Undertaking Love

Chapter Twenty-Five




Gabe ran the iron over his black shirt. His mobile phone was cradled in the crook of his shoulder as he tried to call a cab at the same time. He wished he’d never mentioned the fact that they’d now been open for three months. Melanie had pounced on it like a vulture and insisted that the whole team should go out and celebrate. He’d humoured her, and left her in charge of organising something, and now here he was, heading into town to meet Melanie, Dan and the pallbearers for dinner at some fancy restaurant. She’d made the arrangements and invited everyone before he’d even got wind of it. He’d tried hard to hide his surprise; all he’d had in mind was a swift half down the pub, not a full-scale dinner. On the flip side, he was glad that Melanie enjoyed work enough to go to such trouble.

He put the iron down as the switchboard operator muttered an unintelligible greeting against his ear.

‘Hi. Taxi to Franco’s please. Soon as possible.’



Franco’s was one of those chichi restaurants with glitzy chandeliers and mushroom suede banquettes, and on a different day in different company Marla would probably have loved it. But sitting around the table that evening, she felt uneasy. Their party had swollen to nine with the late addition of Dora and Ivan; Emily and Tom had threatened to drop out and Marla had become desperate. In the end they made it anyway, but hey ho: the more the merrier.

Brynn sidled up to Marla as they walked through the double glass front doors at Franco’s.

‘What a fabulous smell,’ he murmured, his mouth far too close to her ear for comfort.

God, please let him mean the food and not me, Marla prayed silently.

And please don’t let him order a nice Chianti, either, or I’ll insist he sleeps somewhere other than my house tonight.

‘Jonny!’

Marla waved as she spotted her saviour lounging in the bar area, looking particularly splendid in a leopard-skin shirt, a lurid blue cocktail in his hand.

‘Well don’t you look lovely, darling.’

He smiled and kissed her cheek with a nod of approval towards her close-fitting aubergine silk dress, which was held up on one shoulder with a glittering brooch. She’d opted for all-out vintage glamour tonight in an effort to prove to her mother how sorted her life was. She was sophisticated, and successful, and she had an attractive, normal man on her arm. Although, to be honest, Rupert’s behaviour since the accident with Bluey had been anything but normal. He’d been on edge and overly attentive, but maybe she was reading too much into it, because she wasn’t feeling good about their relationship. She just wanted things to settle back to the no-strings-attached relationship they’d had at the beginning. Back then he’d been fun and sociable, and she’d enjoyed his company.

Why did it always have to become more complicated?

He seemed happy enough tonight, thankfully, and she had to confess she was glad to have him there. He was by both nature and breeding a ‘social animal’. Between him and Jonny, conversation was guaranteed to flow easily.

Marla felt conspicuously on show as they took their seats around a circular table in the centre of the room, like they were the after-dinner cabaret act. Given that their party included a sex therapist, a taxidermist and a gay wedding celebrant, the other patrons of the restaurant would be well within their rights to expect something of a performance. Please don’t let them get one, Marla prayed as she sat down.

Her daily quota of prayers had risen significantly since her mother’s arrival – impressive for someone who didn’t really have faith. It just made her feel better to ask someone, anyone, to intervene and come to her rescue if the going got too tough. Her mother had only been around a few days, and already Marla’s arms ached from the effort of juggling balls, trying to maintain the illusion that she was sorted. It wasn’t that Cecilia was judgmental. It was more of a personal battle to prove that she wasn’t going to reverse up the same emotional cul-de-sacs as her mother.

She shot a glance across at Brynn, the latest case in point.

He’d found himself perched between Dora and Rupert. She wasn’t sure who she felt most sorry for. Possibly Brynn, which spoke volumes.

The group had already started to yak between themselves and not so much as glanced at their menus. At this rate, it would be a long, long evening.

‘Shall we order?’ Marla attempted to steer the group in the right direction.

Cecilia took this as her cue and cleared her throat with a dramatic cough as she stood up.

‘Could I just take a moment to thank you all for being here this evening?’

