The Unexpected Consequences of Love

by Jill Mansell

  “We?” said Antoine.

  “Me and my grandson, Josh. He put up half the money. He’s been living and working over in the States, but now he’s back.”

  “And…how are things with you?”

  “Really good, thanks.”

  “Not married, I see.” He glanced at her left hand. “Partner?”

  Dot shook her head. “No. You?”

  “Not currently. There have been…ladies, of course.”

  “Of course,” Dot murmured. How could there not be ladies?

  “But for now? Unencumbered. And may I ask what happened to your ex-husband?”

  “Lawrence?” Dot said steadily. “He moved back to St. Carys a year or two after Aurora died.”

  “I remember meeting him for the first time, confronting him. Wishing him dead.” Antoine paused and adjusted the crisp white cuff of his shirt. “Ironic that he’s still alive and Aurora should have been the one to go. Did he try to get back together with you?”

  Dot shook her head. “I made it very plain that it would never happen. We bump into each other from time to time. But I couldn’t trust him again.”

  “Does he wish you’d take him back?”

  “I don’t know.” She did know but wasn’t going to say so. Antoine was a virtual stranger, after all; they were linked only by the fact that their respective spouses had fallen in love.

  “And have you forgiven him?”

  “Forgiven, not forgotten,” said Dot. “Because he ended up suffering too, but I’ll never forget what he did and the way it made me feel.”

  “If your husband had died and Aurora had tried to come back to me, I couldn’t have allowed it either.” Antoine nodded in agreement. “Once the connection has been broken, it can never be repaired, you know?”

  The waiter arrived, menus were hastily perused, and orders taken. When the wine had been sampled and poured, Dot said, “So what brings you back to St. Carys?”

  Antoine smiled slightly. “The reason Aurora and I moved here in the first place was because we loved it so much. I wanted to see if it had changed. Spending some time back in Cornwall seemed like a nice idea…”

  “And?” Dot prompted when his voice trailed off.

  “Honestly? I made a poor decision.” Silver eyes twinkling, Antoine said, “There is a rule I should have stuck to, but I did not. The rule that says it isn’t wise to become romantically involved with the divorcée who lives directly across the street from you.”

  “Ah,” said Dot.

  “Ah indeed. Especially when you realize you’ve made a big mistake, but the lady in question doesn’t think so. I ended the relationship a couple weeks ago and she has taken it rather badly. I made an error of judgment.” His tone was wry. “And now her feelings are hurt, so she is making my life difficult.”

  “Oh dear.” Men, honestly.

  “So it seemed like a good time to remove myself from the situation,” Antoine concluded.

  “Escape, you mean.”

  His mouth twitched. “Or that.”

  “And you’re hoping that by the time you head back, she’ll be over you.”

  “Exactly. Over me, rather than all over me.” His command of English was remarkably good. And there was that shrug again, somehow simultaneously managing to indicate apology and lack of concern.

  “You’re booked into the hotel for seven days,” said Dot. “Is that going to be long enough?”

  “For what? Ah, I remember.” Another nod and a complicit smile. “Well, let’s see how things turn out. Basically, I can stay as long as I want.”

  ***

  There’d been no need to head over to the hospital, thankfully. Called out to check Sophie over, the doctor had given her the all clear. After applying butterfly stitches to the gash on her temple, he’d told her to take things easy for a while. Reassured and dosed up on painkillers, she’d promptly fallen asleep in Josh’s bed.

  Now, opening her eyes and checking her watch, she saw that it was nine in the evening. Outside, the sun was setting behind the trees, washing the sky with a fiery shade of pink tinged with apricot. Beautiful. Inside, various parts of her were throbbing painfully and there were smears of dried blood across the formerly pristine white pillowcase.

  Sophie eased herself with care out of the bed, hobbled over to the mirror on the opposite wall, and gazed at her reflection.

  Oh dear, not beautiful at all.

  She’d wrenched her back and shoulder muscles. There was a sizable lump on the back of her head. Her tongue had been bitten and there was the stitched cut on her left temple, accompanied by an emerging blue-gray bruise. Blood from the cut had dried on her cheek and in her hair. Basically, she looked as if she’d picked a cat fight with…well, a bunch of big, angry cats.

  The door opened as Sophie was experimentally poking out her tongue and assessing the puncture marks her teeth had made.

  “You’re awake,” said Josh.

  “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed. Sorry about the pillowcase.”

  “No problem.” Watching her flinch as she bent to pick up her bag, he said, “You’re welcome to stay here if you don’t want to go home. Just climb back into bed. I’ll have some food sent up. You can get some rest, watch TV…”

  “Thanks, but it’s okay.” Tempting though it was to just crawl back under the covers and be waited on, Sophie slowly straightened up. “I have emails to go through, photos to print off. Could you pass me those painkillers?”

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Josh was still surveying her with concern.

  She nodded. “Honestly, I’ll be fine after a shower.”

  But there was an element of bravado to this statement. On their way out to Josh’s car, Sophie could feel that the muscles in her back and shoulder were stiffening up. Getting into the car had them squealing. When they reached her flat, Josh had to help her up the stairs. Okay, this was getting ridiculous.

