Infatuation

by Claire Lorrimer

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

The death of Lucy Godstow's best friend Vanessa on the eve of Lucy's marriage to Guy Weaver was a big enough blow; but then Vanessa's elderly aunt Joan is found brutally murdered by an unknown assailant. Lucy and Tom, Vanessa's brother, have different reasons for thinking all is not as it seems, but new husband Guy is intolerably jealous of Lucy's ongoing meetings with Tom. Tom and Lucy were childhood sweethearts, until Guy charged into Lucy's life and swiftly swept her to the altar. There are things about Guy of which his new bride is unaware. He had been threatening Vanessa in order to keep dreadful secrets from Lucy. Marriage to a tall, handsome and wealthy man is not always one of bliss and happiness and many in the congregation secretly wish the wedding had never happened...

Release date: May 15, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

It was on the afternoon the marquee arrived, four days before Lucy Godstow’s wedding, that Vanessa realized there was a way after all that she could prevent it taking place. The idea, which came to her as Lucy’s mother Bridget Godstow outlined her plans for the wedding rehearsal, fell far short of the drastic action Vanessa would have liked to take – to wipe Guy Weaver off the face of the earth.

She had realized following the night he had raped her so savagely that murder was out of the question. The repercussions on those she loved and who loved her would be too awful to contemplate were she to be caught. She had been too traumatized at the time to report the incident or have the tests taken which would prove Guy guilty. Instead she told everyone her bruises were the result of a fall from the ladder she had been using when decorating the ceiling of the flat she shared with Lucy. Had Lucy not been away on the last family holiday she would enjoy before she left home, the whole horrible incident would never have happened. Although Vanessa devoutly wished it had not, there had been the vital benefit of discovering exactly what Lucy’s future husband was really like beneath the suave, man-of-the-world, caring individual he professed to be.

Vanessa now opened a new file on her laptop.

‘All ready, Aunt Bridget!’ she said. ‘Shall I start with the list of people who will be at the rehearsal on Friday?’

Bridget Godstow was not really an aunt but ever since her daughter Lucy had become best friends with Vanessa at their boarding school, she had taken on the rôle of proxy mother to the orphaned girl. At the age of eleven, the poor child and her brother, Tom, only two years older, had lost both their parents in a car accident. At the time they were living in Australia where they had no relatives. Tom had been sent to Switzerland to live with his godfather and Vanessa to their great aunt, a Miss Joan Lyford who was by then in her seventies. Although she had never been unkind to the little girl, she was unused to children and lived almost entirely for her bridge games. As a consequence, Bridget’s maternal instincts had quickly surfaced and Vanessa had become almost a fourth daughter. Lucy’s two sisters, Jemma aged six and Julia two years younger, were equally happy to welcome the quiet, sad little girl into their midst, and Jonathan, Lucy’s brother, ignored her just as he did the other three girls.

Bridget Godstow, a plump, matronly woman in her early fifties, looked admiringly at Vanessa who was proving a tremendous help with the wedding preparations.

‘You’re so clever, Vanessa dear, with that machine of yours,’ she’d said repeatedly, grateful for the lists. Vanessa had been keeping for her lists of guests who would be at the little local church for the ceremony; lists of those who would be coming to the house for the reception in the afternoon; and now she was making a list of those who would be at the rehearsal on the afternoon prior to the wedding.

‘The six of us, of course,’ she dictated. ‘You, Guy, the best man, who we’ve yet to meet; Guy’s father – he’s flying over from Spain on Friday morning and George is going to meet him.’

Vanessa looked up at Bridget’s flushed cheeks.

‘It’s down here that a taxi will pick Mr Weaver up at Gatwick at twelve-thirty. You thought Uncle George would be too busy with all the drinks to organize.’

Bridget sighed.

‘Which goes to show, wherever would I be without you and your little machine?’ she said. Her face suddenly clouded. ‘I wish we could have had the rehearsal in the morning, but the vicar said he simply couldn’t fit it in. Unusually he has a Friday-morning christening. Why do people want their babies christened in August, for goodness sake?’