Marla smiled. Her mother was in her element when she was the centre of attention.

‘I feel truly blessed to be here with my daughter’s special people. You’ve all made me feel very welcome,’ she gushed, and fluttered her ringed fingers at her throat. ‘At this rate I won’t want to go home!’

She squeezed Marla’s shoulder to a flurry of ‘aaah’ from around the table, and Marla arranged her face into what she hoped looked like a smile to mask her inner horror at the thought of her mother staying forever.

‘And can I also just add a huge good luck to my darling Brynn before his speech at the taxidermy expo tomorrow. You go, honey!’

She raised her glass down the table towards her fiancé.

A mildly bewildered silence fell across the table until Jonny leapt into the breach feet first.

‘So, Brynn. Taxidermy. Tell me, what’s the biggest cock you’ve ever stuffed?’

Everyone around the table gasped in unison and stared from Jonny to Brynn like tennis spectators. Brynn, for his part, appeared completely unperturbed by the question as he paused for a moment’s thought and chewed on his bread roll.

‘Well, Jonny, I guess that would have to be a bull. Boy oh boy, was he a cracking specimen. Well over two foot long.’

Brynn held out his hands to demonstrate and Jonny’s eyes boggled with excitement. ‘Why do I suddenly feel so inadequate?’ He cackled and crossed his legs.

‘No need at all, Jonny my love,’ Cecilia squawked from down the table. Marla groaned, shut her eyes, and wished for death. Her mother was always eager to don her sex therapist hat. She cast a longing look towards the door. Could she get away with a loo break yet?

Cecilia pointed a long red nail at Brynn.

‘Brynn honey, be honest. Don’t I always tell you that girth is more important than length?’

Brynn turned beetroot, casting a glance down at his own trouser department.

‘I mean,’ Cecilia leaned forward and dropped her voice to a stage whisper and they all leant in a little. ‘I, for instance, am terribly small –’ she glanced at her lap with an exaggerated grimace ‘– down there.’

Marla, who had heard this spiel many times before, waited for the requested earthquake or alternative divine act to strike her mother and shut her up.

‘Anything more than a few inches would just hang around outside in the cold.’ She threw her hands up and nodded sagely at her stunned-into-silence audience. ‘Girth wins every time. A man can never be too wide.’

Dora smiled fondly across the table at her husband. ‘My Ivan’s hung like a donkey.’

Ivan stuck his thumb up at his wife and patted his groin absently as he reached for the butter.

Marla glanced at Tom, who had tears of laughter coursing down his cheeks. He raised his glass in salute. ‘This is hands down the best dinner I’ve ever been to in my life.’

Johnny whistled under his breath and shot an excited look at Emily. ‘Don’t look now, but Gomez and Morticia just walked in.’

Marla followed his gaze to the doors. Crap. That was it. She was done with praying. She cowered behind her oversized menu and hoped desperately that Gabe wouldn’t spot her. She flicked a glance at Rupert. Things had only just settled back into an uneasy truce between them, she wasn’t sure they were on an even enough keel to handle being in the same room as Gabe just yet.

She risked a quick look around the menu to see who Gabe was with.

Oh. My. God.

Was that his receptionist?

Marla scrutinised the woman in the clinging black dress with her hair piled up and too much make up on. It was! It was Melanie. Surely Gabe wasn’t seriously dating that hideous, dog-murdering girl? But then, why would they be out for dinner á deux at Franco’s, if he wasn’t?

Crap. Melanie was looking their way.

Look away, look away, look away. But of course, Melanie didn’t look away. She tipped her head to the side and met Marla’s gaze with raised eyebrows and a tiny smile. What was that look in her eyes? Was it smugness, or triumph maybe? A horrible mix of both, Marla decided, burning up with hatred.

She murdered Bluey. She’s a horrible manipulative little cow bag, and she murdered my dog. What the f*ck was Gabe thinking? And did he not think it was unethical to fraternise with his staff? He ought to watch his back. Melanie was the sort of woman who would cry sexual assault the minute he stepped out of line. Marla sniffed and tried to concentrate on the menu, although the idea of food was beginning to make her queasy.

