Something Borrowed Page 3

  ‘Lots.’ Vintage Hollywood was proving a lot more enjoyable to explore than frogs promised to be. Frank Sinatra songs, movie quotes and high glamour were just perfect for these two film buffs; hiring out the Movie Museum for the wedding was icing. Chloe had pulled in a lot of favours with an old friend from uni to get the date they’d wanted. ‘I’ve sourced some great little place cards for the tables—you can have them like cinema ticket stubs, or old camera film, or even clapperboards. I’ll show you when we meet next week. The photo booth’s all booked too. They’ll come to the reception area at three, set up and be ready for play straight after the first dance ’til ten. They always go down well—such fun.’

  Fun. That word again. Why hadn’t she thought about doing something like this with Jason? She’d been determined to have the whole fairy tale catastrophe, the dream she’d had since she was a little girl; the church, a solemn service, a serious place to commit their serious love for each other.

  And in hindsight, she perhaps might have been a teeny weeny bit of a stickler for detail. Perfection, actually. Okay, she might have exhibited slight OCD tendencies in the minutiae, and that may have irritated him a little. Maybe if she’d dressed up like a dead movie star he might have hung around long enough to say I do. ‘We need to look at the seating plan too.’

  ‘Oh, yes… about that…’ Jane suddenly sounded a little panicked. ‘Er, well… look, I have to run now, Chloe. Talk soon?’

  ‘Sure? Okay. Don’t stress; we’ve got it all in hand. Bye.’ A little strange, but then most brides panicked about the seating plan. Who to seat next to Great Aunt Madge who smelt just a little bit of wee? Or Uncle Fred, who had a bad case of wandering palms.

  Another beep. Chloe glanced at her laptop screen. Another message: DaydreamBeliever? Very cool name. How about I give you something to dream about?

  Then another: You look familiar. Location West London? Local to Portobello, maybe? I think I’ve seen you in the market? I work in the Chatswood Arms, gangly bloke, glasses, receding hairline (don’t judge me). Chat me back. We could have a coffee? Wine? Meaningless sex?

  Wait a minute. This wasn’t spam at all. How did he know she was in Portobello? How did the other guy know she had brown eyes? What exactly were they looking at? This was—she clicked through—this was a dating site. I’ll kill her. She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. ‘Jenna!’

  ‘Hey, perfect timing. I was just about to call you.’ Her sister’s voice reverberated down the line, all shiny and happy. ‘I’ve just been talking to Stacey Taylor about the flowers and everything and she was saying she was thinking about venues, and they want their reception—’

  ‘What in hell’s name is matchyou.co.uk?’

  ‘I don’t… Oh.’ Jenna dragged in an audible breath. ‘Listen, this is important… about Stacey… she said they wanted to meet with you and—’

  ‘Why is my photo on it? I believe in positivity and kindness…? What on earth? Since when? You’ll be saying I want to dedicate myself to achieving world peace and to run a foster home for stray puppies next. Oh—you just did. Great. This isn’t Miss bloody World. It’s my life.’

  Her sister had the decency to sound contrite. A little. ‘Ah, that. Yes. Welcome to my Love Plan. I decided you need to get out more. No more Cassidy Curse. Goodbye, angry Chloe. Hello, happy clients.’

  ‘Hello insanity, more like. Love Plan? Are you mad? Have you any idea what kind of shitstorm is happening? One of these men knows me.’

  Jenna laughed. Actually laughed. ‘That’s good then, isn’t it? And he likes your profile enough to contact you, so you’re already one foot in the saddle. No awkward small talk?’

  ‘No talk at all. Remove me from this website immediately. Pleeease.’ She didn’t want to be the object that someone else assessed and then found wanting. She’d had enough of that. ‘I don’t want to be judged, or have to be nice to someone just so they’ll like me, or pretend I love rugby or motorbikes just to be accepted. It feels like I’m in a shop window and men are looking at me deciding whether or not to buy. I’m not for sale, Jenna.’ After a few random clicks, Chloe found herself hammering the keyboard a little too intensely. ‘Is there an easy way to log out?’

  ‘I… um… don’t know.’

