Love on the Rocks

by Henry, Veronica

  If she turned up with it as a fait accompli, she would still have to explain her motives, but the deed would be done. And she hoped they would understand, especially when they saw the transformation. Her stomach gave a flutter as she remembered the computerized image of herself with her new nose. Not Kate Moss or Helena Christensen, obviously. But not a beaky freak.

  She left the lid of her case open and her sponge bag just inside, waiting for her to pop her toothbrush and toothpaste in the next morning. Suddenly there was an urgent knock on the door. She hurried to open it.

  Her mouth fell open as she saw Molly standing outside her room, her face streaked with tears, laden with bags and a small boy in her arms.

  ‘I didn’t know where else to go,’ she sniffed. ‘Let me in quickly, before someone sees.’

  Hannah stood to one side as Molly squeezed past her.

  ‘Molly…’ she looked aghast. ‘You haven’t… kidnapped him or anything?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Molly sat the toddler on Hannah’s bed and stood up straight. ‘This is Alfie. He’s my son. My little boy.’

  George took up his position by the fireplace and tinged the edge of his glass to call for attention.

  Everyone crowded into the drawing room, looking at him expectantly. He looked incredibly debonair. Apart from a couple of men from the council, he was almost the only person wearing a suit, but because it was loose, despite being impeccably tailored, he didn’t look overdressed. His cocktail glass hung between his fingers as he smiled around the room.

  ‘I just want to say a few words, to mark this evening. Firstly, thanks to all of you for coming. I’m afraid we’ve been up to our necks in dust and paint for the past few weeks, but I’m looking forward to starting a social life, and hope we’ll be seeing more of you over the summer. Secondly, a huge thank you to Victoria Snow, who organized this party. If it had been down to me it would have been lukewarm Sangria and sausages on sticks, but Victoria knows me only too well and thankfully took over. So a big round of applause, please.’

  He pointed his glass towards Victoria, who gave a gracious nod in response to the enthusiastic clapping that followed his vote of thanks. He held her gaze for a moment before carrying on.

  ‘When Lisa first suggested to me that we buy this place, I laughed at her. I told her that everyone in the country dreams of running a hotel by the sea; that it’s the ultimate escapist cliché. But she asked me one very good question. Why should that stop us? For that reason, there is something very important I have to say. Apart, of course, from welcoming all of you to The Rocks.’

  He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room until he found Lisa, when he smiled.

  ‘I want to say to Lisa: thank you for helping me realize my dream. There is no way I could have done it without you. You’re the one who squashed all my fears, ignored all my objections, found solutions to every problem. Who got her hands dirty when I was faffing about choosing paint colours and doorknobs. Whose grit and determination is what lies beneath everything you see here. Without her, none of this would be possible.’

  He paused to take a breath and a quick slug of his cocktail. His throat felt dry.

  ‘And that’s why I thought this was the appropriate moment to say not just thank you to Lisa, but… will you marry me?’

  Lisa felt as if time was standing still. She stood rooted to the spot, conscious of a roomful of eyes upon her.

  What on earth was she supposed to say?

  Even though she had made a huge commitment to George, and to all intents and purposes they were in it for the duration, she just wasn’t the marrying kind. The idea of it filled her with dread. Maybe it was an irrational fear. A phobia she had developed because of what she had suffered. Marriage was the last thing on earth she wanted. Ever.

  But how could she reject him in front of a room full of people who were eagerly anticipating her reply? She couldn’t even begin to explain how she felt. She’d have to accept, at least for the time being, because to refuse would create such consternation. It would turn a hugely successful evening into an unmitigated disaster; everyone was holding their breath waiting for her response.

  She would have to let George down later, tell him that on reflection it wasn’t right, it wasn’t what she wanted. After all, he’d been rather unfair, springing a proposal on her in front of an audience, leaving her with little choice but to say yes.

  She smiled her widest, most professional, most charming smile.

  ‘Of course I will,’ she replied, and the room burst into rapturous applause.