Meanwhile, realising that she’d lost her audience, Cecilia turned to see who Jonny and Emily were craning their necks to get a look at.

‘Who are they, honey?’

She elbowed Marla and nodded over at Gabe and Melanie. Marla feigned ignorance.

‘Err … I’m not sure.’ She glanced pointedly at her mother’s menu. ‘Have you decided? I think I’m going to have the salmon.’

Cecilia wasn’t fooled. ‘Marla, who are they?’ she hissed. ‘Ooh, they’re coming over. Introduce me.’

Marla sunk lower in her chair and chanced a look at Rupert, whose thunderous expression confirmed that he had also clocked Melanie hauling Gabe across the restaurant.

Jonny leapt to his feet – ever the genial host despite the fact that it wasn’t even his party. The gentle way that Gabe had handled Bluey’s death had left Jonny with a new-found respect for Marla’s adversary. He reached out and shook Gabe’s hand. ‘Gabe.’

Marla was at least heartened by the way he dismissed Melanie with a curt nod.

Cecilia was out of her seat and bobbing like an excited child as she waited to be introduced.

Gabe glanced around the table like a watchful lion sizing up the enemy. His gaze came to rest on Marla just as her mother delivered a sharp kick to her shins to make her stand up.

‘Gabe. This is a surprise.’ She placed her menu down slowly and stood begrudgingly next to her mother. ‘This is my mother, Cecilia.’

Her ingrained good manners demanded that she make introductions at the very least.

‘Mom, this is Gabriel Ryan. He runs the funeral parlour. You know, the one right next door to the chapel.’

She shot her mother a warning look and Cecilia frowned for a second. She’d heard enough about the High Street battle to be aware that Gabe and Marla were not the best of friends.

Please don’t say anything ridiculous, Mom. Just say Hi and let them return to their table.

‘Oooh. I’ve heard a lot about you, and all bad, you naughty young man!’ Cecilia’s eyes danced as they always did in the presence of an attractive man. Marla should have known better than to hope family loyalty would trump good looks.

‘Come on over here and let me fraternise with the enemy!’ Cecilia’s laughter tinkled as she threw out her arms to beckon him closer.

Naughty young man? Fraternise with the enemy? Marla was instantly transported back twenty years to schoolyard fights. Her mother had never fought her corner then either, especially if the kid in question had a good-looking dad. But Marla was all grown up these days, and she was going to kill her mother for this. She’d let Brynn stuff her too, for good measure.

Gabe’s smile couldn’t have been more awkward as he made his way around the table and kissed Cecilia’s overly powdered cheek.

Marla watched in horrified fascination as her mother fluttered her false lashes and swooned under Gabe’s attention. The fact that this particular good-looking man was trying to wreck her daughter’s life was clearly not reason enough to refrain from flirting.

‘Good to meet you, Cecilia. Marla tells me you’re to be married soon?’

Marla’s toes curled as she peeped at Rupert through her fringe. She hadn’t talked about her mom with Rupert before this visit, so her obvious confidence in Gabe was not likely to go down well. Oh dear. He was purple-in-the-face kind of angry. Please don’t make a scene, Rupert.

‘But then he’s never asked you about your family either, has he?’ the little devil on her shoulder prompted.

‘Please, come join us. We’re having a bit of a party,’ Cecilia asked.

‘We’d love to, thank you,’ Melanie piped up and beamed at Marla’s mother.

‘We would?’ Gabe shot her a quizzical look.

Melanie leaned in and cupped her hand around Gabe’s ear for privacy.

‘There’s been a bit of a hitch with the others, they went to the wrong restaurant,’ she whispered.

It was a toss up for who looked more mortified, Marla or Gabe. Shock robbed them both of the power of speech for a crucial moment, and Cecilia jumped in and beckoned the waiter over and organise two extra chairs next to her own.

‘And who is this delightful creature?’ Cecilia enquired, her eyes on Melanie.