  ‘Great. Thanks. Thanks a lot, Jenna.’ Chloe breathed in and out slowly, utilising the yogic breathing she’d learned at that one and only hot yoga class she’d attended. Not the most successful attempt at relaxation. She’d clamped her hand over her right nostril, inhaled through the left and then woken up in the reception area outside, being revived by a no-necked weightlifter who smelled of medicated rub. Turns out hot yoga can drop blood pressure pretty quickly.

  Yeah, in hindsight it had been a rough few months.

  She clicked a few more times and found a photo of herself in the centre of an animated love heart made up entirely of men’s photographs. Today’s love matches. Apparently. ‘I’m surrounded by men, and believe me, that’s not remotely as attractive as it sounds. One of them has the username of ‘StiffRoger.’’ A shudder ran down Chloe’s back. ‘That’s wrong on so many levels.’

  Jenna’s voice was laced with a soothing smile. ‘I didn’t say you’d meet The One immediately. These things take time. Let’s talk later. When you’ve calmed down? If—?’

  ‘I haven’t time for this. I have a long to-do list today, sourcing place cards and Hollywood-themed favours. Trying to design a contest flyer for the wedding show. Confirming the band for Jenkins and Tomlinson.’ She paused as she stopped at the next point on her list and her heart fell. ‘Ahem… researching frogs. I’m trying to make our business work. For you and Mum and Evie.’ She was trying her best, and she didn’t need do-gooder distractions. She’d got a handle on it all. She had.

  ‘Right. Yes. Of course.’ There was a pause, and then her sister was back. ‘Look, here’s another thing… don’t be angry—’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Er… Stacey’s insisting we go to Vaughn’s to talk about potential menus and dates.’

  That shudder just intensified down her spine. Perfect. Just perfect. ‘Vaughn’s as in Vaughn Brooks? So arrogant he named his restaurant after his favourite chef—himself. She wants to go there? Why there all of a sudden? We talked about somewhere in the city. I was just about to confirm Home House. She liked it there; she said it was perfect. We haven’t got much time to get this organised and by some miracle they had a space on the twenty-first. But they had other couples booked in to have a look too—’

  ‘Yes, I know…,’ Jenna butted in. ‘Vaughn’s just picked up another award. There was a review in the Sunday paper, and Stacey saw it. By all accounts, it’s a fabulous place. Whitewashed brick walls and crystal chandeliers. Intimate and beautiful. Outstanding food. Vaughn’s restaurant is apparently quirky but perfect.’

  ‘Unlike Vaughn the man. Who is arrogant and conniving. He said to that journalist that Jason and I had been a bad match from the start. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d talked Jason out of marrying me in the first place.’

  In fact, next to Jilting Jason, Vaughn Brooks was on Chloe’s list of men she’d like to kill. It was a list of two, and it wasn’t strange at all that they were related.

  So it was more than her ego was worth to go there and negotiate a deal that would advantage him in any way. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she’d accosted him with a bunch of flowers at St Catherine’s Church altar and would wear that mortification forever.

  She clutched at the only straw she could think of. ‘He doesn’t do weddings.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Right this second.’

  Jenna sighed. ‘Oh, Chloe, honey, he does do weddings, actually. Stacey rang him while she was here. She was so excited; she had the review in her sticky little hand. He said they could have the service in his walled garden if she wanted. They have a canopy for rainy days. He has some time this afternoon before they open for dinner and said he could squeeze her in
. I said that would be okay. It is okay, right? I mean, we have to at least allow our clients some independent thought?’

  ‘Not if it messes with my head.’ Chloe squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. But what choice did she have? Keep the customer satisfied no matter what the personal cost. The clutched-at straw moved ever further from her grasp. ‘You’ll come with me? Safety in numbers?’

  ‘Ah, no. Evie has Ballet Tots at four thirty. He wants Stacey there at five, timing’s all wrong.’

  ‘Traitor. Matchmaker. And now you want me to smile sweetly at Vaughn Brooks, too? Double traitor.’

  Jenna sighed. ‘Hey, he wasn’t the bad guy there. At least he actually turned up at the church; give him a break. And I’m sorry about matchyou.co.uk. I was trying to help, honestly. It was so easy in the olden days when people made the match for you.’

