The Unpredictable Consequences of Love Page 7

  Alongside Sophie, Josh murmured, ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Noreen, who are them two?’ A scrawny woman had spotted them, and gave the landlady a nudge. ‘Undercover cops?’

  Eyes swivelled in their direction. Among this clientele, Sophie realised they looked as ludicrously out of place as a couple of royals – William and Kate, maybe – popping in for a swift half.

  Then Tula glanced up from her work and did a cartoon double-take at the sight of Josh.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Are you lost?’ Noreen demanded abruptly. ‘Where are you looking for?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Josh announced. ‘We’ve just come to give Tula a lift home.’

  Tula’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  ‘She ent finished yet. Fill this ’un up, girl.’ Melvyn thrust his glass under Tula’s nose.

  ‘Listen.’ Josh moved towards the bar. ‘I’m really sorry about before.’

  Tula flushed and said cautiously, ‘OK.’

  Noreen, swaying on her bar stool, was still eyeing him with suspicion. ‘Who is ’e? Is ’e the law?’

  Having handed Melvyn his pint, Tula said to Noreen, ‘No, he’s not the law. It’s gone eleven o’clock. OK if I finish now?’

  Noreen heaved a sigh of annoyance, because this meant she had to get off her stool and take over behind the bar. Clearly still bothered by Josh, the only man in the place wearing leather shoes rather than down-at-heel trainers, she said, ‘Go on then.’

  Outside, they intercepted the bunch of hoodies just before they had a chance to set off the Audi’s alarm system. Sophie climbed into the back seat, indicating that Tula should sit in the front alongside Josh.

  ‘OK,’ said Tula once they’d exited the car park. ‘This is all kinds of weird. What’s going on?’

  ‘We took on a barman.’ Josh got straight to the point. ‘He’s let us down. We’d like to offer you the job.’

  There was a moment of silence. From the back seat, Sophie reached forward and tapped Tula on the shoulder. When Tula glanced round, she shot her a broad you-win grin.

  Catching Sophie’s eye in the rear-view mirror, Josh said levelly, ‘I saw that.’

  ‘Right,’ said Tula. ‘So let’s get this straight. All of a sudden I’m good enough after all? Or are you just completely desperate?’

  ‘Your friend here tells me you’re a hard worker. Maybe I overreacted before.’

  ‘So you’re desperate,’ Tula prompted.

  ‘Not completely. But Dot’s keen for you to join us.’ He paused. ‘And I am too.’

  ‘Do me a favour,’ said Tula. ‘Could you just say sorry again?’

  Another pause. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Really sorry?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck.’ Josh’s mouth twitched. ‘I’m offering you a better job than the one you’ve got now. And accommodation too.’

  ‘Maybe I like staying at Sophie’s.’

  Sophie gave the back of Tula’s seat a swift kick; there was such a thing as pushing your luck.

  Evidently thinking the same, Josh shook his head. ‘If you’re not interested, just say so. I’ll find someone else.’

  ‘I’m interested,’ Tula said quickly.

  ‘Good. Can you start tomorrow?’

  ‘I don’t know about that. I can’t let Melvyn and Noreen down.’

  He smiled slightly. ‘Touché.’

  ‘Then again,’ said Tula, ‘if you’re really desperate …’

  She took out her mobile, called the Melnor and told Noreen she wouldn’t be back. Luckily they were used to members of staff doing a bunk, so the news wasn’t as traumatic as it might have been. ‘Fine, who gives a toss, plenty more where you came from,’ Noreen slurred down the phone. ‘Just don’t expect to get paid for the last two nights.’

  ‘Sorted,’ Tula announced when the call was over.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Shall I move in tonight? Oh,’ her face fell, ‘my car’s being fixed. I won’t be able to move my stuff.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Josh. ‘We can use mine.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Sophie in the back seat. ‘Is that OK with you? Taking your friend away from you?’

  ‘Oh, you’re welcome to her,’ said Sophie. ‘She snores.’

