Marc and Maria’s wedding was lovely. The celebrant had a great sense of humour and she involved Sofia and George in the ceremony.
George was Marc’s best man, wearing grey trousers and a waistcoat with a matching bow tie. Sofia was a bridesmaid along with Callie’s daughter, Esme, in silvery-grey dresses with sparkly bodices and big net skirts. Maria wore a simple but exquisite dress with silver detailing on the back and round the waist and Marc wore a grey three-piece suit with a pale pink cravat and pocket handkerchief.
The whole thing made me feel a little dreamy about doing it all again, one day, but with someone who actually loved me. Then I quickly forced that thought out of my mind. Never going to happen.
There weren’t any formal speeches. When we moved downstairs for a glass of bubbly, Marc and Maria each proposed a toast, then George and Sofia got in on the act and proposed their own. The two children were so adorable that I started imagining how it might be to have kids of my own. It was overpowering and I had to take a few minutes in the kitchen to get my act together. Marriage? Kids? Neither of those things were ever going to happen. I had some great friends who I’d finally (almost fully) let in, but I was never going to look for love again. Been there, done that, got the broken heart, bruised ego and emotional scars for life. Yes, I sometimes felt very alone but that’s how it had to be.
The party had pretty much wound up by 11 p.m. What was left of the cleaning could wait until the morning.
I locked up after the last person left and leaned against the door, smiling. What a great success. Maria and Marc said it had been everything they’d dreamed of, and I’d had compliments galore from the guests about the food and the venue. There was definitely scope for expanding the business into functions next year.
Even though I felt absolutely shattered, I needed some time to wind down. I’d have quite liked to sit in the café, taking it all in, but I was conscious that Hercules had been on his own for far longer than usual and would be desperate for some attention. I’d nipped up to give him fresh food, but hadn’t felt I could stay away from the wedding for long.
I removed my sandals and gratefully slipped my feet into my ballet pumps, then carried my sandals and one of the floral arrangements that Maria had insisted I have up the two flights. I placed them outside my flat door, then came back down for a hot chocolate. As I was making it, my eyes fell on the envelope Jed had handed me earlier. I’d completely forgotten about that. Sighing, I reached for it, finished making my drink, then locked up fully and switched off the lights.
‘Hercules?’ I called, unlocking the door to my flat. ‘Where’s my gorgeous boy?’ He must have heard me coming up the stairs as he was already by the door, scut wagging. ‘Let me put everything down, then I’ll give you some attention.’
I slipped into some snuggly clothes, then picked up my drink and the envelope, settling on the sofa with Hercules. ‘Let’s see what that idiot has to say.’ I ripped open the envelope and took out a piece of A4 paper, folded into three. As I opened it out, a smaller piece of paper fell onto my lap. I picked that up and gasped. It was a cheque for £25,000. What?
Tara
If I looked shocked when you explained why you believe me to be “an arrogant con artist”, that’s because I was. We agreed a price for the sale of the premises 14 years ago and, as far as I knew, that was the price you’d paid. I was stunned by what you said and thought there had to be some mistake, but I’ve made some calls and discovered the truth.
Please find enclosed a cheque for £25k to reimburse you for the over-payment on the premises, taking into account the loss of interest and the inconvenience. I hope you find this sufficient.
I apologise for any anxiety or financial hardship you may have experienced.
Best wishes,
Jed
PS I hope the wedding went well. From what I could see, The Chocolate Pot looked amazing.
Shaking my head, I read the note over and over again. What? What? He didn’t know? How could he not know? It made no sense. It was his business. He’d signed all the paperwork agreeing the final sum. Hadn’t he? Putting my mug, the cheque and the letter down on the coffee table, I ran up the stairs to the mezzanine and located the box file from the sale of the property. Resting it on my desk, I flicked through the papers until I found the sale documents. Yes, there it was – J Ferguson. I squinted at the signature. Actually, that looked more like an ‘I’ than a ‘J’. I flicked back a page. Oh my word. Owner: Jed Ferguson. Owner and Financial Director: Ingrid Ferguson. His wife had been the one behind the finances.
I slumped onto my desk chair staring at the paperwork. All of these years, I’d hated that man for ripping me off and he’d known nothing about it. I pictured his face when I’d hurled the accusation at him earlier. He’d genuinely looked stunned but I’d assumed it was shock at my outburst or perhaps surprise that I’d clearly held a grudge for so many years. I hadn’t for one second imagined the shock was because he hadn’t known what I was talking about.
Abandoning the paperwork on the desk, I returned to Hercules. ‘What am I going to do? There’s no way I can keep the cheque. I’ll have to return it tomorrow. Oh my God, Hercules. I can’t believe it. I’ve hated that man for over fourteen years and I’ve hated the wrong person. I’m going to have to give him one hell of an apology.’ I pulled Hercules to my side, stroking his ears. ‘He’s still arrogant, though. And smug.’ But my words faltered. Was he? Or had I just assumed that because I’d been so full of contempt for him because of what I thought he’d done?