All Because of You

by Melissa Hill

  Natalie did seem happy to have someone to confide in and confessed quite candidly to Tara her deep need, almost obsession, with finding a husband.

  “I know it’s not fashionable to say it, and most of my single girlfriends in London would kill me for even thinking it, but it’s what I want. I want to be married; I want to be somebody’s wife.”

  “I don’t think that’s so terrible,” Tara commented.

  “I’m tired of all the empty socialising and arselicking,” Natalie went on, as if Tara hadn’t replied. “London is a big place, and while it’s wonderful, it can get lonely sometimes. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else, and most of the time it’s great fun, but sometimes I feel like there has to be more to life than parties at Claridges and media launches in Soho.”

  Tara hid a smile. Parties at Claridges sounded pretty amazing to her. But no matter who you were and what you did, the grass always seemed greener on the other side, didn’t it? She’d seen it time and time again in her line of work.

  “I feel like such an idiot for thinking this way,” Natalie continued. “As though I’m betraying my womanhood or something. We’re all supposed to be independent, women-of-the-world types who don’t need men, aren’t we? According to the magazines, in a few years’ time we’ll all be so self-sufficient we’ll have no need for them at all! But deep down I really don’t feel that way. I want to be a wife. I want to be Steve’s wife.”

  Tara’s heart went out to her, this beautiful, successful and self-assured woman who, on the face of it, was the Cosmo ideal incarnate.

  “Look, don’t beat yourself up for feeling that way. My best friend Liz was exactly the same, and since she got married three years ago, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier. And there’s certainly no shame in wanting to be happy. I never thought any less of her for admitting that she wanted the big white wedding, even though I didn’t necessarily feel the same way – and still don’t.”

  “You don’t want to get married?”

  “Not particularly. I’m perfectly happy the way I am. I adore Glenn and the life we have together. We’re very happy – well, most of the time,” she added, smiling fondly, “and that’s enough for me.”

  “But don’t you think that might change sometime in the future? That you might want something more?” Natalie persisted, her eyes widening. “Oh, I’m sorry, now I’m being nosy, aren’t I? Just tell me to sod off and mind my own business.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Tara sat forward, not at all insulted by the question. “But it’s funny, you sound just like Liz, the friend I was talking about just now. As I said, she’s been married for years, is blissfully happy and for the life of her can’t understand why I’m a million miles away from following suit. But in all honesty, I love my life the way it is and I’ve never had any interest in getting married.”

  “But why not? Don’t you want the fairytale and the big white dress and all the trimmings?” Natalie’s face took on a faraway expression. “Personally I can’t wait, and I’d give anything to walk up the aisle.”

  “You’re certain that’s what you want?” Tara asked and Natalie nodded dreamily.

  “And what about Steve – what do you think he wants?”

  “Hopefully the same thing as I do,” Natalie replied. “If not, I’m in a spot of bother, aren’t I?”

  Chapter 8

  Liz strapped Toby into his buggy and took a short walk down the hill from her house, towards the centre of the village. Although the weather was chilly, the sky was a glorious clear blue, and as she crossed the low stone bridge over the river, she thought the large Norman castle after which the village was named had never looked so impressive. The remarkably preserved castle, which, apart from the picture-perfect village itself, served as the main tourist attraction for Castlegate, was positioned on a slightly elevated site at the edge of the town centre. The river wound its way around the castle, serving as a typical Norman moat, so from her side of town, Liz needed to cross the stone bridge above the river in order to get to the centre and to the shops where she was headed this morning.

  As she and Toby walked over the bridge, most of the villagers she passed gave her friendly but distant smiles. As well as commuting “Dubs”, the inhabitants of Castlegate, a designated heritage village, were of course used to a continual influx of tourists, and so, even with the smiles, she knew she had a long way to go before she was accepted as one of “their own”. . . if she ever was.

  “Liz, hello!”

