The Last-Minute Marriage Read online

  ‘He won’t…’

  ‘He must,’ Ruby told her.

  And then one morning she could bear it no longer. She woke and found Darrell and Ruby were already bringing in the cows. Harry was preparing his own breakfast, interspersing cornflakes with wedges of chocolate cake Ruby had made the night before. Peta walked into the kitchen: the warmth of the old wood stove reached out to meet her and her ancient dog wuffled around her feet.

  And she couldn’t bear it.

  ‘Harry, would you mind if I went back to New York for a bit?’ she asked, and Harry gave it his careful consideration while he attacked his cornflakes.

  ‘To fetch Marcus?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Someone has to.’

  ‘Ruby says we have to wait for him to be sensible.’

  ‘I think I’ve waited long enough.’

  Harry thought about it some more. And nodded. ‘Okay. Ace by me.’

  ‘You’ll be all right here by yourself?’

  ‘Darrell and Ruby will look after me. Will Marcus come, do you think?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Tell him Ruby cooks now. He doesn’t have to eat your sausages.’

  ‘If he loves me he’d eat my sausages.’

  ‘Even Ted-dog doesn’t like your sausages,’ Harry told her. ‘But good luck.’

  Marcus emerged from a meeting and his chauffeur was waiting for him. Which was unusual. Robert usually met him at street level. What was even more unusual was his message.

  ‘There’s someone waiting for you on the fire-escape.’

  ‘What do you mean, there’s someone on the fire-escape?’ he demanded.

  ‘Just what I said. Someone with lunch.’ Robert smiled and Marcus’s heart gave a lurch.

  ‘Is it…’

  ‘See for yourself, sir,’ Robert told him.

  Peta.

  Of course it was Peta.

  She was sitting on the fire-escape where he’d first met her, only this time she was seated on a step out of range of the swinging door. She was wearing tattered shorts, a faded T-shirt and sandals. She was holding a bag of bagels and a couple of drink containers were by her side.

  ‘Hi,’ she said and held out her bag. ‘You want a bagel?’

  ‘Peta,’ he said cautiously and she smiled.

  ‘Yep. You remember me?’

  Remember her? It was all he could do not to lunge forward and take her in his arms-right now. But her expression forbade it. She was smiling but she was formal. Holding him at arm’s length.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he managed.

  ‘I thought we could start again.’ She bit into a bagel.

  ‘You thought we could start again?’

  ‘We could share.’ She wiggled over on the step so there was room beside her. ‘I’ve brought enough for two.’

  ‘But why…’

  ‘I figured out we started all wrong,’ she said. ‘You saved me and I’m very grateful. By the way, I see Charles’s plate has disappeared from your list of occupants. That makes me even more grateful. But no relationship can exist on gratitude. Ruby says I should leave you a bit longer but I got lonely. So I figured… If I was lonely you might be worse. I thought I should come across and see if we can be friends.’

  ‘Friends.’ She was still sitting on her step, holding out her bag of bagels. She was taking his breath away. ‘I don’t know whether I can be a…a friend.’

  ‘Everyone needs a friend,’ she said, biting into her bagel as if the bagel and not the words were the most important thing. There was a moment’s pause while she chewed and swallowed. Then she stared down at the bitten bagel, considering where to bite next. Not looking at him. Chatting as if they were casual acquaintances. Nothing more. ‘According to Ruby, you think you can live in isolated splendour for ever,’ she told him. ‘But black marble’s not all it’s cut out to be.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Sit. Eat your bagel.’ She held out her bag again and he sat and took one without thinking. The last thing he wanted at this minute was a jelly-filled bagel. ‘We get to share,’ she said and the seriousness in her voice was unmistakeable.

  ‘Share what?’

  ‘What friends share. Bagels. Fire-escape steps. Life.’

  ‘Peta…’

  ‘I love you, you know,’ she said conversationally. ‘You might have rescued me, but now it’s my turn to try to rescue you. To save you from a lifetime of black marble. If you want saving. But you have to decide. Now… Tell me if I’m intruding. Robert says you’re busy.’

