After All - Part Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight

Nothing was ever as easy as you thought, Mattie thought as she watched the women ooze in Dylan’s direction and wondered if her head had got it wrong all over again. She’d checked into the hotel with the others, and almost immediately boarded the huge helicopter that housed them all comfortably. The trip up the Thames had been amazing; the pilot tipping the vehicle from left to right so that those say in the centre of the six rows could see where they were passing. It was exhilarating, but also gave Mattie the chance to catch up with the other people on the trip, friends and family of both Sarah and Steve, all who gushed impressively at their love for the happy couple, and the ‘amazing’ trip that they’d just been on.

High Tea at a historic Teas Rooms in Windsor preceded a trip back to the hotel, and the finger sandwiches, cakes and pastries were an equal match to the trip back across the now dusky London skies. After landing at the rear of the hotel, on the huge green that often housed marquees for parties, they re-entered reception, Mattie reminded everyone that their cocktail party started in less than an hour.

She’d changed into the cocktail dress she’d brought for the night’s event - a dark blue strapless bodice with a feathery skirt that landed at mid thigh. She’d bought it years earlier, when she still had money...but never worn it. She was impressed with how it looked, and with her swept up into a top knot, she fastened her mother’s necklace around her throat. She rarely wore it, but she felt confident with it.

As she approached the boardroom she saw Dylan. He looked amazing in a tux, inky black and immaculate with a snow white shirt. It more than suited him, and as he led the group into the room, every woman was hanging on his every word; it was like a cloud of oestrogen following him around. She stayed were she was, watching him lower his head to answer questions from Sarah’s friends, and smiling as they battered their eyelashes. It hurt, she hated to watch him be flirted with, his awareness of attention of women was poor, it always had been, and she had to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t reciprocating, that he was a friendly person; he was doing this for Sarah.

Then she stepped into the board room and froze. It looked amazing. Dozens of fairy lights illuminated the room, the walls, the windows were covered in rich coloured drapes, a bar in the corner was manned by two men, also dressed in dinner suits, and there were trays of canapés on stands around the room. It looked magical, and she had to snap out of her stare when Sarah rushed towards her.

Dylan wasn’t listening to the blonde talking to him; he’d glanced up and become transfixed on the vision that was Matilda. She stood in the door, looking around, and she looked ethereal. His eyes fastened on her long neck, bare except for what looked like a filigree chain, her rich hair was tumbling in errant curls around her ears, and her dress...he took a deep breath, her dress coated her like silk. She literally took his breath away. Sarah rushed up to her and the two women hugged, unaware of his studious attention. Then he felt his body start to respond to her, this was neither the time nor the place, so he moved away. Made for the bar, checked the boys were ready, then encouraged them to call him if they needed anything.

As he got to the door, needing the sanctity of his office, he came face to face with Matilda.

                “You look amazing,” he murmured, liking the flush of colour that came with the compliment.

                “And you’ve done a brilliant job here...it’s almost unrecognisable in here.”

He grinned, “the one thing I learned from my social animal of a mother was how to organise a good party.”

She smiled at him, her eyes dropping to study his chest...that made him blush, “yes, your mother does love an extravagant party!”

Whether he remembered his mother’s influence over their wedding she wasn’t sure, but he was right that Maggie his mother was a born entertainer. A quiet meal in a restaurant after their wedding had become a huge party for what felt like hundreds of people in a London ballroom.

As he rolled his eyes, he leaned close to her, “I’m retreating from all these women. But you do look amazing.” Slowly looking her up and down he gave a smile that he knew was in the lust scale, because as he escaped, marched towards his office, the memory of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes were imprinted on his eyes.

                “So,” Mattie stood in the middle of the room as the women all chatted with various cocktails in their hands. “I’ve just been informed that dinner is ready, in the Conservatory, so grab your drinks...”

She led the women through the foyer to the room set aside for them. Dylan had selected a menu for them, and there were only a few choices to make, salads, soup, pasta. It was so nice for Mattie to sit back and not have to make too many decisions, sometimes the stress of responsibility was great, she had so much fighting to occupy her mind that she was glad to have one less thing to think about. And she knew the food would be good, whatever she ate.

