The Unexpected Consequences of Love (19 page)

“Oh my God,” Tula wailed when the red open-top Mercedes finally crunched to a halt on the gravel outside the hotel. “You're late! Where have you
been
?”

“Getting gas. There was a line.” Riley flashed his trademark carefree smile. “Hey, don't panic. We're leaving too early anyway.”

If you were a punctual type of person, was there
anything
more frustrating than having to travel in the company of a nonpunctual one? Tula had triple-checked with Google: from St. Carys to Brecon was one hundred eighty-seven miles, and the journey took four hours. The wedding was due to start at three, and she'd factored in an extra hour for safety. Which was why she'd told Riley to make sure he was here no later than ten o'clock.

It was already ten fifteen.

Riley saw her check her watch and said, “Calm down.”

“I told you. It takes at least four hours to get there.”

“According to Google. But since I
don't
drive like a little old lady in a bonnet, I bet I can do it in three.”

Tula exhaled; there was a limit to the amount of complaining she was allowed to do. Riley was helping her out, after all. He was also driving, which was good of him, even if this was only because she knew he couldn't bear the prospect of spending hours cooped up in her rickety old car.

She forced herself to relax. “Okay, sorry. I just hate being late for things.”

“You won't be, I promise. And you're looking fantastic, by the way.”

“Am I?” Mollified, Tula looked down at the geranium-red dress she'd discovered just yesterday in the vintage shop in one of the narrow cobbled lanes behind the esplanade. It fitted like a dream, made her look a bit Audrey Hepburnish, and exactly matched her favorite red shoes. Modesty aside, she was looking pretty amazing.

It was also really nice to be told you were.

“Is it linen?” said Riley.

“Yes!” Even more impressed, she lovingly stroked the skirt of the dress. “I can't believe you know that! I've never had anything linen before.”

“You need to change.” He was shaking his head.

“What? Why?” Horrified, Tula stared at him.

“For the journey.” He grinned. “Linen creases like nobody's business. It'll look awful if you wear it now. Change into something else and put the dress on just before we get there. That's what Marguerite always does before an event.”

“Oh God, really? But we're already late…”

“We're not. And you want to look good in front of your friends. Go and change,” Riley ordered. “It'll take less than two minutes.”

Two minutes later, Tula raced back downstairs wearing flip-flops, denim cut-offs, and a gray-and-white-striped T-shirt. She waved the shopping bag containing the dress and shoes and said, “Won't it get creased up in here?”

“Yes, it will. That's why you're going to lay the dress across the backseat, along with my suit.”

“Oh. Right.” Tula shook the dress out of the bag and did as he said. There, much better.

“Look at our clothes, all cuddled up together. Don't they make a great couple?”

“Don't even think about it.” She briskly tucked the bag containing the shoes into the corner.

“There, sorted.” Riley ostentatiously tapped his watch. “Can we finally set off now, please? Otherwise we're going to be
late
.”

***

They made their way inland, passed Okehampton, then reached Exeter and joined the M5. The sun continued to shine; speeding along in the Mercedes with the top down, they were drawing envious glances from fellow travelers, and Tula felt herself begin to relax. She had her best sunglasses on and her hair was streaming out behind her, movie-star style. Riley was a skillful driver. He was also good company. It was going to be a fantastic day.

“Okay, we need to get our stories straight.” She had to raise her voice to be heard above the noise of the car engine and the air rushing past them. “We got together just a couple days after I moved down here, and it was pretty much love at first sight.”

“So far, so true. What's my name going to be?” Riley looked hopeful. “Can it be Cedric Moose Hufflepuffington the Third?”

“Let's stick to the truth wherever we can. We just need to know a bit more about each other, in case people ask questions. Now, favorite music,” Tula demanded.

“Barry Manilow.”

“No, really.”

“Really. He's amazing. Can't beat a bit of ‘Copacabana.'”

She rolled her eyes. “The whole point of this exercise is that I
don't
end up a laughingstock. Favorite film?”

“
Amélie
.”

“Are you serious?”

“Ha, what am I, some sort of girl? Anyway,” he said cheerfully, “you already know my favorite film.
Star
Wars
.”

Oh God.

“Fine. Now, I want you to have a proper job.”

Riley looked appalled. “What kind of proper job?”

“Something that sounds impressive. How about corporate banking?”

“I don't know anything about corporate banking. And they might. Can't I be an international spy? Like James Bond?” An eyebrow went up. “Oh, come on, Mish Moneypenny, pleashe let me be a shpy.”

“Because that wouldn't sound made up at all. No,” said Tula. “That's stupid.”

“I could be a brilliant world-class surfer.”

“What don't you understand about the words
proper
job
?”

“Fine, then,” said Riley. “I'll be a research scientist specializing in clinical neurophysiology and electroencephalography.”

“Say that again?” Tula blinked; it was like hearing a small child suddenly launch into fluent Russian.

Riley rattled the words off again and winked. “I know. Pretty good, eh?”

“Just a bit. Where did you get it from?”

“It's my party trick. Last year of college, I shared a flat with a guy who did that for a job. It was a great pick-up line, because no one ever had a clue what it meant. He just told them he had the ability to know everything that was going on in their brains. It never failed to impress. So I learned a bit more about it, and the two of us used to go out on the pull together, pretending we were
both
research scientists specializing in clinical neurophysiology and electroencephalography. And let me tell you, it worked like a charm every time.”

“But what does it mean, exactly?”

Riley shrugged. “Doesn't matter. You just make it up, say anything you like. Nobody knows any different.”

“Fine.” Tula gave up; if anyone could bluff their way through a bizarre job description, it was Riley. “But make sure—
oh
shit…
”

Ahead of them, brake lights were coming on. Riley slowed the car. Within thirty seconds, three lanes of traffic had ground to a halt and Tula's intestines had wound themselves into a tight, anxious knot. There must have been an accident up ahead.