Delightful? Marla reached the end of her tether. ‘This is Melanie, mom. She’s the one who killed Bluey.’

Melanie blanched beneath her make-up and Rupert coughed nervously.

‘Marla, darling, that’s umm, not...’ he flicked a glance between Marla and Melanie. ‘Well, not strictly fair.’

Why. Thank. You. Rupert. His lack of public support stung like a slap.

Tom raised his glass again, merry as a mad monk on too much wine and not enough food. ‘A toast.’ He paused until everyone had quietened down to listen. ‘To Bluey.’

‘Who’s Bluey?’ Brynn hissed to no one in particular as everyone reached for their glass.

‘Marla’s Great Dane. Melanie ran him over.’ Emily supplied as she topped up her wine glass with more water.

‘Lovely big boy he was,’ Dora said, her lip quivering so much Brynn was moved to upend the wine bottle into her glass and pushed it towards her.

Ivan nodded and pointed a crooked index finger at Brynn. ‘I’ll tell you something. He’d have given your bull a run for his money. Huge todger. Spotted it when he piddled on my roses.’

Brynn clapped his hands in delight and looked over at Gabe with hopeful eyes.

‘You haven’t still got him in the deep freeze have you, Gabriel?’

‘No, he bloody well hasn’t!’ Marla banged her glass down on the table. With as much control as she could muster, she shot out of her chair to make a break for the sanctuary of the little girls’ room. She would have made it, had she not barrelled headlong into a strong pair of arms instead just a few feet from the table.

‘Marla, I thought it was you.’

She looked up, and one glimpse of the familiar, craggy face of her ex-stepfather Dr Robert Black was enough to make her crumple against his crisp white shirt.

He was an unexpected and comforting lifejacket in a stormy sea, and she clung on tight.

‘Robert?’ Cecilia’s voice quivered from behind them, stripped bare of her trademark confidence.

Robert smiled warmly at his ex-wife. ‘Cecilia. Long time no see.’



When Marla returned to the table some minutes later, her main course was cold and her seat was occupied by Robert, head to head in quiet conversation with her mother. Marla couldn’t help but notice the way her mother leaned her body in towards him, or how her face had softened in his presence in a way that had nothing to do with the candles flickering on the table.

On Cecilia’s other side, Melanie looked up from her salad, giving Marla a sly wink over Gabe’s dipped head.

Marla comforted herself with a split second fantasy of gouging out Melanie’s eyes with one of the dainty silver fish knives that lay close at hand.

Perhaps Brynn would like to pop them into his pocket to dissect later. On second thoughts, maybe not. No doubt they’d be full of putrid, evil stuff that would splatter the walls if he sliced into them, because Melanie’s smug look was laced with pure bromide.

Robert spotted Marla behind him and jumped up to fold her into another quick hug. He held her at arms length and looked her over with a concerned frown.

‘Alright now, sweetheart?’

She blinked quickly as a fresh platoon of tears marched eagerly up her tear ducts. Left, right, left, right! Fall back! Fall back! His kind, fatherly tone threatened to unpick the good the five minutes she’d just spent deep breathing with Emily in the ladies’ had done. She smiled, her eyes overly bright.

‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ she answered. Robert had been more of a fatherly presence in his few short years as Cecilia’s husband than her own dad had been in a lifetime.

‘You too, honey. Call me soon, yes?’

Marla squeezed his hands and nodded.

‘Who are you here with?’ she asked, keen to steer the conversation into less emotional waters. Behind her, Cecilia leaned forward to catch the answer to the question she probably hadn’t dared to ask herself.

‘It’s a work thing,’ Robert said. ‘Bit dry, to be honest. Was a relief to spot my favourite girls over here … my favourite girl.’

He tailed off and corrected himself with an awkward smile. ‘My favourite girls’ had always been his term of endearment for Marla and Cecilia, and it was clearly inappropriate now. Hearing it then was almost enough to summon the tears legion back to duty.

