Here Comes The Bride

by Rebecca Winters

  They had been so young, too, she thought. She had been just twenty-one, and desperate to get married and have a family, while P.J. had wanted to wait. It had begun to seem as if they were just staying together out of force of habit.

  ‘And then I met your father…’

  She trailed off, remembering how glamorous Simon had seemed at the time. A few years older, he had had all the swagger and sophistication that P.J. had lacked, while she had been too naive to realise that kindness was worth so much more than sophistication, or that good looks and self-confidence counted for little compared to someone you could rely on absolutely.

  Like P.J., in fact.

  ‘Your dad swept me off my feet,’ she told Clara.

  And he had. Simon had promised her everything she had ever wanted…and then spent the next eight years crushing her bright hopes one by one.

  Clara swung her bag thoughtfully. ‘Do you wish you’d married P.J. instead of Dad?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Nell stopped dead in the middle of the pavement, and gave her daughter a hug. ‘If I hadn’t married Dad, I wouldn’t have you. How could I possibly be sorry about that?’

  She couldn’t let Clara think that she ever regretted the choice she had made. Her marriage to Simon hadn’t been a success, but they had had Clara, and she was worth everything.

  ‘It’s all a long time ago,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t think P.J. even remembers me now.’

  Somehow it was a depressing thought. Nell made herself push it away and squared her shoulders mentally. It was ridiculous the way she had let thoughts of P.J. unsettle her recently. She had been fine when she’d thought he was in the States, but, really, what difference did it make if he was back in London or not? It wasn’t as if she mixed with a wealthy crowd, let alone with billionaires, so she was hardly any more likely to bump into him.

  So she might as well put him out of her mind. Again.

  The trouble was, her life just wasn’t big enough at the moment. That was the only reason P.J. suddenly seemed so important. Thea was right, she needed to get out there and meet someone new, or failing that take up a hobby. Basket-weaving, or train spotting or something… There must be some interest out there for her. There was no use hankering after what-might-have-beens.

  They crossed the last road and turned into the busy street where Clara went to school. There was still a cluster of parents and children at the gate, so they weren’t too late, thank goodness.

  Nell glanced at her watch. She might get the earlier tube after all. It would give her time to pick up her suit from the dry-cleaner’s and get changed and made up before she had to face her boss. Eve was always banging on about the importance of professional image, and she wouldn’t think much of Nell in old track-suit pants, faded sweatshirt and trainers, with a naked face and hair all over the place. This would be the morning she had slept through her alarm.

  This was better, thinking about work instead of about P.J., Nell congratulated herself. A motorised wheelchair was buzzing busily towards her along the pavement, and, her mind still on not thinking about P.J., Nell stepped automatically out of the way.

  Only to misjudge the kerb and stumble into the road, right into the path of a passing car. There was a glancing blow on her arm and a squeal of brakes, but all Nell could see was her daughter’s white, horrified face.

  ‘Mum!’

  The car practically stood on its nose and Nell reeled away from it, feeling sick with shock at the narrowness of her escape.

  ‘It’s OK… I’m OK…’ she said as Clara flung herself at her, and she hugged the little girl tightly to reassure her.

  A car door slammed and quick footsteps came towards them. ‘Are you all right?’ a male voice asked, sharp with concern. ‘I didn’t hit you, did I?’

  Clara pulled herself away from her mother and turned on him furiously, venting her fright in shrill anger. ‘You should be more careful! You could have knocked her over!’

  Nell braced herself for a mouthful of abuse. A lot of drivers would react aggressively in a near accident, and it had been her fault, after all. Fortunately, this man seemed to take in Clara’s distress and was calm enough not to take out his own fright on a little girl.

  ‘Yes, I could,’ he said to Clara, sounding almost as shaken as Nell felt. ‘I’m really sorry. I wasn’t expecting your mother to step out into the road like that, but that’s no excuse, I know.’ He turned to Nell, who was rubbing her arm. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No, I…I…’ She trailed off in disbelief.

  He looked just like P.J.