  ‘I don’t, by the way.’ On her knees in Sophie’s living room, Tula was busy cramming her worldly goods back into two cases.

  ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Snore.’

  Josh looked amused. ‘Doesn’t matter to me whether you do or not.’

  ‘I know. But I’m just saying.’ She couldn’t help herself; maybe he wasn’t interested in her right now, but she had no intention of giving up yet. It could still happen. And there was definitely more chance of it happening if he didn’t think she snored like an old warthog every time she fell asleep.

  But anyway, no need to worry about that now; she was going to be moving into Mariscombe House and working for Josh, hooray. They could get to know each other gradually, and in time she would win him over with her wit, her sparkling personality and her vivacious charm …

  Oops, although he might not be quite so entranced by her tangled socks and tights; hastily she shovelled them into the case under a pair of jeans.

  Had Josh spotted them?

  Dammit, of course he had. Story of her life.

  Josh watched idly as Tula buried the armful of underwear in the case before reaching for the rest of her clothes. He turned his attention to the photographs on the geranium-red wall above the sofa Tula had spent the last couple of nights sleeping on. The plainly framed photos were excellent, as you’d expect.

  ‘That one’s my favourite,’ he told Sophie when she emerged from the kitchen with a plate of toast.

  Following the direction of his gaze, she smiled. ‘Mine too. Holiday heaven.’

  It wasn’t a scene that had been carefully designed and set up, which made the resulting composition all the more miraculous. Sophie had taken the photograph on St Carys beach. The sun was high in the sky, small waves were eddying up the beach and people were swimming in the sea. In the foreground, a serious-looking baby sat with his fat legs outstretched while he carefully poked at a sandcastle with a stick. To the left of him was a small girl, presumably his sister, in an oversized white T-shirt. Her hair was a glinting mass of marmalade ringlets and her face an absolute picture of suppressed glee as, having crept up behind him, she prepared to carefully balance a long strand of seaweed on the baby’s head.

  Finally, to top it all, Sophie had managed to capture the exact moment a Jack Russell terrier with a naughty look in his eye was helping himself to the last sandwich on the picnic plate in the bottom right of the picture.

  ‘I didn’t know it was all going to turn out so perfectly,’ she said. ‘If I had, I’d have taken the parents’ details and sent them a copy. They were over there,’ Sophie gestured to the right of the photo, ‘just out of shot. But I had no idea. It wasn’t until I checked the frames on the computer later that night that I realised what I’d got.’ Smiling at the memory, she added, ‘This is what’s so fantastic about photography; you never know when you’re going to create a bit of … magic.’

  Josh watched her hands dance and her eyes light up as she spoke. The way her evident love for her work shone through was oddly touching.

  ‘You have to be good at it too,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I know.’ Sophie glanced at him. ‘I am. But you already know that.’

  There was just something about her. She wasn’t like other girls. Hiding a smile, Josh said, ‘I do.’

  Ten minutes later, they were in the car on their way to the hotel. Tula realised she’d sprayed too much scent over herself when she saw Josh inhale, then slowly exhale and lower the driver’s window.

  ‘I’ll meet you in reception at nine tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And tell you everything you need to know.’

  She beamed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m a fast learner.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And thanks for giving me another
chance.’

  ‘We needed someone. It works both ways. But I meant it when I said you mustn’t let us down. If I ever catch you doing what you did last week …’

  ‘You won’t,’ Tula assured him hurriedly. ‘I told you I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Yes, well. If you ever miss a shift you’d better make sure you really are sick.’ He gave her a stern look of warning. ‘And hangovers don’t count.’

  ‘I know that. You just wait.’ With a mischievous grin Tula said, ‘I’m going to be the best employee you ever had!’ Whoops, the double entendre had been unintentional, but it gave him the opportunity to raise an eyebrow and make a wry, jokey comment. Because if he was changing his mind about taking her on, surely this meant there was a chance he might fancy her just a little bit?