Brynn shot around the table and screeched to a halt behind Cecilia’s chair. It was a tactical error. Standing near Robert only served to highlight the fact that Brynn was a head shorter and a darn sight less attractive.

‘Brynn Holt. Taxidermist. And, Cecilia’s intended.’

He slicked hair back into place and held out his hand towards Robert.

‘Intended for what?’ Jonny called. ‘A glass display case in the cellar?’

He earned himself a high five from a rather drunk Tom and a sharp elbow in the ribs from Emily.

Robert suppressed a smile.

‘Dr. Robert Black. Gynaecologist. And ex-husband number five.’

‘Oooh, excellent,’ Tom said, brightly. ‘You should be able verify Cecilia’s tiny fanny claim, then.’

Gabe spluttered on the large glass of wine that Cecilia had pressed on him. Brynn looked askance, Robert looked amused, and Cecilia, who loved nothing more than discussing sexual anatomy around the dinner table, nodded in excitement.

‘In my professional capacity, I most certainly cannot.’ Robert frowned at Tom, and then grinned. ‘However, in my capacity as ex-husband, I can indeed confirm that Cecilia is delightfully snug.’

Parting shot delivered, he turned on his heels and headed back to join his own party. Marla realised with a jolt that most of their own party had been too interested in Robert to carry on conversations between themselves, and now he’d gone they were all gazing at her like attentive students in a classroom. All except Jonny, who leaned back on his chair legs to watch Dr Robert’s retreating backside.

‘What an amusing man,’ Brynn ground out through gritted teeth as he made his way back to his seat.

‘Amazing,’ Cecilia corrected, too quietly for anyone but Gabe to catch.

Marla sat down on her mother’s other side and picked at her dinner for a second before placing her knife and fork down – her food was significantly messier but barely eaten. She had no appetite for anything except the mercifully large glass of Shiraz in front of her. Tonight had turned into a fiasco of unprecedented levels, and the only constructive thing she could think of to do was to get too drunk to remember it.

Gabe picked up the wine bottle to refill first Cecilia’s glass, and then Marla’s, but a big tanned hand stretched across the table and covered it.

Rupert.

God, with all of the shenanigans, Marla had almost forgotten he was there.

He looked a little odd, actually. Fidgety and awkward. Maybe he’d spotted that she was at the end of her tether and was about to sweep her right out of there? A violent longing to be curled up at home on the sofa with Bluey pierced her, and her heart cracked afresh. Her head hurt, and she smiled gratefully as Rupert got to his feet.

Phew. They were leaving.

Hang on, why was he clinking his glass with his knife? There was no need to make a drama of it, much better to slink out … Jeez, he was going to make a leaving speech. Why did he always have to be so formal? She sank back down into her chair and picked up her wine glass in resignation as a hush fell around the table.

Rupert let the table settle into silenced anticipation, and then carefully placed the knife and glass back down on the table.

‘I have something important that I need to say … or should I say, I need to ask.’

He flashed a wide smile. ‘And there could be no better time than here, in the presence of our friends and family,’ he continued, in the style of a vicar about to deliver a sermon to his flock. Beside her, Marla heard a tiny gasp from her mother – and a much more audible one from Melanie.

‘Marla,’ Rupert turned to face her. She nodded encouragingly back.

Just wrap it up, Rupert. Say thanks for coming and goodnight, then let’s get the hell out of here. Please.

But it was another prayer to no one that fell on deaf ears.

‘Marla, we’ve been together now for some time, and I can honestly say that I’ve never felt so happy, and I think you feel the same way.’ He paused for dramatic effect and laid a hand over his heart. ‘You complete me.’

‘Plagiarism! Get yer own lines!’ Jonny heckled. Rupert shot Jonny a murderous look whilst he started a slow walk around the table towards Marla. She knew he was still speaking because his lips were moving, but the roar of blood in her ears made it impossible to hear his voice.

Sweet baby Jesus, No! Please don’t let him get down on one knee, or I’m done for. I take back all I said about being a non-believer, I’ll change my ways if you help me just this once.

