The Beard (29 page)

Amy smiled and squeezed Tom’s hand. He was right – she knew that. It didn’t make it any easier to accept, though. “I’m not really jealous of you finding someone,” she said with a tinge of sadness. “I want you to.”

Tom smiled. “I know,” he said warmly. “It’s just that sometimes you go up your own arse.”

Amy wasn’t entirely struck on the description but feared that she had little to come back with. Not only was she an ugly sister but she was one that disappeared up her own rectum. Electing not to pursue the point, she retracted her hand in silent but salient protest.

“One day, this will all be for you,” Tom gestured outside to the scurry of people running around, missing Amy’s gesture entirely. “I’ll be up here with you and your bridesmaids. Unless your husband is really handsome… then I’ll be with him!”

Amy playfully smacked Tom’s leg. “You’ll have all these people running around just for you
. Your mother will be in seventh heaven. Imagine what she’ll be like!” Both of them shuddered.

“Actually, your mother told me last night how happy she was to see you ‘looking so settled’. She said that it ‘did her heart glad’ to see us together.” In some respects, this only made matters worse and made Amy feel even guiltier. “Oh yeah, she laid it on thick,” Tom added. “Said she didn’t know if she could cope with more upset and heartache, and was glad that we were happy.” Tom looked out of the window longingly. “I’m not sure whether she was emotionally blackmailing me or trying to flush something out. You can never tell, can you?”

This wasn’t news to Amy, who just said, “Amen to that!” Then she laughed: “She said to me that her heart couldn’t take more pain, and that one more shock would finish her off. How about that for emotional blackmail?” There was a pause as she reflected on the previous evening’s activities. “That said, she did seem genuinely happy. I know I have to tell her that we’ve split up, but I just don’t know how to do it. I mean, it’s just not right, is it? All smiles one day and then broken up the next. She’s going to know something’s wrong, isn’t she?”

Both of them contemplated what was being said. It would look odd. They knew that. Before arriving at the house, their plan, on paper at least, had sounded acceptable. People break up all the time. Yet being in the house and seeing the direct effect that it had on Amy’s parents meant that it wasn’t as simple and as straightforward as they’d imagined.

“We’ve been doing this too long,” said Tom wistfully. “I think we forget that just because it’s about convenience to us, it’s not about that to others.”

Amy looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Tom sighed. He was feeling bad about the whole adventure. “I mean, we’ve conned people you care about. They’re lovely people. Yes, your mother gets on your nerves and, yes, she can be a bit over-bearing, but… we’ve lied. We’ve given them hope where they thought there wasn’t any.” Amy wasn’t altogether sure if she should be comfortable with that analogy. “I mean, imagine if you’d been honest,” Tom continued. “Instead of pretending to go out with me for however long, only to break up, they could’ve met Sam. Maybe if he’d seen you and your parents here, he would’ve stayed.”

Amy frowned and tried to get angry. She knew that she couldn’t because Tom was right. Her parents could’ve met Sam and then, if he’d dumped her like he did, she’d have a family offering support, rather than one mentally picking out wedding napkins.

“It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?” Amy said, her head bowed.

Tom nodded and offered sounds of agreement. “We’re just making life worse for ourselves, again and again and again.” Amy looked up as if to protest, but Tom spotted it coming. “Both of us. The only difference is, I don’t have any deadlines to face. I’m just trying to stop some men at work from finding out. To that end, it doesn’t matter if we split up. Your parents, though, that’s different – this means a lot more to them. Your father keeps putting his arm around my shoulder. He thinks he’s getting a son-in-law. I feel like a fraud. I
am
a fraud. I want to leave.”

Amy looked horrified at the prospect. “You can’t do that! That’ll be ten times worse!”

Tom smiled. “I know, I know, and I won’t. It’s just that I feel bad about deceiving them. I know we’ve been doing that all along, but it’s different when you see the whites of their eyes, isn’t it?”

