Undertaking Love (10 page)

Things had gone from bad to hideous when a photographer from
The Herald
had turned up, having received an anonymous tip-off that there might be a story going down. Gabe had turned hostile, convinced that she’d called them herself to get more campaign coverage, by which point Marla had been too battered down to argue.

His evil receptionist had enjoyed the chance to practically throw her out onto the street, where even Dora had eyed her reproachfully as she swept up the glass on the pavement.

‘Jonny’s pretty cut up you know,’ Emily offered, swirling her wine around in her glass.

Marla shook her head and sighed. She and Jonny were chalk and cheese, yet somehow it worked and they’d become close friends as well as colleagues. Up until this afternoon, anyway. She hadn’t been able to hide her disgust when he’d showed her what was going on online, and though it was clear he realised with horror exactly how much jeopardy he’d placed the chapel in, it had been all she could do not to fire him on the spot. As it was, she’d sent him home to pull their website offline completely, and to retrace his steps, wiping absolutely every hint of the campaign from the net.

‘I’ll talk to him in the morning. If I ring him now I’ll say something I regret.’

Emily nodded.

‘How did you leave it with Gabe?’

Marla’s shoulders slumped even more.

‘I’m officially the wicked witch of the west over there.’

Marla couldn’t bear the fact that she’d lost her moral high ground. The village would turn against her pretty quickly if they believed that she would resort to mob tactics.

‘He definitely didn’t believe you?’

Marla shook her head. ‘Can you blame him?
I
wouldn’t believe me.’

Emily squeezed her friend’s hand.

‘It’ll be okay – honestly, it will. People around here know you a lot better than he does.’

Marla nodded and clung to Emily’s pragmatic common sense. ‘God, I hope so Em. I really hope so.’

‘What time is the gorgeous Rupert coming?’

Marla glanced at the big brass clock behind the bar.

‘Anytime now.’

The sooner the better as far as Marla was concerned. She was badly in need of a little TLC after the bashing she’d received from Gabe this afternoon.

They both looked up as the door swung open on cue, but it was Tom, not Rupert, who came in. He ruffled Marla’s hair as he squeezed behind her seat, beer in his hand.

‘Bad day at the office I hear, sweetheart.’

‘Yeah. Just a bit.’

His easy affection brought a lump to Marla’s throat. Tom was just about the nicest man in the world, and Emily was a lucky girl to have him. He obviously adored her, given the way he leaned in to kiss her lingeringly on the mouth as he pulled his chair in close.

Such a fleeting gesture, yet so laden with love that Marla had to look away.

The door swung again, and this time she wasn’t disappointed. Rupert shot her a cheeky grin as he sauntered over to their table and pulled up a chair.

‘Marla Jacobs, I didn’t know you had it in you. I am seriously impressed.’

He laughed and held his hand in the air to high five her. He dropped it again quick smart at Marla’s stony glare and Emily exaggerated head shake.

‘Hey, I was only kidding. You know that, right?’ He slid an arm around Marla’s shoulders and pulled her against his side, any trace of humour wiped from his face.

She forgave him instantly, leaning into his hug, grateful for his warmth and affection after the afternoon from hell. His smell was becoming familiar and she breathed deeply, looking for comfort.

‘Yeah, I know. Sorry. It’s just a bit raw, that’s all.’

‘Well, let me tell you something that might cheer you up again then.’

He released her from the hug to pick up the pint Bill put down in front of him and he savoured the creamy top on his beer slowly, keeping them in suspense.

Emily cracked first.

‘Come on then. Spill.’

‘Okay,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve arranged for a big wedding pull-out next week in the paper, and guess what’s going to be our star feature?’

Marla smiled, easily able to see where this was headed. At least Rupert was trying to help in a conventional way, unlike Jonny. All she wanted was a good clean fight.

‘The chapel?’ Emily supplied.

‘The chapel.’ Rupert repeated with a flourish. ‘We’ll photograph whichever wedding you’ve got on this weekend and do a nice big double page splash.’

Marla mentally rolodexed through the bookings to the wedding they had that Saturday. If her memory served her well it was a gothic affair, which should make for eye-catching pictures, if nothing else.