‘So they don’t catch cold in winter?’ Vanessa suggested, smiling.

‘Yes, well at least we must thank the good Lord for sending us such wonderful weather for the wedding,’ Bridget conceded, ‘but whatever shall I give everyone to eat on Friday if it stays as hot as this? We don’t want smoked salmon as we’ll be having that the next day. I suppose we could go Indian and have a chicken curry. Perhaps not everyone likes it,’ she added doubtfully.

‘Then we could have tarragon chicken as well, so they have a choice,’ Vanessa recommended, her heart suddenly doubling its beat as Bridget voiced her suggestions for the meal. Here was the opportunity which she had been searching for and had failed to find until this eleventh hour, a way for her to put Guy Weaver very firmly out of action.

Vanessa was a newly diagnosed type 1 diabetic and had to inject herself with insulin four times a day – a tiresome routine but one which was necessary for her to stay alive. Her great aunt also suffered from diabetes, but the type 2 variety common in many elderly people, and she was able to control her blood sugar by using tablets and adjusting her diet. On one occasion, her aunt had forgotten she had already taken her daily dose and taken another. As a result she had suffered from a hypoglycaemic attack when her blood sugar level had dropped too low. Luckily her cleaner had been there and was able to telephone for medical help.

At that moment it flashed across Vanessa’s mind that all she had to do to carry out her plan to incapacitate Guy was to steal some of her aunt’s pills to crush into a powder and administer them to Guy mixed with some food on Friday. Hopefully they would make him ill enough for the wedding to be postponed. It was only a few weeks ago that she had read about a child being terribly sick after eating some of his mother’s pills thinking they were sweets. She knew exactly where her aunt kept her medication – usually a month’s supply in the bathroom cupboard. If she removed some her aunt would have plenty of time to replenish the medication and would just think she had miscounted the pills. She would have no reason to suspect that Vanessa had stolen them.

Yet again Vanessa found herself wishing she had the courage to tell Lucy outright that she was making the most terrible mistake! But Guy’s threats to harm her or one of the family she loved, had been too realistic – a hit and run ending Julia’s life as she walked back from school; a car accident such as her parents had suffered for her Aunt Bridget and Uncle George; a drug in Jemma’s glass before she went to one of her gigs. And for her, a fire in their attic flat from which, contrary to regulations, there was no fire escape. Guy seemed to have thought of everything. Now, at last, she realized there was a way she could prevent the wedding taking place on Saturday.

‘I’ve been thinking, Aunt Bridget,’ she said in as casual a voice as she could manage, although inside she was trembling with excitement. ‘Why don’t I cook the supper for us all after the rehearsal? I love cooking and curry is one of my specialities. In fact, I think I have several recipes.’

This was the kind of unselfish gesture Bridget was well used to from Vanessa. ‘But darling, you’ll be tired and you’re a bridesmaid. Maybe I can get one of the caterers …’

‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you go to any extra expense,’ Vanessa interrupted. ‘I heard Uncle George telling you this morning at breakfast that with the florist’s bill which came with the flowers, you were way over budget as it was without any extras. Besides, I’d love to do it. My contribution to the Big Day!’

Bridget shook her head.

‘You’ll be doing more than your fair share tomorrow!’ she said, aware that Vanessa had volunteered to help her arrange all the many bowls and vases of flowers now sitting in buckets of water in the shade of the big marquee. It had been erected very quickly and efficiently by the team of men who’d brought it together with enough chairs and tables for the hundred expected guests. The tent now stretched along the length of the lawn, its pretty gothic windows facing over the flowerbeds that were a mass of dahlias and gladioli. Lucy had opted for blue and white flowers inside the marquee and they had planned a little hedge of blue and white campanula to surround the small dance floor in the centre of the tent. Jonnie was going to act as the DJ and the younger members of the party would doubtless dance there until dawn.