They both sat in silent contemplation. “Maybe,” Amy started up, “I could just come clean tomorrow. After the wedding, when everyone’s gone. Just sit them down and explain a version of it all. Yes, they’ll be upset but they’ll heal. I’ve had to.”

Tom wasn’t so sure that going from deception to the sledgehammer in a space of 48 hours was the best path forward. “You could,” he offered, “but maybe it would be easiest if we didn’t; if we kept this going for a bit longer. I mean, what are a few more weeks? Why not pretend that everything is hunky dory and then, over the next few weeks, you could tell them that we’re drifting apart and that you don’t love me any more. Then, let’s just pray to God that you meet someone else. I mean, Sam could come back with a bunch of flowers and an apology.” Tom paused to consider that possibility. “Although, I’d still punch him.”

Amy smiled at the thought of her great fake defender boyfriend. “Would you mind doing that?” she asked tentatively.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise,” said Tom quietly. “I know this was your lie, but it’s our lie now. We both need to get out of it as painlessly as possible. So, let’s agree, we’re a very happy couple. We’re together and will be forever. But then, over the coming weeks, we’ll drift apart and break up. I’ll even let you dump me. How about that?” Amy felt emotional. It was an act of love. Pure, unselfish love. Something she’d felt devoid of for some time. She nodded her agreement and appreciation. Tom smiled broadly. “Then I can tell people that the heartbreak of being dumped by you turned me gay!”

Amy stared at
him disapprovingly. That wouldn’t help her cause with her mother, although her mother would probably say, “I always knew!”

Amy turned away from Tom and stared out of the window again at the bustle below. The prospect of all the planning and preparation unfolding being for her seemed like a distant and unreal dream. She sighed at the thought. Would it ever happen? Really? Ever? Watching the manic scene below, she tried hard to imagine what it would be like if she was the ultimate guest of honour. The more she watched, the more she allowed her imagination to create an alternative reality. Suddenly, she stopped dreaming and started to stare at one of the figures below. Her brow creased and she leaned into the window to get a clearer picture.

“What is it?” asked Tom.

Amy looked as if she were staring at a smudge on the window.

“That guy down there,” she said pointing. “Walking up the drive. See him?” Tom craned his neck to see out of the window and tried to follow Amy’s finger. “He looks just like Ash,” she added.

Tom zoned in on the man in question. “That
is
Ash!” he cried. “What the hell’s he doing here?”

They looked at each other with concern.

“You didn’t invite him here, did you?” Amy asked in disbelief and slight anger.

Tom stood upright. “Of course I bloody well didn’t! We want the weekend to go smoothly, not blow up in our faces.”

Tom had left the relevant contact details of the house with Ash in case of emergencies. He wasn’t sure of his mobile-phone signal strength, so he’d opted to leave the house’s landline number instead. What could be THAT bad that Ash had decided to come all this way rather than call? Tom and Amy opened the heavy window together.

“ASH!” shouted Tom with enough force to be heard, but not so much to be a nuisance to others.

Ash looked up and waved, as the catering staff craned their necks to see where the noise had hailed from.

Amy ran out of the room and dashed to the front door. Tom surveyed the scene from above as she greeted Ash. Before long, they were both walking into the bedroom, where Tom stood, braced for horrific news.

“What’s happened?” Tom said as soon as he saw Ash. “What’s happened to my house?”

Ash seemed taken aback. “Well, hello to you, too!” he said, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “All the way here and that’s the welcome I get. What do you mean what’s happened to your house? Nothing – it’s fine. What did you think I’d do, burn it down the minute you were gone?”

Amy and Tom looked at each other and then back at Ash.

“Well, what are you doing here?” Amy asked, puzzled.

“Lovely to see you, Amy, dear. How you bearing up? You look well, considering you were dumped yesterday.” Ash flicked a pair of Tom’s boxers, which lay on the floor, away from him with his foot. With a look of disdain still on his face, he looked at both Amy and Tom, and added, “Naturally, I came here as fast as I could.” 