‘Where would I be without you?’ She smiled gratefully. Rupert slid his arm around her waist and planted a warm kiss on the side of her mouth.

‘Heading for bankruptcy, I reckon. Good job you’ve got me then, eh?’

Marla laughed for the first time since lunch.

‘I guess it is, yeah.’

The pub was filling up nicely, but a western-movie style hush fell over it a second or two later when Gabe and Dan came in, a study of perfection in biker’s leather and oily denim.

Marla sucked in a sharp breath and Rupert stiffened next to her, his fingers digging into her waist. Emily looked equally stricken by Gabe’s appearance, and Tom, the only one who hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Gabe, glanced quizzically around the table.

Behind the bar, Bill slid his glasses off and put down his newspaper. He pulled two pints of Guinness and placed them on the bar.

‘On the house, lads.’

Gabe studied the glasses for a long moment and the pub held its collective breath.

‘Thank you, Bill. I appreciate it.’

The noise level returned to normal as if someone had turned the volume dial, and Marla released the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

‘I take it that’s yer man then,’ Tom said. He nodded towards the newcomers as he took a swig of beer.

Emily followed his gaze and saw only Dan, even though there was a throng of people at the bar. She felt as if someone had dropped a concrete block on her chest and she couldn’t get her breath. The rational part of her brain knew that Tom was referring to Gabe, but his words still sliced through like an axe. She knocked her almost full glass of wine back in one go.

‘Can we go now, Tom?’ She was already on her feet and had her arms halfway into her jacket. ‘Please?’

Tom laughed.

‘Hang about, Em. I haven’t finished my beer …’ but Emily was already away across the pub. He pushed his chair back and stood up with a resigned grin.

‘Can’t wait to get me home.’ He shrugged. ‘Sex maniac. She’s killing me, man.’

He drained his glass and picked up his car keys.

‘Have fun, kids.’

He winked at Marla and Rupert. As he picked his way through the busy tables, Tom couldn’t help noticing the way Gabe’s friend turned to look at Emily as she passed. He felt a fierce stab of pride that she was his wife. He couldn’t blame other men for looking at her. Then Emily turned and held the guy’s gaze for a few seconds and, even in profile, he knew her well enough to recognize the look of ill-concealed panic on her face. Each second felt like a lifetime, until she whipped her head around and ran out of the door.

Two thoughts swam around in his head.

What was that all about?
And
Not a chance pal. She’s mine.

‘What was that all about?’ Gabe asked as the door swung shut behind Tom.

‘Not a clue. Probably fancied me.’ Dan shrugged. ‘Most women do, my friend.’

‘Did you not notice her husband was three steps behind her, man?’

‘Yeah, I noticed. But did
she
?’ Dan muttered darkly and waved to Bill for more beers.

Gabe was well aware that Marla was sitting across the room with the reporter from the meeting. That figured. They were probably hatching phase two of their hate campaign. He could see them reflected in the mirror behind the bar, and he flinched as the guy smoothed a stray lock of Marla’s hair back behind her ear.

This
was the boyfriend she’d mentioned? The tosser from
The Herald
? Christ, he’d credited her with better taste. But then in light of events this afternoon, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised.

He had to hand it to her. It had taken some balls to come over to the funeral parlour with her chequebook in hand ready to pay for a new window. He still couldn’t make up his mind whether he believed her pleas of innocence or not, but either way she’d proved that she had a brave streak a mile wide. Thinking back, he knew that he’d come down hard on her, but disappointment could do that to a man. Petty thuggery didn’t match up with the woman she’d become in his head, and she’d fallen off her pedestal with an even louder crash than the window.

He excused himself to the gents and found himself shoulder to shoulder at the urinal with Rupert, who’d followed him in.

‘Stay away from her.’ Rupert muttered, midstream.

‘I
beg
your pardon?’

‘You heard me. Leave Marla alone, or I’ll smear your fucking name in so much shit that you’ll be hounded out of the country, let alone the village.’

Gabe zipped his fly and turned to Rupert, who did the same.

‘Are you actually trying to
threaten
me?’ Gabe couldn’t decide whether to laugh at him or knock him out.

Rupert shrugged and turned to the mirror over the washbasin to fiddle with his artfully arranged hair. ‘Call it what you like.’

