Don't Marry Thomas Clark (7 page)

‘And what about you, what's your…
sector?
' I ask, not really caring what he answers.

‘Company agreements, banking transactions…'

I don't even listen to the rest, just nod and try to look very interested. When the never-ending list of lucrative activities he's involved with is finished, I manage a feeble, ‘That must be really fascinating,' my usual gambit when I don't know, understand or like what my interlocutor is talking about.

‘Our teas are on their way,' says Thomas as he hangs up. ‘Sandy, first of all, thank you for accepting my invitation…'

It would be rude to tell him that I only accepted because I thought I was meeting his grandfather, so I just smile and trot out a few random clichés, like, ‘Don't mention it,' ‘No problem at all,' and ‘It's a pleasure to be here.'

We go on with this ridiculous chit-chat until Ally, the same girl who brought me here not long ago, enters the room, all clicking high heels and low neckline and as graceful as a fashion model even while holding in one hand a silver tray containing three cups. She reaches the desk, bends over fluidly and starts distributing plates, sugar cubes and little cartons of milk like the perfect hostess. I can't stop staring at her and think, if that was me I'd have already poured half the contents of the tray over his keyboard.

‘Can I get you anything else?' she asks her employer in a flirty voice.

That's another thing that hasn't changed much apparently – like flypaper in the countryside, he still attracts women. It's something that's always unnerved me. Not because I'm jealous, just to be clear, but because I don't think it's fair. And it's not! There they all are, eyeing him up like hungry cats staring at ten acres of catnip, and it just feeds an already overdeveloped ego. He thanks them, enjoys their attentions and then never chooses any of them, or if he does, he just uses her to show off to his friends and, after a while, dumps her to focus on some new, more exciting adventure. I've seen him do it hundreds of times, but it's a phenomenon that never ceases to amaze me.

I watch Ally's moves with increasing dismay until she finally leaves, and only then do I take one of the cups, in an attempt to think about something less irritating, like the reinvigorating aroma of tea.

‘Sandy, as I was saying, apart from the pleasure of seeing you, there's another reason I got back in touch with you after all this time.'

I sense something peculiar about this last sentence. ‘And what is that?' I ask directly.

‘It's a delicate matter, and one that I've been forced to face unexpectedly, for reasons that I'll explain directly.'

I instinctively look over at Frank, wondering for the first time if the presence of a lawyer is entirely casual, and I'm overcome by such a weird feeling of anxiety that my thirst completely disappears. I put my cup, still full of tea, back on the desk, cross my arms and wait to hear the rest. Thomas hesitates, probably noticing my sudden hostility. I don't know how it happens, but whatever it was he was about to say, he decides to postpone it and his face becomes calm and confident again.

‘I mentioned to you before that my grandfather has passed away, and, in fact, that's what I would like to talk to you about. His will, to be precise. As you can imagine, since neither of my parents are alive, I'm the sole heir to the entire family fortune, apart from a couple of smaller bequests. The only exception is the old Canterbury property, Garden House. I'm sure you remember it – it's where we used to spend our summer holidays.'

‘How could I forget it?' I say. ‘But I really don't see what all this has got to do with me.'

‘I completely understand your confusion,' he says sympathetically in response to my perplexity. ‘Let me explain. The property is excluded from the inheritance until I fulfil a clause, and this clause is, unfortunately, ineluctable.'

‘What kind of clause?'

‘That I get married,' he concedes finally. I don't move a muscle.

‘Without wishing to sound repetitive, what's that got to do with me?'

They look at each other. Then they look at me. They then look at each other again. A terrible suspicion starts to grow inside me, a terrible suspicion that… Oh come on – it can't be!