Amy and Tom looked at each other again. The scene was still a bit surreal. Here they were at Amy’s parents house, and Ash was sitting on the bed like a matron waiting for a steam train. He crossed his hands in his lap, a pout forming on his lips at the less-than-exuberant welcome he’d received. “OK, in the interests of full disclosure,” he continued, “I was a bit hungover, so I could’ve got here earlier… but I knew you’d want me here for moral support.”

Tom wasn’t sure whether to be angry or just plain bemused. “Moral support for what?” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

It was Ash’s turn to look confused. “You mean you don’t know? I did think you were being calm. That explains it. I thought you’d be a wreck by the time I got here.”

Amy and Tom now stood side by side, staring pensively at Ash, who was sending a text message. “Tom, your parents called me last night to tell me.”

“My parents?” said Tom suddenly. “What’s happened to my parents? Are they alright?”

Ash looked up at him with slight irritation. “For someone in the dark, you’re very tetchy. I thought the countryside was meant to chill you out and make you mellow. Your parents, like your house, are just fine. I sent you a text ages ago – didn’t you get it?”

Tom raced to his phone and checked. “No, there’s no signal here. What did it say?”

Ash put his phone away and pointed at Amy. “It said that Amy’s wanted by the police.”

The room was plunged into an ice bath of disbelief. Amy looked back at Ash with total incredulity. “What do you mean?” she asked, utterly amazed. “Wanted by the police
? What are you talking about?”

“It was on the news last night,” Ash started. “That’s why your parents called me. I told them you were away and I think I gave them this address. I’m not sure, th
ough, as I was a bit merry. So they may be on their way.”

Tom was beginning to lose patience with this cat-and-mouse game of info. “What you saying?
Are you on drugs?”

Ash was massively affronted by the suggestion. “I most certainly am not!” he protested, holding his hand to his chest as if he’d been shot. “Amy, love,” he said, theatrically ignoring Tom. “Turns out that Sam of yours – not who you thought he was. In fact, he’s not a lawyer. He’s a drug smuggler.”

Each word fell like a massive boulder onto the floor, creating a shuddering thud. The shock from the statement nearly knocked Amy and Tom off their feet.

“Yup, you know those suitcases he bought for you? The ones he was so keen that you use to take your stuff over there?” continued Ash. “Well, it seems that there was a good reason why he took them with him. They had zillions of pounds of drugs sewn into the linings. He wanted you to carry them through customs and into Thailand.”

Tom and Amy remained motionless. Ash was speaking normally, but his friends felt like they were on a time delay. Each new set of words arrived long after they were spoken. The resulting effect left them transfixed, unable to comprehend.

This, it seemed, was shock. It became alarmingly clear that Ash hadn’t travelled great distances just to pull an elaborate practical joke on them. This must, by definition, have been true. Panic started to slowly replace disbelief.

Amy finally regained control of her senses and turned to the TV that rested at the foot of the bed. She slammed it on and, as the picture came into focus, she furiously tapped the number of a news channel into the remote control. They were in time to watch the weather. Everyone stared at the screen, still in disbelief. Surely, it was a case of mistaken identity?

Ash looked at the screen with boredom. “You’re not on until they’ve covered the strike in France,” he said dispassionately. “On the upside, you’re not headline news.” Then, looking at Amy’s dishevelle
d state, he added, “You might want to spruce yourself up. If the police do storm the place, you don’t want to be arrested looking like something from
The Twilight Zone
.” Ash looked at Amy, who stared back at him in horror. She was a wanted woman and he was making jokes.

Ash started sniffing. “This room smells musty. What have you been up to?”

Tom spun around and glared at Ash. Ash knew his cue and gestured a zip across his mouth, before rolling his eyes and drawing an imaginary handbag up to his chest. They sat in silence and watched as every news story rolled around. Each one seemed to take a disproportionate amount of time to tell, as if the newsreader was deliberately speaking slower than usual. Amy wasn’t sure whether the fact that it hadn’t been mentioned was a good or bad thing.