  17

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Hannah gazed at the sleeping child in amazement. They’d tucked him into Hannah’s bed and given him a cup of milk. He’d gone off to sleep quite happily. ‘So this is why you never come out with us. We all thought you were having an affair with a married man or something. You’ve always been such a dark horse.’

  ‘Well, now you know.’ Molly gave a crooked smile.

  Hannah frowned. ‘But why did you keep him a secret? I mean, having a baby’s not a crime, is it? No one would mind. You should have said, Moll. I mean, I’d have helped you out if I’d known. No wonder you were so knackered all the time. No wonder you looked ill. I would have babysat for you –’

  ‘Hannah…’ Molly’s chin was trembling. ‘It’s not that simple.’ She looked at Hannah, her eyes enormous in her heart-shaped face, which was white with anxiety. ‘I just need to stay here the night, if you’ll let me. But nobody else must know I’m here.’

  ‘Why not?’ An awful thought occurred to Hannah. ‘He’s not beating you, is he? The dad?’

  ‘No.’

  Molly was so definite that Hannah was reassured.

  ‘His dad’s not around,’ Molly went on. ‘Which is why it’s been so tough, working here. I’ve had to bring him up on my own. It’s been a nightmare, Hannah. A real struggle. And I don’t know if… if I can cope any more…’

  Molly had never come close to admitting defeat before, but she couldn’t pretend any longer. Suddenly she seemed to deflate, sitting down on Hannah’s bed, her head in her hands, her thin shoulders shuddering with a lifetime of tears that were suddenly unleashed. She desperately tried to contain her sobs, as she didn’t want to wake Alfie, but the more she tried to suppress them the more determined they were to escape, until she found herself positively howling.

  Hannah very wisely didn’t press for any more answers. She sat on the bed next to Molly, wrapped her arms around her minuscule frame and held very tight until the crying subsided. Gently she stroked her hair, rocking her.

  ‘You shouldn’t have to cope on your own,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve got rights, Molly. Haven’t you heard of the Child Support Agency? You should let the father face up to his responsibility. They’ll backdate it, as well. You’ll get money from right back when Alfie was born…’

  She looked at Molly, who was looking at her doubtfully. Hannah sighed inwardly. She suspected it was going to be a difficult job persuading her.

  ‘You’ve got to get tough, Molly. Not just for your sake. For Alfie’s. You don’t have to contact him yourself, if you don’t want to. They do it all for you. But you shouldn’t have to struggle. It takes two, remember?’

  Molly shook her head. Hannah grabbed her by the arms, as if to shake her.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ she said urgently. ‘It’s your right.’

  ‘There’s just one problem,’ Molly replied, matter-of-factly. ‘His father’s dead.’

  Hannah’s mouth fell open.

  Molly closed her eyes. She felt so weary. All she wanted to do was to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, so she could be free from her troubles. But somehow she knew that the time had come to share her secrets. That if she was to find a way out of the mess she was in, she had to confide in someone. And she knew Hannah well enough to know that she trusted her. Hannah was calm and sensible. Hannah would know what to do.

  ‘Darling,’ murmured Victoria in George’s ear. ‘What an absol
utely wonderful stunt. I wish I’d thought of it. You had the whole room eating out of your hand. They positively swooned with the romance of it all. Very clever.’ She leaned forward to kiss him. ‘And by the way, congratulations.’

  George felt her hair tickle his cheek, then the warmth of her lips.

  ‘Thank you.’

  The energy levels in the room had moved up yet another gear after Lisa had accepted his proposal. Champagne had appeared as if from nowhere; guests he didn’t know from Adam had toasted and congratulated him. Lisa was in the middle of the mêlée, laughing, glowing, accepting kisses from total strangers. She looked more radiant than ever, as if she had been lit up from within. Victoria was right. There was no way people wouldn’t leave this party and go on to talk about it. As a way of grabbing the limelight, it took some beating.

  But that wasn’t why he had done it.