Please, he’s coming …

Rupert picked up her limp hand and sank down on one knee.



Alone in his luxurious marble bathroom the next morning, Rupert angled his chin from side to side to better admire himself in the mirror. Last night couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. He threw a celebratory wink at his reflection.

Keeeer-ching! Hoist by your own petard, Melanie.

In one foul swoop he’d managed to propose to Marla and spell it out to Melanie that he wasn’t a man to mess with. Jesus, he’d only slept with the woman once out of sympathy; well, three times, if you wanted to split hairs. Rupert glanced ruefully down at his flaccid cock. He couldn’t help it if his little tiger had a big stride when it was let out, could he?

And now she was trying to cling on, making unreasonable demands as if she had some right to his time. Tiresome. She probably thought she’d been terribly clever last night; he hadn’t missed the sly glint of triumph in her eyes when she’d wangled herself a place at his table. What sweet revenge it had been to watch fury twist her thin face when he’d proposed to Marla; almost as pleasurable as the tears of joy Marla had cried. Poor girl had been completely overcome, couldn’t get a coherent word out. She’d seemed jumpy of late. Probably in need of a good seeing-to; it was frustrating for them both with her mother hogging all of her time.

His little tiger stirred against his thigh at the thought of Marla in flagrante on her white cotton sheets, and he stepped into the shower to let the beast roar.



Marla lay on her back and stared at the smooth white bedroom ceiling. Pointless anger surged through her as her mother and Brynn banged around in the kitchen downstairs. She craved the solitude of an empty cottage and her own counsel. The idea of going downstairs to rake over the coals of last night’s events turned her stomach. She dragged the quilt over her head and closed her eyes, but still the memories played behind her eyelids. Everyone around their table last night had fallen silent the moment that Rupert dropped down on one knee. Actually, a Mexican wave of silence had fallen over the entire restaurant. She’d even spotted the chef pop out from the kitchens to lean against the doorframe with a spatula in his hand.

No pressure, then.

Time had seemed to slow down Matrix-style as Marla glanced around at the faces of her nearest and dearest.

Her mother, fascinated.

Emily, shocked.

Tom, grinning like a drunken loon.

Melanie, outraged. Outraged? What was that woman’s problem?

Jonny, surreptitiously shaking his head from side to side and mouthing ‘say no’.

And finally Gabe, whose expression she’d been unable to read at all. Her eyes had moved from his to Rupert’s, who had sprung onto to his feet to stare expectantly at her.

Had she actually said the word yes? Had she? Surely not.

She’d cried, certainly, which Rupert had presumed to be tears of joy and popped the cork on a celebratory champagne bottle he’d produced out of thin air.

Could she love Rupert? She lay still and tried the idea on for size. It was too big. It swamped her. She was fond of him, but fond wasn’t the same thing at all, was it? Love was bigger than her feelings for Rupert. More painful, more blinding, more destructive. Rupert was good company. He could make her laugh and he could make her come, but that was really all she wanted from him. Up until last night she’d assumed he felt the same way.

Strictly between Marla and her coffee cup, the fact that she could never emotionally invest in him was one of his main attractions. Poor Rupert. He wasn’t to know that the local wedding guru had an acute case of love-phobia, was he?

Marla flipped face down into the mattress and decided to stay in bed, because, for better or worse, she had an engagement to break off when she did get up.



Gabe hit the accelerator, breaking the speed limit by a long way in an attempt to blow away his anger and frustration from the night before. What a f*cking fiasco. Melanie had managed to royally screw up the arrangements for the work dinner to the extent that the rest of the staff had ended up in a completely different restaurant ten miles away. He’d been almost grateful for Marla’s pushy mother’s insistence that they gatecrash their party, right up to the point when Rupert had dropped down on one knee. Gabe stamped down hard on the accelerator and wished wholeheartedly that it was actually Rupert’s throat under his foot.

Why the hell had Marla agreed to marry that spineless excuse for a man?

The possibility that she might truly love Rupert bled into his consciousness and refused to go away, even at breakneck speed.