The Unexpected Consequences of Love

by Jill Mansell

  “He wasn’t tremendously impressed,” said Dot.

  Nor had he returned to Cornwall, Marguerite knew that too.

  “Is it over between the two of you now?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how about Lawrence? Do you love him?”

  “Of course I do.” This time Dot didn’t flinch. “With all my heart.” She exhaled and said again, “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Marguerite shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s fine. Lawrence and I did our best to make it more, but we were only ever friends. If anything, I’m relieved to be off the hook. Looking after someone who’s ill isn’t my thing. Just don’t have the patience. And I can’t stand hospitals.” She smiled briefly. “So all in all, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Dot clapped a hand to her throat. “Thank you. You’ll never know how guilty I’ve been feeling. I didn’t want you to feel…you know…”

  “It’s okay. Really. I’m happy for you.” Marguerite tilted her head. “But I have to admit, also a bit puzzled. Lawrence has been in love with you all along. Everyone knows that. You could have had him back any time you wanted.”

  “I know.” Dot carefully smoothed her skirt over her knees. “But he broke my heart when he left. I was devastated, and there was Lawrence, madly in love and as happy as anything with Aurora. If she hadn’t died, he might still be happy with her. But she did die. And it was Lawrence’s turn to be devastated. Then, once he’d recovered from losing her, I saw the way his mind was heading. But I didn’t want to be second best, option number two. And I still wanted to hurt him for doing what he’d done to me. Why should I make life easy for him? So I decided to punish him instead.” She paused, tipping her head back as if searching the sky for birds. Marguerite saw the glistening in her clear blue eyes and knew she was employing the tilt trick to stop the tears spilling out.

  “Without realizing how much you were punishing yourself,” she said gently.

  Unable to speak for a moment, Dot nodded. Then she swallowed and said, “Well, I did kind of know. But somehow it seemed worth it. Lawrence was always there, wanting me back and unable to have me. But then something like this happens”—she indicated the hospital—“and it just hits you, out of nowhere. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. What if he wasn’t around any longer? We so nearly lost him. And the thought of that… Well, it would just be unbearable.” She managed a smile and a shrug. “So that’s how it happened. I realized I couldn’t punish him, or myself, anymore.”

  “Well,” said Marguerite. “What can I say? I should put the two of you in a book.” Her gaze softened. “Lawrence must be happy about it.”

  “He doesn’t know yet. I haven’t told him.”

  “But you’re staying here in Plymouth, visiting him every day. You left Antoine behind in Paris. He must have some sort of idea.”

  “Who knows? He’s a man; you can never be sure with them.” Dot looked mischievous. “If he does suspect, he’s far too scared to ask.”

  ***

  Marguerite made her way across the parking lot, wearing wraparound Dior dark glasses. Dot had headed back to Lawrence in his ward on the sixth floor. There had been no reason to go with her; the deed was done now. And she hadn’t been lying when she’d told Dot she was happy for her. Because she was.

  Thank God, here was the car, tucked out of the way in a corner. Marguerite’s hand trembled slightly as she pressed the key to unlock the door.

  It wasn’t until she was in the driver’s seat of the Mercedes that she felt safe enough to take off the sunglasses and bury her face in her hands. Hot tears dripped through her fingers, and her shoulders shook with the effort of not honking like a goose.

  So much for having allowed herself to think that maybe, just maybe, she and Lawrence might have stood a chance of happiness together.

  It was never going to happen now. She’d known it the moment Riley had told her about Dot flying back from Paris.

  When the outburst was over, Marguerite carefully wiped her face with a succession of tissues, cleaning away the mascara that had run into the wrinkles around her eyes, giving her the look of a centuries-old witch. Then she took out her makeup bag and painstakingly reapplied everything that had come off.

  She might not have a man in her life—again—but there were still standards to maintain.

  No more Lawrence, with whom she’d had such high hopes of building a proper relationship. It wasn’t to be. Marguerite gave her mouth a final defiant slick of take-no-prisoners crimson lipstick.