  She looked up to see Colm, one of Eric and Tara’s childhood friends, waving at her from across the road. He was standing outside The Coffee Bean, the popular village café he ran, which was nicely situated directly across from the castle, with magnificent views over the river.

  Needless to say, he was running a thriving business, what with the huge amount of footfall the café garnered from the visiting tour buses and the fact that, since its inception by Colm’s parents thirty-odd years before, the place had become a Castlegate social institution. He was also one of the few people in the village that Liz had got to know properly since the move from Dublin.

  “Hey, Colm!” Liz waved back, before nipping quickly across the road to talk to him.

  “Hello there, little lad,” said Colm, bending down to talk to Toby and briefly pausing in his task of cleaning the premises’ glass frontage. “God, he’s gorgeous, Liz! Who would have thought an ugly bastard like Eric would produce a cutie like that?”

  “Wash out your mouth, or I’ll set my dogs on you!” Liz laughed, and Colm feigned terror.

  “Hmm, you didn’t threaten to set your husband on me all the same – he must still be as much of a wimp as ever,” he said with a grin. “How is Eric anyway? I haven’t seen you two around town in a while.”

  Liz grimaced. “We haven’t been around town in a while, unfortunately. And Eric’s fine, working like a maniac lately – he’s hardly ever at home.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m beginning to think he has a mistress on the go!”

  “Well, if he does, he’s an idiot,” Colm replied, a little more earnestly than the remark necessitated. She was only joking after all.

  “So are you coming inside for a cuppa?” he asked then. “I’m trying out a new recipe involving sinful amounts of cream and mascarpone – and I’d love a guinea pig.”

  Judging by his slim and perfectly toned physique, he obviously didn’t try out too many of his creations on himself, or if he did, he was conscientious enough to work the excess off.

  Colm managed the café and, knowing what she did about him, Liz had decided that rural attitudes had surely come on in leaps and bounds when the residents of such a close-knit community didn’t bat an eyelid at being served tea and coffee by the local homosexual.

  “Don’t tempt me – not this early in the morning,” Liz replied, groaning. “But I might call back later for a coffee. I’ve got a bit of shopping to do first, and then I’m popping up to Eric’s mum for an hour or two. I think she may have forgotten what Toby looks like at this stage!”

  Maeve McGrath didn’t particularly like animals, so needless to say she wasn’t a regular visitor at the cottage. And in truth, she wasn’t exactly a huge fan of kids either, a subscriber to the “children should be seen and not heard” camp. So, Liz and Eric usually went to visit her. Liz privately suspected that Eric’s mother, with her reserved and standoffish personality, wasn’t particularly liked in the village. Colm’s response confirmed this.

  “How is the old bag?” he said, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t seen her in donkey’s years myself – but of course, she wouldn’t dream of coming into a place like this. Heavens no!” he mimicked exaggeratedly. “After all, who knows where the chef’s hands have been!”

  Liz smiled. Maeve McGrath was one, and possibly the only, resident of Castlegate who had a problem with the proprietor of The Coffee Bean and, according to Eric, once his mother had eventually discovered Colm’s sexual preference, she had never forgiven herse
lf for allowing the two boys to go off camping together when they were growing up. He might have turned her darling, God forbid!

  Well, Liz thought now, it was certainly the woman’s loss. Colm was one of the nicest and most genuine guys you could meet, and despite being a friend of Eric’s rather than one of hers, he was someone in whom Liz instinctively knew she could confide, should the need arise.

  According to Eric, Colm had recently begun a serious relationship with a man who was also living locally and, while Liz hadn’t yet met the boyfriend, she was pleased for Colm. Living such a lifestyle in a small, close-knit community like this couldn’t be easy, but at the same time it was impossible not to love Colm. Outgoing and gregarious, his gossipy mannerisms always made her laugh yet he wasn’t over-the-top camp. Liz had really taken to him and decided when she met him first that it was lucky in a way that he was the other way inclined, otherwise she might be tempted to make a play for him herself!

  “Tara was telling me she and Glenn met you in the pub last time the two of them were home,” Liz said, her thoughts then segueing to her friend, who also knew Colm well.