“Why does this always have to happen to
me
? I
knew
we should have set off earlier.”

“Okay, deep breaths. See all these cars?” Riley gestured around them at the gigantic traffic jam. “It's happening to everyone else too. And look on the bright side: at least we aren't the ones who had the accident.”

Which succeeded in making her feel ashamed, even if he was probably only laying on the guilt trip to divert attention from the fact that it was his fault they were late.

“If we'd left at ten, we wouldn't be stuck here now.”

“You're right.” Riley nodded. “We might have been involved in the crash. We could be lying injured or dead now.”

See? Bastard.

“Of course. We're still alive. Hooray for us. We're
sooo
lucky.” She exhaled. “How long do you suppose we're going to be stuck here?”

“The first rule,” said Riley, “is there's no point in worrying about something you can't do anything about.”

“That's the stupidest rule I ever heard. You're telling me that if you were in a plane that was about to crash, you wouldn't be worried about it?”

“Okay, plane crashes are different. Although there still wouldn't be any point in worrying. It's not going to help. Anyway, open the glove compartment.”

“Why? Do you have a mini motorbike folded up in there?”

“Better than that,” said Riley. “Licorice candies. We can have a picnic.”

“I don't like licorice.” Tula pulled a face.

He reached across her and opened the glove compartment himself. “Brilliant. More for me.”

Police cars and an ambulance whizzed past them up the hard shoulder. The minutes ticked by. Riley ate his way through most of the bag of licorice candies and Tula impatiently played solitaire on her phone. After thirty minutes that felt more like thirty hours, the traffic began to move again at approximately one mile per hour. Another half an hour later, they finally crawled in single file past the site of the accident, in which a trailer had tipped onto its side, shedding a full load of hay bales.

Not a multicar pileup, then. Hopefully the driver was all right.

“We'll be fine. I can make up the time, no problem,” said Riley as the Mercedes gathered speed and they resumed their journey. Before long they'd be passing Bridgwater, then Weston-super-Mare, then Bristol…

Twenty minutes later, Riley murmured, “Okay, we could have a slight problem.”

Tula's head shot up like a meerkat's. “What? What kind of a problem?”

“Think we've got a flat.”

“A flat what?”

He gave her a look. “Well, it isn't a flat can of lager.”

“We've got a flat tire? Oh my God, stop the car!”

“Not completely flat. It's just feeling a bit heavy. There's a services ahead; we'll pull in there and get it sorted.”

“I can't
believe
it,” Tula fretted. “This is crazy. How long's it going to take to change the tire?”

“Don't get wound up. Not long at all.”

Having slowed right down, they took the next exit and crept into the service station. Riley parked in a distant corner, where there was enough room to perform the changeover.

Out of the car, they both stood and surveyed the visibly flat tire.

After twenty seconds of surveying, Tula said, “Are you mentally
willing
it to inflate? Because that probably isn't going to work.”

This earned her another look. Finally, Riley opened the trunk and took out the necessary bits of equipment. Then paused again.

Tula said, “We haven't got all day.”

“Okay, there's the jack. Why don't you do it?”

“Because it's not my car. And I don't know how.”

“Look, shall we call AAA?” Riley asked.

She turned to stare at him. “You mean
you
don't know how to do it either?”

He exhaled. “It's my phobia, okay?”

“You have a phobia of changing tires on cars? Tell me you're joking.”

“I was seventeen, I'd just passed my test, and I was driving on my own up to Scotland. At one o'clock in the morning I got a flat tire. The car was old, it was dark, I couldn't see where to put the jack, and it ended up going through a rusty bit. The car crashed down on my arm and broke it. So there I was, stuck on a deserted road for the rest of the night. And that's why I have a phobia about changing tires on cars.”

“So what do we do now?”

Riley said, “I told you. Call AAA.”

Tula wanted to cry. “But how long will they take to get here? It could be
hours
.”

He spread his hands. “It might not.”

“Oh my God, this is—”

“Hello there! Problem?”

Tula swung around to the dusty red builder's van that had just pulled up behind them. A thirtysomething male with curly fair hair was surveying her with bright-eyed interest from the passenger seat.

“We have a flat tire and he doesn't know how to change it.” If she was selling Riley down the river, she didn't care.

“No? Nice car.” The man jumped out of the van and admired it. “Want a hand?”

“That would be fantastic!” Oh, the
relief
. “That's so kind of you… We're on our way to a wedding in Wales and we can't be late…”

“No problem at all. We can do that for you, can't we?” Curly hair checked with his companion, who was tall and bald. Neither of them were what you'd call lookers, but they had nice cheery faces.

And
they
weren't scared to change a tire…

“We've got time.” The bald one checked his watch. “We can manage it. Don't fret, Cinderella, you shall go to the wedding.”

Tula clasped her hands in gratitude and decided she loved them both.

Next to her, Riley said, “That's great. Thanks so much.”

The two men set to work as a team. They knew exactly what to do and they got on with doing it. Realizing that the next bathroom break could be a while away, Tula said, “Back in a minute.” She headed over to the service station building, leaving them chatting about cars to Riley.

By the time she returned, five minutes later, the job was done and the two men were driving off. The curly-haired one leaned out of his window and called, “Bye, love. Have fun at the wedding!”

“We will! Thank you so much!” She waved back at them before jumping into the Mercedes.

Riley, already revving the engine, asked, “Happier now?”

“Yes, I am. Thanks to them. Red-van men to the rescue.” Tula fastened her seat belt. “Aren't some people just lovely? So
kind
.”

“They did ask for payment.”

Oh
. “How much?”