A Bad Bride's Tale (19 page)

The sight of Seb did nothing to reassure her. He wasn’t looking at his beautiful girlfriend. No. He was staring at her very own breasts, intently, joyfully even, as if watching stocks rise on his computer. “It’s time to shoot, I think, Jez.”

“One down!” Katy giggled. “Jez?”

Jez looked from Katy to Stevie, and back to Katy again. He knew what he
should
do. But he couldn’t make himself move.

“Jez?” repeated Stevie. Despite the heat, goose bumps rose up her arms, clustered on her exposed mosquito-savaged knees. “I’m tired. Can we go,
please
?”

“I . . . I . . .” mumbled Jez, not daring to meet her eye.

The rest of the group exchanged looks. Katy slid farther into the Jacuzzi and brushed her fingers against Stevie’s cheek.

“What are you doing?” asked Stevie, barely able to breathe. “Shuussh . . .” said Katy as she tilted her head toward Stevie’s,

breath hot on her cheek, lips pursed.

“Fuck this.” Stevie stood up quickly, water dripping off her in sheets, splashing Katy’s surprised upturned face. She whipped a towel around her body, speared her flip-flops between her toes, and left.

“Wait up!” yelled Jez a few seconds later as he stumbled out of the Jacuzzi and clumsily lurched, sunburned and dripping wet, in pursuit of his wife. “
Stevie!
Wait up!”

TWENTY-TWO
Æ

“yes, mum, honestly, i’m having an amazing time,”
Stevie managed to muster. Despite the warm evening air, she was shivering, standing on the beach in a towel, still damp with Jacuzzi water. Having told Jez that she wanted time alone, she’d fled to the beach to think, to watch the wind crabs scuttling sideways across the sand and the scuffed blue fishing boats, to not have to speak to anyone. He was repenting in the villa. Trust mother to phone now. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, darling. It’s probably just the line,

making you sound faint.”

Stevie put on her upbeat voice and spoke louder. “How’s every- thing at home? How’s the old man?”

Patti laughed uneasily. “Oh, your father’s fine. You know, we just about manage to put up with each other all these years . . .”

“Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Well, actually, no.” A long pause as Patti took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to worry you on your honeymoon, Stevie. But I know that you’d want to know . . .”

Oh, God. Stevie sat down on a rock and dug one foot into the

warm sand, beneath a fallen coconut, where it felt safe. Please don’t say you’re splitting up, she thought. Not now. I’m not sure I could cope right now. “It’s about you and Dad, isn’t it?”

“Your father?” Patti sounded surprised. “No, no. It’s Poppy, dar- ling. She’s had the baby.”

“Oh. Oh, wow.” Stevie’s heart began to thump. “But she wasn’t due for another seven weeks.”

“Her water broke two days ago while they were all here for lunch, and she had to be rushed to the John Radcliffe Hospital for an emergency cesarean. He’s a little boy, a dear little thing. Weighs three and a half pounds.” Her mother voice was high, tinny, and cheery: her sugar-the-pill voice.

“Three and a half pounds?” Stevie burrowed her feet farther into the warm sand, nervously wiggling her toes beneath the surface. Even with her sketchy knowledge of birthing matters, she sus- pected this wasn’t good news. “Isn’t that tiny? I mean, isn’t that what a bag of sugar weighs?”

“Yes, he’s tiny. It’s been a terrible shock, as you can imagine. Poor old Poppy’s still in the hospital, on a different floor than the baby, can you believe it? Not that we should be surprised these days, what with the state of health service. Piers and the kids have moved in here. He can’t manage on his own right now, poor lamb. He has to commute to London, but they can’t all go back to Queen’s Park while the baby is in the ICU, can they? Logistically it’s a bit of a nightmare.”

“Is the baby going to be okay?” Stevie spoke with her hands over her mouth, as if this would somehow delay getting an answer. She heard her mother stifle a sniffle.

“He’s
very
little, Stevie.” Patti sniffed again. “He’s had difficulty breathing. But medicine has improved so much for these premie

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babies, the prognosis improves all the time. If he can just get through the next few days . . .”

“I’m coming home.”

“No,” said her mother insistently. “Poppy feared you’d say that. She didn’t want me to tell you. She wants you to stay in Thailand. It’s your honeymoon. You’ve only been gone a week.”

“Fuck the honeymoon . . .”

