‘That’s easy for you to say,’ I respond sharply, slightly stung by the challenge in her eyes, ‘The man you fell in love with chose to settle half a world away from his home to be with you.’
Tory narrows her eyes slightly and for a second I think it’s going to develop into a playground argument, but she opts for another sip of wine before saying evenly, ‘We’re talking about you Kit, not me. I don’t pretend to have done everything right in my relationship with Noah. You more than anyone know how many stupid blunders I’ve made, but all that’s in the past. I would follow him to the ends of the earth now if that’s what it takes to keep him. I love him with every part of me.
‘Is that how you love Jason? Will you go with him?’
I stare at Tory’s serious face, not knowing the answer. Do I love Jason? The thought of losing him makes me feel sick. But am I prepared to walk away from my only family and my best friends to be with him?
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper finally. ‘I think I love him, but I don’t know if I’m prepared to leave everything I’ve ever known to set up house with a man I’ve only been with for six months.’
‘Tory stares at me for another couple of seconds, then something in my face makes her relent. ‘You don’t have to look as though the world’s falling apart Kitty Kat. Maybe I’m being too hard on you. I just don’t want you to make the same stupid mistakes I made, and risk losing everything because you’re too entrenched in your beliefs to change. And anyway, you don’t have to decide overnight do you? I’m sure Jason isn’t holding a gun to your head quite yet.’
‘Not yet,’ I agree ruefully, ‘But I can’t string him along forever, and tomorrow night’s the last time I’ll see him for ten weeks. He’s taken two months gardening leave to go back up and take care of Hugo.’
Tory frowns. ‘Can’t you go up with him? It would be a perfect opportunity to find if you could both make it work.’ I’m shaking my head before she’s finished. ‘I have too many commitments here Tory. I might be able to get up for a weekend or something, but that’s about it.’
‘Did Jason say what he intends to do when he leaves the Navy?’
‘I have no idea, we didn’t get that far in the conversation. I think he’s probably intending to drop another bombshell on me when we have dinner this evening. Maybe he’ll turn the family pile into a theme park – with a name like Bloodstone Tower, he’s bound to attract a lot of bloodthirsty tourists.’ I sigh before continuing, ‘Goodness knows what’s going on in his head Tory. Whatever he decides to do, his house will take a packet to renovate and I don’t think he’s got that kind of money.’
At that moment our conversation is interrupted by a tiny mewling sound and I watch Tory’s eyes immediately soften as she quickly gets up to check on her first born. Dotty is unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, and ever the opportunist, she immediately jumps into my lap.
‘How’s he sleeping?' I ask, glad to change the subject.
Tory grimaces as she picks up the tiny bundle. ‘Not brilliant, but then it’s so difficult to know if he’s getting enough. This whole breast feeding lark is a bit of a lottery really. I seem to spend most of my time with one of my boobs hanging out.’
‘A bit like me last night,’ I quip before realizing I hadn’t actually mentioned that part of the story. I busy myself stroking Dotty, hoping she was too taken up with Isaac to hear my comment. No such luck. After settling the little boy to her satisfaction, she looks up, eyes sparkling and simply says, ‘Spill.’
Of course it was too much to hope for that my so called best friend would keep that little gem secret. She was still laughing when she left, and by six o’clock I was receiving topless pole dancing pictures from Freddy…
It’s now seven and I’m about to leave the flat to meet Jason – of course this time my outfit bears more resemblance to a nun. I’m actually quite nervous about seeing him again. Not long after he delivered his bolt from the blue, he sent me home in a car. I would generally have stayed over, but, well with an Admiral in the house – especially one who’d already had an eyeful of my assets, it didn’t really seem appropriate…
The evening is warm and sultry, making my navy blue polo neck dress stand out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else’s summery pastels. As I make my way to The Royal Castle Hotel, I’m already uncomfortably warm. A quick glance at myself as I head into the dim interior and I groan inwardly. I look like I’m going to a bloody funeral. I sigh as I push open the door to the bar.