  “You can’t work tomorrow,” he said flatly. “No way. You’ll never do it.”

  “What was that you mentioned earlier about me being obstinate?”

  “But—”

  “If you really want to help”—Sophie indicated the bathroom— “you could run me a bath. Stick some bubble bath in too. Honestly, that’ll make me feel loads better.”

  She checked her emails while Josh ran the bath for her. When it was ready, he said, “Look, I’m going to wait out here until you’re out. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Do you think I’m going to drown?” Sophie raised her eyebrows at him. “Because I’m not.”

  “I know. Just humor me.”

  “Fine, then. But I’m locking the door.”

  Chapter 19

  Twenty minutes later, steamed and rested in the foamy green water, Sophie realized she was in trouble.

  Three times now she’d attempted to grip the sides of the bath and haul herself upright. And three times she’d failed miserably. Her back had seized up; instead of the sprained muscles relaxing, they appeared to have gone into spasm. She was stuck here in the water, unable to get out.

  On the plus side, Josh was in the living room.

  On the minus side, he was in the living room.

  Plus, she was naked.

  Okay, this was officially awkward.

  She tried one last time to lift herself out, without success. The pain just made it impossible. Light-headed with the effort of holding her breath and not shrieking aloud, she sank into the water once more.

  Then she tilted her head back and called out, “Josh?”

  Footsteps. Then he was there on the other side of the door. “Yes?”

  “You know what I really hate?”

  “What?”

 
“When you’re right and I’m wrong.”

  “I see.” There was a pause. “So basically, you can’t get out of the bath.”

  He sounded as if he might be finding the situation amusing.

  Well, she supposed she couldn’t blame him. Sophie said, “Basically, that would be correct.”

  “Riiiiiight.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “No, of course not. Have you completely seized up?”

  “Completely.”

  “And you locked the door, did you?”

  “Of course I locked the door, I’m not stupid!”

  Now he was definitely laughing.

  “Okay, do you have a screwdriver?”

  “Not on me at this moment, no.”

  “Well, that’s probably a good thing. How about out here in the flat?”

  “There’s a toolbox in the cupboard under the stairs.”

  He was back less than a minute later with the necessary screwdriver. Sophie watched from the other end of the bathroom as one by one the four screws and the exterior door handle were removed. Then he was able to reach the locking mechanism and release it. There was a satisfying click and the door was unlocked but still closed.

  “Right,” said Josh. “Before I open the door, how do you want to do this?”

  “You could call the hotel, see if Tula can come down here.”

  “Or I could close my eyes,” Josh countered. “Which would be quicker.”

  Oh help. Sophie closed her own eyes, mentally weighing up the options. After several seconds she said, “Okay, listen. In my bedroom, in the second drawer of the chest of drawers, there’s a big gray T-shirt. And on the top shelf in the wardrobe are some winter scarves.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “Get the black knitted scarf down. Go and do that now.”

  “Please,” prompted Josh.

  Bastard. Despite her predicament, Sophie smiled. “Please.”

  A minute later he was back. “Okay, now what?”

  “Tie the scarf around your head so it completely covers your eyes.”

  “Couldn’t I just keep them shut?”

  “No. When you’ve done it, bring the T-shirt into the bathroom.”

  She watched the door open. Josh entered the room, blindfolded with her scarf and carrying her T-shirt. Hesitating, he said, “You’ll have to talk me toward you.”

  “Straight ahead… Right a bit… Forward again… Left a bit.” Okay, this felt really weird. She was naked, but he couldn’t see her; it was all very Fifty Shades. Getting a bit flustered at the thought, Sophie said, “Hold the T-shirt out in front of you… Down a bit… And left again…” Got it. “Now move back and wait there.”

  It felt all kinds of wrong, putting a T-shirt on in the bath. Finally she’d managed to get her arms through the arm holes and pull it down over the rest of her until she was covered to the knees. All the while Josh stood there with the scarf over his eyes and a hint of a smirk on his face.

  “Right, you can look now,” said Sophie.

  “Are you sure? I’m scared. What if I take the scarf off and you’re still naked?”

  “Ha-de-ha. Are you terrified I might launch myself at you?”

  “You never know.” Smiling, he removed the scarf. “What if you’re only pretending you’ve hurt your back?”

  “I wish. Okay, how are we going to do this?”

  “Hold your arms out,” Josh instructed. He leaned over, placed his own arms around her, and braced himself against the side of the bath. “Now hang on tight. I’m going to lift you up…”

  Sophie was acutely aware of her lack of underwear. Water sloshed over the sides, and for a moment it seemed they might both end up in the bath. Then with a superhuman effort, he had her upright, if disconcertingly pressed against him.

  Oo-er, chest to chest and no bra…

  “Thanks.” She managed to lift her legs out, then steadied herself and surveyed his now-sodden shirt front. “Sorry.”

  Josh fetched the bath towel and wrapped it around her. “Don’t mention it. Need a hand with anything else?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Want me to stick around?”