“Poppy doesn’t want to be responsible for ruining your honey- moon. Understand that.”

If only she knew. Stevie’s eyes were swimming with tears. “Mum, Poppy needs me.”

“She
will
need you, but not right now. Listen, darling, the baby could be in the hospital for weeks, you’ll not be able to do anything for the moment . . .”

“I could look after the kids while I’m off work. Or on the week- ends.”

“You know Poppy, she’s got everything organized, as well as she can in the circumstances. I think you should respect her wishes.”

Stevie looked out at the sea, and at the palm trees and the long white beach, and longed to leave it. “Can I speak to her?”

“Soon. It’s a bit difficult at the moment. She’s all wired up to catheters and such. No mobiles in the hospital and the hospital phones are temperamental to say the least. But I’ll call you. I’ll keep you informed, I promise, darling.”

Stevie scooped up a handful of sand and let it pour through her fingers, gritty particles catching beneath her wedding ring. “I just don’t think I can stay here, knowing that all that is going on . . .”

“Please try and enjoy your honeymoon. Hopefully everything will be fine. The Jonson genes are made of sturdy stuff, aren’t they?

You should see—some of these other babies in the ward, far tinier than Poppy’s, make him look like a toddler.”

“No name yet?”

“Tom, they’re thinking. Like Tom Thumb, as suggested by So- phie. Although her first choice was Maisy Mouse.”

Stevie smiled. “Tell Poppy I’m thinking of her, won’t you, Mum? And if she needs me . . .”

“Of course.” Her mother paused. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Sam popped over yesterday. He’s back, staying with Pearl.” Patti sounded more upbeat. “He’s a sweetheart, that boy, I tell you. He looked after Sophie and Finn while we all went down to the hospital. He’s so good with those kids. They worship him. Anyway, he told me to say hi.”

“Right.” Stevie felt a sharp pain kick in her chest, something akin to homesickness.

“I should go. God knows how much this call is costing me. But I am so happy you’re having such a nice time. Phone soon. Re- member to drink lots of water in the heat. I love you, darling.”

“Love you, too, Mum.” Stevie flipped her phone shut. Her throat locked. What the hell to do now? She had no desire to share her worries with Jez, who for all she knew was still steaming up the Jacuzzi. Settling on a small rock, head resting on her knees, she looked across the dark sea. Was that . . . ? Yes, it was. It was an ex- traordinary sight, a butterfly, large as a pancake, fluttering over the waves, its vulnerable powdery wings just inches above the spray. Entranced, she watched it for a couple of moments. A sequence of small waves rolled in toward the shore. The butterfly disappeared behind the last, largest, wave as it crested. When the wave broke, foamed, and flattened, the butterfly had gone.

TWENTY-THREE
Æ

seb rolled off katy, slipping out of her with a
squelch. “Wow.” He was still thinking about the erotic frisson with Stevie and Jez in the Jacuzzi. It turned him on. “That
was
good, Katy.”

Katy turned her head toward him. She needed eye contact, but even now, even after the most passionate sex they’d had in months, Seb killed her with his distance by looking away at the exact mo- ment her eyes pleaded for connection with his. She kissed his el- bow. It pulsed sunburn heat against her lips. “
Very
good,” she echoed, leaning her forehead against his. Her orgasm had left her feeling a bit vulnerable, a bit needy.

“Hmmm.” Seb pulled his head away, looking thoughtful.

At last, he’s musing our future, Katy thought. Maybe this will be the moment. How stupid I’ve been. Of course, the way to the aisle is through his loins. She studied his face intently, waiting for him to speak.

“Damn it.” The clamp of concentration released from Seb’s fea- tures.

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m going to have a blasted cigarette. Won’t smoke when I get back to New York.” Seb tapped a packet against the bedside table, lit a cigarette, and watched the white smoke ringlets against the green lotus flower wallpaper, mingling with the yeasty smell of sex.

Katy turned away from him.

“Baby, baby . . .” Seb put his hand on her hip and tilted her to face him again. “You’ve never expressed a preference . . . for . . . well, sex in the plural before.”

Katy blushed. The exhibitionist effects of last night’s alcohol had waned, leaving her with an achy drum behind her eyebrows, a gnawing self-consciousness. Did she really instigate . . . Oh, God. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I like Stevie, though.” Seb winked. “Shame she stomped off, eh? Kind of ruined the mood.”