  ‘I’m always busy.’

  ‘See, that’s the thing I don’t understand,’ she said, licking a jelly-smeared finger with concentration. ‘You’re a billionaire already. You’re busy making money. Why? So you can buy more black marble?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what else do you want to buy?’

  He stared at her. They were seated side by side but she’d pulled back as he’d sat so she was two feet away from him. Too far.

  What did he want to buy?

  ‘A new bed for your veranda?’ he said cautiously. ‘A big one.’

  ‘Now you’re talking.’ She beamed. ‘What else?’

  ‘Maybe a jet. So I can commute.’

  ‘What, come home at weekends?’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Home’s where I am, Marcus,’ she said softly. ‘I love you. Ruby says I should stop saying it, and let you figure it out for yourself, but I can’t. I love you so much that I can’t bear it a minute longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. And I love you so much that there’s no way I can accept your offer of a couple of weeks a year and a few weekends thrown in for good measure. I’d go crazy. That’s the life for someone who wants your position. But I don’t want the position, Marcus. I just want you.’

  ‘I can’t…’

  ‘I know. You can’t take it in. That’s why I’m here. Now don’t panic. I’m not here for ever. I’m just here for a little while to see… To see if there’s any possibility that it can work.’ She rose, crumpling her empty carrier bag and looking at it ruefully. ‘That’s lunch. Finished. But you’ve got things to do, places to go. I’ll meet you tomorrow.’

  To say he was bewildered would be an understatement. He reached out to grasp her but she backed off fast.

  ‘Same time, same place?’ she said. ‘Bagels okay with you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’m not eating caviar.’

  ‘You don’t have to eat caviar.’ He made a lunge but she was fast, dancing down to the next landing and laughing up at him.

  ‘See you tomorrow. Bye.’

  It was a really long day.

  Marcus went to his afternoon meeting but he had to excuse himself. He could think of nothing but Peta. Peta of the ragged clothes, the dancing eyes, the lovely voice…

  I love you, I love you, I love you.

  People had said it before.

  No one had meant it. No one like Peta.

  All he had to do was step forward. Risk everything?

  Risk what? His independence? His money? His black marble?

  Halfway through the afternoon he left the building and made his way to Central Park. And walked. Never before had he walked as he walked that afternoon. He walked and he walked, unaware of where he was going, unaware of the people around him, unaware of anything but Peta’s lovely face and her dancing eyes and her words…

  I love you, I love you, I love you.

  Such a simple thing. To take this step…

  Fairytale heroes had never had it this hard, he thought ruefully. Find your Cinderella, marry her in all honour, install her in your palace and get on with your life.

  His Cinderella had had the happy ending. The white lace and wedding vows. His Cinderella wanted more.

  A friend? A friend as well as a hero?

  And finally he found he was smiling. The longer he walked the more he smiled.

  She was no Cinderella. She was his own lovely Peta. She’d sent back the w
hite lace and offered him gumboots instead. He’d ignored her offer. So she’d followed him. She was doing her own rescuing. She was offering him…

  He knew what she was offering him. The world.

  The world his mother had taught him to believe in was a world where the white lace was everything. He’d rejected that, but he hadn’t seen that there was an alternative.

  A lovely, lovely alternative called Peta.

  Where was she?

  She wouldn’t be staying at the same dangerous place she’d stayed at last time, he thought. No! Almost as soon at the thought entered his head he was in a cab heading across town.

  She wasn’t there.

  At least she wasn’t staying somewhere dangerous. The thought was a little comforting but not very.

  Where the heck was she?

  She’d meet him same place, same time tomorrow? Could he wait that long? Short of phoning every hotel in New York it seemed he had no choice.

  Dammit, what was money for? He headed back to his offices, put his staff on to the job and together they phoned every hotel in New York.

  No Peta. Where…?