  ‘This is not Pride and Prejudice, Jenna. This is my life. Mr Darcy is not going to walk through a pond for me.’

  ‘It was a lake, actually, and more’s the pity. Because it’s a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman, in possession of a teeny misfortune, must be in want of a bloody good shag. Or just a date. Some fun?’ She laughed. ‘Sometimes I get carried away with ideas and don’t always think things through. I didn’t mean to upset you, really. Truth is, I’m worried about you. I love you, and I don’t want you to be so down in the dumps.’

  ‘Oh.’ There was a little clutch at Chloe’s heart. Jenna had meant well. Even if the emails had given Chloe a bit of a panic. But her family needed to learn she could handle her love life on her own, or, in other words, avoid ever having one again. There was no way she was going to risk everything on a man. Bad enough that her business was breaking, but that was nothing in comparison to how her heart had felt when Vaughn Brooks had walked up the aisle with that smug yet pitying look in his eyes. Her whole life had stopped then. Everything had broken, and she was only just starting to feel she had a handle on things. Surely only a masochist would ever risk that kind of hurt again? ‘Oh, it’s okay. I know you were trying to do a good thing. Just unsubscribe me, please?’

  ‘Consider it done.’ Jenna’s voice was upbeat again. ‘So, go on, girl. Face your demons and go to Vaughn’s. You just need to look him in the eye once and then it will all be forgotten.’

  ‘Never in my whole life will I forget. But if Stacey wants to go, then who am I to say no?’ Great. A meeting with a man who everyone thought she’d tried to disembowel with white roses, silver pine cones and a delicate but not overpowering smattering of heather.

  And now she had an inbox relentlessly bleeping with guys who thought she was interested in having a life. She wasn’t. Things were getting just a little too out of her control for comfort. The last time that had happened, it had ended badly.

  Just ask Vaughn Brooks.

  JENNA

  Five years ago…

  Sender: Jennacass567@gmail.com

  Hey, Nick!

  Sorry my first email arrived out of the blue. You must have had a shock! Thanks for taking the time to reply. No, it doesn’t seem like five minutes since we were at St Peter’s, never mind five years! I wasn’t really in that ‘cool’ group at school for long—they ditched me as soon as they found out I bought my uniform from the second-hand shop. But you weren’t to know any of that. You seemed to stay out of our way a lot. I guess we didn’t have much in common back then, and that group really was a collection of little bitches.

  But yeah, your mum said you’d signed up for the army graduate officer scheme and been gone two years already! As I said in my last email, I knew you were into war gaming, but I couldn’t believe you’d actually joined the army. Hero!

  Shame we lost touch when we left school. I remember how you and I used to have a laugh in concert band back in Year Seven. I have to be honest, though, I haven’t touched the clarinet since! Anyway, when I bumped into your mum a few months ago at a friend’s housewarming, it was such a funny coincidence that I thought I’d write to you. I’m glad you think it’s okay if we write to each other every now and then.

  It sounds pretty tough wherever you are. I appreciate you can’t tell me any details, but wow, camel riding sounds great! Good to hear you can have some fun in your downtime. I can appreciate too, that it gets frustrating just sitting around and waiting for something to happen. I’d hate that. I can never sit still for long.

  Your girlfriend sounds nice, although it must be tricky when you’re deployed to different places—how do you ever get to see each other? I presume you must have met her while you were ‘at work’? Is that allowed? (You dark horse, you!)

  I went to the St Peter’s five-year reunion last week, and it was full of the old faces. What can I tell you? I’ll try to remember… Oh yes, Ayesha Patel got into Harvard to do a master’s in physics! Can you believe it? Well, I can. She was always so much better at sciences than any of us. And Ged Foster is a reporter on the TV lunchtime news. Amazing! Every time I see him, I remember the day he got drunk on the spiked punch at the prom and vomited all over my feet. I bet the BBC wouldn’t have taken him on if they’d known that! Mr Pritchard has finally retired. About time too! He must be nearly ninety.

  We’ve all decided to meet up once a year from now on. I hope you can join us one day!

  Nick, I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. It must be hard losing someone you’ve become close to. You said you’d trained with him, so you must have known him a long time, and I can imagine it’s pretty intense living conditions out there, so you’re in one another’s pockets all the time. Friendships must get deep pretty quickly. I’m sending you heaps of hugs and love. You know where I am if you want to rant. Please feel free.

