The Wedding-Night Affair

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When she looked back, several seconds later, she was once again under control. ‘What’s done is done,’ she stated brusquely. ‘Let’s not hash over ancient history, Philip. Just tell me what you want me to do about your mother and your wedding.’

He didn’t answer her straight away, considering her at length from behind his sunglasses till her irritation table rose to dangerous levels.

‘Will you be in trouble with your partner if you lose this job?’ he finally asked.

‘Probably,’ she snapped

‘Then do it.’

Fiona automatically shrank from the idea.

‘Come now, Noni, it’s no big deal. It’s not as though we mean anything to each other any more,’ he said dismissively. ‘As you just said, our marriage—such as it was—is ancient history. We don’t have to tell anyone who you really are. I’ve never told Corinne about you, and Mother will never recognise you. On top of that, you’ve been offered double your usual fee. You’d be a fool to knock it back.’

His cold pragmatism put her mind—and her emotions—back on track. He was right, of course. She’d be a fool to say no. And she was no longer a fool, either over money or men.

‘You’ll have to practise calling me Fiona,’ she pointed out drily.

‘No trouble. Fiona suits you better these days, anyway.’

Fiona gritted her teeth. ‘And you’ll have to practise not being sarcastic.’

‘I wasn’t being sarcastic. I was just saying it as it was.’

Fiona bristled. ‘You don’t like the way I look?’

‘Does it matter what I like? My mother thinks you’re the ant’s pants. That must give you great satisfaction.’

‘It does, actually.’

‘Then that’s all that matters. She’s the one you’ll be working with most of the time. The groom has very little to do with wedding preparations.’

‘True.’ She’d never agree otherwise.

‘Of course I am a little curious as to how you achieved this stunning transformation, and how you came to be a partner in a highly successful business. The last I heard of you, you were married to some truck driver.’

Fiona’s mouth dropped open. ‘How...how did you know about that?’

His mouth smiled, but his eyes remained a mystery behind those increasingly irritating sunglasses. Yet, at the same time, she was grateful for her own.

‘Curiosity sent me looking for you after I finished university,’ he explained. ‘I didn’t find you but I did find your father. He seemed happy to tell me about your marriage to a trucking mate of his, a man named Kevin Kirby. That’s why I called you Mrs Kirby when we were introduced just now. But you soon put me straight about that! Since you’re a little young to be a widow, I gather there was a divorce?’

‘You gather right.’

‘Your decision again, Fiona?’

‘It was, actually.’

‘What went wrong?’ he asked. ‘You certainly couldn’t say you were from two different worlds on that occasion.’

‘No. I certainly couldn’t,’ she returned, her voice as hard as her heart. ‘The bare truth is that Kevin wanted me to stay home and have children, and I didn’t. Our divorce was quite amicable. He’s now married again with a couple of kids.’

‘And you’re on your way to your first million,’ he mocked.

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ she snapped.

‘Nothing, I guess. If that’s all you want out of life. Is that all you want nowadays, Fiona? Money?’

‘A little respect goes down well. But money’s good. The money I earn for myself, that is.’

‘Ahh. A truly independent woman. Very admirable. I dare say you live alone these days?’

‘I do.’

‘But you date, of course. Celibacy would not be your strong point.’

‘Nor yours, Philip,’ she shot back at him.

He laughed. ‘Touché. So, are you sleeping with this business partner of yours? What was his name? Owen something or other?’

‘I have no intention of answering any questions about my personal life,’ came her cool reply.

‘You’re not asking Fiona impertinent questions, are you, son?’ Kathryn said wearily as she seemed to materialise beside Fiona’s shoulder, bending to slide a tray onto the table. It held an elegant white coffee pot with three equally elegant white coffee mugs surrounding it. A matching jug held cream, no doubt, and the crystal sugar bowl sparkled in the sun.

‘Don’t take any notice of him, dear,’ Kathryn went on as she sat down between them. ‘Once a lawyer, always a lawyer. They like giving people the third degree, even innocent ones. I sometimes feel sorry for the witnesses Philip cross-examines.’

‘You’re a criminal lawyer?’ Fiona exclaimed, taken aback. She’d presumed he’d gone into corporate law, in his father’s company. That had certainly been his father’s plan for him.

‘Philip’s beginning to make a name for himself in court, aren’t you, dear?’ his mother said proudly.

‘I’ve had some modest successes recently.’

Kathryn laughed softly. ‘Now who’s being modest? How do you take your coffee, Fiona?’

‘Oh... um... white, with one sugar, please,’ she answered, a little distractedly, almost adding ‘the same as Philip.’ Goodness, she was a mess!

‘Just to put your mind at rest, Mother,’ Philip said casually while Kathryn was pouring the coffee. ‘It’s perfectly all right by me for Fiona to do the wedding. Now that I’ve had a chance to talk to her, I’m more than impressed with her credentials, but especially her professional attitude. I recognise a high achiever when I hear one. I’m sure she’ll do a top job. As for her fee, and the contract, I’ll take care of that personally. You live too far out of town to be bothered with that. I presume you have an office somewhere in the city, Fiona? Perhaps a business card as well?’

Fiona hated the thought of him dropping in to the office, but what could she do? She could hardly say as much in front of his mother. ‘Not in the city exactly,’ she told him, ‘but not far out. We rent a suite of rooms above a couple of shops at St Leonard’s, along the Pacific Highway. And, yes, of course I have a business card.’

