Married By Christmas (9 page)

‘To be honest, Tom, you could have maybe mentioned it a
little
bit sooner,’ Liv said, holding her thumb and finger up to illustrate her point. ‘I mean, you know Anna, you get her. You know that she was always going to have a meltdown about this. If you’d told her say, when you first got together, or engaged, or even six months ago, then she could have limited her insecurities to the fact that you still have an incredibly glamorous wife, and probably got most of them out of the way by the time the annulment came through
in time for the wedding.
It’s the leaving it to the very last moment part that’s sent her fruit loops. You know she can’t cope with the unexpected, you know she does literally everything in her power to make sure that never happens.’ Liv paused, looking at Tom, his head hanging, his shoulders slumped, his arms limp at his side as he realised that he did know all of that, and he probably knew exactly what Liv was going to say next. ‘You let her down, Tom.’

‘I know,’ Tom said. ‘I know I did. I just … I honestly had forgotten about Charisma completely, you know. It was a joke almost, a crazy thing I did when I was young. I really, really didn’t think it was real. Which I know makes me an idiot, but it’s true. Has she called? Has she sent you round here to dump me?’

Liv shook her head, went to the sofa and sat down. Outside London unfurled along the riverbank, glittering merrily, a city in preparation for Christmas, bristling with lights, like one huge Christmas tree. Funny how it did that, London, made itself look so beautiful, when scratch even a little beneath the surface and you would find darkness and loneliness and chaos. But it was always the surface that counted in this town. If everything looked right, then it was.

‘Anna still wants to marry you,’ Liv said, forcing herself to look at Tom, who was now seated opposite her, hanging his head. He looked up. ‘She wouldn’t be on this escapade if she didn’t.’

‘Really? Are you sure? When she realises that she’s never going to find Charisma and she comes back, do you think she’ll forgive me and marry me? In the spring maybe? Or the summer?’

‘I think she will, honestly. It’s just … you know Christmas and the whole thing with her mum. It has this massive significance for her, because of what happened. I think she sees it as a sort of talisman, Christmas. It’s been her worst and happiest time, and I think this wedding was meant to … bring a chapter of her life to a close, so she can start a new one with you. That’s why she doesn’t want to delay it, or have it at another time of year. Anyway,’ Liv said slowly. ‘She’s still pretty determined to marry you on Christmas Eve and until she says otherwise I think we have to assume that it will happen. She’s left me in charge of everything. I even have to go to her dress fitting in a couple of days, which, by the way, you’ll have to drive me to. It’s in bloody Surrey for some reason and you know how I feel about driving.’

Tom stared at Liv for a long moment, the synchronised lights of his black and silver Christmas tree changing mechanically on his face.

‘Why didn’t she tell me about this whole new chapter thing? Why didn’t she say that when we talked earlier?’ he asked her, repeating the words out loud as if he had to hear them to believe them.

‘Because I’m not really sure that she gets its herself, probably,’ Liv said. ‘You must understand how she feels though? Because if you don’t, you don’t get Anna. Don’t forget, this is Anna who when she was nine years old her mum popped out to the shops on Boxing Day and never came back. Her mum, Tom. She may have been a terrible person, a drunk and a drug addict, but she was still Anna’s mum. The one person in the entire world who was meant to make her feel safe. Ever since Anna’s been doing everything she can to stop feeling like that again. She’d never leave anything up to someone else unless …’ Liv had been about to say ‘she completely trusts them’, but thought better of it as the implications weren’t great. And besides, the look on Tom’s face wasn’t exactly the one of concerned sympathy she’d been expecting. He looked completely stunned.

‘Anna told you she was brought up in care, didn’t she?’ Liv asked. ‘I’ve heard her talk about it to you, and about when she came to live with us. Hundreds of times.’

‘Yes,’ Tom said, rubbing his hands over his face. ‘Except she told me her mum died of cancer, her dad wasn’t on the scene, so she got taken into care and then you guys fostered her. That’s what she told me,
that
was bad enough.’

