The Chocolate Lovers' Diet (28 page)

I smile at him. ‘Then we’ll be very happy.’

Marcus fiddles with my watch, rubbing his thumb over it distractedly. ‘So why did your folks split?’

‘I think they got divorced more out of boredom than anything else,’ I say. I’ve never really talked to either of them about the nitty-gritty. Well, you don’t, do you? My mum would more than likely launch into a vivid description of my father’s shortcomings in the bedroom department and, frankly, that’s more information than I need. I love my parents and all that, but I don’t want to know
too
much about them. I settle for, ‘They were going through a bad patch.’

Ironically, my mum was fed up with my dad looking like an eighties throwback and persuaded him to update his image. He happened to try a new barbers where Myleen The Hairdresser gave him a bit more of a makeover than he’d bargained for. Quite what she saw in his greying comb-over I’ll never know. But then you can never really see your own parents as sex objects, can you? ‘Then Dad met someone else. Not to be outdone, so did my mother.’

My fiancé looks very worried about this revelation. Perhaps he’s thinking back to his own indiscretions.

‘It doesn’t have to be the same for us.’ I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘But we’ll have to work at it, Marcus. Good marriages don’t happen by accident.’

‘You’re right,’ Marcus says, but I can tell that something has switched off in his eyes. He laces his fingers through my hair and kisses me for the last time but his lips aren’t on fire any more. ‘We should get an early night.’

Then he walks off down the corridor and I watch him go. ‘See you at the church,’ he shouts over his shoulder.

‘I love you,’ I call out, but I don’t think that he hears me.

Chapter Sixty-One

I
’m lying awake on the bed staring at the ceiling. I’ve eaten the chocolate that was on my pillow. Not bad. Not great. A fairly poor quality chocolate, in fact, considering that it could
absolutely
be my last chocolate as a single woman. I should have brought a stash from Chocolate Heaven to keep me going. That’s a severe oversight on my part and it makes me wonder what else I’ve forgotten. Perhaps I had too much coffee too at dinner, because now I’m feeling wide-eyed and wired.

Down the corridor, Marcus is probably sleeping soundly. In the Honeymoon Suite, my dad and The Hairdresser are probably hard at it, as will be my mum and The Millionaire in the Presidential Suite – even though the latter coupling might need a little chemical enhancement. If it’s unpleasant enough to imagine your parents shagging, it’s even worse to think of them shagging other people – and
enjoying
it! Yuk. I try not to dwell on it. Yet all over the world people are in the same situation – sleeping, making love, lying awake worrying.

I slip onto my side and try to get more comfortable. My mobile phone is lying on the bedside table. It winks
at me tantalisingly. I wonder what Crush is doing now. Is he sleeping soundly too? Is there someone else in his bed? Is there any chance he could be lying awake thinking of me?

Picking up the phone, I fiddle with it. Despite my promises, I didn’t contact him after our discussion in the dodgy café. I had every intention of calling him to explain my feelings but, to be perfectly honest, I had no idea what to say to him. So I would have um-ed and ah-ed and generally fucked it up. Crush deserves more than that.

It’s three o’clock in the morning. This is the time of night when more people die, the time of night when drunken people phone up their exes and beg to get back together, the time of night when all manner of stupidity occurs. I know all that. So, before I can think better of it, I find Crush’s number. Hopefully, it will go straight to voicemail and I can leave a nice message explaining what a pillock I am, and that I hope he’ll be happy, and that I’ll miss him. Dreadfully. That kind of thing.

After three short rings, Crush picks up.

‘Hi, Gorgeous.’ He sounds very sleepy. So he still has my number in his phone.

‘I didn’t mean to wake you up,’ I say.

There’s a pause. ‘It’s three in the morning.’ I hear him suppress a yawn and it makes me smile. I’ve never been in bed with Crush – more’s the pity – but it doesn’t take a great feat of imagination to picture every inch of his body beneath the covers, the curve of his spine, his strong legs, how he’ll be propping himself up on one of his broad
shoulders. I can see him as if he were here, lying right next to me. My legs are restless and searching in the bed. ‘What did you think I’d be doing?’

‘I can’t sleep,’ I tell him.

‘Big day tomorrow.’

‘Yeah.’ I curl up in the duvet. ‘I shouldn’t be phoning you.’

‘Maybe not,’ Crush says. ‘But I’m glad that you did.’

‘Now I don’t know what to say.’

