CHAPTER 42 #2
‘Yeah, yeah. Good to see you.’ He’d be better when he got a drink inside him, better still when this was over.
‘Nicholas, darling.’ Isobel kissed him on both cheeks.
Nicholas found himself a drink and did the rounds of the small group clustered around cane furniture and glass tables. Was it his imagination, or were faces a bit wary, slightly embarrassed about this . . . family affair? So glad you could make it . . . Lovely to see you . . .
Tom’s parents stood awkwardly on the edge of the group, as if not quite sure what they were doing there. Nicholas made an extra effort to chat to them, to make them feel welcomed, even though he felt almost as much of an outsider as they clearly did.
‘I’m so glad you came, Dad.’ Celie held him the longest, even when he tried to half push her away so that he could see her eyes. ‘Are you all right?’ Her dark hair smelt of strawberries.
‘Sure, baby.’
She pulled him to one side. ‘Trust you to be late.’
‘Hey, hang on a—’
She brushed away his protestations. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to you, and Mum wants to do this big announcement thing.’
‘Yeah, well . . .’ He rolled his eyes. All the world was a stage to Rachel.
‘But now it’s got so complicated.’ Celie looked close to tears.
He put his arm around her. ‘What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?’
She shook her head and he followed the direction of her gaze, towards a tall, olive-skinned man dressed in a candy-floss pink shirt and what was clearly an Italian designer suit – charcoal grey with tiny pinstripes.
Rachel had long ago taught Nicholas how to recognise such things and now, hell, he had one or two of his own.
The guy was looking over at Nicholas too.
He was in his mid-forties, Nicholas guessed.
A gold signet ring glinted on his little finger as he raised his glass to his lips.
He was smiling. Like a bloody shark, thought Nicholas.
‘That’s Eduardo,’ Celie whispered. ‘The thing is, Dad, I’ve got to tell you, he—’
‘Nick.’ As usual Rachel’s voice was cool and imperious.
He turned. ‘Hi, Rach.’ It was easy to keep his tone casual, but close up she looked even better than he remembered.
The silky black dress clung to her slender body in all the right places, her long legs were encased in sheer nylon and she was wearing stilettos that probably took her to about six foot two.
Not a blemish, not a line – although she too had now turned forty. She certainly wasn’t losing her touch.
Celie was tugging at his arm. ‘Dad, I just need to—’
‘I want you to meet someone, Nick.’ Rachel took his other hand. He was aware of her long fingers and manicured nails pressed into his palm. And at the same moment he felt Celie let go and the shadowy presence of someone else now looming on the edge of their little group. ‘This is—’
‘Eduardo Crispino.’ The man in the candy-floss shirt had stepped forward. He spoke in clipped tones. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Perfect English. Too perfect to be English, naturally.
‘Nicholas Tresillion. Likewise.’ He would be Rachel’s latest, she usually went for Italians; Celie had clearly been trying to warn him. Nicholas was annoyed – not because this man was as smooth as an oil slick, but because he was here at what was supposed to be a family occasion.
‘Excuse me for a moment?’ He took Rachel’s arm and steered her away from her amour. ‘Showing off are we, darling?’ he said. He had changed his travel plans for this – it was pretty bad form to parade some Italian stud in front of him all evening.
She pouted at him. Fortunately, he didn’t fall for that anymore.
‘Eduardo had to be here,’ she said. ‘And so did you.’
‘Because . . . ?’ His eyes strayed over to Tom and Celie. Tom’s arm was protective around Celie’s shoulders. Which was good.
‘They told you, didn’t they?’ Rachel’s voice was hot in his ear.
‘Told me?’
‘They’re getting married, of course.’ Rachel could always make him feel a bit slow on the uptake.
‘Oh, right.’ Wasn’t he pleased? He tried to catch Celie’s eye, give her the thumbs up.
Well, naturally he was pleased. Marriage meant a certain security, even if it offered no guarantees.
It meant they wanted to commit to each other, that Tom would look after his little girl, that the child Celie was bearing would have two (proper?) married parents.
‘Great,’ he said, sounding unconvincing to his own ears.
‘Fantastic.’ And Celie would have told him – if Rachel had given her a chance.
Rachel was eyeing him strangely.
‘Thank God,’ he added for good measure.
Rachel brushed an imaginary problem away with a gesture of her slim arm. ‘She thought you would mind about everything,’ she said. ‘But that’s silly, isn’t it? I mean, it’s been ages.’
‘Mind?’ He laughed. ‘Why should I mind?’ Everything in this hotel loggia was beginning to seem slightly other-worldly.
The lights were casting a faintly green glow over the cane furniture and cream cushions, the people were moving too slowly, almost drifting over the marble floor.
What was Rachel talking about? What had been ages?
‘No, no . . . I’m not talking about Celie and Tom.’ She dangled her hand in front of his face. ‘Honestly, Nick . . .’
He realised that she was wearing a very large diamond. And it was on the third finger of her left hand.
‘Ah,’ he said. Things were coming into focus.
‘It’s to be a double wedding. In June.’ Rachel looked like the cat that had got the cream.
‘A double wedding?’ Nicholas let the implications of this sink into his head. Surely, not even Rachel . . .
‘My idea.’
‘It would be.’ He drained his glass.
‘Though I must say, our daughter has taken some persuading.’ Rachel plucked two glasses of prosecco from the tray of a passing waiter and relieved Nicholas of his empty one.
‘Has she now?’ Did that mean that Celie had agreed?
Nicholas shuddered – although he knew from experience how persuasive Rachel could be.
And he saw now why Celie had looked so upset.
A double wedding – his daughter and his ex-wife.
And Celie didn’t want it. Lord Almighty. Only Rachel could have planned this.
She passed him one of the glasses. ‘I think it’s a divine idea,’ she said. ‘It’s perfect timing, isn’t it?’
‘If you say so.’ He would ask Celie how she felt. If she didn’t want it, he was damned if he was going to let it happen. If she did – he downed the wine in one – he’d live with it.
‘It’ll be wonderful for both of us – me and Celie, I mean.’ Rachel sipped her drink a touch more delicately. ‘I told her, it will be a real mother and daughter bonding experience.’
Yeah, right. Nicholas glared into the room where they were all getting ready to be seated for the dinner. Where had he been placed? Next to bloody Eduardo? So that they could do some bonding too? He wouldn’t be surprised.
Rachel let out a small sigh. ‘You are pleased for me, aren’t you, Nick?’
Jesus Christ. ‘Pleased? I’m delighted,’ he said.
Rachel’s smile stretched across her face. She raised her glass. ‘To Celie and Tom,’ she called out to the assembled company. ‘And to me and Eduardo, of course.’
What could he do? Nicholas raised his glass with the rest of them. Fucking delighted, he thought. Of course.