Love Lies

50. Fern

‘First Class and a chauffeur! Pinch me!’ cries Ben as he flings himself into the back of the Bentley. I do. ‘Ooch!’ He playfully swats me away but then immediately pulls me back towards him, enveloping me in another enormous, effervescent hug. About the tenth he’s given me since he came through customs. I feel the slight scratch of his sandpaper stubble on my forehead and can smell the aeroplane on his clothes; even so his hug is delicious. It’s so fantastic to have him share all this with me!

‘Wow, look at you! You’re glowing. Posh clothes suit you. And I love what you’ve done with your hair,’ gushes Ben.

‘Thank you. Scott’s staff are engineering a re-vamp.’

‘What fun!’

‘Can be. Or can be a bit intimidating,’ I admit.

‘The knack with these people is to appear appreciative and show respect for their professional experience but don’t allow anyone to bully you.’

‘How do you know this stuff? Will you help me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Today I have an appointment with my clothes stylist. Will you come?’

‘You have a lovely little waist, we ought to make more of that.’

‘And my nutritionalist.’

‘You look so skinny. How much have you lost?’

‘I’m not sure. The scales in my old flat were always dodgy because the floor sloped and so I couldn’t get a proper reading. However much I’ve lost Joy keeps saying I need to lose more.’

‘Who’s Joy?’

‘Scott’s beautician. She seems to hate me. She lives her life as though she’s eternally auditioning for the part of wicked stepmother in the Christmas panto.’

‘She probably had a thing for Scott.’

‘Probably.’

‘Have they slept together?’

‘I don’t know. There’s no reason for me to think they have,’ I reply, taken aback by the suggestion.

‘There’s no reason for you to think they haven’t. It’s Scottie Taylor we’re talking about here,’ says Ben calmly.

Ben fusses about the car’s air-con; he insists that it’s icy and has it blasting on our calves. He comments on the towering palm trees lining the streets and then asks, ‘So how is the sex?’

‘Ben!’ I try to sound shocked.

‘I promise I won’t tell a soul, Scout’s honour, or should that be Scott’s honour,’ he grins, tickled by his own pun. ‘Tell! I want to know, I’m only human.’

‘I don’t know yet,’ I admit.

‘What?’ Ben looks as though I’ve slapped him.

‘We’re saving ourselves until our wedding day,’ I explain simply.

‘You’re kidding.’ He’s aghast.

‘Deadly serious.’

‘But why?’

‘Scott and I want to do things properly. It’s important our relationship is completely different from anything else Scott has ever known.’

‘How very romantic,’ he mutters, not really bothering to hide his dismay.

‘Not my idea. It’s a nightmare, actually. I think I’m going to explode with lust,’ I confide.

Ben looks sympathetic; touched by my frankness, he tries to comfort me. ‘Well, only about a month to go and it’s not like you are stuck for things to do. We’ll just have to keep you very, very busy. How’s the wedding planning going?’

I’m happy to move on to a less frustrating topic. ‘It’s in good hands. The wedding planner, Ms Colleen Lafontaine, born in New York and bred in LA, seems perfect for the job. She came very highly recommended, as she’s planned a number of high-profile Hollywood weddings; she understands the security requirements and the complications of working with slash keeping at bay the paparazzi.’

‘Marvellous, I can’t wait to make friends with her. I am here to encourage your inner Bridezilla, not that it needs much encouragement. We are going to have endless conversations showered with words such as sparkle, vintage, memorable, expressive and wow factor.’ I laugh at Ben’s excitement. ‘This wedding can be so much bigger than anything you could possibly have perceived of when you were with Adam,’ says Ben as a matter of fact. I shift uncomfortably on the seat. I haven’t allowed myself to say Adam’s name in my head let alone out loud for some

‘Have you seen Jess or anyone?’ I ask casually.

‘Not for a few days now.’

‘Does she know you are coming here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any messages?’

‘No messages.’

‘Oh.’ I wasn’t expecting any. It’s proving really difficult to stay in touch with Jess. I’ve called her a few times but I keep catching her at awkward moments. Once, she was just about to get something to eat (and just had time to remind me to call Adam), another time she was busy at work (but just had time to remind me to call Adam) and on the third occasion she was on her way out of the door (she must have been in a genuine rush because she never mentioned that I ought to call Adam). She did listen to my account of my heady night at the movie premiere but she wasn’t as thrilled about it as I’d hoped. I poured out my excitement but she seemed unable or unwilling to engage. She barely asked any questions other than whether so and so had had surgery, she always sounded vindicated when I admitted that yes, so and so had. She sniffed out words like ‘fake’, delusional’ and ‘unrealistic’. When I got to the part about my witty one-liner explaining Scott’s devotion, she didn’t even laugh. She just said, ‘It is a mystery, isn’t it?’ Which is hardly a polite thing for your best friend to say.

‘The press and magazines are fascinated by your nuptials, so who’s got the exclusive?’ asks Ben.

I’m grateful that Ben isn’t wasting his breath or our