Vanessa’s thoughts were very far from flower arrangements. She was still wondering how many of her aunt’s pills she would need to affect Guy badly enough for him to be taken to hospital – whether he would fall ill quickly or in the night. She did not want to give him so many that he actually died. Her purpose was only to get the wedding postponed. Enough crushed and concealed in a strongly flavoured dish like curry might just work. The effects would not be immediate – and when they did become apparent, he would in all probability be thought to be drunk if he was unsteady on his feet or his speech was slurred. It would be a viable assumption as Uncle George was planning Pimm’s to drink after the rehearsal and there would be wine with the meal.

Bridget’s voice brought Vanessa’s thoughts back to the present.

‘Do you think Tom will manage to come after all?’ she asked. Bridget was very fond of Vanessa’s brother, as were all the family, and before Guy had come on the scene, they had all supposed that one day he and Lucy might fall in love and get married. Although no one actually spoke of it, they all knew that Tom was already devoted to Lucy, and Vanessa had told them that he’d never had another serious girlfriend, although he was a good-looking young man with a great deal of charm. Lucy adored him, but openly, as she adored her sisters – especially young Julia to whom she was particularly close.

Bridget smiled, a warm feeling of affection flooding through her as she thought of her youngest. Plump, freckled, uncoordinated as a young puppy, Julia at fourteen was as outspoken as she was impulsive. She made no secret of the fact that she was madly in love with Tom and she had declared that if he would only wait for her to grow up, she was going to marry him if he didn’t marry Lucy. When Guy arrived suddenly on the scene, she was gleeful at first; but when Tom next visited and she saw how depressed he was, her natural kind-heartedness came to the fore and she started to make unfavourable comparisons between the two men. Guy was too old for Lucy, she announced. Lucy had only just come down from uni and, at thirty-five, he was more than ten years older – old enough to earn the nickname ‘Granddad’! Moreover, he lived in London in a flat and Lucy was a country girl who loved playing tennis and going fishing with Jonathan and Tom at Ardingly Reservoir and always had a mass of pets who needed gardens and walks. Besides that, Julia told her mother, Guy didn’t have any sense of humour. In fact he’d objected quite strongly when she and Jemma had been telling silly jokes. One in particular had sparked a really sharp rejoinder from him. It was about a matador who had told the bull to stand still so he could put his dagger in the right place. Before Jemma could relate what the bull said in reply, Guy had emerged from behind the Sunday paper and announced in a cold, hard voice, ‘If either of you had the slightest knowledge of the art of bullfighting, you would know better than to joke about it. We may not approve of the sport in England, but those of us who have lived in Spain have learned to appreciate there are far greater art forms than football, and bullfighting is one of them.’

But Bridget knew that wasn’t the only reason Julia disliked him, recalling the story she had heard. Julia and Jemma had taken the dogs for a walk one day. Lucy had gone shopping in Brighton with Vanessa, so Guy said he could do with some fresh air and he’d go with them. Suddenly, Widger found a myxomatosis rabbit. The dog brought it across the field and dropped the poor frightened animal at Guy’s feet. It was obviously close to death and the girls had known it wouldn’t get better if they took it home and nursed it because their dad had told them they always died once they got the disease.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll soon put it out of its misery!’ Guy had said.

He’d found a piece of wood on the side of the road and before Julia could look away he’d hit it. The blow wasn’t hard enough and to Julia’s horror, it had let out a heartbreaking scream. She had been appalled but Guy had just laughed and hit it again – and again, and went on hitting it long after it was dead. He hadn’t stopped until it was just a squashed, bloody mess in the middle of the road.

When he’d seen the two girls staring at him, he’d said: ‘Well, I had to do that – you can’t leave a half-dead animal, can you?’

Jemma had defended Guy at the time, saying he was absolutely right to make sure the poor little thing would not suffer any more, and no wonder his face looked funny; so would Julia’s if she had had to do the hitting.

‘But it wasn’t a sorry face!’ Julia protested. ‘I think he liked doing it, Jems.’

