Maggie Kingsley - A Consultant Claims His Bride

‘Or Fiona’s Graham, or your Brian, Nell,’ Liz continued. ‘Loyal, dependable, every one of them. And speaking of Brian,’ the obs and gynae sister continued, ‘you must be missing him like crazy.’

‘I…I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me,’ Nell said desperately. ‘I’ve just seen…’

Nobody. She’d seen nobody, but she had to get away or Wendy’s leaving bash was going to have two sobbing members of staff as a sideshow.

‘Hey, no need to panic,’ Jonah said, his smile broadening as she elbowed her way through the crush of people in front of her only to walk straight into him. ‘I’ve got your drink.’

‘Give it to Liz or Fiona,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘But the party’s hardly started,’ he protested, and she shook her head.

‘It’s over as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Oh, come on!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s not like you to walk out on a slap-up buffet.’

His brown eyes were dancing and suddenly it was all too much for her—Brian’s email, her rotten day—and something inside her snapped.

‘You mean I’m a big fat pig who would go anywhere she could stuff her face,’ she retorted. ‘Well, thanks, Jonah. Thanks for nothing.’

The laughter in his eyes died instantly.

‘I didn’t say that,’ he protested. ‘I would never even think it. Look, what’s the matter with you? You’ve been stretched tighter than a wire all day.’

‘Why does there have to be anything the matter with me?’ she demanded, trying to push past him, but it was like trying to move a boulder. ‘Why do I always have to be happy Nell? Can’t I ever feel down, or miserable, or…or just plain fed up?’ Oh, Lord, if she didn’t get out of there soon she was going to burst into tears. ‘Get out of my way, Jonah.’

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ he said.

‘Jonah, if you don’t get out of my way, I swear I’ll stomp on your foot.’

He thrust the glass of wine he was holding into the hands of a startled passing junior doctor, then folded his arms over his chest. ‘Stomp away, Nell, because I’m not moving.’

He meant it. She could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, but she could also see concern on his features, concern and kindness, and the tears she’d been trying so hard to keep in check all day filled her eyes.

‘Take me home, Jonah,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Please. I just want to go home.’

Well, she’d done it now, she thought, seeing his eyes narrow. He was going to want to know why she was in such a state, but to her amazement he didn’t say anything. Not when he tucked his arm under hers and created a pathway for them towards the door. Not even when they travelled down together in the elevator or walked out of the hospital.

‘I’m sorry for shouting at you,’ she said with difficulty when they reached his car. ‘It was wrong of me, and I apologise.’

‘Nell, you don’t need to apologise to me,’ he said. ‘I obviously said something that upset you.’

‘You didn’t. Honestly, you didn’t.’ Tell him. Tell him what’s happened. But she couldn’t. ‘Can we go now?’ she said instead, and after a moment’s hesitation he nodded.

To her relief they drove in silence to her flat, but from the sidelong glances he kept giving her she knew it was only a temporary respite and, sure enough, when he drew his car to a halt, and she reached for the passenger door, he put out his hand to stay her.

‘Can I come in?’ he said. ‘Just for a minute?’

Part of her wanted to say no, that she was tired, that she didn’t want to answer the questions she knew he was going to ask, but the other part also knew she didn’t want be alone in her flat, surrounded by memories of Brian. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the night wondering how she’d screwed up, why he’d found somebody else when he’d said-he’d sworn-he loved her, and so she nodded.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’ she said after she’d unlocked her front door and ushered Jonah into her sitting room. ‘I’ve tea, coffee, or there’s a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge.’

‘A coffee would be good.’

He could have whatever he wanted just as long as he didn’t go, she thought as she went into her kitchen, switched on the percolator, then opened the fridge.

‘Are you sure about the coffee?’ she said, carrying one of the bottles of wine into the sitting room. ‘It won’t take a minute but I thought I’d try some of this. It’s supposed to be very good.’

Leastways, Brian had said it was when he bought it, and as he was never going to drink it now…

‘I’ll stick with coffee as I’m driving,’ he said, but as he watched her open the wine and pour herself a liberal glassful, a frown pleated his forehead. ‘Nell, I’ve known you for two years and this isn’t like you. Something’s clearly upset you and I want to know what it is.’

He wanted to know what it was. Fine, she would give him part of it.

‘My hair…’ She reached up and touched her short, straight bob self-consciously. ‘Jonah, the blonde highlights are fake.’

‘And very nice they look, too,’ he said with a smile as he sat down on the sofa.

‘Jonah, did you hear what I said?’ she said in exasperation. ‘My natural hair colour is brown. Plain, ordinary, mousy brown. The blonde highlights are fake.’

The frown on his forehead reappeared. ‘And what’s that got to do with anything? My sisters change their hair colour so frequently I have to ask them for an update before they visit otherwise I’d never recognise them.’

‘There’s more,’ she said, downing her wine in one gulp. ‘I was thirty-two last month, Jonah. Thirty-two.’

He looked even more puzzled. ‘And I’ll be thirty-six next February. So what?’

‘It doesn’t matter for you,’ she said, sitting down in the armchair opposite him and topping up her glass. ‘You’re a man. No matter how old and wrinkly you get, everyone will simply say you’re mature. I’m a woman and people are soon going to be calling me an old bat.’

He smothered a laugh. ‘Nell, I hardly think being thirty-two makes you an old ba—’

‘Jonah, I’m a thirty-two-year-old, fat, five-foot-nine inch female with dyed hair and boring grey eyes.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he protested. ‘Your hair is lovely, your eyes are beautiful, and you’re not fat. You’re statuesque, curvy.’

‘I’m fat, Jonah,’ she interrupted, ‘and do you want to know something? I hate the way I look. I want to be a size six instead of a size sixteen. I keep going on diets, but…’ she waved her hand expansively, sending part of the wine in her glass sloshing onto the carpet ‘…they don’t work, and you know why they don’t work? Because I cheat. I end up so damned hungry I cheat.’

‘Nell, there is nothing wrong with the way you look,’ Jonah declared. ‘You’re fine just as you are.’

Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffed them back. ‘You’re a good friend, Jonah, a good mate. Are you sure you don’t want some of this wine? It really is very good.’

‘You obviously think it is,’ he said dryly as he watched her empty her glass, ‘but I’m driving, remember? Look, why don’t you phone Brian? I know he’s going to be back in six months, but you’re obviously missing him.’

‘He’s not coming back.’ There, she’d finally said it, and now she had his full attention.

‘You mean he’s staying in the States?’ he said slowly. ‘You’re going out there to join him?’

‘No, I’m not going out there to join him. He…he’s found somebody else. This…’ She stared down at her engagement ring for a second, then pulled it off and put it down on the coffee-table. ‘I shouldn’t be wearing this because he doesn’t want to marry me any more. He wants to marry somebody called Candy, and I…I…’