‘Tell me what you’re wearing,’ Crush says. ‘Are you naked?’

I giggle. ‘You’re a sick fuck, Aiden Holby.’

‘That’s better,’ he says with a laugh. ‘That sounds more like the Lucy I know and love.’

A gulp travels down my throat and my stomach lurches. ‘I’m wearing Winnie the Pooh pyjamas.’

‘Sexy,’ he murmurs. ‘I wish I could see them.’

‘This will probably be the last time that I contact you,’ I say. ‘I can’t ring you any more – it’s not fair on Marcus. We should both take each other’s numbers out of our contact lists.’

‘If that’s what you really want,’ Crush says.

‘I think it’s for the best.’

Aiden lets out a long, sad sigh. ‘So now what happens, Gorgeous?’

‘I hang up and that’s that. Tomorrow I get married.’ Why on earth have I started to cry? I sob quietly into the phone. ‘I just wanted you to know that I did love you very much.’

‘And I still love you, Lucy.’

‘I’d better go now.’ I wipe my tears on the arm of my Pooh pyjamas. ‘Goodnight. Sleep tight.’

‘Goodbye, Gorgeous. Have a nice life.’ And with that Crush hangs up.

Chapter Sixty-Two

D
arren’s assistant has already applied a pound and a half of make-up to my pale, tired face. Lancôme’s
Flash Retouche
has been out in force trying to disguise the dark shadows beneath my eyes and she’s making a fine job of turning me into a blushing bride. I’m sitting in my underwear, complete with stockings and suspenders, with Darren piling my hair up on my head, when the members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club arrive in force. They burst through the door, all smiles and giggling – and instantly my spirits lift. Darren is brushed aside as my friends all come over and kiss me.

‘How’s the bride-to-be?’ Nadia asks as she hugs me warmly.

‘Terrified.’ It’s not yet ten o’clock and my hands are shaking. My emotions are a whirling maelstrom. There’s a tremor in my knees that isn’t showing any imminent signs of abating. I think it’s best that I don’t tell them about my late-night call to Crush.

‘You have a right to be,’ Nadia states. ‘Getting married is a big deal. But you’ll be fine. Absolutely fine.’

‘I will. I will,’ I chant robotically. ‘I will.’

‘We brought supplies,’ Chantal says. ‘Open wide.’

I do and she pops a truffle straight into my mouth.

‘Oh,’ I sigh. The wonderful taste of Madagascar single plantation chocolate melts on my tongue. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. ‘Mmm. That certainly helps.’ This could be my very, very,
very
last chocolate as a single woman. I’d better enjoy it.

Marcus called me first thing this morning and told me that he loved me. I’ve been welling up ever since. Finally, a lone tear creeps out of my eye.

‘No crying on your make-up,’ Chantal instructs, whipping a tissue to the offending water with the alacrity of a speeding bullet. ‘Sniff it up. Sniff it up. You can only cry
after
you’ve said “I do”.’

I sniff it up. Heartily.

‘Sure you’re okay?’ Nadia asks.

My lip wobbles. Nothing much gets past that girl, so I might as well come clean. ‘I called Crush last night,’ I confess. What’s that thing about going to your execution with a clear conscience? Maybe it’s the same for a wedding. ‘He told me that he still loves me.’

The members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club exchange worried glances.

‘It’s cool,’ I say, holding up my hands. ‘It’s cool. You still need to get me to the church on time. We got things straight between us.’ My voice cracks very slightly. ‘We agreed that we wouldn’t see each other or speak to each other again. It’s only fair.’ At which point I burst into tears. I don’t give a flying fuck about my make-up. I just feel so miserable.

‘It’s nerves,’ Nadia says briskly. ‘You sit down and eat chocolate. Don’t get it on your underwear.’ She wraps me in a
fluffy towel and leads me to the edge of the bed, patting it as I sit down. I feel terrible that she’s had so much to cope with and she’s done it all so bravely and here’s me, turned into a complete jelly at the thought of marrying the man I’ve been professing to love for the last five years or more.

‘I’ll get tea sent up.’ Chantal heads to the phone. ‘And vodka.’

‘You are my best girls,’ I wail.

‘Darren can start on us,’ Nadia says. ‘You just take half an hour to calm down. What you need is something to distract you.’

I’ve had a good cry, two shots of vodka, three cups of tea and four chocolate croissants – which
definitely
has to be the last chocolate I eat as a single woman otherwise they won’t be able to zip up my blessed dress. Suffice to say, I’m feeling much, much better.