  He travelled across town to Ruby’s and then to Darrell’s apartments. Both of them were locked and deserted.

  There was nothing else he could do. He just had to wait.

  Or… Maybe there was something he could do. Maybe there were a few things…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE sat on the fire-escape and waited. To say she felt ridiculous would be an understatement. What was she doing? Sitting on a fire-escape with a bag of bagels, waiting for a New York billionaire to come and share them with her?

  Waiting for him to figure out what she was trying to do. Waiting for him to see that it was important.

  Twelve. Twelve-thirty. He was running late.

  Running late? What, was she crazy? Late for what? Late for his bagel?

  The door swung open. And it was Marcus. He’d obviously just come from a meeting of some sort-he was wearing the lovely Armani suit she’d seen the first time she met him.

  He was carrying his briefcase. And a shopping bag.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he said gravely and she gave him a tiny, faltering smile.

  ‘H…hi.’

  ‘Bagels again?’

  ‘I like bagels.’ She knew she sounded defensive but she couldn’t help it.

  ‘Can I sit down?’

  ‘Sure.’ She edged along on her step and eyed him sideways. ‘Be my guest.’

  He sat. He propped his shopping bag against the railings, set his briefcase between the two of them and flipped it open.

  ‘I brought my contribution. I hope to heaven it hasn’t spilled. Sam assured me the container was safe.’

  ‘Your contribution?’

  ‘Clam chowder and corn flapjacks. I remembered that you like them.’

  ‘I do,’ she said cautiously and watched as he hauled two bowls, two spoons, two plates from his case. ‘You want to share my bagels?’

  ‘That’s the plan. If you share my chowder.’

  ‘Deal.’

  He didn’t say anything more. He served his chowder, they split the flapjacks and they ate. The silence between them was strange but not strained. The sun was warm on their faces. For now, they were content to eat and let what was passing between them hold sway.

  It was a really strange meal, Peta thought, but there was such a warmth running between them. Such a force of…love? They were a foot apart but she could feel his strength as if he was holding her. He was smiling. He looked as if he was smiling inside.

  Somewhere inside her, something started to sing.

  ‘Too bad if someone wants to use the fire-escape,’ she murmured and Marcus attempted to look grave.

  ‘They can find their own. This one’s taken. For however long we need it.’

  ‘It’s a shame we can’t settle here for ever,’ she said softly. ‘On neutral territory.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘This love thing…’ He set down his plate and turned to her. And waited while she set down her plate. ‘I’m not very good at it,’ he confessed.

  ‘You have the basic ingredients.’

  ‘Yeah, but not the recipe.’

  ‘I’m sure we could teach you. Me and Harry and Ruby and Darrell and Ted-dog…’

  ‘I think you already have,’ he said softly.

  There was definitely a singing thing going on inside her. Marcus was smiling at her. Smiling with her. He wasn’t moving towards her, but he didn’t need to. This big, smiling man with the eyes that had seen far too much but had finally found their home.

  With her.

  She smiled back at him, and somehow… Somehow right at that moment she knew that it would be okay.

  There’d be a place for them. There’d be some way they could do this.

  ‘I have a couple of gifts,’ he told her and her joy faltered a little.

  ‘Marcus, I don’t want diamonds.’

  ‘No jewels at all?’ His face fell. He felt in his jacket pocket and brought out a jeweller’s box.

  Nestled on white velvet was indeed a jewel but this was no diamond. It was a twist-a knot of strung silver, breathtakingly simple and breathtakingly lovely. Embedded in the web of silver strands were three tiny sapphires. Tiny but perfect. They glistened in the sunlight, and in their depths was the colour of Peta’s eyes, the colour of the sea.

  ‘It’s a ring made specially for you,’ Marcus told her. ‘Because of who you are. Because of what you are. I know you don’t want tiaras and ball-gowns but I needed to do something to express my love for you.’ Then, as she opened her mouth to speak, he placed his finger on her lips. ‘And there’s more. I might as well get it over and done with. Show you the full catastrophe.’