Liv was silent, uncertain of what to say. She was familiar with Anna’s pat story, the one that explained away a good deal of her unusual life without having to dwell on the seedier aspects, like the fact that neither she nor her mother knew who her father was, or that her mother had done some pretty unsavoury things to pay for her addictions. But never once had she supposed that Anna would keep the truth from the man she was going to marry, the man she was trusting with her heart for the rest of her life.

‘Oh,’ Liv said. ‘Well, I mean it is pretty shocking. And she’s done so well to put it behind her, and to move on and become the person she is. That’s probably why she didn’t tell you, because, you know, she wants you to know the person she is now, despite all of that. I mean, she told you about Regina Clarkson, right?’

Tom stared at her blankly. ‘About what?’

‘More of a who … not important, anyway,’ Liv said, anxiously remembering how, one dark night when they were about fifteen, she and Anna had agreed they would only ever tell the men who were the loves of their lives about the Regina Clarkson incident, as a true test of their love and loyalty. ‘Well, so. There. You see, that’s why she went. That’s why she didn’t talk to you. Basically, she’s frightened to death of losing you.’

‘Me or her perfect wedding, with the roses and the reindeer and the dress,’ Tom said heavily, knocked sideways by Liv’s unwitting revelation.

‘You, you moron,’ Liv said, getting up and crossing over to where Tom was sitting, his head in his hands. She knelt in front of him and lifted his chin so he was looking into her eyes. ‘Tom, you clicked with Anna the second you saw her. I know – I was there. And it was the same with her. The two of you, you are a perfect match. OK, so you’ve both neglected to mention some fairly relevant information from your pasts, but perhaps that’s a good thing. Perhaps that means that now you are both starting on a clean page, on equal terms. Don’t be angry at her for going, for taking charge, because she is doing her best not to be angry at you for forgetting about your stripper wife.’

‘Dancer,’ Tom muttered. ‘She was an exotic dancer.’

Suddenly acutely conscious that she was touching Tom’s face, her lips only a few inches from his, Liv dropped her hands and sat back on her heels.

‘Dancer, whatever,’ she said. ‘Besides, you’re right. There is no way she will find Charisma in that great big city, even if she still lives there, even if she still uses the same name. I mean this is Anna we’re talking about, not Columbo. In a few days she’ll be home again. And then you two can talk things through and reschedule the wedding. In the meantime, let’s just do what she wants and wait for her to come to the same conclusion on her own. And I bet you, that as soon as she lands, she’ll be desperate to speak to you. OK?’

Tom nodded, and then quite unexpectedly gathered Liv into his arms and held her in a tight embrace. ‘You know what, Liv,’ he said into her hair, ‘I should have fallen in love with you instead of Anna. It would have been so much less complicated.’

‘As if I’d ever think that way about you,’ Liv scoffed with bravado, whilst on the inside she ever so quietly shrivelled up and died.

Chapter Six

It hit Anna, just as they were driving down to Manhattan, across the Brooklyn Bridge, exactly where they were. There it was, New York, laid out before them, bristling with countless buildings festooned with lights, a glamorous siren, bedecked and bejewelled, arms outstretched ready for seduction. How different it felt from London, Anna realised as their cab driver sped them through the night, with varying degrees of sensible driving, ranging from dangerous to suicidal. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what the difference was, except that perhaps London was so old, so layered with history and dirt and life upon life, that her beauty was altogether more matronly than this ultimate showgirl of a city. In London, the city felt aloof, apart from its inhabitants, a grand old dame who tolerated the mass of life that crawled all over it. But when she looked at Manhattan, sparkling and sexy, it was if this city was setting out to entice her from the very start, and for Anna it was perhaps her first experience of love at first sight.

For several surreal moments, Anna felt like she was driving in a big yellow taxi straight into the movie of her own life; she could almost hear the soundtrack playing in the background, and the gravelly tones of the movie voiceover man.