Katy frowned. Seb was talking to her like she was one of the guys. This was not how it was supposed to be—not at all. He was supposed to get jealous . . . or fall in love with her louche bohemi- anism or
something
, not start fancying Stevie. She’d never considered that as a possibility. She’d imagined that Seb would have got his kicks watching her doing something vaguely vanilla. No, she hadn’t thought it through at all. And now she felt dirty and soiled, rather than titillated. What a horrible mess. “I . . . I don’t really know what came over me.”

Seb snorted. “Well, whatever.” He swatted a black fly that was at- tempting to gorge on his sticky thigh. “Don’t stop it anytime soon.” Katy, trying to reclaim some romance, pushed his hair off his forehead tenderly. “It’s not . . . well, it doesn’t reflect how I feel about you.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to think that’s

what I want.”

Seb hunched up on his elbows, smoking, exhaling. He kissed her lightly on the nose and laughed. “Don’t apologize! I mean, crikey, that was terrific. Next time, eh?”

Katy sat up on the daybed and rubbed her knees. He’d got her on all fours again (what was that, a New York thing?). “Next time? I don’t think so. Seb . . .” She turned to face him, widening her eyes. “Earlier, it was a mistake. I don’t want to sleep with Stevie.. .”

Seb’s face fell.

“Or Jez. Or anyone. I want to sleep with
you.
I love you. I really love you, Sebastian.”

Seb crunched out his cigarette and lay on his back, staring up at the vaulted silk ceiling. “Just when I thought things were about to get interesting.”

Katy deflated. It had all backfired horribly. Should she try the direct approach now? Why not? Nothing else seemed to have worked. She took a deep breath. “Seb, darling, I think we need to move things along.”

Seb, looking less distracted, bridged his head on one arm. “What? Our sex life? I’m open to ideas.”

“No, no.” She put her hand to her mouth, losing her nerve, sud- denly terrified that by boxing him into a corner she might get the answer she didn’t want. “Shall I order some drinks in?”

Seb raked his hair off his face. “Move what along?” “It’s . . . oh, please . . . don’t make me say it.”

Seb sat up abruptly. “Say what?”

“I want to know where I stand, Seb.” The words no woman ever wants to utter, she thought resentfully. She might as well scribble her name on the relationship’s death warrant.

Seb groaned, covered his face melodramatically with one palm. “Is this about babies?”

“Well, yes and no.” She tried her best to sound breezy. “It’s about the future. We’ve been together for two years. I am thirty-six years old. Or, put it another way, in four years I will be celebrating my fortieth birthday.”

“You look about twenty-three. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” “If we want to have kids, we need to get on with it.”

“Whoa! Kids? Slow down, Katy.” A muscle twitched in Seb’s fine-boned jaw.

“
Slow down?
We couldn’t get any fucking slower!” Something snapped. Katy jumped off the bed, a hot angry flush spreading across her naked breasts. “You’re treating me like a teenager trying to pin you down to a date. What is your fucking problem?”

Seb coughed, biding his time, scrabbling for a retort. “I am sorry you feel like that, Katy. I hope I’ve not misled you in any way.” As he spoke, he was aware how much he’d hate that line if someone pulled it on him. He placed a hand on her silky shoulder, experi- encing a pang of shame. “I know it’s been difficult with me in New York and everything. And . . .”

Katy sniffed, trying to stifle the humiliation of tears. “In the early days, you said to me many times that you wanted marriage, kids . . . God, I hate sounding so pathetic. But nothing ever bloody well
happens
, Seb.”

Seb rearranged his features into something reassuring. “Katy, sweetheart, I
am
sorry. It’s just that my career is taking off, finally, and I adore you, you know that, but I’m not in a position to . . .” He looked at Katy’s face—streaming with tears now, snot bubbling in her perfect tiny nostrils—and felt anger. He was angry that she could make him feel so guilty. He hadn’t
promised
anything, had he? “Katy, it’s okay for you. You’ve had your fun, your career. That’s all we ever talked about when we first met. The makeup artists. The

magazines. Your glamorous life in your twenties. But now, it’s
my
turn. I’m younger than you. I am a man. And I don’t want domes- ticity right now. I want New York. Possibilities, promotions, travel! I wouldn’t be around enough for kids. You
know
that. I know you do. Just because you’ve suddenly decided to unwed your- self to your career for babies, you can’t expect me to do the same. It’s not fair.”