  Was it really so unreasonable to think that?

  Instead, after a pause Josh said, ‘Can I ask you a question about Sophie?’

  OK, evidently it was unreasonable.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘According to Riley, she doesn’t have boyfriends. He’s never seen her with anyone. All she does is work.’

  ‘And that’s a problem?’

  He shrugged. ‘No, but it’s unusual.’

  ‘You mean you can’t get over the fact that you asked her out and she turned you down?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Josh protested. ‘I’m just curious.’

  ‘Maybe she’s a lesbian.’

  His eyebrows lifted a fraction. ‘Is she?’

  Entertaining though it would be to pretend this was true, Tula couldn’t bring herself to do it. She shook her head and said, ‘No.’

  ‘So what’s the situation?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask her?’

  ‘I’m asking you first.’

  And there was certainly no way she was going to tell him. Tula said, ‘I think she’s just concentrating on building up the business. That’s her number one priority right now.’

  They’d reached Mariscombe House. Josh pulled into the car park, switched off the ignition and turned to look at her. ‘Which means you know, but you’re not going to tell me.’

  Which in turn would probably only succeed in intensifying his curiosity. But what other choice did she have?

  ‘Maybe it just hasn’t occurred to you that you might not be as irresistible as you think,’ she said.

  His half-smile indicated that he was aware that as far as she was concerned, he was. Opening the driver’s door, he said, ‘Come on then, let’s get your stuff up to your room.’

  Oh well, the fact remained that he wasn’t going to be getting anywhere with Sophie.

  Tula discreetly admired Josh Strachan’s athletic body as he swung the cases out of the boot of the car. She might still be able to win him over; you never knew.

  Chapter 12

  Sophie had been twenty years old when she’d met Theo Pargeter in a queue at the local post office.

  Ah, the glamour.

  It was a very long queue. Everyone else in it was in their sixties and seventies, collecting their pension, renewing their car tax or pedantically counting out small coins in order to buy stamps and post letters off to twenty different countries. The staggering slowness of all involved had Sophie in silent hysterics, and Theo, directly in front of her, soon joined in. By the time she eventually emerged from the post office, he was waiting for her outside. They went for a coffee. Then another. Followed by a walk in the park. And pizza and wine. It turned out to be a long, unpremeditated and entirely unplanned first date.

  ‘From now on,’ Theo told her at the end of the evening, ‘I’m never going to complain about post offices. Their queues are the best.’

  Weeks went by and Sophie was happy. Theo was great. They complemented each other so well and everyone remarked upon how perfect they were together. Unlike her last boyfriend, whose hobbies had been football and going out drinking and talking about football with his mates, Theo was charming, kind, thoughtful and empathetic. He was also good company. Things were definitely looking up. Sophie even adored his mum, Betsy, which was just as well, since Theo still lived at home and he and Betsy were a close-knit unit of two. Not weirdly close; just in a good way. It was actually heart-warming to see how well they got on.

  The months passed and Sophie’s relationship with Theo went from strength to strength. Their friends started to tease them, asking when the wedding was going to happen. Which was crazy, because they were far too young to be thinking of anything like that.

  But another year later, completely out of the blue, Betsy suffered a major heart attack, and life as they knew it changed for ever. Theo spent most of his time at her bedside in the coronary care unit, and Sophie visited whenever she could. Betsy, her face whiter than the sheets she lay on, clutched her son’s hands and told him how much she loved him. Then she started saying the same to Sophie. One afternoon, her voice croaky and weak, she whispered, ‘All I want is to know my boy’s going to be happy. He means everything in the world to me.’

  ‘I know.’ Sophie stroked her thin arm.

  ‘And you love him too, don’t you?’

  Sophie nodded and said, ‘Yes.’ Because she did.

  ‘I just want to be sure everything’s going to be OK. You’re meant to be together. You are going to get married, aren’t you?’

