Chapter 4
4
POPPY
It takes Kate Whitaker twenty uninterrupted minutes for her to explain her predicament and when she finishes, she peers at me expectantly. ‘So, what do you think?’ she asks.
I blink back at her, dumbfounded, as I sift through everything she’s told me. It’s not often I’m left speechless. I was a psychologist before I was a matchmaker and people have told me all sorts of things, some of them almost unimaginable, but this is a doozy.
I inhale deeply, buying an extra moment to respond.
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ she says, which is impressive, because I don’t.
‘What’s that?’ I ask with a slight smile.
‘That this sounds like one of those sensational, real-life stories you’d read about in Women’s Weekly . Or maybe an episode of Black Mirror ,’ she adds with a dry laugh.
‘It is remarkable,’ I say – the first word that comes to mind.
‘That’s one way to describe it.’ She sits back heavily against her chair. ‘Poppy, the man leads a double life! How did I not spot the signs? I’m a project manager – and a good one at that. I’m paid to see how the minutiae form the big picture. How could I be so utterly oblivious?’
‘Because, from where you were, you didn’t have access to the big picture,’ I say, my professional insight finally kicking in.
‘I suppose so. And now I do – well, more of it than I had before.’
‘Exactly. So, all the lies you swallowed, all the niggling doubts – now you have context for them. I bet he had an answer at the ready for every question you raised.’
Pathological liars typically do , I think.
‘Oh, absolutely! How about this one? I couldn’t go to his house because it was being renovated and that’s why he was living at the Langham,’ she says sarcastically. ‘I really should have figured that one out – living in a hotel for six months on a pilot’s salary? And how long can bathroom renovations actually take? The only upside of that lie is having stayed there. It’s a lovely hotel.’
She pauses, her expression wistful, but I keep quiet, letting her sort through her thoughts.
‘Honestly, Poppy, I can’t believe how na?ve I’ve been. I’m far too trusting. I mean, hello ! Giant red flags everywhere!’ she exclaims, waving her arms about to demonstrate.
‘You are being way too hard on yourself. Love can make you blind to red flags. That’s one of the reasons we carefully vet everyone who signs on with Ever After.’
‘You’re a red-flag filter,’ she says.
‘I haven’t heard it put like that before, but yes.’
Kate huffs noisily, then looks out the window. ‘I think I know what I want to do, a way for me to move forward’ – her gaze lands back on me – ‘but I keep going back and forth.’
‘It’s a lot to process and it may take some time to figure out. It sounds like you have a good ally, though – your cousin.’
‘Margot. And yes. She’s exactly who you want around when everything goes tits up – no-nonsense, bolshie as anything, and utterly fearless… And you would never cross her. The night I told her, she threatened to cut Jon’s bollocks off with gardening shears.’
I wince at the mental picture.
‘Exactly,’ she says with a wry smile. ‘She wouldn’t actually do it, but I can imagine her showing up on his doorstep, a giant pair of shears in hand, if only to scare him.’
She mimes a snipping action and I snigger. Margot sounds like a real character.
‘Hah! Jon’s doorstep. Wherever that may be,’ she says, her lips drawing into a scornful line.
‘Mmm.’
‘I feel like such an idiot, Poppy. And I’m not an idiot. I’m clever and I should have known better. I’ve wasted six months of my life, which puts me back at square one. I really thought Jon was… well, you know.’
‘Is that why you wanted to see me? To re-open your case?’ I ask, wondering if we’re getting to the crux of Kate’s visit. ‘It may not be wise to leap straight back into dating,’ I continue, ‘but I’d happily be your matchmaker again sometime in the future.’
‘Hmm?’ she asks, seemingly confused by my question. ‘Oh, no – it’s nothing like that. I’m done with romantic pursuits – at least for some time.’
Now I’m confused. ‘Then how can I help you? Oh,’ I say, thinking I might know what she’s come to ask. ‘Did you want me to be there when you confront him? To support you?’