  Victoria was bidding him farewell.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  The guests were leaving in dribs and drabs, clutching their tin goodie buckets, which Victoria had filled with seaside nonsense. A stick of Mariscombe rock, a copy of Five Go Down to the Sea, a bottle of suntan lotion, a pair of child’s Lolita sunglasses, a bag of pink, sugary candy shrimps. Clever, witty, stylish…

  George watched as she drifted over to Bruno’s side. He had clearly been waiting for her. The two of them slipped out amongst a gaggle of chattering, inebriated guests. Typical Victoria, to slither away when the hard work was about to start. The unglamorous, thankless bit. But, as she was always quick to point out, she didn’t do washing-up.

  It had been the only answer. Absolutely the only way to get Victoria out of his system. By betrothing himself to Lisa, he had put up an impenetrable barrier that would protect him from her once and for all. Otherwise, Victoria would have carried on haunting him. He might have been tempted. Correction: he would have been tempted. Just seeing her with Bruno had made him candescent with fury inside. While he was engaged to Lisa, he was safe. It was like a spell, a magic spell that would save him from himself.

  Besides, he told himself, it was the right and proper thing to do. After all, he and Lisa would be under the same roof, sharing the same bed, for many years to come. It made sense to make it official. And he did love her. He felt a glow of pride at the thought of having her as his wife. Added to which, there was another thought at the very back of his mind, the thought that Mariscombe would be a wonderful place, a very wonderful place, to bring up children…

  George watched as Victoria and Bruno walked across the drive. He saw her slide into the front seat of his car, then they exchanged a few words and a smile, before the car swept out of the driveway.

  In the end, Molly told Hannah everything. She was too tired to work out what to leave out.

  ‘Joe Thorne,’ breathed Hannah in amazement. ‘He’s a legend. People still talk about him. But I don’t get how you managed to keep it a secret.’

  ‘You never met Joe,’ said Molly wryly. ‘If you had, you’d never believe he would bother with someone like me. Joe could have anyone he wanted.’

  ‘You poor, poor thing.’ Hannah couldn’t take it all in. ‘Did you… did you love him?’

  ‘Love?’ Molly was brusque. ‘I thought I did. Till I had Alfie. And now I know what love really means.’

  She turned to look at Alfie, who was sprawled on his back, long lashes curved over his cheeks. Hannah reached out a hand in wonder to stroke the back of his hand and his fingers twitched in his sleep at the contact.

  ‘You’ve got to tell Bruno,’ she said.

  ‘No.’ Molly sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing. ‘Hannah – you don’t understand. They mustn’t find out. They’ll blame me… they’ll blame me for his death.’

  ‘How? Why? I still don’t understand why you had to keep it a secret. I mean, we’re not living in Victorian times. No one can throw you in the workhouse.’

  Molly was silent for a moment. There was just one bit of the story she’d left out. A rather crucial detail. It was weighing like a huge stone on her conscience. Sometimes she couldn’t breathe with the pressure of it. Maybe to share it would ease the burden just a little. To tell someone else would be such a relief, even if it merely confirmed her belief that she’d done something dreadful. She took a deep breath in.

  ‘After I saw Joe with Tamara that afternoon, I didn’t just tell him we were finished.’ This was the story she’d given Hannah. ‘I told him I’d had an abortion.’ Tears began streaming down her face. ‘That’s why he drove off the cliff, Hannah. Because I told him I’d killed our baby. It’s my fault he died. It’s my fault…’

  Hannah hugged Molly, trying to make sense of what she’d just told her. Privately, she was shocked by the horror of it all. The way two young people had played with each other’s lives until one of them had died. But Molly was still alive. Molly and Alfie. She had to do her best to get Molly to see sense; salvage what she could of the situation.