‘She came to Manhattan to search for the impossible, never realising what she would discover here would change her life for ever …’

‘So where are we going?’ Miles asked Anna, pulling her abruptly out of her reverie. It wasn’t that she had intended to still be with him after they’d cleared customs, it was more that they’d gotten off the plane at the same time, their luggage arrived on the carousel at the same time, they’d stood in the queue for passport control, one behind the other, Miles taking her bag while she slipped off her coat to go through the X-ray, and when eventually they had emerged into the arrivals lounge at JFK at almost three in the morning, it occurred to Anna that this was one of those times that it was better to be with the devil you knew, even if the last time you’d seen him he’d accidentally poisoned you, than the devil who might mug you at gunpoint in some dark alley somewhere. That was if New York had any dark alleys. From what Anna could see of it, it positively bristled with lights, a veritable jewel, glowing with life, pulsating against the night sky, looking like the world’s most glamorous Christmas bauble, which should be placed atop some cosmic Christmas tree.

‘Um, to a hotel?’ Anna said, realising that her habitual forward planning had somehow abandoned her the moment she’d gotten in the cab.

‘Which hotel though?’ Miles asked her. ‘The driver needs to know apparently.’

‘And you say you don’t know where you are staying?’ Anna asked him, tearing her eyes away from the view to turn to him.

‘Not sure,’ Miles admitted with a shrug. ‘I hadn’t completely gotten to that stage yet, of knowing where I was staying. I was thinking of finding a twenty-four-hour diner and staying up all night drinking coffee and writing a song, and maybe getting somewhere to crash tomorrow. That was sort of mainly my plan. But then again, I don’t know where there is a twenty-four-hour diner, so it wasn’t exactly set in stone.’

‘Excuse me.’ Anna leaned forwards in seat so that she could talk to the driver. ‘We need a good, safe hotel in the middle of Manhattan, where would you recommend?’

The driver said nothing, keeping his eyes on the road as he undertook a truck, narrowly avoiding death by central reservation.

‘OK …’ Anna shrugged, uneasily. This was exactly the sort of uncertainty in life that she didn’t enjoy: the idea that she had no idea where she was going to rest her particularly tired and confused head for what little was left of the night gave her no sense of anticipation or adventure, just one of uncertainty and dread. ‘Well, the Hilton? There’s bound to be one of those, or maybe … an Intercontinental?’

‘Try that,’ Miles said. ‘I’ll come with you, help you check in. Make sure you’ve got a room, before we say goodbye.’

‘Really?’ Anna smiled at him. ‘That’s actually really nice of you.’

‘Ah it’s just me stocking up on karma really,’ Miles said, brushing her words away. ‘I mean I’ve almost killed you once already – if I heard on the news you’d been murdered on arrival I’m pretty sure there’s no way I’d do well at the audition. Besides it’ll give me time to keep an eye out for that twenty-four-hour diner …’

The Intercontinental, which towered above them in a seemingly endless succession of floors, turned out to be fully booked, even though it looked like it should be able to accommodate an entire universe under its roof.

‘It’s the time of year,’ the charming, but tired-looking night concierge, Horatio explained sympathetically to Anna who, desperate for a bed, looked stricken by the news. ‘The whole world comes shopping in New York for the holidays. Really, to get a decent room in Manhattan at this time of year you need to book months in advance.’

‘But I didn’t know I was coming until today,’ Anna told him unhappily. ‘Or yesterday, I’m not really sure what day it is any more. All I know is that when I got up this morning I had a life plan, and now I have no idea what’s going to happen next … and … and … all I want is a shower and … and … a bed.’ Heavy crystalline tears filled her eyes, one rolling heavily down her cheek as she turned away from Horatio and struggled to gain her composure. ‘I’m sorry. I know the last thing you need at this time of the night is a British woman having a nervous breakdown in reception.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Horatio told her, kindly. ‘Look, let me ring around a few places for you. I know everyone there is to know in the hotel business in this town; if I can’t find you a room then no one can.’