  Older, tougher, more solid, but yes, exactly like P.J. He looked like him, he even sounded like him, but clearly he couldn’t be P.J. That would be too weird. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen. It was just that she’d been thinking about him.

  Nell shook her head slightly to clear it. Perhaps she had been knocked over after all and was having some bizarre out-of-body experience? But he was staring back at her and the blue eyes that were uncannily like P.J.’s widened with incredulous recognition.

  ‘Nell?’ he asked in a tentative voice.

  ‘Hello, P.J.,’ she said weakly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  P.J. STARED at her, trying to take in the fact that it was actually Nell. Janey had been doing her best to drop her name into every conversation they had had since he had come back to London, and he had been disturbed by how vividly he could remember her.

  Nell was divorced now, Janey had said pointedly. Why didn’t he give her a ring?

  P.J. had been hesitant. It wasn’t as if he had been pining for Nell all these years, but the memory of the look in her eyes as she gave him back his ring still had a surprising power to hurt. The raw pain had faded to the merest twinge now, of course, but he didn’t want to go through that again.

  Still, the idea of seeing her again had both intrigued and unnerved him, and he had been thinking about it more than he should have done. That was probably why he hadn’t been concentrating as well as he should, until she had stumbled out into the road in front of him.

  And now here she was, his first love, his lost love, standing in a busy London street, while the passers-by, hopeful at first of some gory incident, had quickly lost interest and were now surging impersonally past them once more, oblivious to the fact that his world had just turned upside down.

  Nell.

  She was older, of course, and thinner, he thought, and she had lost the golden bloom that had so entranced him as an adolescent. There was a wariness and a weariness in the lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before, but it was unmistakably Nell. She had the same wide grey gaze, the same sweetness in her expression, the same air of deceptive fragility.

  ‘Nell…’ He ran his hands through his hair a little helplessly. ‘This is bizarre… I always hoped I’d bump into you again one day, but not literally! Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?’

  Nell looked down at herself as if to check, becoming aware for the first time of a dull throb in her ankle. She must have wrenched her bad foot as she’d tried to right herself.

  ‘I think my arm just caught your wing mirror,’ she said, feeling more shaken by coming face to face with P.J. than by the accident.

  It was disconcerting to find him so familiar, and yet so changed. She had been right in thinking that he would grow into his looks, but she hadn’t expected him to turn into quite such an attractive man. Where the young P.J.’s face had been thin and beaky, now it was strong and angular. His neck and shoulders had broadened as he had thickened out with age, and he had acquired a solidity and a presence that was almost unnerving, but the crooked smile and the blue dancing eyes were just the same.

  ‘Let me see.’ Unaware of the train of her thoughts, P.J. took her arm and felt it gently. ‘It doesn’t seem to be broken, anyway.’

  Nell was unaccountably flustered by the feel of his hands, and miserably conscious of her bare face, and scruffy clothes. If fate had wanted her to meet P.J. again against all the odds,
it could at least have waited until she was looking more presentable.

  ‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ she said almost sharply, and pulled out of his grasp, only to wince as she stepped back onto her twisted ankle.

  ‘You’re limping,’ said Clara protectively. ‘It’s your bad foot, too.’ She cast P.J. an accusing glance. ‘She broke it last year.’

  ‘And now I’ve made it worse. I’m sorry…’ P.J. looked enquiring, and Nell had no choice but to make the introduction.

  ‘This is my daughter, Clara,’ she said. ‘Clara, this is-’

  ‘P.J.,’ supplied Clara before she could finish. She looked assessingly at P.J. as she held out her hand, and quite suddenly she smiled, as if he had passed some rigorous test. ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Clara.’ P.J. shook her hand gravely, but his eyes twinkled. ‘It’s nice to meet you, but I’m really sorry I had to nearly knock your mother over to do it. We’re old friends.’

  ‘I know,’ said Clara. ‘Mum was just telling me about you. She said you were nice.’

  P.J. glanced at Nell, his eyes warm with amusement, and to her chagrin Nell could feel herself blushing.