  Sophie swallowed; Theo had only left the ward to buy a coffee from the machine in the corridor outside. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But you must.’ Betsy was shaking her head from side to side in an attempt to convey the urgency in her frail voice. ‘You must! Promise me you will!’

  At that moment a nurse came bustling over to take Betsy’s blood pressure, and Sophie was saved from the awkwardness of having to reply. But Betsy wasn’t letting it drop; evidently she’d gone on to discuss the situation with her son. Three days later, taking a break from the hospital visiting routine, Theo took Sophie out for an early dinner at their favourite Italian restaurant and uncharacteristically ordered a bottle of champagne. Well, sparkling wine with a champagne-shaped cork.

  Sophie knew at once what it meant; she guessed what was about to happen. Oh God, surely not, please no …

  ‘I love you,’ Theo said simply, his hands reaching across the table for hers. ‘I never want us to be apart. Sophie, will you marry me?’

  ‘Oh, but aren’t we too young?’ Even as the words were spilling out, she could see the hurt in his eyes. It wasn’t the done thing to hesitate, come up with reasons why it shouldn’t happen. She was spoiling the moment.

  ‘No.’ Theo shook his head vehemently. ‘We’re not too young. It’s fine.’

  She could hear her own breathing, felt like Darth Vader. ‘But … are you doing this because your mum told you to?’

  His jaw jutted. ‘She didn’t tell me to.’

  ‘Asked, then. Because it’s what she wants more than anything. She told me,’ Sophie whispered. ‘The other day.’

  ‘OK, I know, but that’s not why I’m doing it. I want us to get married. I thought you would too.’

  Oh God, this was awful. Because the thing was, he was right: at any other time she might have been overjoyed. She did love him. And she knew he loved her. But a powerful sense of déjà vu was bringing a memory hurtling back from childhood.

  Sophie had been standing in the garden at home, listening to their neighbours arguing. She’d been eight years old. Rob-next-door was very nearly ten. She’d liked him and he’d always been friendly in return. It had been mortifying, therefore, to hear him wailing, ‘But Dad, I don’t want Sophie at my party.’ Followed by his father’s brusque reply: ‘I know, Rob, but she’s our neighbour. You have to invite her.’

  An hour later, the mortification had expanded like styrofoam in her throat when Rob had rung their doorbell and recited without enthusiasm, ‘Hello, Sophie, it’s my birthday on Saturday, I hope you’ll come to my party.’

  Before she could answer, her mum had come out of the kitchen and exclaimed, ‘How wonderful, that’s so kind
of you! She’d love to come!’

  Afterwards, when she’d tried to explain that she didn’t want to go, her mother had laughed and said, ‘Oh darling, don’t be so silly! They’re our neighbours, of course you have to go!’

  Sophie shuddered at the memory and looked up to meet Theo’s gaze. ‘It’s just the … timing.’

  ‘I know. And if everything was OK, we’d leave it for maybe another year. But everything isn’t OK.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed a bit as he said this. ‘Mum’s … she doesn’t have another year. I’d do anything to make her happy. Yes, she wants to see us get married, but is that really so terrible? If it makes her happy?’

  When he put it like that, it did seem churlish to object. Sophie immediately felt bad. And the middle-aged couple at the next table had definitely heard them; they’d abandoned their conversation in order to eavesdrop.

  She did love Theo. It wasn’t as if she didn’t.

  Plus, although there was no way she would say this out loud, maybe they could just vaguely plan on getting married; the chances were that Betsy wasn’t going to live as long as it took to arrange a wedding, after all.

  Sophie smiled and gave his fingers a squeeze. ‘OK then, yes, let’s do it.’

  His eyes brightened. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I love you.’ He moved the candle out of the way before leaning across the table for a kiss. The strain of the last couple of weeks melted from his face as she kissed him back.

  ‘Congratulations,’ said the wife at the next table.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Theo.

  The woman raised her glass at them and winked at Sophie. ‘You’ll be able to choose an engagement ring! That’s something to look forward to!’