‘What Thomas is trying to explain to you,' cuts in Frank, ‘is that there is still a chance to obtain the property. The only thing he needs to do is fulfil the requirements of his grandfather's will. Unfortunately, in his last months of life Sir Roger was affected by senile dementia. He was getting more and more mixed up, and decided to modify his last will and testament, adding some rather regrettable clauses. We don't want it to end up in court, because we want to protect the count's memory as much as possible from any unpleasantness. To be honest, Garden House isn't worth a huge amount, but it's of enormous sentimental value.'

‘Exactly,' adds Thomas, ‘I could just forget about it, but it's all I've got left of my family…'

‘It would be only a formality anyway,' the lawyer explains.

‘Nothing more than a signature on a document,' echoes Thomas.

‘A way to sidestep this obstacle, as it were.'

‘And of course you would be generously compensated for your participation.'

‘Of course.'

‘Wait a minute!' I explode. ‘I'm not sure what you've got in mind, but I already know that I don't want any part of it. Thomas, I know you'll find this hard to believe, but I have no intention of marrying you. I'm sorry for being so direct, but you should know that I used to hate you when we were young, I didn't like you as a teenager and I must admit that as an adult you actually scare me.'

‘Marry me?' he says, and bursts out laughing. ‘No, hang on, I think you've got the wrong end of the stick.'

I realize that I was the first to unequivocally underline that I wasn't interested in him, but I still find his spontaneous, almost vulgar laugh a bit inappropriate. Is the idea of marrying somebody like me really
so
ridiculous? If I was unwilling to cooperate before, I'm up in arms now.

‘Thomas, let me continue,' says Frank, smiling kindly. ‘Sandy, can I call you by your first name?' and he waits for me to agree before continuing. ‘Sandy, you see, nobody is asking you to sacrifice yourself for a property. That would be unthinkable, wouldn't it? Absolutely not.'

His words make me feel even more stupid for having thought it was possible, even if only for a fraction of a second.

‘You'd just have to move to Garden House for the next six months, respect a few rules of cohabitation and take part in some selected social events while pretending to be Thomas' current partner. After a brief period, we'll organize an engagement party and afterwards we'll decide a date for the wedding. And on that occasion you can make up some kind of credible excuse and dump him.'

‘The clause won't be effective if I'm not the one who calls off the wedding. With your help I could inherit the property without having to ruin my grandfather's memory by dredging up all his mental health issues,' Thomas concludes.

‘But why me? Couldn't you ask anybody else?'

‘I could have, but I needed someone I could trust. As you can see, it's a very delicate matter. If our agreement should go public, I'd lose the property, and that would be the least of it. The press would start digging up old dirt and hounding my family, who are already suffering because of my grandfather's death.'

‘I can see that,' I say before he can add anything else. I feel quite touched by this faith in me. I didn't realize he had it. ‘But we're talking about six months, not a few days. I'd have to move to Canterbury, leave my job, my flat…'

‘We understand that perfectly, and that's why we would cover any necessary expenses,' Frank repeats.

‘You're going to
pay
me?'

‘Rather than a payment, I'd consider it a way of thanking you for your help,' declares Thomas, carefully choosing a more tactful definition.

‘We'd also give you an advance payment to allow you to move there immediately. Our aim is to free you up as soon as possible,' continues Frank, piquing my curiosity. I want to ask how much this advance payment would be, but I don't have the courage. I don't want them to think I'm some opportunist looking for easy money. And anyway, however much it is, it still wouldn't be enough to solve all the problems I've accumulated since I lost my job as a researcher.

But they must be able to read my mind, because Frank quickly opens a yellow folder and passes me something that looks like an actual contract. I read through it eagerly, line by line, and almost have a heart attack when I eventually get to the sum they want to give me for my cooperation. Enough money to buy the whole bistro and then go for a cruise around the world.

‘Are you two out of your minds?' I ask, bursting out laughing.

‘What do you mean?' they both ask.

‘You'd really spend all this money just to have someone dump you at the altar?' I can't help thinking that under different circumstances I would have accepted happily, and they wouldn't even have needed to spend a penny.

