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That was it. She needed to make Kenneth realise what he’d lost. ‘Anthony, you’re a genius.’
He looked sceptical. ‘I am?’
She pulled off the gloves. ‘I’m going to make Kenneth pay by making him realise what he’s lost. By the time I’m done, he’s going to be rueing the day he left me and will be begging for me to come back.’
‘That’s not what I meant. It would be better for your mental health if you were able to accept the situation and rebuild your life.’
‘I don’t need a new life,’ she said, handing him the gloves. ‘I need my old one back. Thanks for the workout, I’ll be back on Monday.’ With a spring in her step, she headed over to her mother. ‘Time to go, Mum. I have work to do.’
It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and take back control of her life.
Starting right now.
Chapter Ten
Thursday, 9thMay – one month till the wedding
If there was one thing Beth hated more than being late, it was a disorganised start to the day. Her mornings were usually governed by an orderly routine, starting with a long hot shower, followed by consuming tea and toast at the breakfast bar while listening to Virgin Radio, and then taking her time selecting her suit for the day. Exactly one hour after rising, she’d be heading downstairs to her office on the ground floor of the building, ready for an eight a.m. start. It was all very regimented and quietly comforting. So when something disrupted that equilibrium, she became agitated and unsettled, and it didn’t bode well for the rest of the day.
Today was one of those days.
‘I hoped you’d have it sorted by now,’ Megan complained, her voice faint amongst the background of noisy Greek music and a man shouting something about ‘extras being needed on set’. ‘You’re a divorce lawyer, aren’t you?’
Beth bit back her frustration and padded over to the tall sash window in her bare feet. She hadn’t even had a chance to finish dressing this morning before her sister had phoned, demanding an update on the state of her pending bigamy.
Balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear, Beth gave the period window frame in her flat a hefty shove, desperate for some fresh air. Her mug of tea was sitting on the countertop, undrunk, and her toast was stone cold.
The expanse of trees in the communal space below created dappled sunlight that flickered rhythmically like old cinefilm. She took a moment to breathe deeply, hoping to relax her stiff neck and calm her nerves. ‘I deal with UK law, Megan. Not US. I’ve never been asked to annul a Las Vegas marriage before. This is a new one, even for me.’
Megan sighed. ‘Isn’t it the same process? Can’t you just ask them for an annulment?’
‘You could, yes, if you lived in Nevada and you knew the name of the chapel where the marriage took place, and you were able to provide details of the other party involved.’
‘I’ve already told you I don’t know the name of the chapel. All I can remember is that it had a white altar covered in flowers, and the officiant was dressed as Elvis.’
‘Which pretty much describes every wedding venue in Las Vegas. Trust me, I’ve checked. You don’t even know the exact date.’
‘I was drunk. I don’t remember much about that holiday.’
‘Evidently.’
Beth retrieved a dislodged cushion from the floor and repositioned it on the padded window seat. She hated anything being out of place in her cosy little home. The flat was made up of three rooms, a bathroom, a bedroom and a lounge-diner with an open-plan kitchen. The generous Georgian sizing meant that apart from the small bathroom, the place was large and airy, with high ceilings, and felt a lot bigger than its 600 square foot.
‘It was kind of a wild time,’ Megan continued, sounding uncharacteristically morose. ‘We’d all just finished our drama degrees and headed off to Vegas to celebrate.’
Unbeknown to Beth, eight years earlier, when her sister was supposedly attending auditions in London in an effort to further her acting career, she’d actually been partying in Las Vegas with a load of other post-grad drama students. A holiday that had resulted in several arrests, one drug bust, two drunken and disorderly charges, and her sister getting hitched to another drama student. Quite the holiday.
Beth caught sight of her reflection in the large gold mirror above the fireplace and groaned at the sight of her damp hair creating wet patches on her white shirt. She’d yet to put on a skirt and it was 8:20 a.m.
‘Is there really nothing you can do? I’m desperate here.’
Beth searched for her glasses. ‘I’ve ruled out applying to the US courts, for reasons already mentioned. Plus, the only ground we could realistically use in the application is insanity, and despite evidence to the contrary, you’re not insane.’
‘So that’s it? I’m stuck married to some random guy I haven’t seen in eight years for the rest of my life?’
‘There’s an option to apply to the UK courts, but there’s no evidence of fraud, you’re not related to each other and failing to obtain parental consent isn’t applicable, as you were both over twenty-one at the time. Which leaves us with trying to get the marriage voided on the grounds that it was never consummated. It was never consummated… right?’
‘Er, not after the ceremony, no. It was beforehand, in the back of the limo. Does that count?’