  “I’m fine now. There’s no need.”

  “What are you going to do about tomorrow?”

  “Cope.” This was a combination of bravado, desperation, and mind over matter. It was a major job, and she couldn’t let down the people who’d hired her.

  “Okay, but would it be useful if you had an assistant?” Josh raised his hand. “Think about it before you just say no out of habit.”

  Sophie closed her mouth and considered the offer. Her gaze wandered past him, through the open bathroom door to the boxes of photographic equipment piled up against the wall in the hallway.

  “Yes.” She smiled slightly. “An assistant would be…great.”

  “Right.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “It’s going to be a whole day.”

  “I know. You already said.”

  “And you’re sure you can take that much time away from the hotel?”

  “You’re assuming the assistant will be me,” said Josh.

  “Oh! Sorry…”

  “I need to get back and check the diary, see what’s happening. If I can’t make it tomorrow, I’ll find someone else who can. What time will you need to set off?”

  “No later than eleven.”

  “Fine. You get some rest. Call me if you need to. I’ll see myself out,” said Josh. “And good luck for tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” Sophie was still feeling stupid for thinking he’d been volunteering himself to help her. “Sorry about getting your shirt wet.”

  “No problem. Always happy to help.” As he left the flat, Josh added over his shoulder, “Especially when it proved that you were wrong and I was right.”

  ***

  Lawrence had carefully positioned his car in the parking lot to give him a view of both the driveway and the entrance to Mariscombe House. If Dot and Antoine had gone out to dinner at seven, it stood to reason they’d be returning to the hotel before too long.

  He felt like a private eye. It was ten fifteen and he’d already been sitting out here in the dark for an hour. God knows why he was even doing it, but there had just been an inner compulsion to know what was going on. His stomach had been in knots too; it was that teenagery preexam sensation of knowing that what happened next had the power to change your life.

  And then he saw the headlights of a car coming up the drive. Sinking down in the driver’s seat, he watched as it was driven into a parking space over to the left of the hotel.

  Yes, it was them. Antoine Beauvais emerged from the car, moving around and opening the passenger door for Dot. Smooth bastard.

  When you’d been married to someone for decades, opening car doors for them became a nicety that fell by the wayside. Watching with a tortured mix of envy and guilt as Dot smiled and said something to Antoine, Lawrence realized he was holding his breath.

  Okay, exhale.

  The two of them made their way to the entrance of the hotel. Once inside, he viewed them through the lit-up windows as they faced each other, exchanged a few more words, then parted company. Antoine Beauvais headed up the staircase while Dot, turning away, disappeared in the direction of the bar.

  Thank God for that. She’d done her duty and now it was over; she’d gotten rid of him. Overcome with relief, Lawrence jumped out of the car; after all this private investigating, he definitely deserved a drink.

  “Hello, hello, fancy bumping into you two here!” He beamed at Dot, who was chatting to Spike, the barman. “Thought I’d pop in for a quick one. Dot, let me buy you a drink. I say, your hair looks fantastic. Now, what are you having? How about a glass of Cloudy Bay?”


  “Lawrence, you don’t need to—”

  “Oh, come on, just the one. I like what you’re wearing too. Is that a new dress? The color suits you. I’ll have the same, Spike.”

  “I’ve been out to dinner, Lawrence. And don’t pretend you don’t know who with.”

  The trouble with Dot being such a popular boss was the way people always told her everything. Oh well.

  “I do know. I just saw the two of you come back. Pretty awkward evening, was it? What was it all about, anyway?”

  “What makes you think it was awkward?” said Dot.

  “You got rid of him pretty sharpish.” Lawrence shrugged. “He went up to his room; you came in here. What did he have to say?”

  “He went up to his room to put his phone on charge. And if you’re really that interested in finding out what he had to say,” Dot went on, “why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  Shit. She was looking behind him. Lawrence took a swift glug from his just-poured glass of wine. He heard the sound of footsteps, breathed in a waft of expensive-smelling cologne.

  “Antoine, look who’s here. And what a coincidence, after we were just talking about him earlier.”

  Lawrence turned, by now really wishing he hadn’t come along.

  “Hello, Lawrence.” Antoine’s tone was even but polite. He didn’t sound as if he were about to pull out a dueling pistol and aim it at his head.

  Then again, how could you tell?

  Chapter 20

  Lawrence said, “Hello, Antoine.”

  “You’re looking well,” the other man said.

  Still no sign of those dueling pistols. “Thanks. You too. May I offer you a drink?”

  Antoine inclined his head. “A small cognac. Thank you.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll be staying here at the hotel for a while, so we may as well be civilized. It’s been wonderful seeing Dot again. We’ve had an excellent evening, haven’t we?”

  “Fantastic,” Dot said happily. “And the food at the Rose was great too. I had the most amazing scallops in Pernod.”

  “You and your scallops.” Lawrence smiled, because she’d always had a thing for them. What he really wanted to say was, What does that mean? You had a fantastic time with the smooth Frenchman and the food was great too?