She was sat between Sarah’s sister and her best friend from school, and by dessert the riotous stories of the bride’s youth were coming out at a rate of knots. They were all in fits of laughter as Sarah, blushing, tried to justify stealing lip-gloss from the local chemist at twelve, or her quest to make Father Simon the catholic priest in her home town the first man she kissed because in side profile he had what she felt was the same profile as James Dean.

Mattie was crying, her stomach aching from the uncontrolled laughter, her sister and friend were a real double act. As the plates were cleared and more wine appeared from yet another waitress, music struck up from the stereo in the corner of the room. An impromptu glitter ball had been placed near it, and a few lights cast a spray of reflections across the room.

                “This is your Wedding Mix CD,” Jenna, her sister announced, “and EVERYONE has to dance, to EVERY song.”

Then came the WORST selection of music Mattie had ever heard. But all twenty three danced like their lives depended on it. From Agadoo to YMCA they performed every song with one hundred percent effort, and EVERY dance move, until they could barely stand for laughing. It was the exact sort of evening that Sarah wanted. Fun, no hassle, and no dares, challenges or ridiculous fancy dress.

Later, much, much later, she let herself into the suite that Dylan lived in; suddenly she was aware that she was taking over both his home, and now this room. With a groan she kicked off her shoes, one flung off at a right angle and hit a large vase, the contact causing a hollow ‘bong’ to sound around the room. With a drunken giggle, she tried to balance to remove the other shoe and failed, instead she hurtled forward landing face down on the carpet.

Dylan had heard a clang but wasn’t sure if it was that that woke him or something else. But by the time he got to his bedroom door to investigate, a loud thud came from the lounge, and he threw the door open just in time to see a pair of feet fly up in the air. As he rushed across the room, a hysterical laugh stopped him in his tracks, “Matilda? What the hell?”

As he rounded the sofa all he could see was her body sprawled out across the floor, on shoe on, the other missing, and her body heaving with hearty laughter. Squatting beside her he placed a hand under each armpit and pulled her to her feet.

                “Matilda Davies, you are pissed!”

She nodded, “maybe not as bad as you think...I was trying to take my shoes off!”

He shook his head in amazement, “you are crazy. Have you hurt yourself?” When she shrugged, he sighed, “right, you need water and sleep.” Dumping her on the sofa he rushed to the bathroom and filled a large glass with water, then handed it to her.

                “Right,” he announced when she cleared the glass, “bed.”

“You are SO bossy, I hate it.”

She refused to look at him and he sighed, “I’m just looking out for you, ok?”

Turning her head rather dramatically to stare at him, she murmured, “you live in your perfect world...it’s easy to look down on me, isn’t it?”

He groaned, his life was far from perfect, and he did anything but look down at her, but in this state he wasn’t about to argue with her. Then she lunged at him, he wondered if she was going to hit him, but instead she threw her arms around his neck and slithered up against him. Dylan gritted his teeth; he wanted her like this, pliant, desiring him, wrapped around him. But not like this, not when she was intoxicated, confused. He sighed at that, he thought she knew what she wanted, he thought they were making headway, but this uncertainty about him, it meant that things weren’t clear in her head, and he hated that, he wanted her to want him.

Looking down to talk to her, he shook his head in frustration; she was already starting to close her eyes, her head lulling from side to side. Dragging her to her feet, he groaned as he wrestled her now jelly-legged body to the spare room. Her pyjamas lay on the bed ready to put on, but he wasn’t about to undress her...though her dress looked expensive. With a groan at the effort, he reached for a t-shirt that sat on top of her bag; he managed to pull it over her head. Once her arms were in the sleeves, he pulled the zip of her dress down, then bundled her on to the mattress, sliding the dress off her once she was lying down, determined not to look at an ounce of her flesh.

She looked content, finally lying against the pillow, hair still clipped up - he could manage a dress, but he was no hair specialist. With a nod, he left her to it.

Mattie couldn’t focus on anything other than the pounding that seemed to have replaced her brain. With a groan, she tried to turn onto her side, but her head wasn’t reciprocating. Opening one eye she managed on the third attempt to focus on the clock on her bedside table. Eight thirty.

She ransacked her brain, or what was left of it, to remember the schedule for the day. Breakfast at nine thirty, spa for ten. She had an hour.

Slowly she tried to piece together the previous night, the food, dancing...then Jenna, Sarah’s sister buying a bottle of tequila...and vodka...