Jacob pops his head around the door of my room. ‘Are you all decent?’

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Nadia says. ‘But we’re all clothed.’

He comes inside, taking in the scene. ‘Wow!’ He gives us a beaming smile. ‘Don’t you all look great.’

The girls have all had their hair and make-up done now and are resplendent in tight silk numbers. Autumn’s dress is the colour of chewy caramels, Nadia’s wearing a rich shade of coffee and Chantal has on a dark, bitter chocolate. Jacob has gone for a chocolate theme – what else? My dress is white chocolate and, collectively, we look like a box of handmade delights. The man really is an angel and I have
long forgiven him his dodgy past. The bouquets have arrived – glorious confections of cream flowers, interlaced with chocolate-coloured ribbons.

I’m currently having my make-up repaired and am still in my underwear. I don’t care if Jacob gets an eyeful – actually, I puff out my chest and cross my legs seductively, hoping it makes them look slimmer. It might make him realise what he missed. But then I remember that he has seen lots of women in their underwear in a professional capacity and that this is just a different profession for him, so I give up with the vamp pose.

Flopping down on a chair next to me, Jacob asks, ‘Everything okay?’

I nod. I really think that it will all be fine. My histrionics were just a temporary blip, nothing more. If I don’t think about Crush – even in a friendly way – then everything will be tickety-boo.

‘The dining room is looking splendid,’ he assures me. ‘You’ll be bowled over. The florists are just finishing in the church and that looks amazing too. This is going to be one
hell
of a wedding.’

‘I hope you’re right, Jacob.’ I give him a brave smile. ‘Thanks for all your help. There’s no way I could have done this without you.’

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you to.’ He kisses me tenderly on the cheek.

‘Don’t smudge the make-up,’ I warn.

‘See you later,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there all the way making sure that everything is just perfect.’

We’re all ready and raring to go, yet there are more than three hours left to wait. Darren and his assistant have finished their work here, so they’ve gone off to do my mother’s hair and make-up, leaving us alone.

I’m swinging my legs, kicking my cream silk shoes against the fluffy carpet.

‘What do we do now?’ I say. It seems as if Jacob has been a bit over-zealous with his timetable. ‘We’ve got at least two hours to kill before the photographer arrives.’

‘We could give you a pep talk about marriage,’ Chantal suggests. ‘I’ve got a few tips on how
not
to go about it.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘That will only start me off all over again. Besides, Marcus and I had a little heart-to-heart last night. We both know that we’ve got to work hard at keeping on track, and we’re both prepared to do that. I know that the wedding day is all very symbolic and stuff, but I really do feel that this is the start of a new, more mature era in our relationship.’

My friend smiles at me. ‘I’m sure it is, honey.’

The clock in my room ticks loudly. I kick my heels a bit more and puff out a breath. ‘We could have had a lie-in.’

‘I guess Jacob’s left plenty of time for unexpected emergencies,’ Chantal says. ‘There’s not a wedding day that doesn’t have some little drama crop up.’

‘I should have brought some of Lewis’s board games,’ Nadia says. ‘Snakes and ladders would have kept us amused.’

‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with “C”.’ My eyes light on the remains of the box of Chocolate Heaven goodies.

‘No more chocolate, Lucy,’ Chantal tells me. ‘You’ll make yourself sick.’

‘As if!’

‘You’ll get it on your dress,’ Nadia adds.

‘I need something to do,’ I whine. ‘I’m just getting more nervous again, sitting here waiting.’

Then a mobile phone rings and we all jump sky high – Autumn more than any of us. She scuttles across the room to her handbag to find it. ‘Hello,’ she says, turning away from us into the corner.

We all crane to hear what she’s saying as we’ve nothing else to do. Then we pretend that we weren’t when she hangs up and comes back towards us.

‘I’ve just had some bad news,’ she says. Autumn turns to me, her eyes brimming with tears.

‘Don’t mess up your make-up,’ I warn. Chantal sweeps in with a tissue again. ‘The chance of any of us getting down that aisle without mascara tracks is looking slim.’

‘It might not matter,’ Autumn says. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to be your bridesmaid after all.’

Chapter Sixty-Three

‘
Y
ou've got a delivery to make? What kind of delivery? I want to know.’

Autumn drags a holdall out of the corner of the room. ‘This kind.’