in the Bahamas or something?”
“My dad would never forgive me,” she replied sadly.
“I know. But it’s going to be a nightmare.”
“What can we do?”
“Not a lot.”
A date for the wedding was set – the 15th August – and another date was set for a meeting to discuss specifics. Stephanie and Michelle would meet there for the first time. Sophia asked Michelle to come a bit early and met her in the stable yard.
“Is Lady Heaton not coming to the meeting?” Michelle asked.
“No, there’ll be just the four of us. Want a quick tour?”
“Yes, please.”
Half an hour later they sat on the main stairs and Michelle rubbed her forehead.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re going to freeze to death here in wintertime.”
“I know. Thomas and I will just have to have lots of sex to keep warm.”
“In that four-poster bed?”
“No, it’s supposed to be really uncomfortable. Wherever takes our fancy, I suppose. I quite fancy doing it on the dining room table.”
Michelle squealed with laughter then clapped a hand over her mouth as Thomas appeared.
“Hello, again.”
“Hi,” Michelle croaked.
He looked curiously at Sophia and she smiled.
“Just discussing how to keep warm here in the depths of winter.”
“Oh. Well, I do put the heating on every now and again. It won’t just be sex, Ms Nelson,” he added with a wink and carried on to the living room.
They roared with laughter, followed him, and were just about to sit down when door opened and Stephanie came in.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“I think I was early,” Michelle said.
“Michelle – Stephanie. Stephanie – Michelle.” She made the introduction nervously, feeling Thomas’ eyes on them.
“Good to meet you.” Stephanie smiled at her. “God, I so need to find a man. Soon I’ll be the only person I know who isn’t married.”
“Shall we get started?” Thomas suggested and they sat down on the sofas. “Right, the date is set and the church is booked. The reception will be here. Should it be in a marquee or shall we make use of the house?”
“Both, I say,” Stephanie replied. “Meal in the dining room. Drinks and nibbles in the drawing room. Dancing in a marquee on the lawn?”
Sophia nodded and looked over at Thomas.
“Yes. Good. Now, caterers? A firm from the town preferably.”
“Halls?” Stephanie suggested.
“I’ve heard good things about them,” Michelle spoke up. “Or, if not them, there’s Powell’s?”
“A band or a disco?” Thomas continued.
“A band who can play a bit of everything,” Michelle added.
“I know a few,” Stephanie said. “I’ll narrow them down a bit then you can go and listen and take your pick.”
“Okay, good.”
“Now the dress,” Stephanie added, with a smile. “Which I will be making as my present to you.”
Sophia reached out and gave her hand a grateful squeeze. “Thank you. But it will only be discussed when my fiancé is not here. But I know exactly what I want.”
A month later, she hung the dress up in the wardrobe in Michelle’s loft conversion and grinned at her.
“I’ve always known exactly what I wanted. I never thought I’d actually get it made for me.”
“Well, it’s fabulous. All the dresses are. I can’t wait.”
“You can’t wait?” She laughed. “Right, I have to go. Thomas and I are going to see band number two.”
“What was the first lot like?”
She pulled a face. “My gran would have loved them.”
They were very late back to the house after seeing the band who were surprisingly good and were looking forward to a lie in on Sunday morning when Thomas’ phone rang just as they were about to put out the light.
“It’s Don,” he told her. “Don? Yes. Sorry, we were out, I had it switched off…what? But I thought it was going well? Is there nothing we can do? Shit. Thanks, Don.” He ended the call and slowly put the phone down.
“What?” she cried.
He turned to her, his face snow white. “Danielle’s sold her story to a newspaper. It’ll be front page news in about…now.”
Sophia stared at him, unable to speak.
“She managed to go to two A.A. meetings this time. Don thought it was all going well but…he’s leaving her, he says he’s had enough. This is the final straw. He’s on a train on his way up here to try and explain to Michelle.”
“What are we going to do?” she whispered as Thomas got out of bed.
“I have to ring Lady Heaton and you…”
“Need to ring my dad.”
“Oh, God, Sophia.” He clutched his head with both hands. “I am so sorry. I should never have gone to see her.”
“But she promised…she promised that she’d go to A.A.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, got out of bed and went to get dressed.
“I’ll ring Lady Heaton,” he told her. “Then I’ll go and wake Des and Helen. God knows who might turn up. We’ll have to figure out a way of keeping them out.”
“I’m going to see Dad. This isn’t something I can tell him on the phone. And if he’s agreeable I’ll bring him back here?”