  ‘We were just talking old boyfriends and how I met you at school,’ she said as casually as she could. She didn’t want him thinking that she spent her days boring on about him. ‘Clara doesn’t believe that I was ever that young, of course!’

  ‘Oh, she was,’ P.J. told Clara with a grin. ‘She was the prettiest girl in the school. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, I can tell you!’

  Clara beamed approvingly at him, and Nell’s heart sank. Her daughter was an incurable matchmaker, especially since she had taken such a successful hand in her aunt Thea’s affairs the previous year, and now she had evidently decided that it was time that her mother had some romance in her life, too. It was clear that she was eyeing P.J. up as prospective candidate.

  Heaven only knew what she would say if she discovered that P.J. was not only eligible but rich enough to solve all her mother’s financial problems without even noticing a blip in his bank account! She had to nip her plans in the bud right now, Nell decided.

  ‘Clara, we’re going to be really late,’ she said quickly. ‘We’d better get on.’ She turned to P.J. ‘Nice to see you again, P.J.,’ she said with a bright smile and what she hoped was an air of finality.

  If P.J. heard it, he ignored it. ‘Let me give you a lift,’ he said.

  ‘There’s no need,’ Nell said firmly, and pointed to the school gates. ‘We’re just going along here.’

  ‘What about your ankle, Mum?’ Clara put in. ‘You won’t be able to walk on it. How are you going to get to work?’

  ‘I’ll be fine when I get to the tube.’

  ‘Where do you work?’ asked P.J.

  ‘In the city,’ said Clara, disregarding Nell’s attempt at a quelling look. ‘It takes ages to get there,’ she added, blatantly fishing.

  P.J. didn’t disappoint her. ‘Oh, well, that’s easy, then,’ he said. ‘I’m going that way myself. I just have to drop off the kids first.’

  Kids?

  Jolted out of her annoyance at the way the two of them were calmly organising her life for her, Nell turned belatedly to where a car with sleek, expensive lines was pulled up, half on, half off the pavement. Three small, curious faces were staring through the back window at them.

  Three? And this was the man who hadn’t been ready for children at all! An extraordinary mixture of emotions-none of them explicable-churned around in Nell’s chest. Surprise, regret, disappointment, and worst of all something that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

  She didn’t know why she was so taken aback. Why shouldn’t P.J. have married and had a family just as she had? What had she expected? That he would have spent the last sixteen years pining for her?

  Janey had told Thea that he was single at the moment, and somehow it had never occurred to Nell that he might be divorced, like her. She had always thought of P.J. as someone who would make a commitment and stick by it, no matter what.

  Of course, Thea might have misunderstood. Why not accept the more obvious explanation? Nell asked herself. That P.J. was happily married with three gorgeous children, and a phenomenally successful career, while she was single, with one gorgeous child, and her career was best not thought about too much.

  ‘It won’t take long,’ P.J. was saying. ‘Their school is just round the corner.’

  Nell knew the one. It was an extortionately expensive private school, the kind of place she would never have been able to send Clara, even if she and Simon were still married. Not that expense would be an issue for P.J. now. You only had to look at that car and the immaculately tailored suit he was wearing to know that he could afford whatever he wanted.

  He had a very different life from her now, that was for sure. Not that it made any difference to her, Nell reminded herself. There was no reason for her to feel prickly and defensive the way she suddenly was feeling for some reason.

  ‘Really, there’s no need for you to give me a lift,’ she said shortly, and saw Clara looking puzzled at her tone. ‘I’m quite capable of walking, and anyway, the tube is much quicker than sitting in traffic. Thank you for the offer, but we really should go. Come along, Clara.’

  Sadly, her attempt at a dignified exit was ruined by the way her ankle buckled the moment she tried to take a step.

  ‘Mum, you can’t walk,’ cried Clara, obviously exasperated by her mother’s stubbornness. ‘Don’t be silly!’