  Oh well, at least she still had her career, her fans, and her dignity. She’d wanted Lawrence and been found wanting in return. But no one would ever know.

  Chapter 48

  “What are you thinking about now?”

  It was evening, and visiting time was almost over. Dot looked at Lawrence and said, “Why?”

  “That little smile on your face. I like it. I want to know what made you smile like that.”

  “Okay, do I make something up or tell you the truth?”

  “The truth.” Lawrence paused. “Although now you’ve said that, I’m a bit worried I might not like the answer.”

  What the hell, go for it. “I was thinking about the time you asked me to marry you.” As she said it, one of the nurses arrived to check on Lawrence’s IV.

  “Ooh, marriage proposals, lovely!” Rose was a cheery soul who loved to chat. “Was it wonderfully romantic?”

  “He probably doesn’t remember it,” said Dot. “It was over half a century ago.”

  The nurse feigned dismay. “Oh, Lawrence, surely you haven’t forgotten! Have you?”

  “I remember,” said Lawrence. “I’m not that decrepit.”

  “Go on then, tell me.” Rose beamed. “I’m all ears!”

  Her ears were actually quite large and stuck out. For a split second Dot and Lawrence exchanged a glance, silently daring each other to smile.

  “It was a Saturday evening.” Lawrence held up his arm, allowing Rose to get on with the task of unpeeling the tape holding one of the IV lines in place. “Started off sunny, then the sky clouded over as we were setting out. We’d been invited to a party at a friend’s house and my car had broken down the day before, so we had to walk there instead. It was about five miles away, but that was okay. We could manage it, no problem.” Drily he added, “Back when we were young.”

  “Wait,” said Rose. “I need to know. Had you planned the whole thing? I mean, did you have the ring with you?”

  “No.” Lawrence shook his head. “We’d only known each other a few weeks. I knew I loved her, but that was as far as I’d gotten. So anyway, we’d walked a couple miles along the cliff path when it started to rain. And Dot was wearing a new dress. A yellow one.”

  Dot, sitting at his bedside, couldn’t believe he remembered the color of her dress.

  “Pale yellow,” Lawrence elaborated. “With white daisies on it. And pockets on each side.”

  “It was the sixties,” Dot explained to Rose. “Daisies and pockets were very popular back then.”

  “When it started raining, she was worried about her dress getting wet, so I took off my jacket and let her wear it. But the rain came down harder. So then we tried to take a shortcut, leaving the cliff path and cutting across some fields. Which would have worked well if it hadn’t been for the locked gate.”

  “Oh no, what happened?” Rose was expertly retaping the IV line.

  And now it was Lawrence’s turn to smile. “I was helping Dot to climb over the gate. But she was wearing white, pointy-heeled shoes and she slipped on her way over the top bar. She went crashing down the other side, skidded, lost her balance, and ended up sitting in a puddle, splashed head to toe in mud. Well, that was it; I knew what girls were like when their new clothes got wrecked. I was just waiting for her to go ballistic.” He shook his head, evidently visuali
zing the scene. “But d’you know what? She started to laugh instead. And there was mud all over her face…and her dress…”

  “And your jacket,” Dot added. “And you were still on the other side of the gate, looking stunned…”

  “So then I climbed over the gate like a complete gentleman to haul her up. I grabbed hold of both her hands, and do you know what she did, Rose?” Lawrence raised an eyebrow at the nurse. “Instead of letting me help her get back on her feet, she deliberately pulled me down into the mud.”

  “Nooo!” Rose was agog.

  “I mean, what kind of a girl does that?” He shrugged helplessly. “She dragged me down with her and laughed and laughed, then she kissed me and rolled me around until we were both completely covered, then she kissed me again and I knew exactly what kind of a girl did that.” Lawrence’s mouth twitched. “It was the kind I wanted to marry. So that was it; that was when I asked her. There and then.”