I never used to have this much trouble choosing clothes. Generally Kit Davies has always been a byword in Dartmouth for stylish and chic, but since losing the gallery last year, I seem to have lost my mojo a bit. Maybe I should consider burying myself in the wilds of Scotland before I turn into a bag lady.
I pause to look around the bar and quickly spot Jason near the window. He looks up as I approach and gives me a warm smile that turns my insides liquid. Sometimes I forget just how drop dead gorgeous he is. I lean down to give him a quick kiss, and as I straighten up, he eyes my dress up and down with a wry grin. ‘Very, er, covered up,’ he murmurs as I slide into the seat opposite.
Grimacing, I pull at the polo neck, trying to get some air to the area that saw far too much of it last night. ‘See, I can dress conservatively when the occasion calls for it,’ I say defensively.
‘You look gorgeous as always, just, er, perfect for a casual evening at the pub,’ is his deadpan response. I glare at him for a second before slumping back into my chair and pointing to the bottle already on ice. ‘Pour me a drink before I expire from heat exhaustion.’ With a grin he leans forward and manoeuvres the two empty glasses which I note are flutes. I assume he’s bought Prosecco, but when he lifts the bottle from the bucket, I realize it’s a little more than a simple sparkling wine.
‘Champagne,’ I murmur a little apprehensively, ‘And a good one. Are we celebrating something?’
He fills the two glasses without speaking, then pushing one towards me, he raises his own glass. ‘I’d really like to celebrate the start of a new exciting adventure for both of us.’
Feeling my heart do a double flip, I open my mouth to say something, despite the fact I have no idea what, but before I can speak, he leans forward and murmurs quietly, ‘I know my words came as a bit of a shock last night, and perhaps I should have trodden a little more carefully, but Kit, I can’t remember the last time I was so excited about a project.’
‘You have a project?’ I interject a little uneasily. ‘I assume you’re talking about renovating Bloodstone Tower?’
‘Not just renovating,’ is his animated response. ‘I want to turn it into a boutique hotel, the kind of Bed and Breakfast that provides understated luxury for discerning guests in a friendly intimate atmosphere.’
‘You sound as though you’re reading from a brochure,’ I quip feeling a slight frisson of excitement as his enthusiasm communicates itself to me, despite my misgivings. ‘How will you do it?’ I mean, it’s er, not as though you’re, er, awash with money – are you?’ Maybe he’s won the lottery and simply hasn’t told me.
Jason takes a deep breath, and I sense that here is the clinker. ‘I spoke to Noah a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to know if he’d be interested in investing – kind of like a sleeping partner.’
He spoke to Noah a couple of weeks ago. Why the hell didn’t he tell me?
But in my heart I know why. The look on his face tells me exactly why he neglected to mention anything about it until now. Until he was prompted by his father’s stroke. He thinks I’ll turn him down. He’s expecting to go up to Scotland alone.
I look down at my hands gripping my glass of Champagne, so tightly I’m in danger of cracking the glass. My mind is racing. I don’t believe Tory knows anything about it – she wouldn’t have kept something so monumental to herself.
‘Is Noah interested?’ My voice when I finally manage to speak sounds hollow and tinny. I look up and try to inject some enthusiasm in my voice. ‘I mean, I assume h
e is, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
‘He was very keen, so much so, he’s agreed to finance the initial stage before the end of the year.’
‘So what will he get out of it? Surely he’s not doing it out of charity?’ I don’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and hate myself for it. Noah doesn’t deserve my mockery, and the frown on Jason’s face agrees.
‘We’ll be equal partners,’ he answers eventually, ‘But Noah has made it clear that he doesn’t want any day to day involvement. We’ll have a contract drawn up of course.’
I nod my head before taking a large gulp of Champagne and saying with false brightness, ‘Well, it seems as though you’ve got everything sorted.’
‘No not everything.’ Jason’s face is unsmiling as he takes my free hand gently. ‘You’re the most important piece Kit. I love you and want you to come with me.’
I don’t know what to say. My heart is hammering like a construction worker. I take another gulp of Champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz up my nose. I can feel the panic begin to swamp me. Jason is waiting for an answer. Finally I look up.