Bridget, despite this story, was completely won over by Guy’s obvious adoration of Lucy. At first, Lucy had refused to take him seriously and announced that she and Vanessa had just got their flat together in Brighton and started their new jobs teaching foreign students, so she had not the slightest intention therefore of giving it all up and getting married. But Guy had persisted and both Lucy’s parents considered that he would make an excellent husband for their somewhat wayward daughter. A partner in his father’s property development company in Spain, he was clearly very well off and Lucy’s life would not only be comfortable but luxurious. As George had reminded his wife, the couple would be well able to afford to have a family and Bridget would get the grandchildren she had craved ever since Julia, her baby, was school age.

It was of Bridget Vanessa was now thinking as together they planned the supper for rehearsal night. Melon with Parma ham for starters, followed by either the curry or tarragon chicken with rice and a green salad, and finishing with homemade raspberry ice cream flavoured with Cointreau. Having then decided upon the seating arrangements, Vanessa put away her laptop and tried not to think of Aunt Bridget’s crushing disappointment if she were successful in having the wedding postponed. Aunt Bridget had put so much thought and effort into it. As for Lucy …

Deliberately Vanessa closed her mind to Lucy’s feelings. Guy had arranged for them to have three glorious weeks in the Seychelles for their honeymoon and they were due to fly from Heathrow early on the morning after the wedding. If her plan went as she hoped, that, too, would be cancelled. Lucy’s beautiful wedding dress – strapless, ivory silk with lovely delicate beaded embroidery on the train – was hanging in a cotton wedding-dress bag on the back of Lucy’s old bedroom door. Her own bridesmaid’s dress and those of Jemma and Julia were in the wardrobe in the spare room. Lucy had chosen a pretty aquamarine blue for her bridesmaids, partly to continue her blue and white theme but also because it would look good on Julia with her red hair.

I am truly sorry, Lucy, she thought as Bridget went out to talk to the caterers who had just arrived with crates of plates, cutlery and glasses. I wish there were some other way I could do this. If only … if only I could warn you what Guy’s really like. I wish he had never come into our lives. We were all so happy before – you and the family and Tom and me. I wish I was brave enough to kill him so he can never, ever hurt you.

It was seldom any length of time went by when Vanessa did not thank Providence for bringing her and Lucy together all those years ago. Well-meaning as her Great Aunt Joan was, there was a mutual respect but no real love between them. When she had been most bereft, most lonely, Lucy had offered her friendship, which had deepened and endured throughout their school and university days. Afterwards, sharing the tiny flat in Brighton had been Lucy’s idea, like so many other good ideas she had for their joint pleasure, and with jobs in the same college, the future had looked quite wonderful – until Lucy had met Guy at a friend’s graduation party. Even then, the knowledge of how much she would miss Lucy once she was Guy’s wife had not been too distressing, believing as she did that Lucy was going to have an idyllic marriage. Lucy had promised Vanessa that she would be invited out to Spain where Guy’s father had a beautiful villa overlooking Marbella and that they would go on seeing lots and lots of each other.

‘You’re as dear to me as my own sisters, Van,’ she’d said. ‘Being married to my darling Guy won’t ever alter that.’

Remembering those words now, Vanessa shivered despite the heat of the August sun pouring in through the kitchen windows. As happened now so often at night, she relived the terrifying evening that had irrevocably changed her life.

It was mid July and Lucy was on holiday in Ireland – the last family holiday the six of them would have. In a month’s time, Lucy would be married to Guy Weaver. Vanessa as a matter of course had been invited to go with them but Tom had a week’s holiday and was coming to stay with her. Vanessa had not seen her much-loved brother since the previous Easter so she had opted to remain in Brighton, despite the fact that the popular seaside town was usually crowded at the start of the summer holidays.

As Tom was not due to arrive until the weekend, Vanessa decided to spend the two days prior to his visit decorating the sitting room. She had barely finished applying the second coast of paint when the phone rang. She wondered if it was Tom phoning her from Switzerland with a sudden change of plan. After hurriedly replacing the lid on the can of paint she was using, she picked up the receiver.