‘No. I mean, I’ll need to face him eventually, but I haven’t decided how or when – and my cousin is part lioness, part gorgon, remember. Margot will back me up.’
I have no doubt Margot would make the perfect lieutenant in a confrontation, but I’m still baffled why Kate asked to see me. Maybe she needed to talk it through with someone who’s not tangled up in this mess. ‘So, is there something else I can help you with then?’ I prompt.
‘I think so.’ She hesitates, biting her lower lip as if she’s summoning the courage to say what’s on her mind. ‘Poppy, you’ve always been so kind to me and almost immediately, I felt like you understood me and what I was looking for in a partner.’
We exchange smiles. It’s good to hear that she felt as connected to me as I did to her.
‘And, you know how I said I keep going back and forth on what to do next?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well…’ She lifts her chin and looks me straight in the eye. ‘I’ve decided. Poppy, I need you to help me get revenge on Jon.’
‘Revenge?’ I’m so surprised, the word pops out of my mouth before I can temper my reaction. Typically, I love a challenging case, one with a twist or an especially tricky aspect to figure out, but for the second time this morning, I’m left speechless.
The air in the room hangs heavy with Kate’s request, and I can tell she wishes she could suck the words right back into her mouth.
* * *
Kate
Now that I’ve said the R-word out loud, it sounds ludicrous, if not improper. And judging from Poppy’s reaction – she’s gawping at me, her mouth hanging open – it’s also improbable.
What was I thinking? I’m not Inigo Montoya and this isn’t The Princess (Bloody) Bride !
‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? And wrong? Really wrong. I mean, peace, forgiveness, and all that rubbish, right?’ I say, my hands fisted in my lap.
‘It’s not wrong , Kate,’ she says adamantly, finally rejoining the conversation. ‘Being angry is completely understandable. And normal,’ she adds hurriedly.
If that’s meant to reassure me, it doesn’t. Methinks the matchmaker doth protest too much.
‘It’s just… revenge , Kate… Is that really what you want?’
I eye her across the conference table, my resolve wavering by the second. ‘Yes?’ I reply, though it comes out as a question. ‘Oh god, I really have no idea. Hearing myself say that…’ I lace my fingers in my lap and frown out the window.
‘And I’m guessing Margot’s had a hand in this?’ she asks gently.
Of course , Poppy made the connection; this has Margot’s pawprints all over it. I wouldn’t have even thought about seeking retribution had she not brought it up – save for keeping the ring and selling it.
‘That’s an astute observation,’ I reply.
‘Well, from what you’ve told me, this seems more like a Margot idea than something you’d come up with.’
‘She can be scarily convincing.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘But it’s not like she suggested it and I suddenly agreed,’ I explain hastily. I may be a na?ve idiot when it comes to Jon, but I’m not a total pushover.
‘I don’t doubt that either,’ Poppy replies kindly.
‘But there is a part of me – a growing part of me – that wants Jon to pay for what he did. And not just footing the bill for a day of pampering.’ I roll my eyes at myself. ‘In hindsight, it’s rather juvenile that we did that – like a silly prank perpetrated by a teenager. It’s not like he’s going to bat an eye.’
‘Maybe not, but don’t knock self-care. Everyone needs to top up their own bucket from time to time. You needed it – if only to build up your emotional stamina for what’s to come.’
I contemplate this for a moment, recognising that I told myself the same thing. ‘All right – fair. I get a pass on the massage and the facial – and the bottomless Champagne.’
‘Everyone gets a pass on that.’ For her weak joke, she gets a weak smile. ‘And, as I said, it’s completely normal to wish him ill,’ she continues reassuringly. ‘It will take some time for you to fully process what’s happened, but there are other ways to get on with your life.’
‘Such as?’ I ask. Poppy must have seen and heard it all when it comes to love, but right now, I couldn’t feel further from ‘getting on with my life’.
‘Well, you’ve heard the adage that the best revenge is living a happy life – or something to that effect?’
I shrug noncommittally. Having never been in this situation before – none of my previous breakups involved cheating – I’ve never really considered the nuances of revenge.