‘Sandy,' Thomas says. ‘The sum you see on the contract is one third of the current market value of the property. I thought it was reasonable, if not actually a bit meagre, considering the immense value Garden House has for me. As soon as I decided to go forward with this plan, I thought of you. We've known each other for years, and there are deep bonds of friendship, respect and esteem between our two families… I honestly hope you'll give my offer serious consideration.'

Should I accept or not?

The more I look at the contract, the more I ask myself where the catch is. I know there has to be one, I'm sure of it. I can't have been this bloody lucky. I lift my eyes and exchange a glance with Thomas, who is awaiting an answer. For a moment I see his head surrounded by a halo of ten pound notes which flap merrily about, whispering ‘Take me… Take me…'

Stop it, Sandy! Behave yourself!

‘I'm sorry, but I just don't think it would be right. I can't take money for helping you. And anyway, I don't think I could pretend to be your fiancée, even if it was only for a few public occasions. We live in very different worlds, I wouldn't be comfortable,' I admit.

‘Are you sure?' he asks, sounding tense. ‘I honestly don't want to pressure you, but if there's anything I can do to convince you…'

‘No, believe me, there's nothing you can do. It's a pantomime that I can't and don't wish to take part in. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a valid alternative. You've always been very resourceful.' I must grant him at least that.

‘As you prefer. I perfectly understand your point of view,' he answers, taking the bad news much better than I'd expected. That's strange, he looks almost relieved.

‘Sandy, I was thinking…' Frank says, tapping his mouth with his index finger. ‘Would you be willing to put all this down in black and white?'

‘What?'

‘I mean that you don't want to marry Thomas. It might be enough to convince a jury, if we don't find an appropriate alternative. Think about it: you wouldn't have to move or leave your job. You'd be doing a friend a favour, and it would only cost you about fifteen minutes of your time.' And he gives me a wide smile.

Well, no, that way it wouldn't cost me anything, but I think I'm a little too confused right now to make a decision on the spot. What if there are repercussions that I'm not aware of at the moment?

I hesitate. ‘You want me to sign it right now?'

They look at one another. They seem unsure of what to do, then Frank proposes, ‘We could meet next Friday at my office. I'd need some time to draw up the deed. Would that be OK for you?'

‘I'm busy in the morning, but I could free myself up for a couple of hours in the early afternoon,' answers Thomas after consulting his agenda. ‘Sandy, can I count on you?' he says looking at me as if the fate of the entire universe depended on my answer.

I can't take that pathetic puppy-like expression of his. No matter how hard I try, I always end up giving in, overcome by guilt. OK, let's try to think calmly. Is what he's asking really so absurd? I only need to write down that I don't want any part in this business. It's irksome, yes, but it's not his fault. He's already lost his parents and now his grandfather, and he's asking me to help preserve the memory of his family. He could have asked anyone, but he chose me because he thought I would understand, that I wouldn't be indifferent and that I wouldn't take advantage of the situation. And what do I do, instead? I abandon him in his moment of need simply because we used to fight all the time when we were young. He's behaving much more maturely than me, and I can't let that happen.

‘OK…'

*

Shortly afterwards, in the same room, a confused Frank asks, ‘Remind me exactly
what
part of that smoking hot redhead is
dull, skinny and insignificant…
?'

‘Frank…' answers Thomas through gritted teeth. ‘Shut up!'

‘Are those steaks ready?'

‘Just a couple of minutes,' answers a croaking voice from the kitchen. My father sighs disappointedly and turns again to the bread basket in search of a breadstick.

‘How long does it take them to cook a bloody piece of meat?' he moans, avoiding my eyes.

‘Here we go again,' I complain, rolling my eyes. ‘Why the hell do we keep coming to Luke's? It takes them at least half an hour just to take our orders, the potatoes are frozen and the meat is always either rare or overcooked,' I say, with a sarcastic snort.

‘Because it's so close to the office. If anything were to happen, I could nip back there in no time,' he answers with a serious expression.