‘Really?’ Anna asked him, her lashes webbed with tears as she dabbed her nose delicately with a tissue. ‘Would you do that for me? That is so kind.’

‘Sure thing,’ Horatio told her, a little bashfully. ‘Can’t have you crying on your first visit to this great city of mine, can I? Take a seat in the lobby, I’ll get some coffee brought to you while I check out what the deal is. And what about this –’ Horatio looked Miles up and down with a good deal less empathy ‘– gentleman. Will he be needing a room too?’

‘No,’ Anna said at once. ‘He wants a diner to sit in.’

‘No,’ Miles said, almost at the same time. ‘I’m just making sure that the lady is safe and secure before we part ways.’

‘Well, then,’ Horatio said, ‘coffee for two then.’

‘Clever,’ Miles said, as Anna sank gratefully onto a corporate-looking sofa, long, cubist and red, letting her body sink into its limited softness, her head lolling awkwardly on the too low back. It had been surprisingly tiring, not sleeping on an aeroplane for seven and something hours, draining all of the energy out of her, so that really all she could do was wonder what she was doing sitting in a hotel lobby on the other side of the world based on an impulse that was even more unlikely and stupid and foolish than the idiot who married a showgirl whilst out of his mind on tequila.

And even though she and Miles had done nothing more than exchange a few civil words for the rest of the flight, in between watching endless films and eating food in trays that would certainly give them indigestion, Anna had found it a strain sitting next to him nevertheless, wondering if she should be thinking of things to say to him that would prove she wasn’t insane, or perhaps, given that she’d somehow poured her whole heart out to him before the plane had barely even taken off, things to not say. Then again Liv always told her she seemed much more normal when she wasn’t talking. Pondering which things she should or should not do had kept her on edge for the entire flight and unable to drift off to sleep for any significant period of time. Except, that was, when she woke, after who knew how long, with a sudden start, to find that her head had been resting on Miles’s shoulder. Roused by the sound of her own snores, Anna had been horrified to see that she had left a small patch of dribble darkening his shirt. Fortunately, despite her high-decibel rattling, Miles had remained fast asleep, arranged far too prettily for a boy, his head lolling slightly to the left, his rather attractive mouth remaining firmly closed and dribble free. He hadn’t seemed to notice her incursion on his shoulder, her damp patch of drool, but the fear that it might happen again, and this time she wouldn’t be so lucky, was enough to stop Anna from daring to attempt sleep again for the rest of the journey. And now she couldn’t find a bed to lie on and Miles was accusing her of being clever of all things.

‘What’s clever?’ Anna asked him, blowing a puff of hair out of her face and watching it descend into her eyes again, before repeating the procedure.

‘Hey, listen.’ Miles spread his hands as he sat in a decidedly square armchair opposite her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. ‘I’m not criticising you, if I had your guns I’d do it too.’

‘My guns?’ Anna said, uncertainly, sitting up a little and twisting her long hair into a rope, which she tied in a loose knot at the base of her neck. ‘What are you talking about, Miles. I don’t have guns!’

‘Babe, you are armed and dangerous!’ Miles told her, chuckling.

Anna blinked at him. ‘Do you have to call me “babe”, because, you know, I’m not your babe. Or anyone’s babe, really. And also, what are you talking about?’

‘The hot chick ammo?’ Miles said, genuinely stunned that Anna didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘Come on, don’t pretend you don’t know that about yourself?’ Anna shook her head. ‘Annie, you’re beautiful, blonde, built.’ Miles verged on illustrating his last point with an ill-advised gesture involving cupping both his hands in front of his chest, but managed to pull out of it at the last moment, when he saw the look on Anna’s face. They both knew what he had been thinking though and Anna crossed her arms protectively over her front, pressing her lips into a thin line of disapproval.