  ‘Clara’s right,’ said P.J., and gave Nell a smile that made her heart do an alarming somersault. ‘You always used to be so sensible, Nell. Don’t tell me you’ve changed that much!’

  ‘You have,’ she said without thinking.

  ‘I’m sixteen years older and wearing a suit,’ he acknowledged, ‘but otherwise I’m just the same. I’m not suggesting you get into a car with a stranger. We used to be friends.’

  And lovers…

  The unspoken words hung in the air, and for Nell it was like a series of pictures flicking through her mind. P.J. reaching confidently for her hand, smiling as he drew her towards him. Lying by the river in the long, sweet grass, drowsy with sunshine, feeling the tickle of a feather on her nose, opening her eyes to see him leaning above her with that wicked grin. P.J. turning up at her door, half hidden behind a huge bunch of roses, when she passed her finals; holding her as she wept and wept for a lost dog.

  ‘Come on, Nell,’ he said with a smile that told her he remembered just as much as she did. ‘Get in the car and stop being silly like Clara says!’

  Clara giggled and hugged Nell, evidently taking it for granted that the matter was now decided. ‘Bye, Mum. See you tonight.’ She turned brightly to her new ally. ‘Bye, P.J. Don’t let Mum do anything she shouldn’t!’

  ‘Goodbye, Clara.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.’

  Nell shook her head ruefully as her daughter ran off, school bag bumping against her back. ‘That girl…!’

  ‘She’s great,’ said P.J. ‘I like children with personality.’

  ‘She’s got that all right,’ said Nell with feeling.

  ‘Well, she’s issued her instructions, and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if she finds out that you haven’t done as you were told!’ He held open the passenger door. ‘Come on, in you get.’

  It would be ridiculous to refuse now, and she could hardly run off with her ankle like this. With the distinct feeling that she was being managed, and not at all sure that she liked it, Nell limped over to the car and got in. Turning with a little difficulty, she smiled a hello at the children in the back.

  ‘Jake, Emily and Flora,’ said P.J., pointing affectionately at each one. ‘Kids, this lady I almost knocked over is an old friend of mine, Nell Martindale.’

  It was odd hearing her maiden name again. ‘Nell Shea now,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Of course. Sorry.’

  P.J. switched on the engine abruptly. He had forgot
ten Simon Shea there for a moment. Of course Nell had taken his name. She had been besotted with him. Stupid to think she would have changed it back.

  ‘We’re divorced, but I kept Shea so that I’d have the same surname as Clara,’ she said, almost as if she could read his mind.

  ‘Oh. Sure.’

  P.J. felt a bit better for some reason. He checked the mirror and pulled out into the heavy traffic as Nell engaged the children in conversation, discovering that they were nine, seven, and five and a quarter respectively, that they didn’t mind school but that they all hated Mrs Tarbuck, who shouted at them if they were naughty.

  Nell had always been good with children, he remembered, and had longed to have a baby of her own. He was the one who had resisted the idea, thinking that they were too young and that there would be plenty of time to start a family. More fool him, he thought bitterly. While he had still been hesitating, Simon Shea had swept Nell off her feet with his easy promises.

  P.J. was a quick learner. After that, he had seized every opportunity that had come his way. It had led to astonishing success and wealth beyond anything he had ever been able to imagine, but somehow none of it had ever quite compensated for the bitterness of that first hard lesson.

  In the back seat, the children were still chatting happily to Nell about the contents of their lunch boxes.

  ‘It sounds yummy,’ said Nell, thinking what engaging children they were. They didn’t look exactly like P.J., but there was a definite family resemblance and Jake, the boy, had the same alert blue eyes. Would their children have looked like this if they had married? she wondered a little wistfully.

  ‘But I don’t like banana,’ little Flora was grumbling, sticking out her lower lip. ‘Mummy always makes me have one. She says I have to have a bit of fruit, but I don’t see why I should.’

  ‘I’m afraid I make Clara have fruit every day, too,’ Nell confessed to Flora’s disgust. She might not like the idea of P.J. having a wife, but on some things mothers had to stick together.