  “In the mud and the rain,” said Dot.

  “In an empty field.”

  “And with our clothes ruined.”

  “I couldn’t have cared less.” Lawrence looked at Rose. “She said yes; that was all that mattered.”

  “Ah, that’s so lovely.” Rose was clasping her hands together in delight. “So you never did make it to the party.”

  “Oh, we did.” Lawrence smiled. “We wanted to celebrate with our friends. Weren’t going to let a bit of mud stop us.”

  “They lent us a change of clothes,” said Dot. “Weird clothes, but at least they were dry.”

  “They gave you a giant pair of dungarees,” Lawrence remembered. “And I had to wear a terrible pair of corduroy trousers. God, they were purple.” He threw his head back and laughed. “But we still had the most brilliant night.”

  “We did,” Dot agreed. “Even if a couple people thought we were far too young to be thinking about getting married and said it would never last.”

  “Ha, and you proved them wrong!” Rose beamed. “Look at the two of you now, fifty years later. Oh, I love stories like this. You give the rest of us hope; you really do!”

  Dot opened her mouth to say, Except we aren’t married; we’re divorced. Then she met Lawrence’s gaze and closed it again. Why do it? Why disappoint Rose and prompt the question that would mean explaining all over again why their happy marriage had ended in unhappy divorce?

  Instead she smiled and said, “We just struck lucky, I guess.”

  When Rose had finished and moved on to the next patient, Dot looked at her watch and said, “They’re going to be kicking me out soon.”

  “Yes.” Lawrence paused. “Thank you.”

  “For what? The grapes?” Dot had eaten most of them herself. “Sorry about that. I’ll bring some more tomorrow.”

  “Never mind them. Thank you for everything. Just…everything.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Anyway, you should be heading off.”

  To her lonely attic room back at the B and B. It was funny how a hospital ward, with all its bustle and chatter, could come to feel like home. She said, “I suppose I should.”

  “Thanks for keeping me company. Again. And for not telling Rose the depressing truth.”

  “Didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.” Dot lightly touched his wrist. “I’m impressed, by the way, that you remembered what I was wearing when I fell over in the mud.”

  “Just because I don’t talk about things doesn’t mean I don’t remember them.” Lawrence shook his head. “I’ll never forget anything about that night.”

  Dot reached for his hand, curling her fingers between his. She’d felt like the luckiest girl in the world that day. It had been the ultimate spur-of-the-moment proposal, followed by a wild, impromptu celebration. Poor Antoine; all the immaculate planning and painstaking attention to detail in the world couldn’t have matched it. She looked at Lawrence and said, “I love you.”

  Stunned, he gazed back at her. Finally he nodded and replied, “I love you too.”

  “Who knows how much time either of us has left? I don’t think we should waste it.”

  “Visiting time’s over, you two lovebirds,” Rose sang out as she made her way back past them.

  “Seriously?” Lawrence whispered.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Oh my God.” He squeezed Dot’s hand. “Are you trying to give me another heart attack?”

  Dot spluttered; his sense of humor had always made her laugh. “Do try not to have one.”

  “Well, despite the fact that I’m lying in a hospital bed full of tubes,” said Lawrence, “this ranks right up there as one of the best days of my life.” He raised his head from the pillow and she leaned over to kiss him on the mouth.

  Eleven years since the last kiss. Dot closed her eyes; how she’d missed him.

  Well, we’re together again now. Until death us do part.

  Her heart turned over. “You know what? Me too.”

  “And is Antoine…you know, definitely off the scene?”

  “Absolutely definitely.”

  “You mean, out of him or me, you chose me?”

  “Looks like it,” said Dot.

  “Wow,” said Lawrence. “That’s amazing. No accounting for taste.”

  “I know. Weird, isn’t it?”

  He reached up and touched the side of her face. “I’m the luckiest man in the world. I really hope I don’t die just yet.”

  Dot smiled, cupped her own hand over his, and murmured, “You’d better not. If you do, I’ll kill you.”