‘
And
,’ Miles soldiered on, despite the certainty that he was about to get shot down in flames, ‘you’re, you know, lost in New York, in the middle of the night. All I’m saying is yeah, sure, why not rock out a heat-seeking flirt missile, and get some poor unsuspecting dude to sort things for you?’

Anna shook her head, rolling her eyes at the ceiling and sighing.

‘You know your trouble, Miles,’ she told him. ‘You’re a dinosaur. You’re such an unreconstructed rock star in your own little head. You think women are objects, without any brains or purpose beyond trying to trick men into doing things for them by flashing their cleavage! My God, I run my own business, I own my own flat, I have done since I was twenty-three – I don’t need a man to do anything for me, but if I am lucky enough to come across a gentleman who is willing to help me out, out of the goodness of his heart, then I thank my lucky stars. The world is not full of leather-trousered, eyeliner-wearing sexist pigs, you know. Some people, even a few men, are actually simply decent.’

Baffled, Miles looked like he was thinking about arguing with her and then thought better of it. ‘All I’m saying is that
I
would, if
I
could, but it doesn’t work the same way for men. I mean, I can talk a girl into a lot of things but probably not into, say, doing my laundry or filing my tax return. And that is the main difference between the sexes.’

‘Oh my God, you are such an arsehole!’ Anna exclaimed, almost laughing she was so horrified. ‘Thank God for the anaphylactic shock that saved me from your nineteen-seventies mindset clutches. And just so we’re clear on this, I wasn’t flirting, or playing damsel in distress or anything else. I was thanking a very nice person for doing something very nice that he didn’t have to do.’

Miles bristled at the insult. ‘Yeah, and if you didn’t look the way you do, toss you hair over your shoulder, do that cute little pouty thing and have those big blue teary eyes, then he probably wouldn’t be doing it now. Do you think he’d be sending you coffee and ringing round hotels if you were say twenty stone and eighty-five?’

‘Yes!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘Yes, I
do
think that, because he’s a nice person, who cares about other people. Which, until about three minutes ago, I thought about you. I thought that offering to stay with me until my room was booked was an act of chivalry. Oh my God, are you trying to tell me this is your way of trying to get me into bed?’

‘No!’ Miles protested, a little too loudly in the quiet lobby. ‘No, I gave up getting involved with crazy chicks after the last one I dated broke into my flat with a knife, and anyway I don’t fancy you. I mean you look good, yes. But being near you is like being in the same room as one of those spiders that bites your head off after they’ve had sex with you.’

‘Even your insults are about sex!’ Anna was exasperated. ‘Look, if in your little delusional head you think I’ve been flirting with you, then you are very, very much mistaken, which makes you the crazy one. I don’t flirt, I’m famous for not flirting, I have literally no idea how to talk to men in a sexual way, which is why when one of them asked me to marry him, I had to make sure he wasn’t saying it for a bet. And yes, even if he is still married to a stripper, I am still with him and I would never, ever,
ever
cheat on him. So just get that thought out of your head right now. There is no sex for you here, mister.’

Miles and Anna stared at each other, a gradual sense of the surreal quality of their early-hours argument dawning on each of them at precisely the same rate of insidious horror.

‘Are we drunk?’ Miles asked her quietly. ‘How and when did this all start, again? Because I don’t remember getting drunk.’

A tray of coffee was deposited at their table by a miserable-looking young woman, who scowled at them as she dumped a pot of sugar sachets as a resentful afterthought.

‘Look, I can’t remember how we started arguing, and for the record I am not trying to hit on you, Anna, or anything of the sort. You’ve got your man, and you’ve travelled across the Atlantic to try and keep him. I see that as proof positive that you are off limits. I just wanted to look out for you in the big city, you seemed so upset on the plane, and I thought for Simon’s sake, someone should keep an eye on you. He’s a mate, and you’re as good as his little sis, right?’ Anna nodded, rather ashamed that that far more noble motivation hadn’t occurred to her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just … a bloke.’