  Are you planning on coming home soon? You sounded a bit fed up with army life. Can you leave? I don’t know what the rules are, but I seem to remember someone saying you have to sign up for seven years?

  And finally… Drum roll… You’ll never believe the juicy gossip today………………………………

  I’m getting married!

  Ollie proposed. OMG, it was the most romantic thing, ever. We were on a day trip to Brighton and in a really fancy restaurant. He made a toast to ‘us’ and then got down on one knee. In front of the whole restaurant! I was gobsmacked. I mean, really. I wasn’t expecting it at all. But I love him so much. He’s just perfect in every way (he’s your typical tall, dark and handsome. He has a building company and says one day he’s going to build me a house. Okay, I know you just did a gagging action. Sorry.)

  Of course, I said yes! My sister, Chloe, is a wedding planner—I think I told you in my brief first email? She’s just starting out, so I’m one of her first clients. And, of course, Mum is going to make my dress. I thought I might try my hand at doing the flowers. It’s something I’ve always been interested in and a bit different to working as a hairdresser. Anyway, I imagine that’s all too much information for a soldier on active duty and who is probably not interested in such domestic things… so, I’ll go.

  Every time I hear about the Middle East on the news, I get nervous. Stay safe.

  Jenna x

  CHAPTER 3

  VAUGHN’S RESTAURANT was on Portland Road, a nice brisk walk away on a blustery spring afternoon. A weak sun filtered through high, thin clouds casting the antique shops, clothing merchants and bustling cafes in a magical halo of soft light. As she walked, Chloe tried to get rid of the tightness in her chest, focusing instead on her surroundings and the peace of mind she got being in this slice of Notting Hill.

  ‘Hey, Chloe, love! How are you?’ Don, one of the antique shop owners, walked past, takeaway coffee in one hand, a horse racing newspaper in the other. He gave her a big smile. ‘Cheer up, love, worse could happen.’

  Could it? What could be worse than going to a meeting with the man she’d assaulted on her wedding day? ‘Yes. Yes. Have a nice day, Don.’

  Next, it was the lady from the Chinese restaurant, sweeping out the front of her shop. She nodded, gr
inning. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi.’ Chloe smiled and waited to cross to the sunnier side of the street.

  Two young skateboarders skimmed down the centre of the road, slapping their boards on the concrete as they came to a halt to let her cross. ‘Age before beauty, right, miss?’

  ‘Watch it, you two.’ Despite Vaughn Brook’s presence in the area, she loved this place. The friendliness of the people, the fresh edge of bars and mismatch of trendy stores, the buskers and their eclectic choice of songs—which weren’t always to her taste, but added a definite buzz and a smile to her step.

  She liked the eccentricity of the market, the way each day had a different feel, a distinct personality; the quiet of the week and the bustle of the weekend with tourists snapping endless photos and local shoppers hoping to find a bargain. Jason had suggested, a few times, that they move out to somewhere cheaper, to somewhere with a community. Couldn’t he see that, despite being in a big bustling city, there was a real community right here?

  The trees along her route were coming to life again after a long, cold winter; tender, burgeoning buds promising blossom in a month or so. Daffodils had given way to tulips brightening the regimented Edwardian buildings, creating a colourful path. Despite all this, Chloe still felt a little like Dorothy on her way to Oz, surrounded by amazing things yet with nothing in her heart but the anxiety of trying to find her way back to safety again.

  Vaughn Brooks. Just her luck.

  She located the restaurant in a parade of shops selling chic and not cheap knickknacks, next to an organic butcher’s and a juice bar. Exquisite wrought iron railings separated the first-floor apartments from the ground floor businesses. Vaughn’s stood proudly in the centre of the parade with pristine white canopies hanging over the shop front, the lettering of his name painted in a swirl of flamboyance on the canopy fabric and across the windows. A cluster of tables and chairs on the footpath gave it a distinctly Mediterranean feel.

  Chloe stole a look at the menu on a board outside the door. Twice cooked pork belly, Chinese spiced duck… Which, in any other eating establishment, would sound wonderful, but right now gave her heartburn.