‘I don’t know Jason. I..I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any promises. I need more time to think about it.’
His face briefly tightens with disappointment, but then he controls his features, and with a smile, he squeezes my hand. ‘Take all the time you need Kit. It would be good if you could come up for a weekend while I’m up there and I can show you exactly what’s in my head?’ He phrases his words as a question and I nod my head, no longer trusting myself to speak. If I say anything, I know I’ll burst into tears.
Jason searches my face silently. No doubt my inner turmoil is pretty obvious and in the end, he gives my fingers one last squeeze before letting go. ‘Shall we order?’ he says, handing me the menu. His tone has reverted to business like and I’m torn between relief and anxiety that he’s let the subject go so easily.
I stare blindly down at the menu. I need to get a grip. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s not as though he’s asking me to go to bloody Outer Mongolia. It’s Scotland for pity’s sake - it’s not even another country. Why am I so scared?
Chapter Four
It’s seven o’clock on Saturday morning and I really don’t have any more time to dwell on big important life changing issues; I have one hundred penis shaped favours to turn into his and hers balloons, and three hours to do it in.
I’ve enlisted the help of Freddy, who’s assured me he’s a bit of an expert in penis shaped novelties. Obviously I’ve got to make sure that he knows I don’t want them to look remotely phallic by the time we’ve finished. Tory wanted to come over and help too, but I gently told her to focus her energy on being a wonderful mum (it worked, although the truth is that Tory’s about as artistic as a log with anything that doesn’t involve curtains).
Dragging myself out of bed, I throw on some clothes and head into the lounge and the large box of chocolate todgers.
You may well ask why I didn’t just order some more favours. Well bless them, the young couple are on a budget (that’s why they hired me). Unfortunately the online company who made the error refused to send a hundred chocolate lolly pops until we’d returned the penises. With less than three days to go, that was obviously impossible, so I assured the hysterical bride to be that I would disguise our willies with some more melted chocolate, coloured marzipan and nuts (pardon the pun…) Easy peasy - I hope.
I’m determined not to get stressed out. The wedding’s not until four o’clock this afternoon and everything else is pretty much good to go. It will just take a last minute walk round by yours truly to check that the hotel hasn’t missed anything. I’ll take the penises, sorry, balloons with me when I go.
Anyway, first things first, coffee – hot, strong, and lots of it.
Of course chopping up a hundred willies is probably not on most people’s top ten ideas of how to spend their Saturday, but I’m actually quite glad to have something else to focus on besides my domestic issues.
Jason left my flat at five o’clock this morning after a truly amazing night of, well, passion. I know it sounds clichéd, but believe me he seemed determined to cram ten weeks of love making into one incredible night. We didn’t talk at all, instead he showed me with his hands and his lips just how good we are together. Even now I can feel a warm tingle in the pit of my belly when I think about the way he moved over me, touching, stroking, caressing, until I could think of nothing else but the feel of him inside me.
‘Sweetie, you’ve got that just laid look about you again. Please tell me it’s not the thought of handling a mountain of chocolate peckers?’
I really shouldn’t have given Freddy a key to my flat.
I resist the urge to rise to the bait and simply cast him a withering glance. ‘Well that’s the first, and hopefully the last penis joke of the morning. Do you want a coffee before we start?’
In the end it takes us nearly four hours, and by the time we finish, Freddy declares he’s chopped up enough penises to potentially turn him into a murderous serial killer and will possibly need therapy. We have very cleverly (I think) used the testicles as the ‘his and hers’ balloons - one is covered in pink hundreds and thousands, the other in chopped nuts, (again, apologies…)
After covering the testicles (sorry balloons), we cut off the shaft which really made Freddy wince. I actually had a lot of fun eating the first few, but believe me you can get very sick of chocolate wedding tackle in a very short space of time.
Once we’d finished cutting and covering, we stuck a popsicle stick right up the middle of the balls (sorry balloons) and tied it off with gold ribbon (the bride’s colour of choice). I mean come on, is that thinking outside the box or what?