  “Yes, Tara looked stunning as usual,” he said. “That girl has such great taste! You know, I still can’t figure out how a girl from this dive ended up being so fabulous! She really knows how to make the most of herself, doesn’t she?”

  “I know what you mean,” Liz grimaced, suddenly aware of her own dowdy jeans and boring T-shirt.

  “Although, I have to hand it to you, Liz, you’ve smartened Eric up quite a bit! Honestly, when we were teenagers, we all used to be bewildered as to where that boy got his clothes – especially those reindeer jumpers he loved so much.”

  Liz giggled. “Reindeer jumpers?”

  “You mean you’ve never seen the pictures?” Colm’s eyes widened dramatically. “God, I must hunt them out and show them to you sometime. Eric used to wear this horrific knitted brown jumper with patterned reindeer prancing gaily all over the front of it. Can you imagine? Talk about ironic! Honestly, Liz, I’ll have a look for the photos. We’d all get a good laugh out of it – especially when it’s at Eric’s expense.” He winked conspiratorially. “Anyway, I’d better get back inside and give the others a hand – I see another horde gathering across the road like lost, and hopefully hungry, sheep.”

  Liz followed Colm’s line of vision and, sure enough, there outside the castle entrance stood a crowd of tourists, the majority by now no doubt having had it up to the gills with hearing about Norman invaders and such like and likely gagging for a coffee break and a slice of creamy cheesecake. Lucky things.

  And as well as being endowed with such an amiable personality, Colm had also been blessed with stunning culinary ability. Together with managing the business, he was The Coffee Bean’s resident cook, and in conjunction with his delicious savoury breads, tomato chutneys and homemade pesto, the man made the best chocolate and vanilla cheesecake Liz had ever tasted. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who appreciated Colm’s talents.

  Deciding she’d better not keep him any longer, Liz bade Colm a quick goodbye, having promised to return soon for a cuppa and another chat, and continued on pushing the buggy further along the street to the shops.

  Within the next half hour, she’d done most of her shopping and was inelegantly trying to stow her vegetables at the back of Toby’s buggy when she looked up and came face to face with another Castlegate resident – one she really wished she hadn’t.

  “Emma!” Liz blurted in surprise, her face suffused with colour – not just from surprise, but also from her exertions in trying to put away the heavy groceries.

  “Oh, hello,” said Emma.

  Tara’s sister was typically off-hand and, maddeningly, looked stunning as usual, dressed in a pretty flower-patterned skirt and stylish white top. Blast it, why hadn’t she made more of an effort! Baggy jeans and a sweatshirt that had seen better days were barely suitable for slobbing around at home, let alone going shopping! But Toby had been narky that morning and she’d had a couple of dogs changing over before she left, so really she had been lucky to get out of the house at all. So, trust Eric’s ex to look like something from the Cosmo fashion pages, all pretty and feminine and glowing with health, while she looked like something from Down-and-Out Weekly.

  Then Liz recalled why it was that Emma looked so glowing.

  “Tara tells me you’re moving home again,” she said, trying to inject some warmth into her tone. Granted, over the years, neither woman had made any bones of their dislike for the other, but Liz saw little reason not to be polite, if not exactly friendly, towards Emma. It was unlikely that the two would ever be bosom buddies but . . .

  “Did she?” For a brief moment, Emma looked surprised and, Liz thought, slightly wrong-footed. “I didn’t realise my personal life was up for public examination.”

  Liz gritted her teeth. Right. If the girl wanted to play silly buggers, then to hell with being polite. “Emma, to be honest, I’m not too concerned about your personal life, OK? I was just making small-talk as people tend to do when they bump into one another. But seeing as you’re not capable of basic manners, let alone anything else, then good luck to you!” She went to push the buggy away.

  “Will Eric be at home this weekend?” Emma enquired pointedly. “I haven’t seen him around here in a few weeks. Anyone would think he was staying away on purpose.”