Thomas nodded, kissed her lips and went out, pulling a t-shirt over his head.
Fifteen minutes later, she rang her father’s doorbell, her heart pounding. She had absolutely no idea how he would react. She had to rin
g it again before she heard a noise in the hall.
“I’m not opening the door at this bloody hour. If you’ve got identification you can put it through the letterbox.”
“Dad, it’s me.”
The door opened slowly and her father stared at her. “What is it? Is it Thomas?”
“No, he’s fine. Can I come in?”
“Yes. What is it?” he asked again as she followed him into the living room. “It’s half past four.”
“It’s about Danielle Armstrong.”
“Michelle’s mum?”
“Yes.” She clenched and then unclenched her fists. “She’s Thomas’s mother.”
She watched his reaction. He frowned and shook his head.
“Say that again?”
“Danielle is Thomas’s mother.”
“I don’t understand…” He went to his armchair and sat down heavily. “Explain.”
She sat on the edge of the sofa. “I heard Thomas and Lady Heaton arguing. Stephanie was in hospital, she’d just had a miscarriage and lost a lot of blood. Thomas had offered to donate but was told that his blood group didn’t match. He then learned that Lady Heaton had already offered to donate but that her blood group didn’t match either and because of her blood group it was impossible that she could be Stephanie’s mother. Or his.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Lady Heaton is infertile. She offered her husband a divorce but he refused. Instead, they looked for a surrogate mother. One who would have to go about it the old-fashioned way.”
Her father’s eyes bulged. “Now you are having me on?”
“No. Stephanie was born first. She couldn’t inherit the title or the estate so they had to give it a second go. Thomas was born the following year.”
“And you’ve known all along?”
“Since my first day there.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Danielle’s an alcoholic. She agreed to go back to A.A. but she’s sold her story to a newspaper. It’s on sale now. It’s all going to come out. Don’s left her. He’s on his way up to Michelle’s. I want you to come back to the abbey with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the father of the woman who is going to marry the man whose mother was paid to have him. Journalists could turn up. TV. Please, Dad.”
“Bloody hell.” He got up and went out. She heard him open his wardrobe door and rolled her eyes in relief. “I’m not sleeping in a bloody four poster bed,” he told her as they left the flat.
“You won’t be,” she assured him, taking a holdall from him.
She drove into the stable yard and saw Lady Heaton’s car parked outside Thomas’ office. Going in the side door she heard voices in the kitchen. Thomas, Lady Heaton, Stephanie, Des and Helen were standing around one of the tables. On it was a copy of The World on Sunday. Its headline screamed:
I sold my babies for £10,000!
Thomas looked over at them. “Come in. I nipped down to the all-night petrol station on Moorland Road.”
She nodded and glanced at Stephanie. She was pale but surprisingly calm.
“I closed the gates after me.”
“Thanks.” Des nodded. “I’m off down there to lock them but if they want in, they’ll get in.”
“Has Don rung again?”
“No,” Thomas replied. “He’s probably got enough to cope with.”
“Coffee,” Helen announced and went to the cupboards for mugs.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Be prepared for the media to turn up. Be prepared for all hell to break loose. I’ve rung the police and explained – well, tried to explain. They’re sending some constables over.”
“Drink this.” Helen set a tray down on top of the newspaper.
“Thank you.” Lady Heaton took a mug.
Des managed to gulp the scalding coffee down and went out.
“Would you like to go to bed, Dad?” she asked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’m Sophia’s dad, by the way.” He introduced himself.
“Sorry, Dad.” She groaned. “I meant to…”
“It’s okay,” Stephanie said quietly. “Drink your coffee. Mr Nelson, I’m Stephanie and this,” she turned to Lady Heaton, “is Lady Heaton.”
Lady Heaton nodded to him.
“And this is Helen Fields.”
“We’ve met before.” Helen smiled. “Good to see you again, Mr Nelson.”
“And you.”
“You knew Danielle O’Hara, as she was then?” Lady Heaton queried.
Her father turned to her. “No. But my late wife did. She knew, didn’t she?” He looked at Sophia.
“Yes. Those pictures of Blackpool – Danielle was pregnant in them – despite her doing her utmost to conceal it.”
Thomas’ phone rang and he went into the pantry with it. Her father pulled the paper out from under the tray and began to read.
“Must you?” Lady Heaton cried in disgust.
“Stop it,” Stephanie warned.