We’ve laid them all on two massive trays I bought for the occasion, and if I say so myself, they don’t look too bad at all, providing no one looks at them too closely – I’m hoping there’ll be no guests who are experts on chocolate genitalia…
‘Job well done Freddy,’ I say, patting my rather pale assistant chocolatier on the back. Freddy makes a face. ‘I don’t think I’ll be looking for a career as a mortician any time soon,’ he murmurs with a small shudder.
‘Come on I’ll treat you to a bacon sandwich at Alf’s before we load them into the car.’
‘What part of a pig is bacon cut from?’ he asks as we head down the stairs. ‘The belly I think,’ I answer laughing, ‘Don’t worry Freddy, you’re not going to be eating any dangly bits.’ As I open the door into the street, a sudden thought occurs to me. ‘Did you know that a pig’s orgasm lasts for thirty minutes? I read it on Facebook.’
Freddy stares at me for a second. ‘I think I’ll just have some cinnamon toast.’
Everything is set up. The hotel have done a grand job with the tables, and all that’s left to do is grab the balloons from the car and place one on each napkin. As I head back out to my open boot, I notice a children’s party in full swing in the adjacent room. Smiling, I stop at the open door to watch them at play. The hotel informed me of the party, assuring me that it will be finished well before the wedding party congregate for welcome drinks.
‘Bloody hell, these balloons look like cocks, don’t you fink Sharon?’ My heart begins to thump as I hone in on a group of women sitting near the window.
‘Dunno about that,’ says a large woman who’s obviously Sharon, ‘Don’t look nuffin like my Darren’s meat and two veg, although come to think of it them balloons do look a bit like his balls after he’d had the snip. His left one swelled up just like that pink one.’
A cold feeling deep in my gut, I ignore the raucous laughter at the unfortunate Darren’s expense and run quickly out to my car, just in time to see two little brats helping themselves to the last few of the favours I‘d laboured so hard over. ‘Why the hell didn’t I shut the damn boot?’ I mutter, resisting the urge to launch myself in a flying tackle at the little monster who’s busy stuffing as many balloons as she can in
to her pocket.
‘Oi,’ I yell at the top of my voice instead, causing the little reprobate to drop the one she was just about to bite into. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ I shout. The little girl takes one look at my furious face, and promptly bursts into tears.
‘Ear, wot you doin’ to my little girl?’ Of course, she would be Sharon’s offspring. Taking a deep breath, I turn round. ‘Your child has just stolen these chocolate favours from the boot of my car.’ My voice is positively bursting with righteous indignation.
‘Well wot you leave the bloody boot open for?’ she responds before turning towards her daughter who is now eying both of us calculatingly in between keeping up the noisy sobs. ‘Chardonnay, did you nick this lady’s chocolate balloons?’ Chardonnay??
The brat’s answer is to increase her wailing. If she doesn’t end up in prison, this kid’s got all the makings of an Oscar winning actress.
‘Give ‘em ‘ere, now,’ thunders her mother who doesn’t look to have been taken in by her daughter’s performance even remotely - which is more than I can say for all the interested spectators starting to gather.
Sharon holds out her hand, and after a very noticeable, though admittedly brief, internal battle, Chardonnay obviously decides that on this occasion she should quit while she’s ahead. Taking a large defiant chunk out of the chocolate balloon she’s holding, the future convict shuffles towards her mother, pulling the rest of the half melted favours out of her pocket.
Unfortunately, without their added toppings, they look even more like testicles, and as she hands over the gooey mess, Sharon gives a derogatory snort. ‘If you ask me, my daughter’s done you a good turn. They look more like balls than balloons, and I can’t think of any bride who’d want a load of bollocks decorating her wedding tables.’
Chuckling at her own wit, she heads back inside with Chardonnay in tow, leaving me staring after them, now liberally covered in chocolate coated hundreds and thousands. To add insult to injury, the female Damian actually has the gall to turn round and stick her tongue out before disappearing through the door.
Chasing Victory: A Romantic Comedy Page 3
