Page 127 of Love Is: Two Bodies One Soul

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‘Jeez, this place is grand!’George said, staring out at the rolling grassland, the massive oak trees and the gravel drive with its centrepiece fountain in the foreground of the Georgian manor house which seemed, George thought, to have a scale model of the Parthenon stuck to its front.

‘What did you expect?’ Owen asked.

‘I don’t know .… Just not this … this big, this sumptuous, this ….’ George found himself speechless and flopped back against the fine leather upholstery of the Rolls Royce, generously loaned by Roger Phelan.

‘I’m not complaining,’ Owen said. ‘And I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth either. If the new owner of WIV wants to host my wedding, so be it and just as long as you and he don’t get any bright ideas of running a celebrity wedding feature on Lex and me.’

‘As if,’ George said, omitting the fact that he had indeed raised the idea with Roger, but it had been vetoed.

‘Good.’ Owen settled and closed his eyes for a moment.

George shot Owen a look, wondering if he should say something about their boss. He’d known about Roger for a while now but he wasn’t sure if Owen was aware — after all, it wasn’t obvious. Deciding it was time to share his knowledge he leaned towards Owen and said in an undertone, ‘You know he’s gay, don’t you?’

Owen opened his eyes and frowned. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘He’s like Victor was. He’s got the hots for you.’

Owen laughed. ‘I don’t think so. If he had any interest in me, the last thing he would do is host my wedding for free.’

‘Hmm.’ George screwed his face up. ‘All I’m saying is, be careful. Watch him. You’re on his home territory now, and he might expect payback for all this generosity. Just don’t put WIV in jeopardy.’

* * *

Owen straightenedhis jacket as the Rolls Royce glided around the fountain and came to a sleek halt by the marble portico. A staff member from Whyton House came forward from between the pillars and with a white gloved hand, he opened the car door.

‘Well, here we are,’ George said as he followed Owen out onto the drive.

‘We are.’ Owen smiled. He seemed to be totally relaxed. Which was, of course, an illusion. Internally, every one of Owen’s billion-plus nerve cells was near to tension overload. Soon, he was going to be married. This time to a woman he truly loved. Waiting for that moment was torture, only exceeded by the terror that something might go wrong. Owen inhaled the spring air and took the first step onto the portico, with George by his side.

Inside the noble house, the hall was festooned with spring flowers and Roger Phelan himself was waiting for them.

‘Welcome, welcome.’ He opened his hands expansively. ‘Come through to the reception room.’ Roger continued to talk as they walked. ‘Everything is ready, and the cars have already left to collect the bride and her family, so they shouldn’t be too long. A wonderful day for a wedding, don’t you think?’

Owen agreed as he and George followed Roger into a long, wood-panelled room. Twelve tall windows, draped with red velvet curtains, overlooked formal gardens, while three giant crystal chandeliers hung from the ornately plastered ceiling.

‘They’re the biggest in the country,’ Roger said, pointing to the lighting. ‘They’ll be lit later for the dancing. Quite a sight.’

At one end of the room, a young woman was playing a grand piano.

‘My mother’s piano, a Steinway,’ Roger said.

‘A concert pianist, wasn’t she?’ George said.

‘That’s right.’ Roger smiled. ‘That’s her.’ He pointed to the life-size oil painting on the wall behind the pianist.

‘She was a beautiful woman,’ Owen said.

‘She was.’ Roger cleared his throat. ‘Now, I’ll leave you to take your seats at the other end of the room while I go to greet your bride. She should be here soon.’

George and Owen walked between the rows of seated guests. George nodded to Christie, Owen’s literary agent, responsible for selling Owen’s first work of fiction for an astronomical amount. He smiled and waved to Millie sitting with the children, then shared a worried look with Sally, sitting next to Henry.

Owen spotted Henry. ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘I need to talk to him.’

‘Are you sure you should?’

‘I’m sure.’

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