  Chapter 49

  This time the shop was open. Since he wasn’t stupid—not twice, anyway—Josh had called in advance to double-check.

  And now he was here. It had begun to feel as if the fates were conspiring against him, but it was happening at last.

  Please God, don’t let Theo Pargeter refuse point-blank to speak to him when he found out the reason for his visit.

  Josh braced himself. The conversation would be infinitely easier without other customers around. And it looked as if he were in luck; getting here this early seemed to have paid off. When he made his way through the gates, he saw only the one person in the outdoor section of the shop, busy unstacking a delivery of glazed planter pots.

  “Hi.” Noticing him, Theo Pargeter straightened up and said in a friendly manner, “Anything I can help you with?”

  Just a bit.

  “I hope so. But it’s not to do with this.” Josh indicated the garden furniture surrounding them. “More…personal.”

  Theo looked taken aback. “Oh? What kind of personal?”

  Okay, this was way more difficult than the meetings he’d had with entertainment industry bigwigs back in LA. Probably because the outcome was way more important.

  “I need to ask some questions.” Josh cleared his throat, which appeared to have his heart beating away in it. “About Sophie Wells.”

  Theo went very still. The color drained visibly from his face. At last he said, “Why? Is she all right?”

  “She’s alive. Fit and healthy. I don’t know about all right.”

  “Who are you?” said Theo.

  Honesty had to be the best policy. May as well go for it. “I know her. We know each other. As friends,” Josh amended. “I wish it was more, but it isn’t.”

  “Why not?” Theo was eyeing him warily.

  “Because something happened in Sophie’s past that…changed her. And I don’t know what that something is, but I need to find out. Because I love her. And I think she has feelings for me, but she won’t let herself get emotionally involved with anyone.” He shook his head. “Not with anyone at all.”

  The silence lengthened between them. Finally Theo said, “Have you tried asking her why not?”

  “Of course I’ve tried. She refuses to talk about it. And it’s killing me,” sa
id Josh. “I need to know what happened. Maybe then I can help. Whatever it is, I just want Sophie to be able to put it behind her…because there has to be a way. If she can just get over it, she can be happy again.”

  “Oh God.” Theo ran a shaking hand over his forehead. “Does she know you’re here?”

  “No.” Josh knew he had to ask the question. “Will you tell me? Did she try to commit suicide? Is that what happened?”

  More silence.

  Then Theo shook his head. “No, Sophie didn’t try to commit suicide. I did.”

  In the frozen seconds following this startling pronouncement, a Kawasaki motorbike pulled into the parking area. A skinny lad removed his crash helmet and said, “Sorry I’m late. A truck broke down on Falcondale Road. Traffic was chaos.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Theo shook his head. “Roddie, can you finish unpacking these pots and take charge? I have to go out for a bit.”

  Roddie, who evidently worked as Theo’s assistant, shrugged and said, “Cool, no probs.”

  The two of them walked up the road to a small café and found a quiet corner where they couldn’t be overheard. Then Josh sat and listened as Theo began to talk.

  The whole story came out, jerkily at first, then faster and faster as it went along, fueled by shame and remorse.

  “It was my fault. All my fault. Sophie didn’t do anything wrong. God, I had no idea. I swear I never thought it would have that kind of effect on her. I don’t know how she stuck it out with me for as long as she did. I was a nightmare.” Theo grimaced at the memory. “Well, I was ill. The doctors told me I’d had a complete nervous breakdown. It was hell for both of us. But after the overdose, when I told Sophie I never wanted to see her again, it was because I was so ashamed of what I’d done. And I told myself I was doing the right thing. I thought she’d be happy to be off the hook. The reason I left Birmingham was to give her some space. Well, I needed to get away too, take some time to sort myself out. Then after a while I heard she’d moved down to Cornwall. Is that where you’re from too?”

  Josh nodded, still taking in everything he’d heard. “St. Carys, on the north coast.”