‘Is that you, Vanessa?’ a male voice enquired. ‘It’s me, Guy!’

Surprised to hear from him but hoping nonetheless that he’d been in touch with Lucy and had up-to-date news of her, she waited for him to tell her the reason for his call.

‘It’s just that I’m missing Lucy so desperately and guessed you were, too. I’m at a loose end up here and I wondered if I popped down to Brighton whether we could have dinner together somewhere.’

Astonished by the invitation which, when she hesitated to give a reply, he again repeated, Vanessa guessed he just wanted someone to listen while he talked about his absent love. She didn’t particularly feel like going out, still less with Guy. Although he seemed a nice enough person, it somehow seemed wrong for her to have dinner with Lucy’s fiancé.

‘It’s kind of you to ask me,’ she prevaricated. ‘But if you’re speaking from London, have you realized that it would take you over an hour at the very least to get here?’

She heard his chuckle before he said: ‘Of course I know. I’ve done the trip often enough. Anyway, I’ll enjoy the drive. It’s bloody hot up here and it has to be a bit cooler by the sea. What say we go to that nice hotel, the Old Ship? I’ve made some enquiries and heard the food is really good there. I’ve booked a room there for the night in case you can make it.’

Vanessa was surprised he’d gone to so much trouble. When she’d first met him Lucy said how wonderfully attentive and thoughtful he was, but that was only to be expected whilst he was trying to get her to marry him! Not quite sure why such a cynical thought should have come to mind, Vanessa tried to make amends by agreeing to have dinner with him.

‘I’ll book a table. Eight o’clock, do you think? Oh, and by the way, I’ll be phoning Lucy at seven so shall I give her your love? I can tell her you are going to stand in for her to cheer me up!’

Vanessa put down the phone and stood for a moment, wondering why she felt uneasy. Maybe she was being boring … old-fashioned, she told herself, but somehow it didn’t really seem right to be going out with Lucy’s fiancé. It was the kind of admonition Aunt Joan would make. Her aunt was very precise in the guidelines she had obviously felt obliged to make when Vanessa had reached eighteen. Her virginity was her most precious possession and no matter how attractive or appealing a boy might be, she must never, ever allow him to do more than kiss her or hold her hand. She must try always to go on dates in foursomes as chaperones were no longer fashionable. She must not flirt with men as inflaming their passions was most unfair since she had no intention of assuaging them. She must never, ever go out with a married man who would almost certainly try to seduce her. And so on! But as far as Vanessa could recall, she thought now with a smile, Aunt Joan’s strictures had not envisaged the situation of dining out with someone’s fiancé.

Suddenly, she wished Lucy were here to share the joke with her. It was what made their friendship so perfect – always seeing things the same way. She would have to tell her when she came home. Meanwhile, it was high time she stopped meditating and started to prepare for the evening ahead. She needed the bottle of white spirit to remove the paint on her hands – possibly even in her hair. She’d have a bath and wash her hair, which being quite long, would need time to dry. Then her one and only respectable dress needed a bit of the hem stitching and the whole thing ironing. She wasn’t sure whether Guy would mind if she went in jeans and a nice top, but a dress would be cooler as well as being a safer bet. That was another of Aunt Joan’s dictums – men much preferred feminine women in skirts rather than trousers. Still smiling, Vanessa went into the minuscule bathroom and forgot both Lucy and Aunt Joan as she turned on the shower.

The dinner did not go well. Although the food was delicious, Guy kept urging her to drink up and seemed not to take in the fact that as a diabetic, she really should not drink too much; and she’d already had one glass of wine when he called to pick her up at the flat. Not only was he drinking continuously, but also his conversational topics were very far from being to her liking.

At first, they both talked about Lucy, but after the main course had been eaten and cleared away, he began questioning her about their time at university; how many boyfriends they’d had? She thought this question a bit out of order however light-hearted his tone; but she laughed it off with a smile and a ‘None-of-your business, Guy,’ remark. But to her acute discomfort. . .