  Don’t let her get to you – it’s exactly what she wants, Liz warned herself silently, while inwardly wishing she could smack the cow.

  “Of course, where else would he be?” she replied sweetly.

  “Oh, I don’t know. From what I can make out, he seems to be spending a lot of his time in Dublin. I bumped into him once or twice up there and we had a few drinks. It was good fun actually.”

  Despite herself, Liz’s heart began to pound loudly in her chest. “Did you really?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Yes, it was just like old times actually,” Emma replied, her voice full of meaning, before walking away in the other direction, her shapely backside moving haughtily from side to side.

  Liz’s hands gripped the handle of the buggy so tightly her knuckles almost broke through skin. What the hell was all that about? Granted, Eric had been spending a lot of time in Dublin lately but he was working, wasn’t he? She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to get a grip on herself, trying to contain the jealousy and suspicion that had out of nowhere aroused itself within her.

  What on earth was wrong with her? Why did the mere sight of Emma Harrington turn her into some raging, jealous wreck almost every time they met? It had been years since Emma and Eric had been together – way before him and her, she reassured herself as her heartbeat began to slow a little and her stomach stopped spinning. And Eric was married to her after all, and as far as she knew had barely even spoken to Emma since God knows when.

  As far as she knew . . .

  Despite herself, Emma’s words planted themselves in Liz’s brain. “I bumped into him a few times – we had a few drinks.” Had Eric and Emma met up when he stayed over in Dublin? And if they had, wasn’t it strange that her husband hadn’t mentioned it?

  Emma walked further along the road, a mischievous grin plastered across her face. OK, so she shouldn’t have said anything to Eric’s wife, but she couldn’t help it!

  For some reason that goody-two-shoes friend of Tara’s had always got up her nose, and she couldn’t resist telling her that she and Eric had met up in town. That had certainly wiped the smug smile off her silly little face! The slip of the tongue had been worth it, just to see Liz’s stupefied reaction.

  Emma smiled and headed for home. Well, she’d lit the fuse: now all she had to do was sit back and watch the fireworks.

  Eric returned home from work that evening bustling with energy and all throughout dinner raved enthusiastically about the extra hours he’d secured at work.

  “Which means an extra few quid to spend on the house, love,” he told his
wife, gleefully rubbing his hands together and apparently not noticing Liz’s sombre mood.

  “Or maybe you might just blow it on your nights out on the town with the boys,” Liz replied, the words escaping before she could stop them.

  Instantly, the mood changed. “What?” he asked, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

  Liz lifted her chin and continued feeding Toby at his high-chair. “From what I hear, you’ve been having the life of Riley up there, while I’m stuck at home with Toby and the dogs.”

  Eric set down his fork. “Liz, I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about but –”

  “I’m only telling you what I heard. I bumped into Emma Harrington today who wasted no time in telling me what a wonderful social life you seem to lead in Dublin.”

  Immediately Eric coloured. “Emma? What would she know about it?”

  Why did he look so guilty? Liz thought worriedly. He knew nothing about her true feelings towards Emma and that she’d always felt jealous of her. A wildly jealous woman wasn’t attractive, Liz knew that, and so she’d always taken great pains to ensure her insecurities remained hidden.

  “Liz, what’s going on?”

  Unable to stop herself, Liz sniffed defiantly. She knew she was behaving childishly and setting up a conversation that could only end in trouble. Still she couldn’t help it. The irrational sense of being hard done by had clouded her judgement.

  “You tell me,” she snapped. “All I know is that some stranger seems to know much more about your exploits in Dublin than I do.”

  He frowned. “I still don’t understand what you’re getting at. OK, so I did bump into Emma up in Dublin. But so what?”

  Liz didn’t reply; she just sat there looking wounded yet defiant, and with that Eric’s temper began to fray.

  “Look, Liz, I’m not in the mood for this sulking and childish behaviour,” he said shortly, his tone raising a fraction. “If you’ve got something to say, then just come right out and say it! What’s on your mind?”