‘Of course,’ he murmured, and she shot him a savage glance, which, unfortunately, he couldn’t really see. But she was about to remedy that!

Taking off her sunglasses, she scooped up her handbag from where she’d dropped it beside her chair, snapped it open and dropped the glasses inside. Then she opened the side pocket where she kept her business cards and took out three, handing one to Kathryn and two to Philip.

‘Perhaps you could give one to your fiancée,’ she suggested with a sickly-sweet smile. ‘Which reminds me, Kathryn, you said something earlier about the wedding date only being ten weeks away, and the bride going to be absent overseas for a lot of that time? Is that right?’

‘Yes, Corinne does voluntary work for one of those world charities for children. Her best friend is employed by them as a nurse. Unfortunately, Corinne organised this trip to Indonesia before Philip asked her to marry him, and she doesn’t want to let her friend down.’

‘How very commendable,’ Fiona remarked, while privately thinking it was still an odd time to be going away. ‘Well, if that’s the case, then there’s no time to waste, is there? I should meet with the bride very soon and find out exactly what she wants. It doesn’t give us much time.’

‘I’ll get Corinne to ring you tonight,’ Philip offered. ‘On which number? Your mobile?’

‘No. I have a firm rule never to use my mobile on a Sunday unless I have a wedding on. Otherwise I never have any peace. Here, give me the card back and I’ll jot down my home number.’ She extracted a pen from her bag and added her personal number to the two already on the card.

‘What time would be best for you?’ Philip asked after she’d handed the card back to him.

‘Any time before eight-thirty.’

‘Going out, are you?’

Actually, Fiona rarely went out on a Sunday night. She liked to curl up on front of the telly and watch one of the Sunday night movies which always started at eight-thirty. During the ads she did her nails and got her clothes ready for the working week ahead. Today she’d already done her manicure, and tonight they were re-running one of her all-time favourite films.

The slightly mocking tone in Philip’s voice, however, stung her into lying.

‘Yes, I am, actually,’ she said, and found another of those sweet smiles for him.

‘Anywhere special?’

‘Not really. Just visiting a friend.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘I think Mark’s a little old to be called a boyfriend.’

‘How old is he?’ Philip persisted.

‘Late thirties.’

‘What does he do?’

‘Philip, really!’ his mother exclaimed, and threw Fiona a look of helpless exasperation. ‘See what I mean? Lawyers! They can’t help themselves.’

‘I’m just making conversation,’ Philip said, sounding innocent. But Fiona knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was deliberately trying to goad her. And he’d succeeded.

But no way was he going to know that.

‘It’s perfectly all right, Kathryn,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘I don’t mind. Mark’s a doctor,’ she directed, straight at Philip. ‘A surgeon. We met at a dinner party...oh, about six months ago. We’ve been dating ever since.’

Actually, it had only been three months. It just seemed like six. Mark had all the superficial qualities she found attractive in a man, being tall, dark-haired and good-looking, as well as well-read and intelligent. He was also more than adequate in bed.

But his vanity was beginning to grate and, even worse, he was starting to hint that it was time he settled down and passed on his ‘perfect’ genes. She’d been going to break with him this week, but now revised that decision. Mark was best kept around till Philip was safely married and out of her life once more.

Fiona felt confident she no longer loved Philip, but there was still an unfortunate chemistry there between them. She could feel it sparking away every time she looked at him. She suspected Philip could feel it too, and resented it as bitterly as she did. That was why he was taking pot-shots at her personal life.

‘So where did you meet Corinne?’ Fiona asked, deflecting the conversation away from her personal life and back onto Philip’s.

‘I can’t rightly remember. At some charity do she organised, I think.’

‘It sounds like she does a lot of charity work.’

‘She does.’

Which meant she didn’t have a real job. A rich man’s daughter, obviously. Well, what had she expected? Philip moved in those kinds of circles.

‘How old is she?’

‘Twenty-four.’

Just as she’d thought. Young. ‘Blonde?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Again, just as she’d thought. Philip had told her once how much he liked blonde hair.

‘Pretty, I’ve no doubt.’

‘Very.’

‘She’ll make a lovely bride,’ Kathryn joined in warmly. ‘It’s a pity her mother isn’t alive to see her. I went to school with her mother, would you believe? But she died when Corinne was a little girl. Corinne’s father is George Latham. He’s a state senator You might have heard of him?’

Who hadn’t? George Latham was not a shrinking violet, either in size or personality. He was also filthy rich. Or his family was. Yep, Fiona had this wedding tagged correctly. It would be society though and through Owen would be so pleased.

A sudden beeping had Philip standing up and fishing an extraordinarily small mobile phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and, flipping it open, placed it to his ear. ‘Philip Forsythe,’ he said as he walked off to one side.

Both women picked up their coffee cups and began to sip, but Fiona could still hear Philip’s side of the conversation quite clearly.

‘That’s great... No, no, I wouldn’t mind at all, actually... All right, Corinne... See you soon, my darling.’

He walked swiftly back to the table, but stayed standing while he snapped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.

‘That was Corinne,’ he said. ‘She’s feeling a bit better and wants me to come over and babysit. I couldn’t really say no, given she’s leaving in a week or so. Sorry about lunch, Mother, but you and Fiona will still have a lovely time together, planning the wedding of the year.’