“Argh,” she cried out, then groaned at the pain the volume caused. Then she grimaced, suddenly noticing pain in her hip and elbow. With another moan she remembered staggering back to the suite worse for wear. She had a vague memory of Dylan...

Could it get any worse?

It took a while to manage to sit up, and then to stagger to the bathroom. On the counter she saw a glass and a sachet of ‘Resolve’ with a note, “Hope the head isn’t too bad. Have this as soon as you wake, Dylan.”

She found it quite sweet that he was looking out for her, but then she drank the drink and it made her want to vomit. With a groan she made for the sofa in the lounge and closed her eyes. Why the hell did she do it? Drink to excess knowing she’d suffer.

A knock at the door disturbed her, and she dragged herself to her feet and moved to the door. As she pulled it back one of the casual bar staff stood there with a silver domed tray.

                “This is from Mr Wallace...”

Suddenly Mattie took in the fact that she was scantily clad and looking like death in front of an employee, with a groan she grabbed the tray and slammed the door behind her. Lifting the lid on the tray she sighed, tomato juice with chilli sauce, dry crackers, and a pot of ginger tea. She could tell by the smell, which unsettled her stomach, but that was exactly what he’d always sworn by over the years as a hangover cure. She necked the tomato juice, then nibbled at a couple of crackers. Her stomach lurched, but she went for the tea.

Half an hour later she made it to the shower and whether it was the warm water, or the remedies that Dylan had provided, she felt a lot better...just in time for breakfast. They were going to the spa, so she didn’t have to dry her hair. Pulled up into a high plait, she pulled on a bikini and her gym gear. Already feeling more human. She made for the restaurant.

Dylan was having a hellish morning. For a Saturday he was rushed off his feet, he thought this weekend that he’d be able to prepare for meetings back in New York at the end of the week, but no such luck, there was queries, issues and problems from eight am.

When the phone rang again he groaned then lifted it to her ear, “Hi Dy-lan.”

He groaned, “Brandy - you calling me on a Saturday? This does not fill me with cheer.”

Her husky chuckle made him smile, “there’s been a break in to the building, I got called out, nothing missing at the moment, think it was another office that triggered the alarm, but I wanted to let you know that now you’re overseas I get my home life disturbed.”

He laughed, “and you get paid well for it. You asking for another pay rise?”

                “You offering?” She asked incredulously, “that wasn’t the purpose of the call. I was just letting you know.”

                “Well I appreciate that.”

As he ended the call, Brandy promising to keep him in the loop, a knock preceded the door opening, and Tony, the club golf pro stood there.

                “We got a problem Dylan.”

Groaning he looked up at the man, “hit me.”

               

Dylan wondered if this weekend could get any more difficult, as he stood in front of the green keeper who’d just agreed that the insect infestation of the eighth hole was potentially making it unplayable.

                “Get pest control,” Dylan hissed, relieved that this wasn’t the celebrity weekend. “The course is booked solidly all week. I need this dealt with.”

Tony sighed to his left, “what about the Major?”

Dylan looked at him, “what do you mean?”

                “Mattie promised him they could have the club competition on Monday, he’ll kick off...”

Dylan had encountered the Major before, as president of the golf club he was more than a happy to throw around his authority. He had a feeling the ex military man enjoyed making things difficult for all concerned.

                “Mattie can deal with him...”

Nodding, Dylan turned to Tony, “I’ll go find her, you find out how long it’s going to take to get pest control out here and all this shit sorted?”

Nodding he disappeared.

The last thing Dylan wanted to do was disturb Matilda, but Tony was right, she was the best to deal with this.

Sarah and three of her friends were drinking coffee in the reception of the spa, “where’s Matilda?”

Sarah sighed, “can’t you leave her enjoy her day?”

He gave an apologetic smile, “desperate times call for desperate measures, I am sorry.”

Sarah laid a hand on his arm, “if we were in Barcelona you wouldn’t be able to call on her.”

Dylan sighed, “I’m sorry Sarah, I’d be calling her if she was out there.”

The woman shook her head in a disappointed way, “she’s in the pool.”

Dylan watched her cut through the water in a clear strong stroke, she covered the distance between her and him in seconds then performed a tumble turn before heading away from him again. At the other end of the pool, she stopped, then looked up, unable to hide the shock at seeing him fully dressed pool side.

                “I need you Matilda, desperately.”