Mr Nelson put the paper down. “I think I will go to bed, Sophia, if you don’t mind?”
“No. Come on, Dad.”
Thomas peered out of the pantry as they passed and she pointed out to the stable yard. He nodded.
“Where are we going?” her father asked.
“My flat. It’ll be easier for you.” She quickly changed the bed and left him out some towels. “Bathroom is here. I’ll leave a light on out here so you don’t lose your way. Tea and coffee are up here. Bread is here. Anything else, just hunt for it. I’ll leave you my phone just in case. You remember how to use it?”
“Yes. Sophia, I can’t believe any of this. And your mum knew, too.”
“I know. Dad, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “What could you do? When your mum and Danielle ended their friendship, I never really knew why. Don’t take this the wrong way but you know what some women can be like, falling out over the slightest thing. But not your mum. Now I know what it was about.”
Thomas met her in the stable yard. “That was Des on the phone. The police are down there so he won’t lock the gates. Is your father all right?”
“Yes. I just thought the flat would be easier for him.”
They returned to the kitchen and Sophia went straight to Lady Heaton.
“My father is seventy-eight years old. I will not have you look down your nose at him or make any snide remarks. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly.”
“Where’s Steph?” Thomas asked.
“She went out a couple of minutes ago,” Helen replied.
Sophia met Thomas’ eyes and followed him out of the room, up the stairs and along the corridor to the library. Stephanie was at the decanters pouring herself a gigantic whisky.
“Is that wise?” he asked. “You probably won’t sleep it off.”
“I don’t care.”
“Okay.” He closed the door. “Put the glass down and shout. Scream if you want. But just do something. I’m starting to get worried.”
“So was I,” she murmured. “I was beginning to wonder if it would ever come out.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“How long have you known?”
Stephanie shrugged. “Since I was about ten. I heard ‘Mother’ and Father arguing. They were having to change the house telephone number again.”
“I can’t believe you never said anything.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Thomas,” she cried. “And say what? Oh, by the way…?” She sighed. “I never knew who she was, though. Our real mother. Michelle’s mum, eh?”
Sophia nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Thomas asked.
“For never being here. I just couldn’t bear seeing you in that bloody office day in, day out working your arse off to pay for me and you and all of this bloody estate. And I’m sorry for always nagging you to act differently,
dress differently. I just thought that it would make you think, ‘To hell with this,’ and get out of here and meet someone. I didn’t think you’d have to wait until you were forty for someone to literally turn up on your doorstep.”
“I didn’t really turn up,” Sophia told her. “Lady Heaton chose me.”
Stephanie’s eyes bulged. “Oh, bloody hell…” she began but tailed off and Sophia pulled what she hoped was a comical face. “But aren’t you angry?”
“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Thomas replied dryly.
“Is that one of the reasons Mo…Lady Heaton moved out?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. No wonder you didn’t want to come over to the apartment. Okay, what do you want to do? We can’t just stay here and wait to be surrounded.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Sophia went to the window. “The press are probably at Michelle’s, too, and I’m not having them see her knock me out.”
“She wouldn’t…?”
“She would. She’s my best friend and I’ve kept this from her for months.” She turned and gave them a bleak smile. “So, it’ll probably be just you, me and Dad, walking up the aisle. Actually, my side of the church will probably be pretty empty now. The Bahamas mightn’t be such a bad idea now, you know.”
“Sophia…” Thomas came to her and kissed her temple. “Look, if the worst comes to the worst, we can always get married here.”
“In the chapel?” Stephanie asked and Sophia’s heart sank.
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to leave my bouquet on Mum’s grave,” Sophia replied. “Because I wanted to get married knowing that she wasn’t too far away.” She burst into tears and swore.
“I hope it won’t come to it,” Thomas whispered.
“So do I.”
The media were kept at bay at the gates to the abbey and Sophia went to the flat at nine o’clock to see if her father was up. He was at the electric kettle.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“I did, for an hour. Your phone rang. It was Michelle.”
“Oh, God.”
“Don’t worry, the wind went completely out of her sails when she realised that it was me, not you.”
“Was she very upset? Hysterical?”
“Shouted a lot.” Mr Nelson reached for the teabags. “Called you a lot of names. Called her mother a lot of names. Can’t blame her, really. Her father then took the phone. Asked how you all were, which was good of him, considering. Said he’d try and calm Michelle down and explain. But he won’t be going back to Danielle. Peter’s on his way to her.”