  ‘Molly – you weren’t to know what he was going to do. He’d treated you like dirt. Anyone might have done what you did to teach him a lesson. Anyway, he was drunk. He’d had a massive row with Bruno. It all came out at the inquest. It wasn’t just because of what you’d done.’ Hannah had heard the story a thousand times. It was legend in Mariscombe. And no matter how many different versions you heard, there was one thing that remained constant: Joe was crazy, a loser. Hannah didn’t say it, but she felt certain that the story wouldn’t have had any prettier an ending if Joe had lived.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Molly, sniffing hard. ‘That doesn’t matter now. Thanks to my useless family, I’m homeless.’ She fell back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief. ‘How do you manage to live such a normal, sane existence, Hannah? I don’t know how I drew so many short straws.’

  ‘You’ve got a very beautiful baby,’ said Hannah softly.

  Molly sat up suddenly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re right. And, actually, he’s all that matters.’

  There was a small pause.

  ‘Which is why I still think you should tell Bruno,’ said Hannah.

  *

  Victoria lay on the zebra-skin rug, feeling Bruno’s six-o’clock shadow brushing against her thighs. She shivered, hardly able to bear the tension as his lips found her labia. He nuzzled at them gently until they parted, and he explored her with his tongue, teasing the tip of her clitoris.

  Bruno heard her take a sharp breath in; felt her fingers raking through his curls, her muscles tense. He had always adored the power that the tongue had over women; in his experience it could always reduce them to quivering wrecks much faster than a penis, giving rise to the question as to whether women really needed men at all. He wondered how long it was since he had done this. Nearly two years. Expertly, he judged by her ragged breathing, the tension in her thighs, that she was nearly ready. He pulled his head away and she gave a desperate moan.

  ‘Jesus, don’t stop.’

  He smiled. That was the art. Starting and stopping. Teasing. Prolonging the agony. It made for a more powerful crescendo in the long run.

  He moved up her body, kissing her, his lips still bearing her scent. By the time he got to her mouth, she would be begging. Only then would he give in to her pleas. Only then would he give her himself.

  He was level with her eyes. He liked to look into a woman’s eyes when he entered her. But she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She was away on her own journey somewhere. She didn’t seem to want to share the experience. Maybe looking at him would imply some sort of commitment; perhaps it was a level of intimacy she didn’t want to go to.

  Suddenly, he found his appetite had gone. The idea of screwing Victoria suddenly seemed sordid, whereas moments ago it had been a wild need. She was leaving the day after tomorrow, she’d told him that earlier. Why the hell was he indulging in a one-night stand? Sex meant more to Bruno than just physical contact. He had to be emotionally engaged. Was he emotionally engaged with Victoria? Absolutely, defin
itely not. He thought she was stunning, sexy, witty… but he didn’t think for a second that she was after anything more than a meaningless fuck.

  She looked up at him, confused by his hesitation.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t think I can.’

  She put her hand down to find him, but he pulled away. He was hard enough, but he didn’t want her to know that. Let her think he was impotent. That he was ashamed and embarrassed. It was easier than trying to explain what was going on in his head, because even he didn’t understand that.

  ‘It’s… been a long time,’ he explained. ‘I don’t think I’m ready.’

  She turned her head away from him, embarrassed by her obvious need. He slid a hand down her thigh, put a thumb to her wetness, ready to give her release. He wasn’t entirely without mercy. But she put her hand out to stop him.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, a dullness in her tone.

  Outside, the moon gazed through the glass at them, an eerie silver disc.

  ‘I think I’ll go,’ said Victoria.

  ‘I’ll drive you back.’

  ‘No.’ She pulled her sweater back over her head. ‘I could do with a walk.’

  Her head was held proudly. Bruno felt guilty.

  ‘It’s not you,’ he said gently. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Sure.’ She managed to say it without a trace of bitterness.

  Hannah pulled her duvet up the bed and tucked it firmly around Molly and Alfie. The two of them were snuggled in together, fast asleep at last, looking more like brother and sister than mother and son. In the end, Hannah had persuaded her that what she needed was a good night’s sleep, that things would make more sense in the morning, and Molly had agreed. She’d fallen asleep within seconds.