‘How about karma?’ she asks hopefully. ‘Do you believe that what goes around comes around, that Dunn will eventually get his just desserts?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Always.’
We exchange a smile.
‘From my experience, people like Jon – men like Jon, especially – they don’t get their just desserts. They simply go about life doing whatever the hell they want, not giving a rat’s arse about who they hurt along the way. So, no, I don’t give much credence to karma.’
‘That’s fair. But I’ll be honest with you, Kate, our agency has vast resources we can deploy when needed but we’re in the business of happily ever afters, not payback.’
‘I understand,’ I say. I’m disappointed, but I knew it was a long shot.
There’s also a part of me that’s relieved. I’m not sure what I would have done if Poppy had agreed – bought a sword and taken fencing lessons? Hello, my name is Kate Whitaker. You lied about wanting to marry me. Prepare to have your bollocks lopped off. Maybe I am Inigo Montoya – only the wronged fiancée version, Iniga.
And I’m not sure why every time I think about exacting revenge on Jon, he ends up castrated. Actually, I do, and her name is Margot.
‘Look,’ says Poppy, drawing my attention, ‘what I can do is bring this to my colleagues and get their take on it.’
‘Really?’ I ask, suddenly hopeful.
‘Really. I’ve never encountered anything like this before, so maybe they can provide some additional insight or…’ She throws up her hands. ‘Scratch that. I genuinely have no idea what they’ll make of it, so no promises, okay?’
‘No, no, I understand,’ I say, leaning forward, my eyes locked on hers. ‘And thank you, Poppy.’
‘Don’t thank me yet. There may be nothing more we can do for you – other than put you back on the books, but you’ve said you don’t want that.’
‘God, no. I pity the next man who comes within three feet of me.’
Poppy glances at her watch, which prompts me to check mine.
‘Oh, sorry. I’ve kept you far too long and I really should get to work – especially having left early yesterday afternoon.’ I stand and reach across the table and Poppy shakes my hand.
‘Before you go,’ she says, ‘we didn’t get a chance to talk about Willem de Vries.’
My cheeks instantly flush, the traitors. ‘How do you mean?’ I ask casually.
Poppy’s eyes narrow slightly – I can tell she’s onto me.
‘I meant his request – to go meet his sister.’
‘ Right ,’ I say, composing myself. ‘To be honest, I’ve been so fixated on Jon and how to make him pay that I’ve barely given it any thought. He wants me there this coming weekend – Willem, I mean.’
My cheeks heat up again and Poppy’s expression transforms into one of concern. With good reason. On top of everything else, I’m attracted to my fiancé’s fiancée’s brother. What could possibly go wrong there?
‘It’s a lot to ask of you,’ she says, pretending to ignore my reaction to Willem, ‘but if you’re hell-bent on justice, then…’ She trails off, leaving the rest of the thought unsaid.
‘Then I should help Adriana,’ I say, finishing it. It does make sense – and I’m surprised I didn’t think of it earlier. Probably too distracted by gardening shears and the god-like brother.
‘Anyway, it’s something to consider,’ she says with an encouraging smile.
‘No, no, you’re absolutely right. And I will think about it.’
Poppy stands and indicates for me to leave the meeting room first, then walks me to reception.
‘Thanks again, Poppy, for everything,’ I say when we get there.
‘Of course. And I’ll let you know if anything changes after I’ve spoken to my colleagues.’
We say goodbye and as I ride the lift down three floors, I imagine Jon’s face when Adriana tells him she knows about me. Or maybe I should be the first to confront him – I’ve been engaged to him the longest.
Like I told Poppy, I know I’ll have to confront him eventually, but the mere thought of being anywhere near Jon again sends shivers down my spine, as if someone has walked over my grave.
‘Ground floor,’ the lift announces, and I return to the present with a jolt.
Thank god I have Margot on my side – and now Poppy. Even if she and her colleagues decide there’s nothing they can do to help me, I’ll have her moral support. And when the time comes, I’m going to need every ounce of it.