Gabe was having a bad day, and Rupert’s glib smugness made his fists itch. He stepped in close behind him and met his eye in the mirror. ‘You’ve got that much right. I will call it whatever the hell I like, and I will do whatever the hell I want, with whoever the hell I want. Have you got that?’

‘Tosser.’

Gabe sensed the scared posh boy behind Rupert’s Boden-poster-boy demeanour. ‘What is it that
really
bugs you, paperboy? Don’t you trust me with her? Or is it that you don’t trust Marla around me?’

Back in the bar, Gabe glanced over at Marla as he sat back down and found her watching him. Her expression gave him little clue of what was going through her head. Something serious though, going by her frown. She was probably wondering if he’d just killed her fop of a boyfriend in the loos. Even from across the other side of the room, he could make out the dark circles underneath her eyes and, despite the events of the day, he still wished he could smooth them away.

Crazy.

‘This has to be one of the weirdest weddings we’ve ever done.’

Emily glanced over at Jonny as she arranged the huge displays of dyed black and purple roses around the altar.

‘I love it. So dramatic …’ Jonny sighed as he wobbled around on the stepladders to adjust the fake cobwebs that shrouded the rafters.

‘Of course you do. It involves dressing up,’ Emily rolled her eyes and shuddered. ‘I’m not struck. It’s like a scene from
Night of the Living Dead
.’

It wasn’t Emily’s idea of romance, but then who was she to define love? She’d lost any authority on the subject the moment she’d allowed Dan anywhere near her. She admonished Bluey with a stern tut as he delicately pulled one of the black roses out of her artful display with his teeth.

Marla came through from the storeroom with her mouth full of hair grips and her arms full of heavy purple velvet, which they’d use to create the gothic aisle. Alaric and Gelvira weren’t your run-of-the-mill couple, but despite their ghoulish makeup and dark sense of fantasy, Marla had warmed to them straight away. They wanted a full-blown gothic extravaganza for their special day, and that was exactly what she intended to give them. The chapel looked resplendent in forbidding regalia, and Jonny was all too happy to conduct the ceremony decked out as the Grim Reaper.

‘How long have we got left?’ she yelled. It was tricky to make herself heard above the creepy organ music Jonny had stuck on the sound system.

Emily glanced at her watch. ‘Three hours or so? We’re on track.’

Marla joined Emily by the doors and together they surveyed the transformed chapel with a laugh.

‘It’s hideous.’

Emily nodded. ‘I know. Perfect, huh?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘At least there’s no danger of the funeral parlour upsetting these guests.’ Emily said, leaning back to glance out of the shrouded chapel window at their neighbours. ‘Looks like it’s all quiet over there, anyway.’

‘Let’s just hope it stays that way.’ Marla muttered.

She’d mailed a second copy of their bookings list to Gabe in the hope that he’d honour his original promise to do his best not to disrupt them, but after the fiasco with the window last week there could be no guarantees.

‘Jonny, you better get your gear on soon. The photographer from
The Herald
’s coming by early to take some atmospheric shots.’

Rupert had been as good as his word and arranged for the wedding to be covered by the paper. He really was a powerful ally to have on side.

‘Will you help me with my make up?’

Jonny batted his lashes at Emily.

‘Like you need it. You’ve got more eyeliner than I do already.’

Marla laughed and headed up to the office, glad of its plain white walls and stark cleanliness after the lurid scenes downstairs. The only thing that stood out on the bleached room was her black lace dress hanging behind the door and her blood-red skyscraper heels ready for the ceremony.

She hadn’t been able to stay mad at Jonny for long. Although he’d overstepped the mark by a long way with the campaign, she knew that his actions had come from a place of loyalty and affection. The way it had spiraled out of control had terrified the living daylights out of him. Over the last week she’d helped him to conduct a huge clean-up operation online, which was rather like trying to unpick the stitches of a very long scarf one by one. Finally they’d re-launched the chapel website with a huge banner thanking people for their support and officially closing the campaign. She could only cross her fingers and hope like hell that it was enough to put the whole affair to bed.

The fact that she wanted the funeral parlour closed down remained unchanged, but she wasn’t prepared to play dirty to get it.