Page 120 of For Love or Money
‘No, nothing so crass. You were a queen.’
And she’d made him a king. Peter had been in awe of Jane’s theatrical pedigree, coming from the legendary Howard acting dynasty. He’d always felt like something of an imposter in that world, but Jane had taken his hand and led him right to the heart of it, and for the first time, he’d felt like he belonged.
He’d been hugely impressed by her parents, and was gauchely thrilled to be marrying into theatrical royalty. He’d loved being part of her rather grand family, enjoying their expansive hospitality and unstinting generosity on long summer holidays at theirgîtein France, or in the decaying majesty of their crumbling old house in Clare. Jane’s parents were gregarious and colourful. They surrounded themselves with writers, actors and musicians, throwing lavish parties and casual kitchen dinners with the same tireless enthusiasm. It all seemed worlds away from his dreary industrial background, and he’d been so grateful to Jane for sharing it all with him, like a wonderful dowry she gifted him when they married.
‘God, we were gorgeous then,’ he said wistfully, glancing at their photos again.
Jane shrugged. ‘We were just young.’
‘Is that all it is?’
‘That’s about ninety per cent of it.’
‘God.’
Jane gazed over his head. ‘I was twenty-six when that was taken,’ she said, nodding at the photo of herself.
Neither of them said it, but Peter was sure they were both thinking the same thing: she’d been the same age Stella was now. What a strange thought.
The waiter came to take their order, and Peter could feel Jane’s bemusement as he gave detailed instructions about how he wanted his food prepared, eschewing the rich sauces and oily dressings in favour of simply grilled fish and salad.
She was looking at him strangely as the waiter left with their order.
‘I’m a changed man,’ he said to her by way of explanation.
Jane frowned, looking slightly discomfited. ‘Are you?’ she asked. ‘What are we doing here, Peter?’
‘It’s just dinner,’ he said gently. ‘We’re just two old friends having dinner together.’
‘You should be at home with your girlfriend. Where did you tell her you are tonight?’
‘I said I was going to eat with some of the company.’ Jane shot him a weary look. ‘Well, it’s true,’ he said. ‘You’re one of the company.’
‘Maybe you haven’t changed at all,’ Jane said, and even though he knew she didn’t mean it in a positive way, Peter couldn’t help feeling pleased at the thought. ‘Maybe neither of us has. You’d think we’d know better at our age,’ she said, glancing at the photograph above his head. ‘We should have grown out of this by now.’
‘Grown out of what?’
‘Riding roughshod over other people’s feelings. Philandering. Letting sex trump everything. But here we are, still sneaking around—’
‘Not you. You were never a cheater.’
‘I never used to be. But with you ...’ She sighed. ‘I was complicit. I knew you were with Leah when I met you, but I snuck off with you that first night anyway. I let you take me to bed when you should have been with her. I’m here with you now when you should be with Stella.’ She gave an exasperated shake of her head, and Peter thought she was on the verge of walking out.
‘We shouldn’t be here, Peter. And yet ...’
‘And yet?’ He reached across the table, his hand open.
She put her hand in his. ‘Here we are.’
40
Stella had been glad to have the wedding planning today to keep her busy. Having Lesley to talk to had really helped to distract her, and she’d managed to put everything else out of her mind while she was looking at houses with Rafe. She was grateful for the years of meditation practice that had given her the discipline to keep herself fully present in the moment and focused solely on what she was doing at any one time. But once she was alone again, her thoughts immediately drifted to home.
My father died today, she kept thinking as she showered and changed for dinner, trying to impress it on herself, struggling to feel it. But she just felt remote and detached from it. She wondered what Dan was doing now, what the funeral would be like. They’d be having the wake tonight. She thought of the house filled with her relatives; the old neighbours passing through; her father laid out in the living room. Would her mother think of her ... miss her?
Her mobile buzzed, vibrating on the nightstand, shaking her out of her thoughts. She picked it up and checked the caller ID – Dan. She swiped it quickly.
‘Hi,’ she said softly. She could hear noise in the background, and knew they must be in the middle of the wake. ‘How’s it going? Is it awful?’