  He flipped up the shopping bag. Out tumbled…gumboots?

  They weren’t just gumboots, though. They were gumboots with attitude. They were amazing-as if Frida Kahlo had used each as a blank canvas for the most amazing artwork Peta had ever seen.

  There were four gumboots. Four stunning pieces of art. Two Peta’s size. Two Marcus’s size.

  ‘I had to move heaven and earth to have a friend do these for us,’ Marcus said. ‘He’s sealed them so we can use them in the dairy. Together.’

  She gasped. She held a gumboot up and turned it around, awed. ‘You think the cows will let us milk with these on?’

  ‘I think the cows will love them. When they get used to them.’

  ‘How can they get used to them,’ Peta whispered, ‘in two weeks a year…?’

  ‘Well, there’s another thing we need to discuss,’ Marcus said. ‘Now I know you love your veranda. And I know you won’t let the boys sleep at your end. But would you look at this?’

  From the depths of his briefcase he hauled out a set of plans and, while she sat in stunned silence, he spread them out for her perusal. The wind was starting to rise, so he spread them over the landing and weighed each corner down with a gumboot.

  ‘Plans,’ he said in satisfaction.

  ‘Plans?’

  ‘Here’s your veranda. It’s turned into a master bedroom in the plans but it’s still very much a veranda.’

  ‘Marcus…’ She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I told you. I don’t want a mansion.’

  ‘Will you cut it out?’ He was grinning at her. ‘Peta, there’s a huge gap between your veranda and what the rest of the world calls a mansion. I think we’re pretty safe adding extravagances like, say, a hot shower.’

  ‘A shower…’

  ‘I know. Sheer luxury,’ he retorted. ‘A friend-Max-has made these plans up. He’s worked from my memory and he worked in a rush but it’s a start. Your veranda, although I hope we can rename it our veranda, stays intact-almost-though the holes in the floorboards will have to go. The kitchen, I love-and so do you-so that stays as well. Just restored as it should be. He’s added a big living room out the back for when th
e boys come home-somewhere they can entertain their friends. A bedroom for each of them. Two bathrooms. Now I know two bathrooms sounds a lot but hey, I swear it still doesn’t rank as a mansion. I bet your everyday run-of-the-mill mansion has at least four.’

  ‘Marcus…’

  ‘And this bit out here is the office,’ he told her, and she heard, for the first time, a hint of real anxiety in his voice. ‘I thought…seeing Ruby’s staying there anyway we could set up a base. I could delegate a lot of the responsibility to our top people here, and Ruby and I could work with teleconferencing, faxes, the Internet. I mean, we are an Internet company. It does seem reasonable. Mind, I’d probably need to visit New York-twice a year, maybe, but for not more than ten days or so. If I promised faithfully not to use first-class travel and put my knees under my chin… What do you think, Peta?’

  What did she think? Her world was exploding around her, shards of joy bursting in all directions. He was looking at her with such a look of anxiety. Her Marcus.

  Her love.

  ‘You’d sit in economy class for me?’

  ‘I’d sit anywhere for you.’

  ‘Even on a fire-escape?’

  ‘If you were there.’

  ‘Marcus, I’d stay in a black marble apartment if you were there,’ she admitted and the look of anxiety faded.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Will you wear my ring?’

  Once again, that absurd anxiety. She looked down at the tiny velvet box and there was no choice. She lifted the ring and slipped it on her finger. It glistened in the sunlight; she held it out and she fell in love all over again.

  ‘Oh, Marcus. It’s lovely.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ She faltered. ‘I should have something for you.’

  ‘You have you. You have your love.’

  ‘Will…will you wear gumboots for me?’ she said in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.

  He kicked off his shoes and his spectacular gumboots were on his feet in an instant. She looked down at them and she managed a shaky chuckle. ‘They’re wonderful.’

  ‘Did you know that I fell in love with your bare toe?’ he asked and she looked at him with wonder in her eyes.